Madame Atomos Spits Fire

by André Caroff

  Akamatsu looked questioningly Beffort, who said, “It’s no use. But, you’re going to step on it so we can get to Bishop before her.”

  The pilot nodded. Beffort leaned back against the seat, lit a cigarette and after taking a few drags said, “In Bishop we get back on her tail in a car equipped with a two-way radio which will allow us to contact Witter and Owen Bernitz. It seems to me that it’s high time we brought in the Green Dragon Force.”

  At 6 a.m. the hot pink Cadillac entered Bishop. Susan had a choice there between Highway 395 going to Reno via Carson City and the 6 leading to Tonopah. All these towns were in Nevada where the new affair had started. It was logical to suppose that the girl was going back there, but when her Cadillac reached the center of town, it turned well before the junction of 395 and 6 to take a little side road that headed west.

  In an unmarked black Chevrolet that belonged to the police, Beffort, Akamatsu and Soblen followed her with some surprise. The Cadillac crossed Bishop’s suburb, left the little road and took a dirt track that wound between the bungalows on the edge of King Canyon’s Park. In the early morning, the place was charming in spite of the dryness that yellowed the grass, the dust kicked up by the Cadillac and the dry riverbed paved with mud-covered pebbles.

  Near the forest, Susan Doolittle’s car veered off on another path at the end of which could be seen the roof of a two-story house. Beffort warily parked the car behind some trees. The Cadillac had obviously just reached the end of its journey. The isolation of the area answered precisely to the security measures normally demanded by Madame Atomos for her hideouts.

  The three men watched the car as it disappeared into the property surrounded by a high wall. “Weird,” Soblen whispered. “Why such a big wall and no gate? Anybody could enter the property…”

  “Exactly,” Beffort said softly. “No one would dream of jumping over the wall since its so easy just to enter the open passage. For sure, the gate’s been removed and replaced by some kind of detection system and you can bet that no one can breach the property line without being spotted instantly.” He looked around and added anxiously, “This area is probably riddled with microphones and cameras. From this moment on, we’d better not make any noise.”

  “Maybe we’ve already been spotted,” Soblen whispered.

  “Maybe,” Beffort admitted coldly.

  “Our car’s engine could be confused with the Cadillac,” Akamatsu objected. “Besides, we were driving in a cloud of dust that the cameras couldn’t see through. I think that we got here incognito, but it’ll be a lot harder to leave without sounding the alarm. And don’t forget that we didn’t have time to tell Witter and Bernitz and we left our paralyzing rifles in the other car.”

  Beffort stared at the Japanese. “In other words, we’re off to a bad start?”

  “Very bad,” Akamatsu agreed. “We can’t even use the radio without risking our message being intercepted by Madame Atomos.”

  They talked together in whispers, but when they stopped, the silence was tremendous. Nothing moved in the forest, not even a breeze to rustle the leaves. Bishop was too far for its sounds to reach out here and the next house was at least a half a mile away.

  “It’s troubling,” Soblen said. “No one knows we’re here since we were supposed to continue to Reno or Tonopah… I have the feeling that we’ve just walked into the lion’s den.”

  Akamatsu pointed to his bag of grenades and the rifle. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

  “Against the weapons that Madame Atomos uses, it’s pretty ridiculous,” Soblen said sadly. He was not feeling well and starting to get tired of the three-year-long merciless battle against the Atomos Organization. And Soblen had never been anything but a laboratory man. Action wore him out emotionally and physically.

  Beffort felt him on the verge of losing it. “Don’t be a pessimist, doc, please. We can certainly not help setting off Madame Atomos’ alarms, but we can still burn rubber and get out of range before the Organization reacts. Except that’s not our goal. Susan Doolittle came from Washington to hide in this house, so this has to be the meeting point we were hoping to discover. Which obviously means that Madame Atomos is not far.”

  Soblen shook his head in discouragement. “If you’re trying to cheer me up by saying this, it won’t work, Smith. Every time we’ve gotten close to the wicked woman, we’ve been hit hard. I feel like I’m about to lose my skin. One of these days luck will be looking in the other direction and…”

  “Okay, doc! You’re depressed?”

  “There’s that and…”

  Beffort opened his door quietly and got out. “Take my place, doc. You’ll go back to Bishop and inform Witter and Bernitz that we need help. Meanwhile, Yosho and I will stand guard.”

  Soblen turned red and said with indignation, “I’m not senile yet and I refuse to…”

  “Hush!” Beffort ordered. “Don’t get up on your high horse. Someone has to go to Bishop. Might as well be you. Let off the handbrake and we’ll give you a push. The downhill slope should do the rest.”

  “And the microphones?”

  “Coast down and don’t start the engine until after the turn.”

  “What should I tell Bernitz?”

  “To come here with a good team. I’m thinking Ralph Stutton, Art Baxter and Lucky Simms. And send the rest of the Green Dragon Force after the fires of the Atomos Organization. If everything goes well, Bernitz should be here before noon. And nothing foolish, doc, okay?”

  “Meaning?”

  “When you get to Bishop, stay there and get some rest. Don’t try to play the hero by dragging yourself back here. For the moment we don’t need you.”

  Akamatsu got out and Soblen slid behind the wheel, releasing the handbrake and motioning that he was ready. Beffort and Akamatsu pushed the Chevrolet out from behind the trees and then with all their force sent it over the crossroads. Afterwards they jumped into the bushes and watched anxiously as the car started slowing down.

  “Damn!” Akamatsu said, “I hope it’ll at least reach the start of the slope.”

  The tires crunched quietly over the loose ground and finally reached the more solid earth. Just when the car looked like it was going to stop, its wheels rolled onto the slope and the weight of the vehicle carried it downhill.

  “It’s okay,” Beffort let out his breath, “it’s going.”

  Soblen gave a thumb’s up as the Chevrolet picked up speed and then he wiped the sweat off his forehead. When he passed by the road leading to Madame Atomos’ shelter, he was sure that he was going to be disintegrated. No doubt about it—he was getting old.

  Chapter VII

  Beffort and Akamatsu waited for the Chevrolet to reach the turn and then dove into the forest. Around the house was dead calm, which proved that the security installation was set up in the area outside the wall. Akamatsu carried the bag of grenades and Beffort the rifle. They circled the property until they reached an opening from where they could watch the entrance and part of the road leading up to it. Silently they posted themselves among the tree trunks. It was going to be a long wait before Owen Bernitz and his men would come with their paralyzing rifle.

  After a little while, Akamatsu leaned over and whispered in Beffort’s ear, “We’re doing no good here, Smith. If Susan Doolittle leaves in her car, we can’t even follow her, not to speak of blocking the road.”

  “Okay, but what can we do?”

  “Madame Atomos’ shelters usually have all kinds of underground passages so that her servants can escape if they have to. Why not try to find one of them?”

  “And where would that get us?”

  “To get things ready in case Susan Doolittle doesn’t show up again before the evening. I don’t suppose you plan to sit in front of this house for eight hours, do you?”

  Beffort nodded. “That’s something I hadn’t thought of. Susan just might decide to lay low until we get tired of waiting. Okay, Yosho, let’s go.”

  The two men left their hiding place
and started crossing the forest on their difficult quest. Madame Atomos was a genius at camouflaging the entrances to her underground passages. It would be challenging, but Beffort and Akamatsu had some experience in the matter. They searched patiently without losing sight of each other and avoided making any suspicious noise that might reveal their presence. Around 8 a.m. Beffort ran into a hollow tree. He whistled softly to attract Akamatsu’s attention and pointed to the trunk. The Japanese nodded and looked inside. The tree had been hollowed out and camouflaged perfectly so that someone walking by unawares would never have noticed that half the trunk was made of cement, painted and covered with moss.

  The opening was around four feet from the ground and clearly formed the beginning of a tunnel that ran under the forest. It was still silent all around. This should have reassured Beffort and Akamatsu, but, on the contrary, they did not have one second free of anxiety. When birds are not singing in a forest, there’s danger afoot.

  Without a word Beffort scrambled into the opening and found a rung ladder on the other side. He gave his rifle to his friend so he could have both hands free and was getting ready to climb down when a strange crackling froze him. It came from above. There was an echo and then the voice of Madame Atomos exploded in the forest, “This time, gentlemen, I think I will say goodbye. You escaped the fire thanks to a helicopter, but now you are defenseless among these trees where I was hoping to get you. Bravo! You made my job a lot easier. What you hear, Mr. Beffort, is a recording. I am very far from you at the present time. I could have burned you without speaking to you first, but I have discovered the refuge of your little family!”

  There was silence. Beffort and Akamatsu were petrified, understanding too late that they had been caught in a double-edged trap. Madame Atomos was not taken in by any pathetic tricks.

  “Tonight at latest,” Madame Atomos continued. “Mie Azusa and your son will be in my power. With you and Akamatsu reduced to ashes, there will only be old Soblen to oppose my projects and he won’t be up to it, even if he’s helped by your bandits of the Green Dragon Force! Goodbye, Mr. Beffort! Goodbye Akamatsu-san!”

  The crackling came back and then slowly faded out. In the silence a few explosions went off, sounding like tires blowing out, and flames suddenly erupted above the trees, still far away but terribly destructive. The blaze formed a wide circle, spreading with the same speed that Beffort had seen on Highway 6.

  “The tunnel,” he shouted, “it’s our only chance.” He stepped onto another rung and then another until he touched ground where the passage began, but it was completely dark. “Drop the weapons down, Yosho!”

  The Japanese passed him the bag of grenades and the rifle and then climbed into the tree to join Beffort who asked, “Matches?”

  Akamatsu took a box out of his pocket and lit a match. The weak light danced on the mud walls revealing a concrete floor and two gutters for water to flow. Then it went out. Akamatsu lit another.

  “We have to act fast, Yosho,” Beffort said. “The flames of Madame Atomos are radio controlled. I don’t know how the sinister woman does it, but it’s a fact. If we don’t get to the house, the fire will burn us in the tunnel. Let’s go!”

  By the light of the matches they walked down the tunnel until they ran into a wall fitted with more rungs. Akamatsu turned around and saw the other end of the tunnel lit up with a purple glow. “Smith!”

  Beffort swung around. The flames were already crawling along the concrete floor, even without anything to burn. Up above, the forest must have been just a huge inferno and there was no sign that the property would be spared. So, the rungs were the only lifeline the two men had.

  Beffort clambered up, pushed open a wooden trapdoor and found himself in a cellar lit through a small window. He helped his partner climb up, taking the grenades and rifle from him and then closed the trapdoor on the flames that were licking the lowest rung. But the trapdoor would obviously not hold out the fire for long. Akamatsu ran to the window. The sky was black with smoke and streaked with burning debris, but the vegetation around the house had not yet been touched by the flames.

  “The faucet, Yosho!”

  Akamatsu turned around and noticed the big faucet sticking out of the wall. He ran to it and turned it on while Beffort pulled the pin on a grenade and slipped it under the trapdoor. Right afterward he ran to join Akamatsu and they flattened themselves to the floor. The explosion blew away the trapdoor and made the passage collapse, which buried the fire under a pile of rocks. A whirlwind of dust flew through the cellar where the air seemed to get thinner.

  “One point for us!” Beffort shouted over his ringing ears.

  “Luckily the grenade worked like water,” Akamatsu said. “The faucet is dry.” He stood up, turned around in anger, heard the telling hiss of a jet of compressed air and listened without understanding.

  “Good God!” Beffort swore, “The wall’s opening.” The wall was, in fact, pivoting around to reveal another underground passage much larger than the previous one and lit with light bulbs. Its walls were made of concrete and a railroad track was laid straight out for a long way. An electric cable stretched across the ceiling and against the wall was a glass cabin with a panel full of levers and blinking with lights.

  “Unbelievable,” Akamatsu said, “Madame Atomos set up a real control room underground.”

  “Okay,” Beffort grumbled. “That’s no doubt how she took off with Susan Doolittle. She didn’t think we would get this far.”

  “Even if the house burns,” Akamatsu commented, “this place will stay intact.”

  Beffort looked through the cellar window. The fire had reached inside the property now and was consuming the trees and dry grass while roaring on the other side of the walls. Very shortly, the house would catch fire and collapse and nothing would be left but a pile of ruins in the middle of a lunar landscape.

  “Look at this flywheel, Smith.”

  Beffort picked up the grenades and the rifle and joined Akamatsu in the underground. “Turn it,” he said, “it can’t hurt.”

  The Japanese turned the wheel and the wall went back into position, separating the cellar from the underground and protecting the two men from the fire, but isolating them at the same time in a world that belonged to the Atomos Organization. Maybe it was just escaping an immediate death for a later one, but their choices were limited.

  “That was good,” Beffort appreciated, who lived only in the present. “Now let’s see if we can use this control room.”

  Akamatsu smiled. “Let me do it, Smith. Before becoming an inspector with the Tokkoka3, I did a little of a lot of things. If there’s a train at the end of these rails, you can count on me to bring it here to us, as long as it follows my orders, of course.” He went into the cabin and worked different levers. The light in the underground got suddenly dimmer and a blinking light flashed down the long curved tube that was probably the railway. Akamatsu winked. “Looks like it’s working. You want to time the operation, Smith?”

  Beffort started his stopwatch and heard a far-off rumble. Akamatsu left the cabin, bent down and put his ear to the rail. He got up right away and said, “No doubt about it, the train or something is coming and coming fast. I wonder how long this tunnel is?”

  “I have no idea,” Beffort muttered, “but I’m eager to get out of here. Mie and Bob are in danger and I can’t even inform Washington.”

  Akamatsu did not reply. Madame Atomos had declared that Smith’s wife and son would be in her power before midnight and her prediction would be realized if nobody stood in her way.

  Ten minutes passed. The rumble kept getting closer until a little light finally appeared at the end of the long line of tunnel. After this, it only took two minutes for the vehicle to stop by itself before the control room. It was a very basic car, but it must have been surprisingly fast. The flatbed had enough swivel seats to hold eight people. On each end was a control panel. In the middle was the electric motor that was wired to the ceiling cable like a trolley.<
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  “Let’s get on,” Beffort said. “I hope you know how to get this thing going.”

  While Beffort sat in one of the chairs, Akamatsu jumped on the platform and examined one of the panels saying, “For once Madame Atomos didn’t invent anything. The motor works normally, like all others of its kind, but I think the start is going to be kind of rough. Hang on, Smith.”

  He turned the ignition and the car shuddered and shook before shooting off like a rocket. Akamatsu grabbed a support bar and pulled himself into the seat next to Beffort, but it was too loud to talk. The light bulbs installed against the wall blurred into one, continuous streak of light. Twelve minutes later the car came to a stop before another control room. The distance it had traveled was impossible to know, but Beffort and Akamatsu guessed it was around a dozen miles. Digging such a long a tunnel without alerting the population or the authorities was a feat in itself and proved how carefully Madame Atomos had planned her attacks against the United States. For the two men it was demoralizing. The sinister Japanese woman always seemed to be at the end of her rope, with no way out, ready to give in, and then a series of events proved it was nothing. She was just as powerful and the end of the battle with Beffort and his team did not look like it would be anytime soon.

  Akamatsu and Beffort got off the platform to examine the huge underground room and were shocked to see a flying saucer, a flight computer, television screens, a radio installation and a big machine that very well could have been one of the electronic relays of the Great Brain.

  “Hell,” Beffort mumbled,” where have we ended up now, Yosho?”

  The Japanese was cold sober. “It looks strangely like the inside of Atomos City. It’s probably a smaller model of the crazy set-up on the island, but I’ll bet my right arm that this room is Madame Atomos’ HQ.”

  Rifle in hand, Beffort stepped forward. Akamatsu followed him, took a grenade and got ready to pull the pin. The two men stuck close to the wall, but they were exposed and if a servant popped up with a disintegrator rifle, they had no way to escape. Beffort stopped in front of a closed door and listened. He did not hear the slightest sound. He pushed it carefully open on its metal hinges and then froze. In front of him was a long room furnished with bunk beds. On each bed a woman or man from the Atomos Organization was sleeping deeply.