The Secret of the Haunted Mirror - M. V. Carey [36]
“Trying to pick up a few extra bucks,” said Anderson. “Rotten idea. Didn’t know San Pedro was so empty on a Saturday night — and now my van’s broken down. I’m in hot water with my boss. Say, I don’t suppose I could interest you in a loaf of bread or anything?”
“A loaf of bread? Yes. Yes, I think that would be very nice. I would like to see your bread.”
The boys crouched in the very rear of the van and tried to make themselves as small as possible. Henry Anderson clambered into the cab and groped for his basket of baked goods.
Bob seized the bakery basket and thrust it at Henry. Henry turned, almost bumping the kidnapper with it. “I’ve got plain white bread,” said Henry, “rye, whole wheat, pumpernickel, sour dough French bread, and …”
The man smiled. “I think,” he said, “that I do not wish any bread after all.”
“French pastry?” asked Henry. “Cream cakes?”
“Nothing, I thank you. Sorry to trouble you.”
“No trouble,” said Henry. “I’ve got to wait for the tow truck anyway.”
“Then I wish you a good evening,” said the man.
“Thanks.”
The man turned back towards the warehouse.
The Three Investigators breathed more easily. “That was close,” said Bob. “You got here just in time, Henry.”
“There’s a telephone booth at a service station two blocks away from here,”
reported Henry.
The Investigators watched the kidnapper cross the street, go up to the door of the warehouse, and after one quick glance over his shoulder, pull open the door and go into the place.
“Do we go in after him?” asked Jeff.
“Let’s wait a bit,” said Jupiter quietly.
Then there was another figure on the street — a taller man had appeared from behind the fence that protected the timber yard. This second person did not glance to left or to right. He went directly to the door of the warehouse and entered the place.
“I think that was Santora,” said Pete.
“Exactly what I hoped would happen!” exclaimed Jupiter Jones. Now we will invade that place and see what’s to be seen and hear what’s to be heard. Henry, give us ten minutes in there, and then go to that telephone booth and call the police.
Whatever happens, we’re going to need them.”
“Right,” said Henry.
The Investigators and Jeff Parkinson climbed out of the bread van and went quickly to the warehouse. They paused at the door.
“Can’t hear anything,” Bob whispered. “Nothing but water sloshing. This place must be built out over the harbour.”
He pulled on the door handle. The door opened silently and the boys saw walls and another door. There was a barred window high up and to the right, and this let in the fading, fog-filled evening light. They were in a small, empty room facing a pair of double doors with glass set into the upper panels.
They crept to the inner doors, looked through dirty panes, and saw a huge open area. There were skylights in the high ceiling and deep shadows in the corners. At the far end of the place Juan Gómez stood looking at the goblin glass. Uncle Titus and his helpers had stood the mirror upright, leaning it against one of the steel beams that supported the roof.
Between the kidnapper and the boys, there was the silhouetted figure of Santora.
The mystery man who claimed to be the descendant of the magician Chiavo was motionless, watching Gómez even as the boys were watching. Jupe pressed on one of the doors and it opened a crack. He and the others stood, trying not to breathe, and they watched and listened.
The kidnapper ran his fingers carefully over the frame of the mirror. Then he walked slowly around the glass, finally pulling a screwdriver out of his pocket.
“What are you looking for, you servant of a pig?” said Santora suddenly.
The kidnapper started, dropped his screwdriver, and stared at Santora in the dim light.
“Don’t move,” said Santora. “I have a gun, and I would not fear to use it.”
Santora walked forward, and the boys saw that he did indeed have a gun. It was pointed directly at the kidnapper’s head.
“Gómez, would you carry this infamy on forever?” demanded Santora. “Manolos is dead and his widow lives in peace. She knows nothing.”
“She is a fool,