"Careful codgers, aren't you?" Everard said, again shrugged. "Still, I can't say that I blame you. It isn't quite that simple, my dear Fraser. Granted the Empire has no intention of losing a war to Columbia, we still aren't in favor of Reed Weston and his rag-tag-and-bob-tail anarchists.
"We'd like to have Weston on our side—where we can keep his ambitions within bounds, naturally. He—or his group, rather—have some things we could use to keep Columbia checked. Since your flying machine seems to be one of the things that is important to Weston we decided it was important to us—and after being in it I have no doubt that it will not only win us any war Columbia chooses to wage but will probably prevent any such war."
"And you want us to stop this war by turning the Pipit over to the Empire?" said Elspeth slowly.
"Of course," said van Hooten. "That's why I'm here."
"And just how did you manage to get here?" Mack asked coolly.
"Really!" Everard's tone was patronizing. "We have our own cells planted with both factions north of the border. Obtaining your itinerary and password and preventing Weston's agents from fulfilling their appointments was scarcely difficult to arrange. Some of our agents in the Columbian service will receive honors from President Wilkinson for exposing Weston's spies."
"You're really very frank," said Elspeth, wondering whether she disliked this version of van Hooten more than the earlier one. "You wish us to work for a pax Mexicana."
"It will be someone's peace, come what may," said Everard with still another shrug. "In years to come it will scarcely matter. And the Empire is in a position to give far more for your services and that of the—er—Pipit than anyone else involved." He looked from one to the other, his eyes narrowing slightly, his voice increasingly bland as he added, "Money, of course, but more— much more. Your choice of some of the finest estates in the Empire, high position, even titles. You can have them all."
ELSPETH, in spite of herself, was tempted. She had a sudden vision of life as a great and noble lady in a magnificent white palace, surrounded by servants, knowing every luxury, endowed with fertile lands whose harvests would provide her magnificently and sumptuously for life.
"By the way," said Mack, "how does it happen that so many fine estates are vacant in the Empire?"
Everard made a deprecatory gesture. "People die," he told them. "Without heirs estates sometimes revert to the crown."
"But how do they die—and why?" said Mack stubbornly.
"We do not live in Utopia," said Everard casually. "But neither of you will have a thing to fear—not with your knowledge of this flying device—and doubtless of other things."
"Fine," said Mack. "Great! Where do we find Reed Weston?"
"Why should I know that?" asked van Hooten, laughing.
"Because you knew how, where and when to find us," said Mack flatly. Elspeth, who was beginning to learn his moods, sensed the terrible anger in him and felt unwilling admiration stir inside herself. He was so strong, so—
Suddenly she snapped out of it. "Mack!" she cried. "He's stringing us along. We'll be over the border before long and our fuel won't last forever. Turn north, Mack, turn north."
Everard called her an unspeakable name and with a venom that struck her almost like a blow. Mack twitched as if he longed to hit the Imperial agent where it would do the most good but got control of himself and, wordlessly, snapped off the autocon and took over the steering himself, banking the Pipit in a sharp turn. Everard made a motion as if to stop him but Elspeth jabbed the muzzle of the automatic hard in the back of his neck. The gesture was determined, uncompromising.
"Don't," she said. "Killing you would be a pleasure." Then to Mack, "How about Fort Smith? We know that's a Weston base. Can we make it on what we've got?"
"Not a chance," he told her. "We'll have to land somewhere and soon. Keep an eye out for an unoccupied highway."
They landed half an hour later on a deserted stretch of road between Fort Worth and a large community to the north, non-existent in Mack's and Elspeth's world, known as Wilkinson City. The fuel meter already registered below zero, and both of them were edgy.
Everard, on the contrary, seemed blissfully content. He had said not a word from the moment when Mack had announced they would have to return to Earth shortly, scarcely moved except to light, smoke and discharge an occasional gold-tipped monogrammed cigarette.
They were climbing a long very flat hill—an apparent rarity in that level terrain—when a sudden glow of lights over its top horizon made Elspeth hope that they were coming to some sort of community in which they could purchase the fuel that would enable them to renew their air journey to Fort Smith.
But Mack suddenly turned the Pipit off the road, jouncing it over a shallow ditch and into an uneven field. To Elspeth's cry of protest he said, "Those lights are moving, Elly. Watch Everard, for the love of Pete!"
"I'm quite comfortable, thank you," said van Hooten. The smile with which he accompanied the words—it was there in his voice—was invisible as Mack cut the lights of the Pipit and brought the little car to a quick halt.
Almost as he did so the first headlights—with a yellowish sodium glare— topped the crest of the rise, seeming to move toward them as they came on down the road, the jet exhausts of the vehicles flaming brilliantly in the darkness.
For a moment, despite her awareness of Everard as a potential threat, Elspeth's attention was irresistibly attracted by the terrible yet majestic spectacle of the military convoy as it sped along the highway and past them, barely a hundred yards away.
The Columbian tanks and trucks and armored cars moved with a hissing near-rocket sound that drowned out the rumble of their heavy wheels on the road. Evidently the caterpillar tread was not a feature of the Columbian scene mechanized divisions, but the wheels which supported the heavy vehicles were ugly, powerful and complex in construction.
IN THE glare of the sodium lights and the flare of the exhausts, uniformed men riding the trucks and those atop the larger armored cars and tanks looked literally like some sort of demons. And the snouts of the cannons, without exception covered and pointing rearward to avoid exhaust flares and dust, were deadly in appearance. The whole long convoy seemed unworldly—as indeed it was.
"Blast it, I told you to watch him!" Mack said suddenly and angrily. Elspeth, who had been watching the spectacle entranced, became aware of the fact that her charge had vanished. The open door at his side of the car told the story all too plainly.
Elspeth slammed the door, checked its lock and that of the others. With them sealed she and Mack were reasonably safe from counterattack. Mack muttered curses and derogatory remarks about females and female poetesses in particular until Elspeth asked him sharply why he hadn't given her warning if he was so alert—and whether he still had the Imperialist spy's pistol.
"The damned spy must have picked my pocket!" the photographer shouted when he discovered that the strange little weapon was missing. "Come on— we've got to get out of here before he can give an alarm. Let's get going."
It was a rugged takeoff and a dangerous one for several reasons—among them the darkness and rough terrain, the possible proximity of Everard and his weapon, the nearness of the Columbian column. But the Pipit again proved her worth by getting off the ground without mishap and apparently without drawing notice from the soldiers who were moving southward along the highway.
"If the fuel gives out we're gone geese," said Mack grimly, but they topped the hill easily, spotted the end of the column streaming over it and—joy of joys—a small city not more than five miles ahead of them.
They landed beyond sight of the soldiery and managed to get to a refuelling station just on the outskirts of the city, whose name, according to map and sign, was Burrville. The Pipit's motor coughed despairingly as they pulled up in front of the pump.
The station attendant was curious about the Pipit but Mack once more passed it off by explaining it was of a new British make. They got their needed gallons and decided
to spend the night in Burrville if they could find lodgings that seemed reasonably safe.
As if to make up for their troubles since early morning, the night passed calmly. They had no trouble getting a suite of surprisingly clean and modern rooms in a surprisingly new and handsome hotel. On a card hanging from the doorknob of the drawing room of their suite hung a sign that read: YOU WANT IT—WE'VE GOT IT—IF WE HAVEN'T, WE'LL GET IT—JUST ASK US.
"Texas," said Elspeth, regarding the sign with a smile, "is evidently Texas no matter what world it's in. Want a nice redhead, Mack? Just ask."
"You're about as funny as Everard," said Mack, scowling at her. "Listen, Elly, let's turn in and get some sleep. We've got a long way to go tomorrow."
Elspeth that night got her second decent sleep since leaving New York—her first since the visit to Mr. Horelle's mysterious house of many worlds. But once again she was awake before Mack, who seemed to be suffering from the rigors of their expedition. She ordered breakfast sent up for both of them, decided to have a hot bath while she awaited its arrival and, in the tub, read the news that had been stuck beneath her door.
It was a highly lurid gazette, its front page sprinkled with bright green headlines in large type. There was a big story about a young lady who had ridden in from her ranch in some sort of an automobile and run amok in the night-club belt after imbibing a suitable amount of redeye. This seemed scarcely remarkable save for the fact that she was wearing only a ten-gallon hat and a pair of cowboy boots while indulging in her spree.
There was a feature about a famous Parisian actress, who had declared the mountain lions of Texas were the only fitting pets and playmates for a woman of real spirit and had promptly been presented with a half-dozen of the large and ferocious beasts—for which she was bringing suit against the donors on charges of shattering not only her nerves but her wardrobe.
There were a couple of pages of sports, in which Elspeth had little interest. Then came a few items of news, hung beneath their respective date-lines in a single inside column. It was the second of these that brought Elspeth out of the tub in a hurry.
The item stated in brief and censored language that Reed Weston's headquarters in Norman, Oklahoma, announced the visit of envoys from the Mexican Empire, and gave this as absolute proof of the rebel Weston's absolute perfidy where his native Columbia was concerned.
Elspeth was dressed when the waiter brought up the food. Mack came out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes and yawning, and got to work on an incredible red-hot Texas meal of steak a la rancheria and huevos rancheros, frijoles and chile con carne, all washed down with black chicory-packed Mexican coffee.
"Take a look at this," Elspeth said when he had eaten all he could. "It should shorten our journey considerably."
Mack read it, laid it down and slammed it with the flat of a hand. "So he's still moving South. That's swell for us. On the strength of spotting that and after this breakfast, you're in good again, Elly."
"I couldn't care less," she retorted. But Mack merely gave a snort and went back to his room to dress.
THEY drove out of Burrville unhindered and took off shortly after leaving the city limits from a lonely flat stretch of road. Thanks to the map, Mack had little difficulty in plotting a course for Norman, Oklahoma. Elspeth, feeling that their incredible assignment was close to completion, to say nothing of feeling clean and refreshed after bath and slumber, was almost gay as they sped high above generally flat country.
"It's funny," she said to Mack when they had been airborne about an hour, "that the paper said so little about war."
"I don't think many people in this world believe war is actually coming. They've lived in peace for a long time now."
"Then there probably wouldn't have been war anyway," said Elspeth, studying a swallow-shaped cloud shadow far beneath them.
"There probably would have been— and still will be if we don't fulfill our mission," said Mack quietly. "These people lack experience of war—so they don't know they're almost in one. Only people like Mr. Horelle and this Everard seem to understand."
"I'm glad he escaped," said Elspeth impulsively.
"I'm not," said Mack, "even though I'm damned if I know what we could have done with him—except kill him."
"Mack!" said the poet, shocked at his grimness. "You're joking—aren't you, Mack?"
"Never less so," said the photographer. "That Everard is one of the most dangerous blokes I ever met—and I won't feel safe in this world as long as things remain unsettled. He may look and talk like a prime daisy but, believe me, he's cute and he's tough."
"Ummmm," said Elspeth. She didn't want to talk any more—she wanted to get back her sense of well-being. They flew on in silence until, close to their destination, Mack uttered an exclamation and peered out the window at his side.
"For the love of heaven!" he exclaimed. "Look at that!"
He banked the Pipit so that Elspeth was able to follow his gaze. Some nine thousand feet beneath them, in the concave flat center of a hill-ringed valley, was a large clearing surrounded by low buildings that almost blended with the ground.
In the center of the clearing, held upright by elaborate metal scaffolding, was a gigantic silver bullet, around which men were moving with the labored slowness of ants. Its size was tremendous by the late-morning shadow it cast, a shadow which reached almost to the row of buildings farthest to the west. It looked as unlike something from the Columbian world as it did like anything from the original world of Elspeth and Mack.
"What is it?" the girl asked curiously.
"I may be out of my mind—I've begun to suspect so anyway lately," said Mack, "but it looks to me like a spaceship."
"A spaceship!" echoed Elspeth. She peered back at it more curiously, realizing that she was staring at the near-fulfillment of one of man's oldest dreams. Then, as they sped on past it, she asked, "Does it look to you as if it would work?"
"Can't tell from here, Elly," he told her, "but it's mighty impressive. This Reed Weston must be something if his boys have built that in this scientific scrambled egg of a world."
Elspeth thought about it as they came in on one of the roads leading to Norman. Horelle had told her nothing of such a development. He had, in fact, been a little vague about Reed Weston and his plans, except to say that they needed the Pipit desperately. The idea of travel to the planets, perhaps the stars, was deeply stirring.
"This is exciting," she said to Mack as they sped along a smooth two-lane highway toward the city.
"Yeah," said Mack, "more so than I like—look out!"
He braked suddenly, just in time to avoid crashing full into a large armored truck which had suddenly pulled across the pavement in front of them. Seconds later they had been arrested, were being driven to some sort of headquarters by a wordless and highly efficient military. Mack tried to protest but was politely told to keep quiet. Their captors hustled them into a large office where a tall uniformed man was standing behind a desk.
His skin was coal black, his teeth a flashing white. He was Marshal Henry!
VIII
ELSPETH felt a sudden sickening sense of failure. They had come so far in this strange world, had endured so much. Now it appeared to have been all for nothing. She glanced covertly at Mack for encouragement but the bleakness of his expression sent her morale plummetting to a new low. Marshal Henry's appearance here in Reed Weston's headquarters was as much of a wallop to him as it was to her.
"Sit down, my young friends," said the black marshal, leaning forward with his knuckles on his desk. "I'm sorry if this is a bit of a shock—but you gave me a shock yesterday." His white teeth flashed again as he smiled.
"I'm afraid I don't get it," said Mack, sinking almost without looking into one of the large leather chairs with which the big room was well equipped. Speechless, Elspeth followed his example. The marshal's manner was so guilessly good humored.
"That's understandable, of course," said the huge Negro. "If I hadn't permitted a certain inherite
d love of the theatrical to overcome my good sense yesterday afternoon in New Orleans we might have made the trip here together. As it was my agents were exactly five minutes too late. But since you are here—welcome."
"Marshal Henry, it simply doesn't make sense," said Elspeth almost wailing. "Whose side are you on? We thought—"
"I can pretty well guess your thoughts," said Marshal Henry in his deep, pleasant tones. "Unfortunately we had no opportunity to talk together yesterday or the evening before. I was on my way to a conference with the president's secretary in my suite when we met in the elevator. And yesterday morning I could scarcely reveal my plan. Incidentally, Miss Marriner, I am deeply grateful for learning from you that the Presidential Guards were actually using the disintegrator. It hastened my move, of course."
"Is—whatever it is—outlawed?" Elspeth asked eagerly.
"By every recognized government in the world," said Henry with a lurking anger in his eyes. "It was done—arming the guard—without my knowledge."
"But as Chief of Staff—" Mack began.
"As Chief of Staff I was a figurehead," said Marshal Henry drily. "Do you think the little group that runs this country is going to give a black man real authority?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Elspeth. "But I'm glad in a way. It means you are on Reed Weston's side really."
"For a long time Reed and I have been friends," said Marshal Henry, softening. "I have done all my oath to the Republic permitted me to do to support his ideas. But until the accident of your seeing the disintegrator in use, permitted me to turn in my resignation yesterday, Miss Marriner, my help has been limited to sympathy."
"If you were on Weston's side all along, Marshal, why didn't you help us escape yesterday morning?" Mack asked sharply.
The black marshal looked at him and shook his head sadly. "If there was more I could have done for you, please tell me," he said. "I could have had you arrested at any moment between my rooms and the garage. Incidentally, when your car took to the air over the heads of those guards I—well, it was grand."
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