The Case of the Vanishing Boy by Alexander Key Page A

time—”
    â€œLeopold!”
    â€œYes, my dear?”
    The tall, mannish figure of Helga strode out of the room’s shadow and confronted the doctor in the doorway. She was a stern-faced woman with iron-gray hair, wearing a tailored pants suit.
    â€œLeopold,” she repeated coldly, “I am in charge on this side of the Atlantic. Let us have no arguments. I will inform the staff that they must pack immediately. As soon as you are ready, the patients must be sedated for travel. Then—”
    â€œBut—but what of Matilda? How—”
    â€œThat depends. Clausen has already been alerted that he is to have the helicopter ready, and the fueling stops arranged for. I will call him now and order him to bring it immediately. We will take Matilda if there is room on board. If not, possibly Jenna can have it shipped to us later. Anyway, your first model is still in Kiev.”
    Big Doc threw up his hands and turned away, muttering to himself. Jan gripped the step where he had crouched and concentrated on Big Doc, praying that the man would not look up or turn his head. Miraculously the doctor, still muttering to himself, passed within six feet of them without becoming aware of their presence. The stern-faced woman remained standing in the doorway a moment, frowning, then turned quickly and disappeared into the reception room.
    Jan rose and caught Ginny’s hand. “Let’s go!” he whispered. “The front door!”
    His foot had hardly touched the thick carpet of the foyer when he was jolted by the abrupt ringing of an alarm in the hall upstairs. For an instant he froze, uncertain, but all at once realized they had only seconds to escape and raced to the door, dragging Ginny with him.
    The alarm was still ringing when his trembling hand began fumbling with the unfamiliar lock. Ginny thrust him aside and in the next breath had the huge door unlocked and was tugging it open.
    Even as they slipped through and drew it shut, Jan was all too aware that they had passed the open reception room in full view of the stern Helga, and he expected momentarily to hear shouts and signs of pursuit. Yet as they raced across the large old-fashioned porch and down to a driveway, he heard nothing but the muted ringing of the alarm for a brief moment before it stopped. In its place there came the vague sound of a voice that seemed to be making an announcement over a loudspeaker.
    It flashed through Jan’s mind that the alarm had been rung to awaken the staff, and that Helga was now giving orders for the evacuation. She must have been too engrossed in her task to notice that an escape was taking place under her nose.
    He could hardly believe their luck. In another minute or two they would be on a street or a road somewhere and could start looking for help or a telephone.
    Glancing back, he saw lights snapping on in the house, though the place was nearly hidden by the foliage lining the curving drive. Ahead the drive was lost in blackness, and Ginny was forced to lead the way.
    She had gone only a few yards when she stopped abruptly before the almost indiscernible outlines of what seemed to be a great wrought-iron gate. After tugging at the latch she whispered despairingly, “Oh, Jan, it—it’s locked!”
    The blackness of the night, the locked gate, and the absence of street lights or any sound of traffic sent his hopes tumbling. No stars shone through the canopy of leaves overhead, and the low rumbling of thunder warned him of approaching trouble. With the discovery of weeds underfoot he realized this entrance had not been used in a long time.
    He tugged at the gate and muttered, “We ought to be able to climb it.”
    â€œIt’s too tall,” she said. “There’s an arch above it. We can’t get through.”
    Feeling his way, he found a stone wall, stood on his toes reaching upward and asked, “How much higher is it?”
    â€œMaybe about a foot. But