by John Blaine
“Where? I can’t see.” Rick shielded his eyes and tried to catch a glimpse of the figure. “Where did he go?”
“Come on.” Scotty picked his way through the orchard to where the figure had vanished. There was no sign of anyone.
“Down this path is the shortest way.”
Rick, his night vision regained, struck off through the trees to where the dark bulk of the lab was dimly visible.
Something white flickered in the air and swerved into full sight. It was luminous, and it fluttered through the air like a blind ghost. It fell to the ground a short distance away, jerked feebly, and then lay still.
“A ghost,” Scotty breathed.
“The ghost of a bird, then,” Rick retorted, but the words hid his own sudden fright.
They hurried to where the thing glowed against the ground in front of the laboratory. It stirred weakly, as though trying to rise again.
“The flashlight,” Rick said. Then, as Scotty shot the beam down, a horrified chill flashed through him.
“A bat!” Scotty exclaimed. “Look at it!”
Rick bent low over the luminous body and the chill turned his blood to ice.
He let out a hoarse cry.
“Dad! Come quickly! Dad!”
He took the light from Scotty’s hand and shot it toward the house, blinking the beam off and on.
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“What is it?” Scotty asked. “What’s the matter?”
“Look at it.” Rick choked. “The skin is ... is melting right off. Scotty, the radiation shields are down!”
CHAPTER V
Trouble onSpindriftIsland
Lights flashed on all over the house and there were shouts as people rushed across the orchard to where the boys stood.
“Rick, where are you?” Hartson Brant called.
“Here, Dad, in front of the radiation-room door.”
The scientist hurried to their side, followed by other pajama-clad figures.
“The shields are down,” Rick told them, pointing to the bat.
Scotty was the first to break the spell the glowing bat held over the group. “I’ll take a look inside,” he said, and started for the door.
Rick and Hartson Brant grabbed him together.
“You wouldn’t last ten seconds in there,” Rick said urgently. “See that bat?”
“Get the antiradiation suits,” Hartson Brant directed.
John Stringfellow hurried toward the storeroom, while the others went to the main door of the laboratory.
“What’s it all about?” Scotty asked, bewildered.
“Gamma rays,” Rick said. “The electron gun is in there, bombarding that radioactive pile of stuff I told you about. The combined rays are deadly. The lead shields that protect the operators must have fallen.”
“But how could they fall?”
“I don’t know,” Rick answered. “But if the bat hadn’t flown in and warned us ... Well, we wouldn’t have gone under so fast, but we’d have died in a few days.”
They stood aside as Hartson Brant and John String-fellow hurried to the radiation-room door. They were dressed in strange suits of gray metal cloth and wore helmets of the same material on their heads.
Their faces were nearly invisible behind thick, leaded glass. Completely covered by the odd outfits, they looked like men from another planet.
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“Lead cloth,” Rick explained, “to protect them from the rays while they put the shields back up.”
The two curiously dressed men vanished into the inner room and the others waited in silence. They were back in a few moments, stripping off the radiation suits. No one spoke a word as they waited for Hartson Brant to break the silence.
The scientist’s eyes went from face to face as his helmet came off and he stepped out of the cumbersome suit. Finally he spoke: “Who was in the lab tonight?”
There was no answer.
“If the shields were dropped by accident, don’t be afraid to speak up.”
Rick took a deep breath and said, “I don’t think it was an accident, Dad.”
He felt all eyes on him. “Scotty and I saw a light in the lab,” he went on, “and when we came to see what it was, this door was open and a man ran through the orchard.”
“And if the bat hadn’t warned you,” Hartson Brant said grimly, “you might have gone right into the radiation room.”
The boys nodded.
“Then whoever dropped those shields would have been guilty of murder!”
“Oh, no!” John Stringfellow gasped.
“What would you call it?” Hartson Brant asked. It was plain that he was making an effort at calmness.
Stringfellow shuddered. “Who would plan such a horrible thing?”
“And why?” Hobart Zircon’s gruff voice added.
No one had an answer.
“Well, someone did drop the shields,” Rick said at last. “We saw him leaving the lab.”
“That’s just it,” Zircon boomed. “Did you actually see a man?”
“Scotty did.” Rick looked at his friend.
“Yes, sir,” Scotty said definitely. “I caught just a glimpse of him; then he vanished.”
Julius Weiss spoke up tartly. “First you saw him; then you didn’t. The light was poor, was it not?
Perhaps you really saw nothing.”
“Scotty saw him,” Rick said flatly. “And I heard him slam the door.”
“Well, I was in my room-“ Zircon stopped quickly, aware that every eye was on him.
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“No one has accused you,” Hartson Brant said. “But as long as you say you can account for yourself, how about the rest of us?”
“I was also in my room,” Julius Weiss said hurriedly. “And I thought I heardHobart moving around next door.”
The two men looked at each other and nodded.
“I was reading in my quarters,” Stringfellow said.
“And I was in my room asleep,” said Hartson Brant.
“Then the only ones up at the time were these two,” Hobart Zircon declared, pointing a finger at Rick and Scotty.
“And we don’t know this new boy very well,” Julius Weiss cut in.
Scotty reddened at the insinuation. “I tell you I saw a man,” he insisted defensively. “Rick was with me every minute.”
“Just a moment,” Hartson Brant interrupted. “There is no need to throw accusations at each other. I see no reason for believing the prowler was one of us. Someone could very well have reached the island from the mainland.”
“If there was such a person,” Weiss said stubbornly.
“That’s quite enough,” Mr. Brant said coldly. “Prowler or not, I’m going to put a guard in the laboratory tonight. We can do some investigating tomorrow.Hobart , will you please stand watch on this side?
Scotty will watch on the other side.”
Zircon nodded agreement.
“The rest of us will return to the house,” Hartson Brant added. “Scotty, before you begin, please come with me.”
He led the way toward the house, all but Zircon following. One by one they turned off to their own rooms until only Rick and Scotty were left with the scientist. In his bedroom, he opened a bureau drawer and drew forth a black object.
Rick’s eyes widened as his father said, “Take this, Scotty. I think you know how to use it.”
Scotty took the service pistol, a .45 automatic. He nodded silently.
“Dad,” Rick pleaded, “what do you really think?”
Hartson Brant looked suddenly old and tired. “All these strange accidents, and now this . . . I’m afraid someone is trying to interfere with our experiment.”
Rick started to speak, but his father held up his hand. “We’ll talk about it in the morning. Go to bed now.”
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The boys left the room and Hartson Brant closed the door behind them.
“When I left the marines I thought I’d never have to stand watch again,” Scotty remarke
d. “But here goes.” He tucked the pistol into his belt and went down the hall.
Rick looked after his vanishing figure and shook his head. In the last few weeks, a shadow had drifted overSpindriftIsland .
CHAPTER VI
The Loosened Clasp
Rick awoke with a rapid buzzing in his ears. For a moment he lay still, trying to fathom the noise; then he realized someone was ringing the switchboard for an outside line.
He swept off the covers and dressed rapidly. Through the open door he heard his father’s voice.
“Barby, where are you? Connect me with an outside line, please.”
Rick went into the hall as his sister hurried downstairs to the switchboard. His father was phoning from his own room.
“Come in, Rick,” he said when his son appeared at the door. Then, “Operator? State Police Headquarters, please.”
Rick tensed. Like all boys his age, he had a wholesome respect for the police. It was an uncomfortable feeling to know that their help was needed onSpindriftIsland .
“Lieutenant Slocum? This is Hartson Brant. Yes, onSpindriftIsland .”
Rick listened as his father outlined the events of the night before.
“Is he coming?” he asked when his father hung up.
“Yes, hell be here in an hour.”
“You’re going to tell him everything, aren’t you, Dad? About the man we saw and all?”
Hartson Brant chose a necktie and put it on. “I’m afraid I won’t be here, son. I have an appointment inNew York with the Stoneridge people. It can’t be canceled. I’m putting John Stringfellow in charge.”
Rick felt disappointment at the news, but he realized the trip was important if it was about the grant. “I’ll go see if Scotty wants breakfast,” he said. “I’ll see you before you go, Dad.”
Hartson Brant was finishing breakfast when Rick returned with a famished Scotty. As the boys sat down, he rose and took his small traveling bag.
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“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he told them. “Meanwhile, keep your eyes open, both of you. But stay out of trouble.” He left the house and went toward the boat landing.
Barby joined them at the breakfast table. Her eyes, on Scotty, were solicitous. “Aren’t you tired, after staying up all night?”
“Not at all,” Scotty assured her. “Just hungry. I’m used to standing watches.”
“Good,” Rick said. “Then maybe you’d like to take a little excursion.”
“Soon as I finish this,” Scotty answered, reaching for one of Mrs. Brant’s fluffy biscuits.
Barby spread her biscuit liberally with butter, glancing at Rick to see if he was watching.
“Mustn’t,” he said, grinning. “You’ll never get toHollywood eating a pound of butter at every meal.”
“You eat it, and it doesn’t keep you from playing detective,” she said defiantly. “Anyway, who wants to go toHollywood ?”
“You,” Rick teased.
“Not any more,” Barby said comfortably. “I’ve decided to be a girl marine.” The look she gave Scotty was one of pure hero worship.
Rick tried to look blank. “Where do you get that detective stuff?”
“On the telephone. I listened when Dad was telephoning.”
Rick shook his head. “Shameless,” he said. “Imagine, Scotty, my little sister turns out to be an eavesdropper!”
“I’m not so little,” she said quickly. “I guess I’m old enough to go on that excursion with you.”
Rick looked at Scotty. He seemed amused at the conversation. He wouldn’t mind if Barby went along.
“I guess you’re old enough,” he agreed. “Come on.”
The three rose from the table and went out of doors, where Dismal greeted them happily and tumbled along scatter-footed in the lead.
They headed toward Pirate’s Field. Barby threw a stick for Dismal to retrieve, but the shaggy pup couldn’t locate it in the grass, and she ran off to help him.
Scotty stepped quickly to Rick’s side. “There’s a funny look on your face,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
It was hard to put the thought in words. “Maybe I’m wrong,” Rick said hesitantly. “I hope I am. But I’m beginning to believe that if anyone is trying to wreck the experiment, he has a helper here on the island.”
Scotty’s eyes opened wide. “That’s plenty serious. Have you said anything to your father?”
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“My gosh, no! Dad has known these men for years. He’d think I had gone crazy.”
“But what makes you think so?”
Rick stopped walking. “Well, we’ve had a lot of trouble that seemed accidental. It would take an inside man to make those things look like accidents. Then, last night, the shields were dropped. It would take someone who knew what he was doing to fool around the radiation chamber without getting burned. And two of the men tried hard to convince us we didn’t see prowler.”
“Zircon?”
“And Weiss.”
“That’s pretty slim evidence.” Scotty scratched his head. “The worst part of it is, if you’re right we can’t do anything about it until the traitor makes his next move.”
They heard Barby calling to them and looked up to see her standing before a tall, angular framework covered with canvas.
“She wants to show you the rocket launcher,” Rick said.
As they arrived at Barby’s side, Scotty whistled at the height of the great frame. “This is certainly no Fourth-of-July rocket you folks are going to shoot off!”
“It will be the largest and most powerful rocket ever launched from the earth,” Rick said seriously.
Barby lifted a corner of the canvas and peeked under it.
“Nuhnuh,” Rick cautioned. “Mustn’t touch.”
Barby dropped the canvas as though it were red-hot “Oh, I know what it looks like,” she said pertly.
“All right, little sister,” Rick invited, “tell us how it works.”
“Well, it’s a-I mean, there’s a big whatchamacallit, a slide, sort of, for the rocket to sit in.”
“She means a cradle.” Rick grinned.
“Yes. And right down here”-she pointed to the base of the tall frame-“is a thingamajig that starts the rocket.”
“She means a detonating chamber,” Rick explained.
Barby turned pink. “Well, you’re so smart! You tell it.”
Scotty smiled. “It shouldn’t be hard to be a scientist. Why, everyone knows what thingamajigs and whatchamacallits are.”
Barby looked embarrassed but she laughed.
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Rick came to her rescue. “Those are as good names as any, I guess. The instruments are all specially made for radar control. They didn’t have any names until the scientists figured out what to call them.”
“What are these instruments supposed to do?”
“They’ll be set to transmit back to Spindrift. Dope about temperature and rays and solar radiation-all kinds of stuff. They’ll tell us what outer space is like.”
He held the canvas aside so Scotty could see the steel framework which stretched up under the cover.
Dismal poked an inquisitive nose under the canvas and Rick pulled him back.
Scotty shook his head. “Whoever would have believed we’d be hitting the moon with rockets someday?” he marveled.
“That someday is only a few days away now,” Rick said. He added softly, “I hope.”
“You hope?” Barby asked. “Why, Daddy has it definitely scheduled. Why are you acting so funny?”
Rick smiled quickly. “Don’t be inquisitive,” he said good-naturedly. Suddenly the smile vanished. “Say, look!” He pointed toward the lab.
A blue-serge figure was talking to John Stringfellow before the laboratory door.
“Must be your police-“ Scotty stopped. “Must be the man they were expecting,” he finished.
“A policeman,” Barby said. “I listened in when Daddy called.”
; Rick nodded. “We’ll see you later, Barby.”
The two boys hurried off toward the lab. When they arrived, John Stringfellow and the detective were just entering the room that housed the electron gun.
“So this is what caused all the trouble last night,” they heard the detective say. He was a hard-muscled man with glinting, gray eyes.
“This is the electron gun, yes,” John Stringfellow was saying. He looked up as the boys walked in. “Oh, and this is Hartson Brant’s son, Rick . . . and his friend, Scotty.”
“You’re the two boys who came out and found this thing in a mess, eh?” the detective said.
“That’s right,” Rick answered. “And just as
we came out-“
John Stringfellow interrupted him. “A bat had flown into the path of the deadly rays and was completely irradiated. But we can’t understand how the shields could have fallen.”
“What shields?” the detective asked, glancing at the strange mechanism.
John Stringfellow pointed to two wide, lead panels that housed the electron gun. “These,” he said. “They Page 29
protect the workers from the rays.”
The detective squatted to look at the panels. His eyes traveled the length of them and suddenly stopped at the bar-type clasp that held the doorlike shields tight against the face of the opening.
“What’s this?” he inquired.
The two boys bent low to look. “The clasp! It’s broken!” Rick exclaimed in amazement.
“Yes,” the detective said, straightening up. “Did that happen when the shields were dropped last night?”
“I was just going to say,” Stringfellow cut in. “I seem to remember- This is very embarrassing . . . but I seem to remember the clasp being loose.”
At that moment, footsteps were heard behind them. Hobart Zircon walked into the room.
“Oh,Hobart ,” Stringfellow said. “Didn’t you mention something to me about this clasp being loose last night?”
The huge scientist bent to look. “I- Yes, there was something said about it. I thought you had told me about it.”
“No,” the lean scientist insisted, turning toward the detective. “Zircon told me this was loose. I intended to see about it, but I was busy, and forgot.”