Scotty nodded thoughtfully. "I think so. The barber ties in because he came from Washington, and he has the machine. The houseboaters tie in because of the pram."

"Okay. Then if both are involved, they have to contact each other sometime. They have to exchange information, at the very least."

Scotty was with him. "And it would be easier for the houseboaters to contact the barber than vice versa. Because everyone has to get a haircut sooner or later. Right?"

"One hundred percent. So we keep a watch on both. I'll work it out with Joe Blake. We could keep watch by day, when possibility of contact is greatest because the barbershop is open. The JANIG team on the mainland can keep watch by night, because if the houseboaters and the barber meet at night it will have to be in the woods. Anywhere in town would be too obvious--except for the barbershop."

Barby and Jan had listened in silence, but Barby could contain herself no longer. "And we're going to help!"

To Barby's astonishment, Rick nodded. She had expected opposition.

"You and Jan can keep watch of the houseboat. Scotty and I will take the mainland. If the houseboaters start for Whiteside pier, you'll tell us. We'll pick them up as they land and trail 'em."

Barby nodded, pleased. "The Megabuck Mob goes into action! We'll use the radio network. Right?"

"Yes. First thing is, where do you take up a position? If I remember correctly, you can see North Cove from the attic. It will be kind of hot up there, but maybe we can rig a fan."

"We won't mind," Jan said swiftly. "When do we start?"

"Right now."

Scotty spoke up. "You said you had a couple of things. What's the other one?"

"We have to get a look at the barber's machine. I don't know how we'll do it. But we can figure out something."

In the back of Rick's mind was the thought that the houseboaters might have moved nearer Whiteside for the purpose of contacting the barber, as well as to get a better look at traffic between Spindrift and the mainland. If that were true, they had better hurry.

He had another thought, too. "What time is it?"

Barby consulted her watch. "Five before eight. Why?"

"The barbershop doesn't open until nine. I think it might be useful to have someone call on the houseboaters and try to pump them a little.

It might be interesting to hear why they chose to anchor in North Cove."

Barby's eyes got round. "Would you do it?"

Rick shook his head. "It can't be anyone from Spindrift, or from the police. It has to be someone plausible. I'm thinking of Cap'n Mike."

"Hey, that's just the ticket!" Scotty shook Rick's hand solemnly.

"Cap'n Mike can pretend to be fishing, the way he used to when he was keeping an eye on Creek House. He could drift over to the houseboat and ask for a drink of water, or something, and strike up a conversation. They'd think he was just a typical salty character."

"Then that's how we'll do it. Scotty, suppose you get the binoculars for Barby, then rig up a fan. I'll go get Cap'n Mike. It won't take long, and we can have something set before the barbershop opens."

Scotty helped Rick push the plane out from the beach, then collected the binoculars. Rick warmed the plane and checked the gas. He could use a few minutes to gas up, too. There was a pier in Seaford where he could land and get the proper grade of fuel.

He taxied out, headed into the wind, and took off. Then, to confuse watchers, he headed straight for Whiteside. As he pa.s.sed over the cove he saw the houseboat, anch.o.r.ed in the best position for watching the Spindrift-Whiteside boat course. His mouth was set in a straight line.

Maybe there was no proof, but how much circ.u.mstantial evidence was needed to paint a picture? He was sure the houseboat was a part of the plot against the project.

Far inland, out of sight of the coast, he swung south, picked up Salt Creek and followed it to Smugglers' Reef. He turned down the coast past the town, buzzed Cap'n Mike's shack, and landed.

Captain Michael Aloysius Kevin O'Shannon was at the pier when he docked. Rick cut the engine and climbed out on the pontoon. He heaved a line to the old seaman, who hauled him to the pier.

Cap'n Mike was nearly seventy years old, but as Rick well knew, he had the vigor and keen mind of a man twenty years his junior. Under the battered master's cap was a thatch of white hair and a strong, weather-beaten face.

"About time you paid a friendly call," Cap'n Mike greeted him. "Sorry I found no strangers for you. Was goin' to call today. Where's Scotty?"

Rick felt a twinge of conscience. He had intended to pay a visit to his friend so many times, but something always seemed to get in the way. It had been many weeks since his last call.

"It isn't exactly a social call," he said apologetically. "We need your help, Cap'n Mike."

The old man looked at him quizzically. "What for? Fishin' or detectin'?"

"Detectin'," Rick answered.

"Accepted! Now I see why you were lookin' for strangers. When and where do I start?"

"Right now, at Spindrift. Can you come?"

"Wait'll I turn off my coffeepot. Anything I'll need?"

"We'll want you to do a little fishing, too."

Cap'n Mike nodded and hurried up the pier to his shack. In a few minutes he was back, rod case and tackle box in hand. He cast off and climbed into the plane. "Let's go, boy! Time's awastin'. Who we after this time?"

Rick started the engine and was air-borne before he answered. Then, almost immediately, he had to land again to take on gas. By the time he was in the air en route to Spindrift, Cap'n Mike was squirming so impatiently that the whole plane seemed to vibrate.

"Well, get on with it," he said irritably.

Rick smiled. "All right. We don't know who we're after."

Cap'n Mike grunted.

"Seriously, we don't. Some folks in a houseboat are anch.o.r.ed in North Cove. We want to find out why."

Cap'n Mike nodded sagely. "For no reason. They just might be dangerous criminals, so you want to investigate. All right, go ask 'em."

"We can't. We want you to go fishing, and work your way to the houseboat. Ask for a drink of water or something, then find out if you can what they're doing."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Cap'n Mike quickly hauled the Sky Wagon to the pier_]

"Got it all worked out, have ye?" The old captain snorted. "Where's the fun in that? Like to do things my own way."

Rick hurriedly backtracked. "All right, do it anyway you like. We just want the information."

"What for?"

Rick sighed. "Can't tell you, Cap'n."

"Must be I got untrustworthy since I saw you last."