Who Was That Masked Man, Anyway? Page 2
“Hey, I just thought…. What if it’s a … you know, a woman.”
“Could be.”
“If it is, it’s the first lady I ever saw without clothes.”
“Mario, it’s just bones.”
“Yeah, but if I told my mother she’d still get mad. She doesn’t want me looking at women without clothes.”
“Maybe it’s a man.”
“Said I wasn’t to look at them either. Hey, Frankie?”
“What?”
“How come the bones are all brown?”
“Because they got it from a pyramid. See, Skipper, these bones were a king of Egypt. Touch it and it brings a curse. The Curse of the Closet Mummy! Dar’st you go into the vault and close the closet door, Skipper?”
“What about you, Chet? I double dare you!”
“I’m in, Skipper. What about you?”
“See. I’ll even shut the door.”
“And so we come to another end of another Chet Barker, Master Spy, adventure.”
“With his faithful sidekick, Skipper.”
“Tune in tomorrow for excitement.”
“Thrills!”
“And adventure! Yes, radio fans, find out tomorrow what Chet Barker and his sidekick, Skipper O’Malley, discover inside the closet with the ancient skeleton when suddenly they —”
“Frankie!”
“What?”
“Listen.”
“What?”
“Someone’s coming in the room!”
“It’s Swerdlow!”
“My mother’s going to be so —”
“Shhh!”
“I hear voices in the air that have never been so —”
“What’s he singing?”
“Shhh!”
“Rare…. What the … ?”
“Oh, hi, Mr. Swerdlow.”
“Hello, Mr. Swerdlow.”
“Frankie?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who’s that with you?”
“Mario Calvino, sir.”
“Oh, yes…. What are you boys doing in there?”
“We heard a moan and thought it might be the skeleton.”
“A what?”
“A moan.”
“What kind of moan?”
“Like something was dying, or worse.”
“Come out of there, please!”
“Yes, sir. See, Mario never saw a skeleton before.”
“I’m sure that’s too bad, but —”
“I was trying to cheer him up. See, Mr. Swerdlow, Mario’s father was killed in the war.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but … look here, boys, I need a skeleton for my studies. It is very valuable. And you might break it.”
“Must be a jillion skeletons in Europe or the Pacific.”
“Frankie, I told you before. Privacy is important to me. I don’t want you coming in here.”
“This used to be my brother’s room.”
“So you’ve said, many times. That’s nothing to do with me. And I’ve had a rough day. I don’t need to find kids lurking in my closet.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Frankie, the last time this happened, you promised you wouldn’t do it again.”
“I know, sir.”
“Well, this time I intend to let your mother know.”
“Oh, please, sir, she’ll put me on the rack!”
“The what?”
“The rack. It’s like an ancient toaster.”
“Don’t be absurd. Come on.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You too, Mario.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Down the steps, Frankie.”
“Mr. Swerdlow? Can I ask you something as we go?”
“What?”
“How come your day was so rough?”
“I was assisting in surgery.”
“Wow!”
“Very tiring.”
“Were you … cutting up people?”
“Putting them together, actually.”
“Was it anyone you knew?”
“For goodness’ sake!”
“Were they soldiers?”
“Frankie, I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yes, sir…. Mr. Swerdlow?”
“Yes, Frankie?”
“If my brother, Tom, needs putting together, think you could do it? I mean, you could use the kitchen. I could help.”
“You are the most extra —”
“Mr. Swerdlow, before you speak to my ma, can I ask you just one other thing?”
“What is it?”
“If a person found an extra arm, could you attach it to someone who already had two arms?”
“Frankie!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ah, Mrs. Wattleson….”
“Why, Mr. Swerdlow. And Frankie? Mario, when did you come into the house? I didn’t hear the doorbell.”
“I …”
“I asked him over.”
“Mrs. Wattleson, I’m afraid I found Frankie in my room again. This time he had his friend with him.”
“Frankie, how many times have I told you …”
“Mrs. Wattleson, I just cannot have this. I simply can’t. They were in the closet.”
“Mr. Swerdlow, cross my heart, hope to die, and no fins. It won’t happen again. I’ll never, ever —”
“Be quiet, Frankie!”
“Mrs. Wattleson, I’m sorry to have to complain —”
“No, no, Mr. Swerdlow. You have rights. I understand. And I promise, his father will punish him so hard he’ll remember for the rest of his life. And Mr. Swerdlow …”
“Yes?”
“I was planning to make some apple dumplings. I’ll make one for you too.”
“Oh, thank you. That’s very nice.”
“Good-night, Mr. Swerdlow.”
“Good-night, Mrs. Wattleson.”
“Mario …”
“Mrs. Wattleson, please don’t tell my mother on me. She gets so upset and —”
“I’ll think about it, Mario. You just get on home now.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m going. Bye, Frankie.”
“Bye.”
“Now, Franklin, as for you … what were you doing up there?”
“Ma, see, Mr. Swerdlow’s got this skeleton in his closet, and the other day on ‘Buck Rodgers’ —”
“Young man, your father is going to hear about this. And I’ll tell you another thing. I’m going to take that radio —”
“Ma!”
“Do you think money grows on trees? If Mr. Swerdlow moved out, do you think it would be just nothing to get someone respectable like that to take that room for ten dollars a week?”
“It’s Tom’s room.”
“Your mouth is too fresh!”
“Ma …”
“It’s all that radio! You don’t know what’s in your head and what’s coming out of that box. One of these days they’ll put you in a crazy house. But I’ll tell you another thing, Mr. Adventures, this time, no radio for a week!”
“Ma!”
“Now get on up to your room. Fast!”
“I just want to know…. Were you really making apple dumplings?”
“Of course not. But Mr. Swerdlow loves them, and it’ll make him forget what you did. As if I didn’t have better things to do. Now get up to your room.”
“HEY, MARIO! Psst! Mario!”
“Oh, boy…. You always get me in so much trouble. If my mother learns … You don’t know. She starts crying about my father, and then her mother, then her father, then her sister, then me, then her, then all her relatives. And she’s got a lot. She never stops.”
“Honest, Mario, I’m sorry. But you know what?”
“What?”
“You’re the first person to know: I’ve sworn a vow.”
“About what?”
“I don’t care how hard and relentless he is — I’m going to get Mr. Swerdlow.”
“Why?”
“You heard:
I begged him not to tell my ma or she’d put me on the rack.”
“But that wasn’t true.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t know. Anyway, he said he was operating on people.”
“That’s his job.”
“There wasn’t any blood on his hands.”
“Some people wash their hands, you know.”
“Except I happen to know he’s supposed to be in some class, not operating.”
“Maybe it was an emergency.”
“It’s fishy — that’s all.”
“Frankie, you’re always thinking something’s fishy. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”
“Hey, Mario, could you leave your window open?”
“Come on, Frankie, I really have to finish my homework. Soon as my mother gets back, the first thing she’ll say is, ‘Did you do your reader?’ Or something like that. Gets upset if it’s not done.”
“I hate that reader.”
“Why?”
“Supposed to be a reader, with stories, right? But there’s nothing to read but words. Okay, just keep your window open, right?”
“Why?”
“Time for ‘Iceman.’ ”
“Frankie … my mother….”
“You are a brave man, Skipper. One of the best. So just put your radio on your window ledge and play it low.”
“But —”
“Skipper, if a hero can’t count on his sidekick, it will be terrible for us all.”
“The legend of Iceman!
“In the Ice Age — thousands of years ago — Thorgun was a hunter who defended his people from killer beasts. Then, trapped beneath a glacier, Thorgun remained buried for twelve thousand years while his body was pressed into the hardness of diamonds. Thawed out in the twentieth century, Thorgun found his way to Bay City, where — in the guise of Thor Benson, simple shoe salesman — he combined the keen instincts of the ancient hunter with a body as hard as a diamond, to become Iceman!
“With his youthful companion, Kevin Morris, at his side, Iceman defends innocent citizens from criminals whose wolflike greed will stop at nothing.
“But before today’s thrilling adventure, let’s hear from Sam Babbitt. Okay, Sam.”
“Say, kids, last week a soldier on home leave was over at my place examining some POW! model soldiers I had. When he was there, he said something interesting. He remarked that those POW! soldiers were among the most authentic reproductions he’d ever seen and would be great for training troops in frontline observation posts. What’s more, he felt you could learn a lot from them too.
“And I’m sure you have learned too, if you’ve been choosing that fantastic cereal Rogers’ POW! for your particular breakfast meal. I hardly need to tell you that inside each box of POW! there’s a colored cardboard cutout of a soldier all ready to assemble. You don’t have to send in one penny for it. Not even a box top. And remember, there are twelve special model soldiers you can find. Six American, two British, two French, and two Russian. On each model — printed right on the back — it tells you about the soldier’s rank, the kind of fighting he’s trained to do, as well as the guns he carries. What’s more, you’ll get important tips on how to identify these Allied soldiers from a distance so you don’t confuse them with enemy troops.
“So, kids, if you haven’t started to collect these nifty model soldiers, you’ll want to start today. Tell your mom to get you a box of those good-tasting, golden rice flakes. When you do, you’ll discover a new model soldier inside. Start putting together your own Allied army today! And don’t forget, the name is POW! P-O-W-!
“And now, Iceman!”
“Yesterday the Bay City Police discovered an unconscious masked boy on the streets of the Mission District. At a nearby hospital they provided medical help while trying to learn the boy’s identity. But the one thing the boy would not allow was the removal of his mask. Instead, he kept calling for Police Commissioner Walton. It was Nurse Donnegan who brought Commissioner Walton to the boy’s room.”
“And you say, Nurse, this masked boy keeps asking for me?”
“That’s right, Commissioner.”
“Hmmm.”
“The doctors are convinced he’s deeply troubled about something.”
“Describe him for me, Nurse.”
“He’s no more than twelve, has sandy brown hair, a firm jaw, and, behind his white mask, the clearest blue eyes you could ever imagine.”
“Did you say white mask?”
“That’s right, Commissioner — white.”
“Better let me have a word with him.”
“Yes, sir. There you are — that’s him.”
“Is that you, Commissioner Walton?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Thank goodness, sir. But I have to speak to you alone.”
“Nurse, you can leave now. All right, Kevin, she’s gone.”
“Oh, Commissioner, you don’t know how glad I am to see you.”
“Kevin, the moment they told me you were wearing the white mask, I knew it had to be you and that it had something to do with Iceman. What’s happened?”
“Commissioner, Iceman is gone, disappeared!”
“What! Better tell me more.”
“That’s just it, Commissioner. I can’t. You know how long Iceman’s lived —”
“Twelve thousand years.”
“But he told me he was about to crack a case that was the biggest hunt of his life, the most serious thing that ever happened.”
“Holy smokes!”
“That the fate of the entire universe depended on it —”
“Good grief!”
“But now he’s vanished!”
“FRANKIE, your father’s home.”
“Ma, ‘Iceman’ is just —”
“Frankie! I told you, you’re not supposed to be listening to radio. Mario, take that radio away from the window! Frankie, come downstairs.”
“ ’LO, POP.”
“Frankie. Come on — sit down. Look, your ma says you were bothering Mr. Swerdlow again.”
“Not really.”
“What does ‘not really’ mean?”
“I was just conducting an investigation.”
“A what?”
“I think he may have possible criminal influences.”
“Frankie, I’m only just eating my dinner. I put in my day at the plant, and then do you know where I was tonight?”
“Working.”
“Right. Helping Mr. Giorgi fix toilets.”
“It’s not the most serious thing that ever happened.”
“Frankie, let me tell you something. There is a war going on over there. We don’t need one here. Do you understand what I’m saying, really understand?”
“Holy smokes!”
“What did you say?”
“I said I understand.”
“Go to bed.”
“FRANKIE! Time to go. Enough breakfast.”
“Ma, I want to get to school alert, full of vigor and vim, so I can be a tip-top student!”
“Four bowls is enough.”
“But I love POW!”
“You’re going to be late.”
“Just one more glass of Ovaltine. Did you know that’s what Captain Midnight drinks?”
“Frankie, you’ll be going to the bathroom all day! Now scoot!”
“Where’s Pop?”
“Why do you have to know everything? He’s on an early shift. Now just go.”
“GOOD MORNING, Class Six-B.”
“Good morning, Miss Gomez!”
“As I told you, we’ll start off today with our On the Long Road readers. Please take them out of your desks and open to page two seventy-one. That’s the chapter I asked you to read last night, so you shouldn’t have any trouble. Brigid, why don’t you start reading today.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Brigid, you. Go on, now. Right from the top of page two seventy-one.”
“Now?”
“Yes, Brigid, now.”
�
��Page two seventy-one?”
“Yes. From the top.”
“Now?”
“Go ahead, dear.”
“ ‘One clear evening in early spring Uncle Jack called for Bob and soon they were riding up the mountain road in the automobile when they reached the top of the mountain Uncle Jack parked the car but now he and Bob walked to a rock not far from the ob … ob —’ ”
“Observatory. Brigid, you don’t have to read so quickly.”
“Yes, Miss Gomez. ‘Observatory let’s sit down here said Uncle Jack this will be a good place to begin your study of astronomy we can get a fine view of the sky from here now what are some of the questions you would like to ask me Bob looked up and —’ ”
“Just a moment, Brigid. Franklin Wattleson, Mario Calvino, bring your books up here, please. No, no. With what you have inside them too. Now, what is that, Franklin?”
“A magazine.”
“Tell the class what it’s called.”
“Radio Digest.”
“And you, Mario?”
“Radio Builder.”
“And, Mario, what are we supposed to be reading?”
“On the Long Road.”
“Then why are you two reading something else?”
“Well …”
“I know!”
“All right, Franklin. Tell the class.”
“See, class, Radio Digest gives you the inside scoop on all your favorite radio shows. It’s chock-full of tips on how they do sound effects like Silver’s hoofbeats or the sound of flying. And, gang, not only will it tell you about the radio stars, but all your favorite radio writers too. So, boys and girls, if you haven’t yet started your collection of this nifty magazine —”
“Class! That’s enough, Franklin! Franklin and Mario, you may stand in the corner the entire reading session.”
“But —”
“But what, Franklin?”
“If I put my face into the corner, it might squeeze it into a wedge. Like a piece of cheese. It’d be like being on ‘Dick Tracy’! People would call me Wedge-Face!”
“Class! And for that remark, Franklin Wattleson, you may stay after school for an hour.”
“ALL RIGHT, Franklin, sit in the middle of your seat, feet flat on the floor, back straight, with your hands clasped before you.”
“Yes, Miss Gomez.”
“Do you understand why I asked you to stay today?”
“I said something I shouldn’t.”
“Exactly. You were being cheeky, weren’t you?”