CHAPTER V
Direct Action
Seaton and Crane spent some time developing the object-compass. Cranemade a number of these instruments, mounted in gymbals, so that thedelicate needles were free to turn in any direction whatever. They weremounted upon jeweled bearings, but bearings made of such great strength,that Seaton protested.
"What's the use, Mart? You don't expect a watch to be treated like astone-crusher. That needle weighs less than half a gram. Why mount it asthough it weighed twenty pounds?"
"To be safe. Remember the acceleration the Lark will be capable of, andalso that on some other worlds, which we hope to visit, this needle willweigh more than it does here."
"That's right, Mart, I never thought of that. Anyway, we can't be toosafe to suit me."
When the compasses were done and the power through them had beenadjusted to one-thousandth of a watt, the lowest they could maintainwith accuracy, they focused each instrument upon one of a set of mostcarefully weighed glass beads, ranging in size from a pin-head up to alarge marble, and had the beads taken across the country by Shiro, inorder to test the sensitiveness and accuracy of the new instruments. Thefirst test was made at a distance of one hundred miles, the last atnearly three thousand. They found, as they had expected, that from theweight of the object and the time it took the needle to come to restafter being displaced from its line by a gentle tap of the finger, theycould easily calculate the distance from the compass to the object. Thisfact pleased Crane immensely, as it gave him a sure means of navigationin space. The only objection to its use in measuring earthly distanceswas its extreme delicacy, the needle focused upon the smallest bead inthe lot at a distance of three thousand miles coming to rest in littlemore than one second.
The question of navigation solved, the two next devoted themselves toperfecting the "X-plosive bullet," as Seaton called it. From his notesand equations Seaton calculated the weight of copper necessary to exertthe explosive force of one pound of nitro-glycerin, and weighed out, onthe most delicate assay-balance made, various fractions and multiples ofthis amount of the treated copper, while Crane fitted up the bullets ofautomatic-pistol cartridges to receive the charges and to explode themon impact.
They placed their blueprints and working notes in the safe, as usual,taking with them only those notes dealing with the object-compass andthe X-plosive bullet, upon which they were still working. No one exceptShiro knew that the original tracings, from which the blue-prints hadbeen made, and their final, classified notes were always kept in thevault. They cautioned him and the three guards to keep a close watchuntil they returned. Then they set out in the biplane, to try out thenew weapon in a lonely place where the exploding shells could do nodamage.
* * * * *
They found that the X-plosive came fully up to expectations. Thesmallest charge they had prepared, fired by Crane at a great stump afull hundred yards away from the bare, flat-topped knoll that hadafforded them a landing-place, tore it bodily from the ground andreduced it to splinters, while the force of the explosion made the twomen stagger.
"She sure is big medicine!" laughed Seaton. "Wonder what a real one willdo?" and drawing his pistol, he inserted a cartridge carrying a muchheavier charge.
"Better be careful with the big ones," cautioned Crane. "What are yougoing to shoot at?"
"That rock over there," pointing to a huge boulder half a mile awayacross the small valley. "Want to bet me a dinner I can't hit it?"
"No. You forget that I saw you win the pistol trophy of the District."
The pistol cracked, and when the bullet reached its destination thegreat stone was obliterated in a vast ball of flame. After a momentthere was a deafening report--a crash as though the world were fallingto pieces. Both men were hurled violently backward, stumbling andfalling flat. Picking themselves up, they looked across the valley atthe place where the boulder had stood, to see only an immense cloud ofdust, which slowly blew away, revealing a huge hole in the ground. Theywere silent a moment, awed by the frightful power they had loosed.
"Well, Mart," Seaton broke the silence, "I'll say those one-milligramloads are plenty big enough. If that'd been something coming afterus--whether any possible other-world animal, a foreign battleship, orthe mythical great sea-serpent himself, it'd be a good Indian now. Yes?No?"
"Yes. When we use the heavier charges we must use long-range rifles.Have you had enough demonstration or do you want to shoot some more?"
"I've had enough, thanks. That last rock I bounced off of was no pillow,I'll tell the world. Besides, it looks as though I'd busted a leg or twooff of our noble steed with my shot, and we may have to walk back home."
An examination of the plane, which had been moved many feet and almostoverturned by the force of the explosion, revealed no damage that theycould not repair on the spot, and dusk saw them speeding through the airtoward the distant city.
In response to a summons from his chief, Perkins silently appeared inBrookings' office, without his usual complacent smile.
"Haven't you done anything yet, after all this time?" demanded themagnate. "We're getting tired of this delay."
"I can't help it, Mr. Brookings," replied the subordinate. "They've gotdetectives from Prescott's all over the place. Our best men have beentrying ever since the day of the explosion, but can't do a thing withoutresorting to violence. I went out there myself and looked them over,without being seen. There isn't a man there with a record, and I haven'tbeen able so far to get anything on any one of them that we can use as ahandle."
"No, Prescott's men are hard to do anything with. But can't you...?"Brookings paused significantly.
"I was coming to that. I thought one of them might be seen, and I talkedto him a little, over the phone, but I couldn't talk loud enough withoutconsulting you. I mentioned ten, but he held out for twenty-five. Saidhe wouldn't consider it at all, but he wants to quit Prescott and gointo business for himself."
"Go ahead on twenty-five. We want to get action," said Brookings, as hewrote an order on the cashier for twenty-five thousand dollars insmall-to-medium bills. "That is cheap enough, considering whatDuQuesne's rough stuff would probably cost. Report tomorrow about four,over our private phone--no, I'll come down to the cafe, it's safer."
* * * * *
The place referred to was the Perkins Cafe, a high-class restaurant onPennsylvania Avenue, heavily patronized by the diplomatic, political,financial, and sporting circles of upper-class Washington. It was famousfor its discreet waiters, and for the absolutely private rooms. Many ofits patrons knew of its unique telephone service, in which each callwent through such a devious system of relays that any attempt to traceit was hopeless; they knew that while "The Perkins" would not knowinglylend itself to any violation of law, it was an entirely safe andthoroughly satisfactory place in which to conduct business of the mostsecret and confidential character; a place from which one could enjoypersonal conversation with persons to whom he wished to remain invisibleand untraceable: a place which had never been known to "leak." For thesereasons it was really the diplomatic and political center of thecountry, and over its secret wires had gone, in guarded language,messages that would have rocked the world had they gone astray. It wasrecognized that the place was occasionally, by its very nature, used forillegal purposes, but it was such a political, financial, and diplomaticnecessity that it carried a "Hands Off" sign. It was never investigatedby Congress and never raided by the police. Hundreds of telephone callswere handled daily. A man would come in, order something served in aprivate room, leave a name at the desk, and say that he was expecting acall. There the affair ended. The telephone operators were hand-picked,men of very short memories, carefully trained never to look at a faceand never to remember a name or a number. Although the precaution wasunnecessary, this shortness of memory was often encouraged by bills ofvarious denominations.
No one except Perkins and the heads of the great World Steel Corporationknew that the
urbane and polished proprietor of the cafe was a criminalof the blackest kind, whose liberty and life itself were dependent uponthe will of the Corporation; or that the restaurant was especiallyplanned and maintained as a blind for its underground activities; orthat Perkins was holding a position which suited him exactly and whichhe would not have given up for wealth or glory--that of being theguiding genius who planned nefarious things for the men higher up, andsaw to it that they were carried out by the men lower down. He was inconstant personal touch with his superiors, but in order to avoid anychance of betrayal he never saw his subordinates personally. Not onlywere they entirely ignorant of his identity, but all possible means oftheir tracing him had been foreseen and guarded against. He called themon the telephone, but they never called him. The only possible way inwhich any of his subordinates could get in touch with him was by meansof the wonderful wireless telephone already referred to, developed by adrug-crazed genius who had died shortly after it was perfected. It was atiny instrument, no larger than a watch, but of practically unlimitedrange. The controlling central station of the few instruments inexistence, from which any instrument could be cut out, changed in tune,or totally destroyed at will, was in Perkins' office safe. A manintrusted with an unusually important job would receive from an unknownsource an instrument, with directions sufficient for its use. As soon asthe job was done he would find, upon again attempting to use thetelephone, that its interior was so hopelessly wrecked that not even themost skilled artisan could reproduce what it had once been.
* * * * *
At four o'clock Brookings was ushered into the private office of themaster criminal, who was plainly ill at ease.
"I've got to report another failure, Mr. Brookings. It's nobody's fault,just one of those things that couldn't be helped. I handled this myself.Our man left the door unlocked and kept the others busy in another room.I had just started to work when Crane's Japanese servant, who wassupposed to be asleep, appeared upon the scene. If I hadn't knownsomething about jiu-jutsu myself, he'd have broken my neck. As it was, Ibarely got away, with the Jap and all three guards close behind me...."
"I'm not interested in excuses," broke in the magnate, angrily. "We'llhave to turn it over to DuQuesne after all unless you get somethingdone, and get it done quick. Can't you get to that Jap some way?"
"Certainly I can. I never yet saw the man who couldn't be reached, oneway or another. I've had 'Silk' Humphreys, the best fixer in thebusiness, working on him all day, and he'll be neutral before night. Ifthe long green won't quiet him--and I never saw a Jap refuse it yet--alead pipe will. Silk hasn't reported yet, but I expect to hear from himany minute now, through our man out there."
As he spoke, the almost inaudible buzzer in his pocket gave a signal.
"There he is now," said Perkins, as he took out his wirelessinstrument. "You might listen in and hear what he has to say."
Brookings took out his own telephone and held it to his ear.
"Hello," Perkins spoke gruffly into the tiny transmitter. "What've yougot on your chest?"
"Your foot slipped on the Jap," the stranger replied. "He crabbed thegame right. Slats and the big fellow put all the stuff into the box,told us to watch it until they get back tonight--they may be late--thenwent off in Slats' ship to test something--couldn't find out what. Silktackled the yellow boy, and went up to fifty grand, but the Jap couldn'tsee him at all. Silk started to argue, and the Jap didn't do a thing butlay him out, cold. This afternoon, while the Jap was out in the grounds,three stick-up men jumped him. He bumped one of them off with his handsand the others with his gat--one of those big automatics that throw aslug like a cannon. None of us knew he had it. That's all, except that Iam quitting Prescott right now. Anything else I can do for you, whoeveryou are?"
"No. Your job's done."
The conversation closed. Perkins pressed the switch which reduced theinterior of the spy's wireless instrument to a fused mass of metal, andBrookings called DuQuesne on the telephone.
"I would like to talk to you," he said. "Shall I come there or would yourather come to my office?"
"I'll come there. They're watching this house. They have one man infront and one in back, a couple of detectaphones in my rooms here, andhave coupled onto this telephone.
"Don't worry," he continued calmly as the other made an exclamation ofdismay. "Talk ahead as loud as you please--they can't hear you. Do youthink that those poor, ignorant flat feet can show me anything aboutelectricity? I'd shoot a jolt along their wires that would burn theirears off if it weren't my cue to act the innocent and absorbedscientist. As it is, their instruments are all registering densesilence. I am deep in study right now, and can't be disturbed!"
"Can you get out?"
"Certainly. I have that same private entrance down beside the house walland the same tunnel I used before. I'll see you in about fifteenminutes."
* * * * *
In Brookings' office, DuQuesne told of the constant surveillance overhim.
"They suspect me on general principles, I think," he continued. "Theyare apparently trying to connect me with somebody. I don't think theysuspect you at all, and they won't unless they get some better methods.I have devices fitted up to turn the lights off and on, raise and lowerthe windows, and even cast shadows at certain times. The housekeeperknows that when I go to my library after dinner, I have retired tostudy, and that it is as much as anyone's life is worth to disturb me.Also, I am well known to be firmly fixed in my habits, so it's easy tofool those detectives. Last night I went out and watched them. They hungaround a couple of hours after my lights went out, then walked offtogether. I can dodge them any time and have all my nights free withouttheir ever suspecting anything."
"Are you free tonight?"
"Yes. The time-switches are all set, and as long as I get back beforedaylight, so they can see me get up and go to work, it will be allright."
Brookings told him briefly of the failures to secure the solution andthe plans, of the death of the three men sent to silence Shiro, and ofall the other developments. DuQuesne listened, his face impassive.
"Well," he said as Brookings ceased. "I thought you would bull it, butnot quite so badly. But there's no use whining now. I can't use myoriginal plan of attack in force, as they are prepared and might be ableto stand us off until the police could arrive."
He thought deeply for a time, then said, intensely:
"If I go into this thing, Brookings, I am in absolute command.Everything goes as I say. Understand?"
"Yes. It's up to you, now."
"All right, I think I've got it. Can you get me a Curtiss biplane in anhour, and a man about six feet tall who weighs about a hundred and sixtypounds? I want to drive the plane myself, and have the man, dressed infull leathers and hood, in the passenger's seat, shot so full ofchloroform or dope that he will be completely unconscious for at leasttwo hours."
"Easy. We can get you any kind of plane you want in an hour, and Perkinscan find a man of that description who would be glad to have a dream atthat price. But what's the idea?... Pardon me, I shouldn't have askedthat," he added, as the saturnine chemist shot him a black look frombeneath his heavy brows.
Well, within the hour, DuQuesne drove up to a private aviation field andfound awaiting him a Curtiss biplane, whose attendant jumped into anautomobile and sped away as he approached. He quickly donned a heavyleather suit, similar to the one Seaton always wore in the air, and drewthe hood over his face. Then, after a searching look at the lean form ofthe unconscious man in the other seat, he was off, the plane climbingswiftly under his expert hand. He took a wide circle to the west andnorth.
Soon Shiro and the two guards, hearing the roar of an approachingairplane, looked out and saw what they supposed to be Crane's biplanecoming down with terrific speed in an almost vertical nose-dive, asthough the driver were in an extremity of haste. Flattening out just intime to avert destruction it taxied up the field almost to the house.The w
atchers saw a man recognizable as Seaton by his suit and hisunmistakable physique stand up and wave both arms frantically, heard himshout hoarsely "... all of you ... out here," saw him point to Crane'sapparently lifeless form and slump down in his seat. All three ran outto help the unconscious aviators, but just as they reached the machinethere were three silenced reports and the three men fell to the ground.DuQuesne leaped lightly out of the machine and looked narrowly at thebodies at his feet. He saw that the two detectives were dead, but foundwith some chagrin that the Japanese still showed faint signs of life. Hehalf drew his pistol to finish the job, but observing that the victimwas probably fatally wounded he thrust it back into its holster andwent on into the house. Drawing on rubber gloves he rapidly blew thedoor off the safe with nitro-glycerin and took out everything itcontained. He set aside a roll of blueprints, numerous notebooks, somemoney and other valuables, and a small vial of solution--but of thelarger bottle there was no trace. He then ransacked the entire house,from cellar to attic, with no better success. So cleverly was theentrance to the vault concealed in the basement wall that he failed todiscover it.
"I might have expected this of Crane," he thought, half aloud, "afterall the warning that fool Brookings persisted in giving him. This is thenatural result of his nonsense. The rest of the solution is probably inthe safest safe-deposit vault in the United States. But I've got theirplans and notes, and enough solution for the present. I'll get the restof it when I want it--there's more than one way to kill any cat thatever lived!"
Returning to the machine, DuQuesne calmly stepped over the bodies of thedetectives and the unconscious form of the dying Japanese, who wasuttering an occasional groan. He started the engine and took his seat.There was an increasing roar as he opened the throttle, and soon hedescended upon the field from which he had set out. He noted that therewas a man in an automobile at some distance from the hangar, evidentlywaiting to take care of the plane and his still unconscious passenger.Rapidly resuming his ordinary clothing, he stepped into his automobileand was soon back in his own rooms, poring over the blueprints andnotebooks.
* * * * *
Seaton and Crane both felt that something was wrong when they approachedthe landing field and saw that the landing-lights were not burning, asthey always were kept lighted whenever the plane was abroad after dark.By the dim light of the old moon Crane made a bumpy landing and theysprang from their seats and hastened toward the house. As they neared itthey heard a faint moan and turned toward the sound, Seaton whipping outhis electric torch with one hand and his automatic pistol with theother. At the sight that met their eyes, however, he hastily replacedthe weapon and bent over Shiro, a touch assuring him that the other twowere beyond the reach of help. Silently they picked up the injured manand carried him gently into his own room, barely glancing at the wreckedsafe on the way. Seaton applied first-aid treatment to the ghastly woundin Shiro's head, which both men supposed to be certainly fatal, whileCrane called a noted surgeon, asking him to come at once. He thentelephoned the coroner, the police, and finally Prescott, with whom heheld a long conversation.
Having done all in their power for the unfortunate man, they stood athis bedside, their anger all the more terrible for the fact that it wassilent. Seaton stood with every muscle tense. He was seething with rage,his face purple and his eyes almost emitting sparks, his teeth clencheduntil the muscles of his jaws stood out in bands and lumps. His righthand, white-knuckled, gripped the butt of his pistol, while under hisleft the brass rail of the bed slowly bent under the intensity of hisunconscious muscular effort. Crane stood still, apparently impassive,but with his face perfectly white and with every feature stern and coldas though cut from marble. Seaton was the first to speak.
"Mart," he gritted, his voice husky with fury, "a man who would leaveanother man alone to die after giving him that, ain't a man--he's athing. If Shiro dies and we can ever find out who did it I'll shoot himwith the biggest explosive charge I've got. No, I won't either, that'dbe too sudden. I'll take him apart with my bare hands."
"We will find him, Dick," Crane replied in a level, deadly voiceentirely unlike his usual tone. "That is one thing money can do. We willget him if money, influence, and detectives can do it."
The tension was relieved by the arrival of the surgeon and his twonurses, who set to work with the machine-like rapidity and precision oftheir highly-specialized craft. After a few minutes, the work completed,the surgeon turned to the two men who had been watching him so intently,with a smile upon his clean-shaven face.
"Merely a scalp wound, Mr. Crane," he stated. "He should recoverconsciousness in an hour or so." Then, breaking in upon Seaton'sexclamation, "It looks much worse than it really is. The bullet glancedoff the skull instead of penetrating it, stunning him by the force of theblow. There are no indications that the brain is affected in any way,and while the affected area of the scalp is large, it is a clean woundand should heal rapidly. He will probably be up and around in a coupleof days, and by the time his hair grows again, he will not be able tofind a scar."
As he took his leave, the police and coroner arrived. After making athorough investigation, in which they learned what had been stolen andshrewdly deduced the manner in which the robbery had been accomplished,they departed, taking with them the bodies. They were authorized byCrane to offer a reward of one million dollars for information leadingto the arrest and conviction of the murderer. After everyone except thenurses had gone, Crane showed them the rooms they were to occupy whilecaring for the wounded man. As the surgeon had foretold, Shiro soonrecovered consciousness. After telling his story he dropped into a deepsleep, and Seaton and Crane, after another telephonic conference withPrescott, retired for the rest of the night.