by Don Wilcox
Courts. People waiting trembling. Waiting for justice. Waiting for sentences. Guilty people winning court victories, bought cheaply by an influential friend.
Lawyers behind the scenes, wearing their masks of contempt. And here and there the honest ones, battling courageously for justice. Fighting those to whom the courts were only arenas for the sport of winning . . .
With a sigh of nostalgia Allan turned to notice an area of millions of kids in school.
There was something for the world’s hopes to feed upon. Allan moved along rapidly. He was almost afraid to look into the school rooms too closely for fear he would meet with more disillusionment. Here a few bright pupils were enjoying the lively efforts of their good-looking teacher. He smiled approvingly as she joked with them. He seized upon that chance finding, and wishfully multiplied it by the wide, wide expanse of the school room color. The cheery yellow and green mingled to brighten what seemed to be acres of the vast shadowy cone.
His eyes were watering.
He took a mirror from his pocket and looked at himself. He was only a shadowy blur. His long gazing at the mirrored people had set up a curious adjustment in his eyes. At first he was scarcely able to see the veins of his hand or the laces of his shoes.
He looked across a half mile of space toward the nearest walls. There was a light gray path that must have been the ribbon of the glide-walk, moving slowly around the outside of the great room.
Other shadows appeared to his blurry eyes—other persons moving along the cone. Sue and Jimmy, no doubt.
Or would one of those shadows be Doc Pakkerman?
The bottle alarm clinked. Someone was arriving by way of the glidewalk.
Allan gave a low whistle. The nearby shadowy figures materialized into Sue and Jimmy, coming on the run.
“Visitors, Captain!” Jimmy said excitedly.
“Do you reckon it’s Bandyworth comin’ up for more punishment?”
“Whoever it is, we’ll keep out of their way.” Allan decided. “This room is big. We can keep miles between us.”
They hiked along the dark outer wall among the columns of stone. An endless arcade of arches bordered the base of the great cone. Some were lighted by glowing rocks, but deeper recesses offered enough darkness for good hiding.
“Someone should warn Bandyworth that I’m bristling for another fight,” Jimmy said.
“Just be sure they don’t get you in a corner and dope you with Scravvzek poison,” Sue said.
“Scravvzek poison!” Jimmy scoffed. “There’s nothin’ to it. It’s not real poison that comes in bottles.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s just the devilish business of startin’ people to hate each other, an’ fixin’ things so that hate’ll grow. That’s why I’m not worried that they can ever get anywhere, try in’ to turn the captain an’ me against each other.”
Allan quieted their whispers. Seven white stone arches ahead were glowing with soft bluish white light. It was a fair guess that this spot was occupied and they advanced on tiptoe.
The smooth white floor was striped with blue shadows from the columns. One shadow, however, suggested the form of a tall man, apparently leaning motionless against a wall within the center arch.
In order to get by the place without being seen, Allan led his companions back toward the cone again.
Now they looked back over their path for signs of a search party on their trail. Jimmy was definitely disappointed. Fully half a mile away, two flashlight beams were whipping along the walls. The searchers had gone the other way. Their silhouettes showed, presently, against a distant patch of light on the cone.
“Five of them,” Jimmy observed. “Must be Bandy and his Green Coats again. Let’s go back after ‘em, Captain.”
Allan said no. As long as they were starting around the cone the other way let them go. Let them search in that direction to their heart’s content. Allan, Sue and Jimmy would be free to go on about their business.
“Back to the animated rogue’s gallery,” Sue said with delight, and she struck out. Jimmy ambled after her, and soon both were again lost in the ever fascinating game of looking in on other people’s lives.
Allan, left to his own devices, tiptoed back toward the seven lighted arches. That shadow—
Beyond the central arch the circular wall came into view. The tall man was there, leaning against the wall, one arm resting on the marble-smooth top. It was Val Pakkerman.
Allan watched, scarcely breathing.
Pakkerman stood, head tilted, looking intently toward a shining copper statue mounted within the circular wall. Allan was struck by the picture. From his intent attitude, Doc Pakkerman might have been praying to that statue. He was at least talking to it.
He spoke aloud, and Allan’s nerves quivered at the sound of Ackerman’s voice.
“If you could grant me a wish—”
The statue had a familiar look. It was a copper figure, about four feet tall. Its arms were moving. It was an ancient Egyptian fire tender, and its arm, holding a flail, moved back and forth in time with the rise and fall of a flame from its base.
Where had Allan seen such a statue before? At Madam Lasanda’s studio, of course! The name Ksentajaiboa came to Allan’s lips.
This was certainly the very same character, though a much larger statue. The very glow of the flail was exactly as Allan had remembered it from the fortuneteller’s weird studio.
“If you could grant me a wish,” Pakkerrman was saying “let me die!” He lifted his head. There was bitter pleading in his low voice. “Oh, I know you’re only a mass of metal. Why do I expect anything of you? Only because there is no hope anywhere else. No living man in all this dark world who would understand my wish. I am a tool. A puppet. A destroyer. The work I am about to do for the Scravvzek will leave its scars upon the world forever. If there is any way for me to die, may the gods grant—”
Something disturbed him. He must have somehow sensed Allan’s presence. He broke off. He turned slowly. There was a small fountain built into the wall. Near it was a glass. He drank absent-mindedly.
Only twenty feet from him, Allan stood in full view.
Pakkerman stared. His eyes widened. In an instant he must have known it was his ex-captain. Allan saw the glint of recognition. Good. The meeting had a chance to be successful, if Pakkerman would meet him and know him.
Pakkerman straightened and returned the glass to the ledge. Allan thought he was going to step forward for a handshake.
“Doc Pakkerman!” Allan called. “I’ve come to see you, Doc. You do know me, don’t you?”
A genuine glow of pleasure came instantly to Pakkerman’s strong, intelligent face. His scarred right eyebrow lifted.
“Captain?”
The glow of pleasure went off like a light. The great green-lighted fingertips of the Scravvzek come slicing out of the darkness to catch Pakkerman in their grip. From his ankles to his shoulders the fingertips pressed. Fingertips the size of saucers, six at each side. The invisible hands were there, holding him tight.
Pakkerman had taken one step toward Allan. Now his face became an expressionless mask. He moved away, slowly at first, then briskly. He marched through the middle arch toward the cone.
Allan tried to say something more, but for the moment he was seemingly paralyzed.
He turned to see that Jimmy and Sue were watching from the path. Sue was half hypnotized.
Jimmy broke out of his freeze and bounded toward his old hero like a terrier about to be ignored by his master.
“Doc!” Jimmy called.
No answer. The fingers of the Scravvzek were forcing Pakkerman up the slope of the cone.
“Doc. It’s me. Jimmy Ruggles. Don’t you know me?”
Pakkerman didn’t even turn his head.
“Remember, Doc, we sailed the seven seas together, and a long time before that I used to do odd jobs for you back in Maple City . . . Carried out your ashes . . . Washed your windows . . . Doc! Doc! Doc P
akkerman!”
Pakkerman marched on as if he had heard nothing. He climbed up the slope, and soon he was disappearing around its curved surface.
At last only his high shoulders were visible. Just before he disappeared, Allan saw a faintly defined ball of orange fire appear over his shoulders and head. The glow reflected in a brilliant splash of light from the mirrored surface of the cone. Then Pakkerman and his burden of fire disappeared from view.
Jimmy came over to Allan, his eyes downcast.
“He didn’t even look at me.”
“I don’t think he heard you,” Allan said. “Don’t worry about it. He’d have spoken if he could have.”
“Honest, you think so?”
“I’m sure of it. That power had him. He started to talk to me. He called me captain, and then it got him.”
“Do you think he knew I spoke to him? Do you suppose he wants to renew old acquaintances?”
“I’m sure he does,” Allan said. But in his private thoughts Allan was afraid that in reality Pakkerman wanted only one thing—an end to his miserable, haunted life.
CHAPTER XXXV
Sue Carson said, her eyes glistening from her too ardent tour of thousands of mirrors, “I knew the world was big, but I never knew it was this big. Now that I’m getting the hang of this universe, I can see it’s not so impossible to spot the people you’re looking for. I’m off again. See you later, boys.”
“Where you going?” Allan asked.
“Try to find my New York agent, to see what’s cooking.”
“Don’t tell me you think you could ever locate any one person in this motley mob.”
“Sure, I already found someone I know. Those Maple City boys and their mayor. They’re, up in a plane. They’ve ‘got a good lookin’ woman—”
“The Maple City Mayor? Really? One man out of two billion?”
“Where’d you find him? In a poker game?” Jimmy asked.
“Back in that icy blue section. In a plane. You’ll see all kinds of airplane crowds back there if they haven’t blinked off.”
“Come on, let’s see this!” Allan said. “Lead me to it.”
The three of them hurried over the illuminated surface and presently Sue pointed out the section she had seen before .. Among the thousands of air tourists under their feet she singled out a small group of familiar faces.
“There,” Sue said triumphantly. “Out of all the world’s population, I would bump into pictures of those Maple City boys.”
“Sue, this is a piece of luck!” Allan said. He got down on his hands and knees to study the faces.
“And there’s the woman,” Sue pointed to one side, “you can tell from the background that she’s riding in the same plane. Say, she is a picture. She certainly knows how to dress.”
“Madam Lasanda!” Allan snapped his fingers. “Look at this, Jimmy! What a break! We’ve bumped into the fortune teller who sent me here.”
They listened, fascinated. They saw that the dark-eyed lady was trying to get a moment alone to talk with a fancy little copper statue she had taken from her case. The Ksentajaiboa! The men around her paid no attention to it. They were hounding her with questions. Were they on the right course? Where would they expect to find a mountain over a lake and an eye in the sky?
“Keep going,” they heard Madam Lasanda say. “I’ve promised to direct you to the spot. But don’t expect to lean on me after we get there.”
They didn’t. Listening to the private whispers Allan came to the conclusion two of the gang meant to ditch her somehow when the time was right.
Yippee looked up at Allan and then down at the attractive face of Madam Lasanda.
“What’s this she says about an eye in the sky? She must be bringing them here!”
“Sure as my name’s James Ruggles,” Jimmy said. “We’re going to have company. Gosh, the mayor an’ the boys!”
A little later Allan saw Madam Lasanda take a photo from her pocketbook. The face was familiar.
“Look!” Jimmy whispered, “She carries a picture of Doc Pakkerman.”
“The fortune teller and the Doc!” Sue murmured. “Who’d have thought it?”
“That explains a lot,” Allan said.
He gazed at the mirror of Madam Lasanda with new respect. “No wonder she was so interested in the mysteries of this evil force. She’s had an angle on this business all along . . . Well! If she comes here, maybe she can give us the help we need.”
Sue was shaking her head. “When she sees what goes with her old boyfriend, she’ll go mad. Utterly mad. Take it from me, I know what I would do!”
Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “What you would do if what?”
“Quiet,” Allan said.
Under his breath Jimmy said, “I didn’t know Sue had a boyfriend.”
“If I had a boyfriend, I mean,” Sue added. “If—”
Allan commented dryly that he didn’t like conversations that ended on if.
Their talk came to an abrupt end. A splash of yellow sparks came flying out of the air and landed on the surface of the cone about thirty yards from where they were standing. The blobs of fire hissed as they struck the glass. Slowly, they burned themselves out.
Sue caught Allan’s arm and gave a little terrified cry.
“We’ll see what’s happened,” Allan said. “Come on!”
Sue and Jimmy followed him as he bounded over the mirrors to the place where the sparks had struck.
“Look!” he called. “The people in the mirrors got hit, a whole bunch of them.”
On their hands and knees, Allan, Sue and Jimmy studied the pictures. It was a busload of people. A bad highway accident had just now caught them. Fire engulfed the bus, and there was hell on earth for the victims. The sounds came through faintly at first, then with hideous clarity—screams of the victims.
“Come away!” Sue said. “Come away! There’s nothing we can do.”
Why had it happened? Allan believed he knew. The Scravvzek was playing his game. The rain of sparks from the point of the cone brought some sort of disaster where they struck.
“Look out. Here come some more!” Jimmy yelled.
From the top of the cone an eruption had begun. Pakkerman must have been up there. Allan could see a sphere of orange fire moving around the point, supported on a pair of long legs. The showers of sparks were issuing from the cone itself. They flowed like a stream into the ball of fire. It was Pakkerman’s arms, Allan decided, that hurled the sparks out across the sides of the cone. Like a sower, taking seeds from a basket, broadcasting them.
Seeds of disaster! On one side after another the sparks struck and hissed and dealt death.
Once that strong arm of Pakkerman flung a long tongue of red flame that lashed out like a crooked fiery sword. Bending almost double, it spent its wrath on a chosen spot.
Allan was on the run again. He meant to see what unlucky group had caught that blow.
He found an Oriental city caught in the fury of an earthquake. Buildings shattered and fell. Matchbox houses went up in flames. Thousands of people stampeded through the ripping, gaping streets. Terror. Panic. Death. Violence from a shattering earth. Furies of nature that no man could justify.
“Come away, Allan. Come away!” It was Sue, tugging at his arm again. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“Pakkerman would rather die than do what he’s doing,” Allan said. “I’m sure of it. I heard him talking before he went into this task.”
Allan saw that his words had struck Jimmy for a foul blow. Jimmy stared and rubbed his cheek. His eyes didn’t meet Allan’s.
The game went on. Sparks fell to set off new and more violent revolutions among South American peoples. Insurrections over India. Wars among uncivilized tribes. Perverse actions on the part of mighty governments. Strike-breaking violence. Revolts. Crime waves. What a shower of evil the earth was getting at this dark hour!
Was there any way to prevent it?
A spray of sparks came tumbling down so close t
o Jimmy that he had to do a running broad jump to avoid being caught as they skipped along. When he looked back to see the effect, he shook his head dismally. A wave of fanatical murders were taking place, he told Allan.
“Nobody’ll ever be able to understand what set that batch of trouble go in’,” Jimmy declared. “The murderers themselves will never know why they done it.”
“Did it,” Sue corrected.
“You bet it did,” Jimmy said. He blinked. “Did it what?”
“Skip it,” Sue said. “Think we better get out of here before we get melted down.”
“This is hell,” Allan muttered. “It’s got to be stopped. You can see him up there doing it, can’t you?”
The three of them gazed at the point of the cone. They had ascended two-thirds of the way to the summit, during their recent flurry of spark-chasing. It was still nearly a half mile to the point. But at that distance, the figure of Doc Pakkerman could be discerned, silhouetted against the pink and orange clouds that filled the air above the cone. A mighty little giant at the top of a vast room, he was swinging his arms this way and that. The sparks would sail out through the space as if shot from a Roman candle.
“Is that the Doc Pakkerman you boys have said was such a fine heroic person?”
“In his day,” said Jimmy, “he was as solid as they come.”
“He ought to be chained,” Sue said.
“He’ll have to be killed,” Allan said quietly. “I’m sorry to say it, Jimmy. But that’s his own wish. He knows it’s the only way to save all this suffering and death.”
“You don’t mean—” Jimmy broke off with a shudder.
“I happen to be here. I’ve seen the tragedies with my own eyes. I believe in doing what needs to be done, however disagreeable. I’ll take full responsibility,” Allan said.
For a long moment Jimmy just stared and made no response. Then he met Allan’s eye.
“You and I ain’t gonna disagree, Captain. We ain’t gonna quarrel. I ain’t forgot what Bandyworth said. He thinks we can be made to quarrel. He’s wrong. I’m stickin’ with you, an’ what you say goes, Captain.”