There was only one thing to do, Biff decided. Go to the airline check-in counter and see if any message had been left him by his uncle. The boy approached the counter cautiously. He wanted to look around before identifying himself.

Biff sidled up to the counter. A tall, handsome man, about thirty years old, was leaning over the counter, questioning the clerk intensely. He was wearing white drill trousers and a white shirt open at the collar. A well-shaped, close-cropped head topped a strong neck and broad shoulders. He spoke to the clerk in a voice filled with authority. Unless he was badly fooled again, Biff felt sure that this man was an American, and there was something about him that the boy liked immediately.

“Hold it,” Biff told himself. “Let’s not jump too fast this time.”

Standing behind the man, Biff saw him take out a worn wallet from his hip pocket.

“Now you listen to me. I’m Jack Hudson. I’m a pilot for Explorations Unlimited. Here, take a look at my papers. I’m here to meet a boy named Biff Brewster, and I want to know where he is. Right now!”

The clerk leaned on the counter. He carefully inspected the list of names on the paper in front of him.

“So sorry. No name like one you say on this list.”

“Is that your passenger manifest list?” the man, Jack Hudson, demanded.

The clerk nodded his head.

Without asking, without waiting, Hudson snatched the list from the man’s hand.

“Here. You can’t do that!”

Hudson ignored the clerk. His eye ran down the list quickly.

“And just what do you think this name is?” Hudson held his index finger beside one of the names.

“Oh, so sorry. I guess I no understand your talk.”

“Fat chance,” Hudson said angrily. “Now you just tell me where that boy is.”

 Prev. P 21/104 next