Super-Detective Jim Anthony: The Complete Series Volume 1 (Annotated) by Victor Rousseau

Author:Victor Rousseau [Rousseau, Victor]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Action and Adventure
Publisher: Altus Press
Published: 2012-10-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter VIII

The Vaults of San Rosario

BEFORE the tropical sun had shouldered its way over the mountains of the east, Jim Anthony was up and about. He stood on one of the great pontoons of the Thunderbird II and watched the town. A flock of parrots flew toward the forest, screaming and whistling. Furtive dogs began appearing, one at a time, like skinny shadows to nose about the gutters hopefully. By sunrise, Tom Gentry was awake, and the two friends had eaten their breakfasts, leaving Ramon Perez to sleep off the tremendous amount of liquor he had absorbed the night before.

Another half hour passed as the men smoked in silence, staring out across the choppy waters of the bay. And suddenly both were aware of the churning approach of a fast motor boat. Swiftly Jim arose. “Take Perez and lock him up,” he snapped. “I want him kept out of sight. This is probably the first of the San Rosarians returning to their native land.”

Tom said, “Keep him out of sight? I don’t get you! Gee whiz, he’s the ruler of this country, he’ll want to see who’s been killed and who’s—”

“Hasn’t bothered him so far, has it?” interjected Jim, and Tom disappeared into the plane just as a resplendent motor boat swept into view from down the coast, the flag of San Rosario flying smartly at its mast. Jim remained where he was, sucking thoughtfully at his pipe.

The boat throttled down, the hand at the wheel nosed into the slip that was marked with the San Rosario coat of arms. A barefooted man in a pair of ragged trousers and nothing else, sprang out and tied up the prow. A fat, swarthy fellow, resplendent in a uniform of blue and scarlet, stepped carefully to the pier, stood with outthrust chest, twisting one end of a heavy mustache as he glared about the scene like a conqueror who has laid the country in waste. One pudgy hand rested on the hilt of his sword. A great diamond gleamed on the ring finger of that hand.

Jim kept down the amusement in his eyes, kept the smile off his face at sight and actions of the opera bouffe figure. Then as if noticing it for the first time, the uniformed man allowed his eyes to rest on the silver seaplane. He stiffened. He threw back his shoulders, his long mustache seemed fairly to bristle. Then he was approaching on the wooden pier, his military boots resounding, his jowls trembling at every step, his medals swinging like pendulums.

He glared at the grinning Anthony. “Sir,” he thundered, “I am General Rafael Augustano Joselito Gomez!”

He waited.

Jim said, “Morning, mister. Just get in? Stranger here?”

“Stranger,” roared the man, aghast at such impertinence. “I am the General-in-Chief of Ramon Perez, the beloved president of this country! Who are you, where is your master?”

Jim answered, choosing to disregard the latter question. “Then perhaps your president has sent you on an errand? You have been away, no?”

“I have been away on affairs of state! That has nothing to do with you.

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