by Denis Hughes
It was not a cheerful prospect, and since he could not even be sure how or when those events would take place he felt far more helpless than he would otherwise have done.
His reverie was interrupted by the sound of the police officer’s voice in the hall outside.
“Sorry, sir,” the man was saying, “but you can’t go in there. Conference in progress. Very important that the gentlemen aren’t disturbed.”
Professor Dale’s querulous voice came after a moment’s pause.
“But that’s nonsense! I have a right to enter rooms in my own house, haven’t I?”
“Sorry, sir,” repeated the policeman stubbornly. “I’ve got my orders and you’ll have to wait. No offence meant, of course, but there’s nothing else for it.”
Dale grunted inaudibly. Bentick, in the dining room, sighed and rose to his feet. He supposed that he’d better go out and take the Professor away before the policeman had to be more emphatic in refusing him admission to the library. What the Professor wanted in there Bentick did not know, but it was quite out of the question to let him in.
He strolled into the hall and smiled, seeing Dale in front of the officer with a sulky look on his face.
“Why hello, Professor,” said Bentick. “What’s the trouble?”
Dale faced him with a half angry, half humorous look in his eyes.
“I want a word with Barringville, that’s all,” he said. “It’s important!”
Bentick spread his hands. “It couldn’t be more so than what’s going on in there right now,” he answered. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be patient this time, sir. Come and wait in the dining room with me till they’re through. We’ve plenty to talk about between us. I’d like to know more about your work, about the Telecopter for instance.” He watched Dale as he talked, anxious to strike the right note with the scientist and draw him away from further embarrassment.
Dale smiled in a cunning fashion.
“You are clever, young man!” he said. “Yes, I know exactly how your mind is working! And you chose a very good subject to attract my attention! Very well, then, I will wait till Barringville is free again, though I deplore this foreigner taking up so much valuable time. I have to show Barringville things that he and I can understand!”
Bentick covered a weary sigh. “I’m sure he will be only too delighted to see you presently, Professor,” he said. “In the meantime that he’s very busy just now and can’t be disturbed. Come into the dining room and take it easy for a while.”
“Neatly handled, Bentick!” Dale grinned approvingly.
Bentick flushed. He had not been very clever after all, but apparently although the Professor could see through him as plainly as through a sheet of glass he was ready enough to be drawn away from his original intention.
Dale took Bentick by the arm and steered him back into the dining room from whence he had come. Bentick felt rather like a small boy.
“Now then, the Telecopter!” whispered Dale in a tone of conspiracy. “I have been using it again, my boy!”
“So I guessed,” answered Bentick a little sourly. “I can feel when that machine is working!”
The Professor eyed him keenly. “So!” he murmured. “It has a strong influence, hasn’t it? I have suffered all manner of emotions down there since you watched from the gallery. The Telecopter grows to be something of a drug without which I cannot exist. There is a power in it, Bentick! A power for good as well as evil, let me add! And I think that before long some good will come from it.”
Bentick gave the Professor a suspicious glance.
“I certainly hope so!” he muttered. “But I can’t help feeling that you’re wrong, sir. Nothing really and truly good could come from that source!”
Dale grinned, showing his teeth almost savagely. “What a doubter you are!” he scolded. “Science and everything connected with it is good. Even devastation caused by science is good if it furthers man’s knowledge in any degree. Look what miracles of progress arose from the harnessing of atomic power after its initial use as a weapon of destruction! Now we are the masters of it, though at first it brought misery and death to thousands. Since those days, half our needs are catered for by the harnessed atom and the forces within it. You can’t deny that, now, can you?”
Bentick hesitated. “No, I suppose 1 can’t,” he admitted. “But I still think it is fatal for man to seek foreknowledge of events that are still to come. It’s too dangerous a game to play, Professor!”
Dale only laughed. He started striding up and down the room impatiently, hands linked behind his back and head thrust forward hawkishly.
“You do not understand the mind of a scientist!” he snapped. “And why should I attempt to explain such a thing to one as ignorant as you? It is sufficient, I think, to tell you that in my own opinion I am right in making this latest discovery. Time will prove me correct, be sure of that. Until it does I must ask you to agree with me or keep quiet altogether.”
He rounded on Bentick as he finished, glaring at him balefully.
Bentick smiled and gestured with his hand.
“That’s all right by me, Professor,” he said hurriedly. Privately he considered the man to be a little more unbalanced than before, but it wouldn’t do to say so.
Dale said: “Destiny is on my side, Bentick! I know that quite certainly, my friend, and Destiny has laid down certain laws that must eventually be recognised and given justice by Man. One of those laws is that Man can, to a varying degree, control the destiny of his own life and of those around him.” He halted in his stride and looked at Bentick again. Then he continued quietly: “And if Man can foresee something of what is to happen he can order the relative context of events to suit his own purpose!”
Bentick felt a prickle of fear at the back of his brain. “You’re clever but mighty dangerous, Professor!” he said sharply. “I don’t think you realise what you’re saying. Man has a will of his own, but things beyond that are outside our understanding. I’d advise you to be very careful how you play with your toys, sir!"
The scientist gave an angry snort, but kept back any reply he might have made to the agent’s words.
Bentick fingered his chin, watching Dale narrowly. He himself felt helpless to stop this man from doing things that he knew instinctively were dangerous. His only hope was that Barringville, when the Professor showed him the Tele-copter in action, would have the good sense to realise the peril behind it. Bentick had to rely on that; there was nothing else for it. In the meantime he determined to protect himself and others as best he could. Carol was locked in her own room. She ought to be all right. Nargan had already been badly scared by the Telecopter, and Dale, and was highly unlikely to venture through the steel door to the laboratory again.
There remained Barringville; but Barringville himself stood in no danger from the scientist. The two were friends of considerable standing, yet if Dale happened to tune in to some scene of violence from the Past or in the Future then even friends might suffer from the dread and intangible emanations of the screen.
Feeling very uncomfortable, Bentick met the eyes of Professor Dale. They were mad eyes, there was little doubt about that. And there was triumph in them now. The triumph of a man who knows in his heart that he has won a major victory over another.
Bentick was on the point of making some soothing remark in an attempt to disengage himself when a sound from the hallway outside attracted his attention.
Dale, too, heard the door of the library open and close. There were voices, Nargan’s loudest. Barringville spoke in his own quiet, cultured tones. The police officer said something that Bentick did not catch. Then footsteps came across the hall.
Dale leapt towards the partly open door, dragging it inwards and flinging himself through.
Bentick gave a shrug. The man was impatient, he thought. He must want to see Barringville pretty badly, yet the two of them had already spent some time talking together before the conference with Nargan. It was all a bit odd. But then
there were many things that were odd in this business.
He followed the Professor into the hall more slowly, to find that Nargan was halfway up the stairs while Dale and Barringville were standing facing each other outside the library.
Dale had his back to Bentick, and Barringville caught the agent’s eye as he came towards them. Barringville was saying:
“Certainly, Dale, I shall be only too delighted, but first of all let me have a word with Bentick and sort out the results of this talk with Nargan.” He smiled at Dale. “They’re rather important, you know!”
Dale said: “Of course, my dear fellow! Sorry, but I run away with myself.” He turned and saw Bentick. At the same time Bentick chanced to look towards the stairs. Nargan had halted and was standing with one hand on the bannisters, head cocked inquisitively, listening to everything that passed between Dale and Barringville.
Dale did not notice Nargan. He went on: “There are a few things beside the Telecopter that I feel you must see. Things which will be useful to Britain.”
A frown crossed Barringville’s face.
“Be quiet!” he snapped. “Wait until we are alone, Professor. These matters are not for idle discussion.”
Bentick coughed loudly behind Dale’s back. The scientist swung round almost angrily. He, too, caught sight of Nargan on the stairs. The foreigner beamed in an oily fashion and turned away, continuing his way upwards.
Dale sighed as he saw the frown on Barringville’s face.
“Well,” he said quietly, “my offer still goes. You are invited to see the Telecopter in action, but I do ask you not to keep me waiting longer than you have to. This machine may eventually control our lives more fully than we can ourselves.”
Barringville eyed him shrewdly. “You know,” he said, “I’m rather afraid that you may be right, Dale.”
CHAPTER 15
THE TELECOPTER STRIKES
Dale and Barringville stood quite still for a moment, their eyes locked in a silent battle as if they were measuring each other up. Bentick watched with a queer sense of detachment. This affair had gone out of his reach, he thought. The major issues behind it were now in the hands of these two widely differing personalities. Something of the power each man was capable of entered into him, but left him distant, having no part in what was going on.
Dale shrugged. “We shall see,” was all he said, but there was an omen in the words.
Barringville inclined his head gravely.
“Undoubtedly, my friend,” he replied gently.
Then he turned away and exchanged a glance with Bentick.
“I shall be in the library for a time,” he said. “If you want me for anything don’t hesitate to come in. The Professor, I’m sure, is a busy man, and will excuse me till I’ve sorted through all this stuff.” He patted the thick brief case under his arm.
Dale gave him a final meaning look that Bentick could not interpret; then he, too, moved away. Barringville entered the library and closed the door behind him. Bentick was left alone in the empty hall, the policeman having already returned to his companions in one of the cars. Bentick heard the Professor go into the kitchen and a moment later the steel door clanged as it shut.
Bentick frowned, rubbed his chin, and glanced at the stairs in a speculative fashion. Carol was up there, he thought. So was Nargan. He was glad that Carol had locked herself in.
He went back into the dining room and stood at the window for a minute, thinking. Was there anything he could usefully do? There didn’t seem to be, and that was what niggled at his mind more than all the rest of his troubles put together. There was nothing he could do about the present state of affairs. He could not prevent Barringville going down to see the Telecopter, yet he was sure that no good would come of it. And then there was also Nargan to consider. The foreigner had overheard those intriguing remarks made by Dale in the hall. Obviously his curiosity had been aroused by the Professor’s words, but where that would lead he could not tell.
His thoughts might have drifted on and on in this rather hopeless strain had not Barringville opened the door of the library and called his name.
Bentick went across the hall quickly, glad of something to do and hoping to learn some more from the statesman.
Barringville smiled and stood aside.
“Come in,” he said. “I think you should know that I am shortly going down to Dale’s laboratory. There seems to be some doubt in your mind as to whether it is a wise move, but that can’t be helped. In the interests of my duty I feel bound to go. Dale is a clever man and there is always a chance that he may have struck something that will be invaluable to us. That is the sole reason I want to see this machine he has just invented.” He pulled a face.
“Though what use it could be to a country such as ours I fail to see at the moment.”
“Count me in on that!” said Bentick firmly. “It’s a crazy thing, if you ask me, sir! And Dale’s crazy, too!”
“I think you’re probably right,” agreed Barringville. “However, I mean to go down to the laboratory. Would you care to come with me?”
He watched Bentick closely as he put the question.
Bentick hesitated. He did not want to see the Telecopter in action again, yet could hardly refuse.
“I’ll come if you wish me to,” he answered with little enthusiasm. “But first of all I’d like to run upstairs and make sure that Miss Collins is still all right. I told her to stay in her room till Nargan left. He isn’t a pleasant type as you know, and she’s frightened of him.”
“By all means,” said Barringville. “In the meanwhile I’ll carry on down. I can find my own way.”
Bentick nodded. “I’ll follow in just a minute, sir.”
He waited till Barringville had disappeared from sight and then made his way thoughtfully to the foot of the stairs. He felt as if he carried a weight on his shoulders, yet could not identify exactly what ingredients built it up. Maybe Carol; maybe Barringville and Nargan. Maybe just the very existence of Dale’s Telecopter with all its odd and sinister implications.
He tried to shrug away the feeling of oppression. Glancing upwards he was in time to see Nargan appear at the top of the stairway and halt, watching him with a cunning light in his small eyes.
Bentick started up the stairs towards the foreigner. He presumed the man was coming down. At any rate, he thought with relief, he’d be shot of Nargan before long. That would be one thing less to worry about. A very unpleasant thing, too!
Nargan waited till Bentick reached him on the first landing. Bentick met his gaze but said nothing, waiting for the other to make the initial move if there was to be one.
Nargan frowned. “I shall be in the library for a time,” he announced at length. “I have some writing to do. After that I shall probably be ready to leave this place. You will stand by to attend me.”
“Give me a call when you want me,” answered Bentick in a flat, hard tone. “I shall be delighted to escort you back to the airport.”
Nargan looked at him coldly. He seemed as if he was about to say something more, but changed his mind and merely nodded instead.
Bentick watched his broad back as he passed him and went on down the stairs. He himself continued to the corridor off which Carol’s room opened.
With an unconscious quickening of his pulses he came to a halt outside her door and paused before knocking. Then his knuckles rapped softly on the panel and he waited.
There was no answer, so Bentick knocked again.
Still nothing happened; no sound broke the sudden stillness of the lonely house. A new-born fear gripped Bentick with icy fingers as it dawned on him that Carol was not in the room. He knew she could not be there or she would have answered his knock in some way or other.
He reached out and grasped the door handle firmly, turning it slowly and carefully.
The door opened inwards without noise or effort. He drew a breath and looked inside. The room was empty.
Bentick stood on the threshold for
a moment in a rising flood of indecision. What had happened? Where had Carol gone? She had promised not to leave her room, yet something must have happened to take her from it.
His eyes raked everywhere with a sudden keenness. But there was no sign of a scribbled note or anything to indicate when or how she had left or where she was.
Bentick, his forehead creased with furrows, glanced out into the corridor again. She must be somewhere around, he thought savagely. She can’t just have disappeared like this! It wasn’t logical. But a nagging thought at the back of his mind whispered that nothing was logical in the business on which he was engaged.
He turned about and searched every room on the upper floor of the long, low house. Even Nargan’s came in for a hasty investigation, but again he drew blank—a blank that brought renewed fears to his brain and clouded his powers of reasoning.
Not until he was standing at the top of the stairway, rubbing his chin furiously and wracking his brain for some clue, did it enter his head that the prompting of the Tele-copter might have influenced her so strongly that her will had been destroyed and her body had answered that powerful, insidious call.
He went over every detail of their last conversation in his mind, trying to pick out the important parts and piece them together. She had been so unsure of herself, he remembered. And afraid, too. She’d hidden it well, but she’d still been afraid of herself; of her own weakness.
Bentick pulled himself together, grabbing at his frayed nerves in an attempt to see things clearly. If Carol had been overcome by that dangerous prompting it was useless searching for her anywhere else but down in Dale’s secret laboratory beneath the house. And already Barringville was down there with the Professor. Perhaps even now the Telecopter was working, revealing the strange events of Past and Future for Barringville’s interest.