ron Goulart - Challengers of the Unknown Read Free

had been done to
    the trapeze.
    "Exploded? What do you mean, exploded?"
    "Exploded. Went boom."
    The handsome, dark-haired man in the sun chair sat up. "Blazes! Anybody hurt?" he asked the phone he was holding.
    "Fortunately, no. The stunt man had to go to the John and the supersub picked that moment to blow up," said the voice from Hollywood.
    Prof Haley shook his head, turned so he could watch both the afternoon Pacific and the girl who was .sitting near the railing of the vast redwood sun deck. "Look, Norm, old sport, I guarantee you that prop sub was designed with the usual Haley integrity. So I—"
    "I'm not blaming you, Prof," said Norm Lancer. "We found pieces of the bomb."
    Prof stood up. "A bomb?"
    "You're in a very doubting mood today," observed I he girl, who was very tan, very lovely, quite blonde and wearing a very scant swimsuit.
    In nearby Hollywood, Lancer said, "We can't quite figure who'd want to sabotage Sea Monster 2002."
    Frowning, Prof said, "Didn't one of your nimble-witted publicity persons, the one with the backside identical to Jean Harlow's in her prime, send some kind of release to the press? Something to the effect that Prof Haley, who out of the goodness of his wide heart was acting as technical adviser to your aquatic epic, was going to do some stunt work on your flicker?"
    "Yeah, I think she did. You figure—"
    "I come from a long line of paranoids, Norm," admitted Prof, gesturing to the reclining blonde to fetch him a glass of orange juice. "Which is why I'm pausing to wonder if your damn bomb wasn't intended for me."
    "Could be, I suppose," acknowledged the movie producer. "But sort of sloppy, isn't it? Blowing up the sub while you're over there in Malibu taking a day off."
    "All assassins aren't efficient."
    "Okay, if it was you they were after, Prof, take care, huh? Meanwhile, can you get back to the studio, out of the kindness of your heart, to help my people whip up a new supersub?"
    "Tomorrow," promised Prof.
    "For sure? This guy I got playing the sea monster is very quirky. He complains all the time if he has to sit around with all that makeup on and—"
    "Tomorrow, trust me. Shoot around the sub. I'll see you bright and early, as bright as the smog allows, in Burbank tomorrow. Bye." He hung up the receiver, placed the phone on the redwood planking near his chair.
    "I sense a yarn," said the girl.
    "Where's my orange juice?" Prof walked over to her.
    "Everybody's equal now. Hadn't you heard?" She remained reclining.
    "You talking about that thing Lincoln signed?" Giving her a mock scowl, he wandered back into the rented beach house. When he was opening the kitchen refrigerator, he heard the patter of bare feet on the parquet behind him.
    "You're very droll today," said the blonde.
    "Gallows humor." Prof poured himself a full glass of orange juice. "Somebody tried to blow me up."
    "I hadn't noticed."
    "Let us rephrase that, sunshine. That prop sub I lent Norman Lancer a hand on was blown up this morn-ing."
    "Since some people thought you'd be inside it today, you suspect—"
    "Not sure what I suspect, Hildy. This being my vacation I think I'll turn off the fabled Haley brain and—"
    "Famed Challenger's Near Miss with Death," Hildy Niven said. "I see another fast three hundred dollars from the National Intelligencer coming my way."
    "No, nix." He shook a hand at her in a negative gesture. "No more yarns about me or the Challengers of the Unknown. As it is, I shouldn't have—"
    "Prof, are you expecting company?"
    "Not at all. Why?"
    "I hear footsteps on the roof."
    Prof glanced upward. "So do I, along with the familiar chuff of a helicopter." He touched her smooth bare shoulder. "Stay here, gumdrop, and be prepared to duck at a moment's notice."
    "Challenger Defies Death in Own Home," Hildy said as he left her. "That's another three hundred bucks."
    "Rented home. And I've got to shake this terrible habit of getting romantically entangled with scandal sheet reporters." Silently he padded