The Mystery of the Scar-faced Beggar - M. V. Carey [5]
Jupe was standing in a wide passageway that was really a sort of lobby outside the huge room. To the left of the lobby was an area that was a dusty jumble of coffee urns and counters and stools and booths. Jupe realized that this had once been a coffee shop. He looked to the right and saw a wall with several doors in it. There were cartons and crates piled in the coffee shop and more cartons piled up in the lobby.
Several crates stood on the hardwood floor of the big room. One crate was open, and packing material overflowed and drifted down its side.
Jupe moved forward slowly. He was about to call out when he heard the sound of a telephone being lifted from its cradle. He stood still and listened. Someone out of sight in the big, bright room ahead of him dialled a number.
There was a pause, and then a man said, “This is Sebastian.”
After another pause the man spoke again. “Yes,” he said, “I know it will be expensive, but everything has its price. I’m prepared to pay for it.”
At that moment something small and hard pressed into Jupe’s back just above his belt.
“Please to reach for the sky,” said a soft voice. “If you move I make you in two pieces!”
Chapter 3
A Man of Mystery
JUPITER RAISED HIS HANDS above his head. He could feel his scalp prickle.
“I only wanted …” he began.
“Please to be quiet!” said the person behind him.
There were footsteps on the hardwood floor. The grey-haired man who had driven up a few minutes before appeared in the doorway to the big room. He stood leaning on his cane, looking at Jupe with his head slightly to one side, as if he were puzzled.
“What is it, Don?” he said.
“Who is this?”
Jupe frowned. There was
something familiar about this
man. Jupe could not be sure
whether it was just the voice, or
the tilt of the head. Had they
met somewhere? If so, where?
And when?
“This person breaks and
enters,” said the individual who
was holding Jupe at gunpoint.
“He stands and listens to you
talk on the telephone.”
“I only wanted to ask directions,” said Jupe. “The sign outside says this is Charlie’s Place. Isn’t it a restaurant? And I didn’t do any breaking and entering. The door was open.”
“Well, of course,” said the grey-haired man. He came towards Jupe, smiling. “It used to be a restaurant, and the door is open, isn’t it?”
Jupe saw that the man’s cheeks were ruddy, and that his high, thin nose had recently been sunburned. It was now peeling. The eyes under the thick, grey-black brows were very blue. “Relax, young friend,” said the man. “Don couldn’t shoot you even if he wanted to.”
Jupe cautiously lowered his arms. He turned to look at the person called Don.
“You think I have gun,” said the man with satisfaction. He was an Oriental, not much taller than Jupe, quite slim, with a smooth, pleasant face. He held a wooden mixing spoon with the handle pointed towards Jupe. “You see it is not really gun,” he said. “It is trick I see on television.”
“Hoang Van Don came from Vietnam recently,” said the grey-haired man. “He is presently learning English by watching late-night television. I see now that he is also learning other useful things.”
The Vietnamese man bowed. “If imprisoned in upper room, proper course to follow is to braid bedsheets into rope. If bedsheets not available, slide down drainpipe.”
The Vietnamese bowed again and disappeared into the shadows of the coffee shop.
Jupe stared after him with curiosity.
“You wanted directions?” said the grey-haired man.
“Oh!” Jupe started. “Oh, yes. A river crosses the road just beyond here.” Jupe pointed. “Does the road continue on the far side? Is there any place we can cross, or should we go back to the highway again?”
“The road doesn’t go on. It dead ends just beyond the river. And don’t even try to cross that gully. It’s quite deep. You’d be swept