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Show ' 1 Ji CARIBBEAN j K CONSPIRACYlg iiiiiili 111 111 k BRENDA CONRAD V I KiJ THE STORY SO FAR: Anne Heywood, eautiful daughter of a wealthy New Ifork newspaper publisher, goes to Puerto Rico on -an assignment for her father's ?aper. Also on the island are Pete WU-:ox, WU-:ox, a reporter on her father's paper, low a U. S. Army intelligence officer; Vliguel Valera, a Puerto Rican educated to the United States who Is a secret V. S. lgent; Richard Taussig, an engineer whose Identity as a German agent is suspected sus-pected but not yet proved; and Russell Porter, a young American engineer, and lis wife, Sue, who fnnocenUy believes Mr. Taussig can help Russell. Knowing lhat Russell Is working on an important plan she offers to show It to Mr. Taussig is proof of Russell's ability. CHAPTER XV Taussig looked at his watch again. "I need about half an hour. Perhaps Per-haps I could take them to my room and lay them out on the floor. I could get them back before I go to dine with the General at Casa Blanca." He saw her hands close quickly. " But you wouldn't be comfortable comforta-ble with them out of the house," he said sympathetically. "I can see that." He rolled them up again and handed hand-ed them back to her. "In fact, I don't really think you'd care to live In South" "I'd live anywhere for Russell!" Sue cried. "Anywhere! It doesn't matter. Just so he's not slaving night and day for nothing. I want him to do things!" "He'd certainly be doing them," Mr. Taussig said. "And just the little I've seen here . . ." "Oh, then take them with you and look at all of them." , She thrust them back Into his hands. (Half an hour won't hurt anything, and it'll mean everything to Russell!) "Oh, please do!" Mr. Taussig got up, still undecided. undecid-ed. "Well, all right, then, Mrs. Porter," Por-ter," he said at last. "I'll have them back in half an hour." Anne lifted herself out of the cool turquoise pool at the Country Club and stretched out on the brown sun mattress beside Barbara French. "What time is it?" she asked. "I've got to go to Sue's." "You've got lots of time," Barbara Bar-bara said lazily. "That's one of the lovely things about the tropics. Mariana Ma-riana land . . . which isn't quite true, really. It covers up a lot of things, like 'sometime' at home. 'Do come and see us sometime,' which means never. It's the same here. They're just so polite." She glanced around. "And you don't have to worry about getting to Sue's, because here Sue is. Hi, Sue! Order us a drink, will you? We'll be up in a minute." "Okay," Sue Porter called across the pool. "Hi, Anne" She danced gaily up the steps. Anne stood there watching her, a cold dull sensation moving into her stomach. Barbara got up. "I wonder what's happened to our Sue?" she remarked. "You wouldn't suppose she's just got Russell made President of Consolidated? I hope It's all right." "My dears, have you heard!" Sue exclaimed, abruptly cutting oft something she was saying to the girl next to her. "About Miguel Valera your friend, Anne. The War Department De-partment cancelled his orders." "What for?" someone asked casually. casu-ally. Sue shrugged. "Three guesses, darling. Everybody knows they're anti-American." Anne's fingers tightened on the arm of her chair. "I've often wondered why the Army wasn't a lot more careful," Sue said. "It's about time we're beginning to wake up." "Tell us more," Barbara French urged. "Is Don Alvaro going to storm El Morro?" Anne got up. Barbara was looking look-ing at her with calm expressionless eyes. "Going?" she asked. Anne nodded. "I've got a date with Miguel Valera," she said calmly. calm-ly. "We're going to steal the plans to the General's shower room. But don't tell a soul." "Wait a minute, darling," Sue said. "Where's the check? This is my party. Bye, everybody." She followed Anne downstairs. "Look," she said when they were Dutside. "Russell's gone to St. Thomas for two or three days. Why don't you come over and stay with me till he comes back? I'll have a lot of people in, and some attractive men. Here's my car. I'll take you home." "Thanks, Sue you're sweet," Anne said. "I think I'd better stay where I am. You know . . . it's such a mess packing things anyway." any-way." "Oh,, all right. It's just so un-comfoi un-comfoi table, where you are." "Not at all, I love it." Sue was silent for a moment as they started off. "You may think it's funny for me to be giving you advice," she said then. "You're so competent and I'm not. But I've been down here longer long-er than you have. It's all right for you to be interested, and all that, but I don't think you're being very wise in the people " "You mean Miguel Valera?" Anne isked, a little dangerously. "Oh. don't pretend you're naive, .Vnne. They nil love American trirls. blondes especially. What do you suppose they're being so nice to you for? You'd be a swell catch for anybody, any-body, with the money and position your father's got." "The Valeras have money and position too," Anne remarked. "They don't need either one. And look, Sue. What I hope about you is that you didn't do anything crazy this afternoon." Sue Porter looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?" she demanded. de-manded. A bright pink spot burned in the cheek next to Anne. "You know what I mean," Anne said quietly. "I told you to be careful care-ful of Mr. Taussig. You don't know anything about him." "Oh, don't be like that, Anne!" She was young and pleading again all of a sudden. "All I'm trying to do is help Russell! Don't you see?" She turned the car into the Granada Gra-nada and stopped under the portico. "Oh, of course I see. It's just that ... oh, well." Anne leaned over and kissed her warmly on the cheek. "Thanks, angel. an-gel. I'll be seeing you." As Anne went through the arcade a girl at the desk talking to the clerk turned around quickly. Her dark eyes met Anne's and held them for a moment, then she hurried hur-ried across the lobby. She was almost al-most running as she reached the " They're Just so polite. drive and cut through the garden to the street. Anne went on to the desk. The clerk reached up for her key and handed it to her with a letter. She looked down at it. The handwriting hand-writing was laborious and her name misspelled. It was on the hotel ho-tel stationery, the flap still moist and smeared with dark lipstick. "Did she leave this?" she asked. The room clerk shrugged his shoulders and looked a little uncomfortable, un-comfortable, she thought. The telephone tele-phone operator was watching her curiously. She went up to her room, closed the door and put her hat and bag on the bed. She looked at the envelope en-velope for an instant, tore it in two suddenly and tossed it into the waste basket. She didn't want to read it It was also nearly eight o'clock, and she knew that Miguel was coming, com-ing, in spite of what Graciela had said knew it before the operator called to tell her he was there. He was waiting, pacing nervously up and down the lobby. When he saw her he dropped his cigarette in the jar of sand by the newsstand and came quickly forward. He took her hand and held it a moment tightly, looking at her. "I must go home tomorrow," Anne thought quickly. She smiled. "It's nice to see you," she said. He put her arm in his, pressing it close to his side, and they went out onto the terrace. Without saying say-ing a single word he had said a great deal. "Can't we have dinner out here?" Anne asked. She turned from the balustrade with the cool breeze from the ocean in her hair. "Surely." He called the waiter. Anne stood there watching the waves break white against the reef. He came back and took her arm again. "What happened today?" he asked quietly. She shook her head. "I don't quite know. After I got your message I went to the Central. Pete Wilcox came out just in time, I think. I got dizzy, or something. I don't know. I was scared stiff, really." He held her arm more tightly. He had not sent the message that took her out to the mill. Should he tell her? She might be safer if she didn't know too much. "Hereafter don't go anywhere without me ... or Wilcox, or some one you know very well," he soid. "And don't lake messages from ary-hodv." "I won't again." ' She glanced around. They were alone on the terrace. The window of Mr. Taussig's room upstairs was dark. "Miguel," she said slowly. "Do you know Russell Porter?" "I kow about him. He's doing a good job here." "That's what I wanted to know about. Is there anything in his work that would Interest . . . well, you know?" "Very much," Miguel Valera said gravely. "Why?" Anne looked up at him. "If I tell you something, will you promise to try to see it doesn't hurt Russell?" Rus-sell?" "What Is it, Anne?" "You haven't promised." "I can't promise anything," he answered an-swered quietly. "Nothing personal counts. You must know that . . . after last night, and today." She hesitated, and went on. "I'm not sure about this. It's mixture of fact and guesswork. Bui the other night after dinner Su Porter and Mr. Taussig were talking talk-ing about Russell's job. Taussig said if Russell could do that whatever what-ever it was he was a genius; it was every engineer's dream. Sue said he had done it and he was a genius, and she tried to get Russell to go get his specifications to show him. Russell clamped down hard and sent her to see after the kids. I have an idea that Sue showed them to him today. Russell's away, and she's terribly ambitious for him, and thinks because Taussig is a great sanitary engineer he can do something. She wouldn't knowingly" know-ingly" He interrupted her with impatient Irony. "People never do. What time today, Anne?" "About four or four-thirty, Td guess. What would he do If he got them?" "He'd make a microscopic photostat photo-stat and return them to Mrs. Porter in an hour. He'd tell her she was right about her husband, and to keep absolutely quiet and they'd hear from him. Sort of their secret, se-cret, his and hers. Nobody would know the plans were out, so no changes would be made. And Taussig Taus-sig wouldn't have any large blueprint blue-print to smuggle out. They don't steal plans any morer They just take pictures and enlarge them." "Then there's nothing" He shook his head. "There are the films. I'm glad you told me." The waiter brushed the crumbs from the cloth and brought their coffee. He poured It, black and fragrant, into the cups and left the terrace. Miguel leaned forward, looking at her in the pale silver glow of the rising moon. "Anne," he said. He hadn't spoken for several moments. "Yes?" "I'm going to ask you to do something. some-thing. Will you?" She smiled. "Depends." "I'm going to ask you ... to go home." -" His voice sounded a little like silk tearing. She put her cup down and looked out at the reef. A lighted ship was moving far out beyond it . . . going home. She looked back at him. "Do you want me to go?" "No," he said quietly. "I want you to stay here, always." He put his hand out and took her lying on the table. "I love you, Anne. The knowledge knowl-edge that you will go sometime is very hard. It will be lonelier than you know. But If you go quickly quick-ly - - -" "Is that why . . . you want me to go?" she asked softly. "No. I want to keep you, as long as I can. But it isn't safe for you. If I could only ask you to marry me ..." He stopped. Anne waited, aware of the soft fragrance of the night isolating them for a moment la a small infinitely lovely world all their own, as fragile and tender as the silver glow of the moonpath on the ocean. It was what she waited . . what she had lived for. There was no shadow of doubt in her mind. She waited for him to go on. When he didn't she raised her eyes slowly to his. "Can't you, Miguel?" she asked softly. Her heart throbbed with a sudden rich warmth. In his face was passion, pas-sion, muted, saddened even, with a tenderness she had never seen before. be-fore. For a moment they were lost in the electric world that held their eyes together, saying more than their lips could say. Suddenly he lowered his head. He was trembling. trem-bling. Anne could hardly hear him whispering, "Oh, Anne I love you. I can't let you go!" "Then ask me to stay, Miguel . . ." She got up and moved over to the balustrade. He came after her. "Anne, do you mean it?" He caught her hand and held it in both of his. She turned and looked up into his eyes, her own radiant as stars. "I do mean it, Miguel." His voice was strong and clear. "WiH you marry me, Anne?" "Yes, darling. Yes ... a million mil-lion times." "Oh, my dear ... my dear." TO I5E mNTINIIKDl ' |