Air Trust

by George Allan England

  CHAPTER VII.

  A FREAK OF FATE.

  Waldron was the first to speak. With a sudden laugh, boisterous andwild, he cried:

  "Flint, you old scoundrel, you're drunk!"

  "Drunk yourself!" retorted the Billionaire, half starting from hischair, his fist clenched in sudden passion. "How dare you--?"

  "Dare? I dare anything!" exclaimed Waldron. "Yes, I admit it--I _am_half seas over. That ozone--God! what a stimulant! Must be somewonderfully powerful form. If we--could market it--"

  Flint sank back in his chair, waving an extravagant hand.

  "Market it?" he answered. "Of course we can market it, and will! Drunkor sober, Wally, I know what I'm talking about. The power now in ourgrasp has never yet been equalled on earth. On the one side, we canhalf-stifle every non-subscriber to our service, or wholly stifle everyrebel against us. On the other, we can simply saturate every subscriberwith health and energy, or even--if they want it--waft them to paradiseon the wings of ozone. The old Roman idea of 'bread and circus' to rulethe mob, was child's play compared to this! Science has delivered thewhole world into our hands. Power, man, power! Absolute, infinite powerover every living, breathing thing!"

  He fell silent, pondering the vast future; and Waldron, gazing at himwith sparkling eyes, nodded with keen satisfaction. Thus for a fewmoments they sat, looking at each other and letting imagination ranriot; and as they sat, the sudden, stimulating effect of the condensedoxygen died in their blood, and calmer feelings ensued.

  Presently Waldron spoke again.

  "Let's get down to brass tacks," said he, drawing his chair up to thetable. "I'm almost myself again. The subtle stuff has got out of mybrain, at last. Generalities and day-dreams are all very well, Flint,but we've got to lay out some definite line of campaign. And the soonerwe get to it the better."

  "Hm!" sneered Flint. "If it's not more practical than your action ingiving Herzog that blank check, it won't be worth much. As anextravagant action, Wally, I've never seen it equalled. I'm astonished,indeed I am!"

  Waldron laughed easily.

  "Don't worry," he answered his partner. "That temporary aberration ofjudgment, due to oxygen-stimulus, will have no results. Herzog won'tdare fill out the check, anyhow, because he knows he'd get into troubleif he did; and even though he should, he can collect nothing. I'll havepayment stopped, at once, on that number. No danger, Flint!"

  "I don't know," mused the Billionaire. "It may be that this man has usjust a little under his thumb. He, and he alone, understands theprocess. We've got to treat him with due consideration, or he may leaveus and carry his secret to others--to Masterson, for instance, or theAmalgamated people, or--"

  "Nothing doing on that, old man!" interrupted "Tiger." "Have no fear.The first move he makes, off to Sing Sing he goes, the way we jobbedParker Hayes. Slade and the Cosmos Agency can take care of _him_, allright, if he asserts himself!"

  "Very likely," answered Flint, who had now at last entirely recoveredhis sang-froid. "But in that event, our work would be at a standstill.No, Waldron, we mustn't oppose this fellow. Better let the check gothrough, if he has nerve enough to fill it out and cash it. He won'tdare gouge very deep; and no matter what he takes, it won't be a drop inthe ocean, compared to the golden flood now almost within our grasp!"

  Waldron pondered a moment, then nodded assent.

  "All right. Correct," he finally answered. "So then, we can dismiss thattrifle from our minds. Now, to work! We've got the process we wereafter. What next?"

  "First of all," answered the Billionaire, "we'll let this Herzogunderstand that he's to have a share in the results; that in this, as ineverything so far, he's merely a tool--and that when tools lose theircutting edge we break 'em. He's a meek devil. We can hold _him_ easilyenough."

  "Right. And then?" asked Waldron.

  "Then? First of all, a good, big, wide-sweeping publicity campaign. Thatmust begin today, to prepare opinion for the forthcoming development ofthe new idea."

  "Henderson can handle that, all right," said Wally, leaning forward inhis chair. "Give him the idea, and turn him loose, and he'll getresults. A clever dog, that. He and his press bureau, working throughall the big dailies and many of the magazines, can turn this countryupside down in six months. Let him get on this job, and before you knowit the public will be demanding, be fighting for a chance to subscribeto the new ventilating-service. That part of it is easy!"

  "Yes, you're right," replied Flint. "We'll see Henderson no later thanthis afternoon. He and his writers can lay out a series of populararticles and advertisements, to be run as pure reading matter, with nodistinguishing mark that they _are_ ads, which will get the country--thewhole world, in fact--coming our way."

  "Good," the other assented. "Meantime, we can begin installing oxygenmachines on a big scale, a huge scale, to supply the demand that's boundto arise. Where do you think we'd best manufacture? Herzog says waterpower is the correct thing. We might use Niagara--use some of thesurplus power we already own there."

  "Niagara would do, very well," answered Flint. He had once more takenout his little morocco-covered note book, and was now jotting down somefurther memoranda. "It's a good location. Pipe-lines could easily beextended, from it, to cover practically a quarter to a third of theUnited States. Eventually we'll put in another plant in Chicago, one inDenver and one on the Pacific Coast. Then, in time, there must bedistributing centers in Europe, Africa, Asia and Australia. But for thepresent, we'll begin with the Niagara plant. After we get that underfull operation, the others will develop in due course of time."

  "Our charter covers this new line of work. There will be no need of anylegal technicalities," said Waldron, with a smile. "Some charter, if Ido say it, who shouldn't. I drew it, you remember. Nothing much in theway of possible business-extension got past _me_!"

  Flint nodded.

  "You're right," he answered. "Nothing stands in our way, now. Positivelynothing. We have land, power and capital without limit. We have theprocess. We control press, law, courts, judges, military and every otherform of government. All we need look out for is to secure publicconfidence and keep the bandage on the eyes of the world till our systemis actually in operation--then there will be no redress, no come back,no possible rebellion. As I've already said, Wally, we'll have the wholeworld by the windpipe; and let the mob howl _then_, if they dare!"

  "Yes, let 'em howl!" chimed in "Tiger," with a snarl that proved hisnickname no misnomer. "Inside of a year we'll have them all where wewant them. You were right, Flint, when you called oil, coal, iron andall the rest of it mere petty activities. Air--ah! that's the talk! Oncewe get the _air_ under our control, we're emperors of all life!"

  His words rang frank and bold, but something in his look, as he blinkedat his partner, might have given Flint cause for uneasiness, had theBillionaire noticed that oblique and dangerous glance. One might haveread therein some shifty and devious plan of Waldron's to dominate evenFlint himself, to rule the master or to wreck him, and to seize in hisown hands the reins of universal power. But Flint, bending over hisnote-book and making careful memoranda, saw nothing of all this.

  Waldron, an inveterate smoker, lighted a fresh cigar, leaned back,surveyed his partner and indulged in a short inner laugh, which hardlycurved his cruel lips, but which hardened still more those pale-blue,steely eyes of his.

  "All right," said he, at last. "Enough of this, Flint. Let's get back totown, now, and have a conference with Henderson. That's the first step.By tonight, the whole campaign of publicity must be mapped out. Come,come; you can finish your memoranda later. I'm impatient to be back inWall Street. Come along!"

  Five minutes later, having left orders that Herzog was to attend uponthem in their private offices, next morning, they had ordered thelimousine and were making way along the hard road toward the gate of theenclosure.

  The gate opened to let them pass, then swung and locked again, behindthem. At a good clip, the powerful car picked up speed on the homewardway. The two m
agnates, exultant and flushed with the consciousness ofcoming victory, lolled in the deeply-cushioned seat and spoke of power.

  As they swung past the aviation field and neared the Oakwood Heightsstation, a train pulled out. Down the road came tramping a workingman inoveralls and jumper, with a canvas bag of tools swinging from his brawnyright hand. As he walked, striding along with splendid energy, hewhistled to himself--no cheap ragtime air, but Handel's Largo, with anappreciation which bespoke musical feeling of no common sort.

  The Billionaire caught sight of him, just as the car slowed to take thesharp turn by the station. Instant recognition followed. Flint's eyesnarrowed sharply.

  "Hm! The same fellow," he grunted to himself. "The same rascal who stoodbeside us on the ferry boat, as we were talking over our plans. Now,what the devil?"

  Shadowed by a kind of instinctive uneasiness, not yet definite or clearbut more in the nature of a premonition of trouble, Flint gazed fixedlyat the mechanic as the car swung round the bend in the road. The glancewas returned.

  Yielding to some kind of imperative curiosity, the Billionaire leanedover the side of the car--leaned out, with his coat flapping in thestiff wind--and for a moment peered back at the disquieting workman.

  Then the car swept him out of sight, and Flint resumed his seat again.

  He did not know--for he had not seen it happen--that in that moment theslippery, leather-covered note-book had slid from his lolling coatpocket and had fallen with a sharp slap on the white macadam, skiddedalong and come to rest in the ditch.

  The workingman, however, who had paused and turned to look after thespeeding car, _he_ had seen all this.

  A moment he stood there, peering. Then, retracing his steps withresolution he picked up the little book and slid it into the pocket ofhis jeans.

  Deserted was the road. Not a soul was to be seen, save the crossingflagman, musing in his chair beside his little hut, quite oblivious toeverything but a rank cob pipe. The workman's act had not been noticed.

  Nobody had observed him. Nobody knew. Not a living creature hadwitnessed the slight deed on which, by a strange freak of fate, thehistory of the world was yet to turn.