by John Creasey
Storr came onto the patio.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Costain.
They went to a door at the side of the house and for the first time he saw the chair lift from here to the lake itself; Marion came to the lift with them; it was a two seater and obviously she wasn’t coming down. She gripped his arm as he stepped in, and he saw the tears in her eyes.
He found himself smiling at her.
Then Storr sat in and locked the safety bar, pressed a button, and the descent began.
From that moment it seemed to Costain that the world he knew was slipping away from him. He had no thought of death, but only of the beauty of the valley and the strange stillness everywhere. It was as if he were descending into infinity. At every stage the blue of the lake and the white of the mountain peaks, the colour of the trees and the darkness and the shape of the shadows cast by the clouds changed, each time to a greater beauty so that even thought and fear were lost in a wonder which seemed to have no end.
Soon, as a jutting crag of granite fell away from view, he could see the valley of steam – the Pale Valley of mist which could hold the secret between life and death. He saw a sheer fall of at least five hundred feet, and below this a beach of pale sand, two small jetties, another motor launch and what looked like a chair lift going up the face of the cliff. Then other crags and a patch of dark ponderosa pines hid this from view.
He did not see it again until he was in the launch. A sun-bronzed young man gave him a hand into it, but Storr lowered himself without help. He sat next to Costain as they headed for the cliff.
“The testing chambers are at the top of that cliff,” he said. “Did Marion tell you what will happen?”
“Yes.”
“If you should have breathing difficulty in any conditions we will try to—”
“Stop it.” Costain said roughly. “You haven’t told me what Palfrey said.”
“The recommendations have gone through. His, London’s, Moscow’s—and, I have just learned, Washington’s. We have gained time for your experiment.”
“Enough time?” demanded Costain.
“I think when Palfrey sees the research station and the laboratories—and when Dr. Erasmus Smith, an expert who is with him, studies our meters and our control—they will make sure we have enough time.”
Costain nodded, and then asked: “Will you look after Grace Drummond?”
“In every way I can,” promised Storr.
The launch was moving swiftly but with little noise across the deep blue waters of the lake. There was scarcely any wind, the surface was hardly rippled. The great granite face of the cliff rose almost sheer above them as the pilot manoeuvred so that they could climb onto the jetty. Here, the smell of ‘exhaust fumes’ was very strong. Costain climbed on to the jetty. Blue jays flashed past him like metallic rockets. He saw the chair lift, large enough for two, looked upwards and felt dizzy as he craned his neck to see the top of the cliff.
Soon, he and Storr began to move upwards.
The lake and mountains, peaks and steam-filled valley lay before him with a beauty which seemed to show in one stupendous panorama everything he had seen in single vistas before. He was hardly aware of the smooth movement of the lift. Soon, there was a jolting sound and he realised they were at the top. A platform was pushed out from the edge of the cliff. He saw that Harrison and Griselda were there, while Philip sat in his wheel chair, watching expressionlessly.
There was a ledge perhaps fifty yards wide, cut out of the mountain – and beyond were the tunnels. Outside, there were all the trappings of a small factory: stores, a transformer, petrol pumps, drums of oil, pieces of machinery. They did not pause but walked straight into the tunnel. Here, in daylight which was simulated at least as well as Palfrey’s at Z5, was a huge laboratory which stretched against the side of the tunnel. A dozen white-smocked men were in there, behind glass, working. But now they were turning round, and a little man with a shock of red hair gave the thumbs up sign.
The group passed the laboratory and reached a smaller room, a mass of narrow pipes, electrical conduits, switchboards and generator. There was a faint throbbing of a petrol-fired engine. It carried Costain’s thoughts back to the sound at Sane Manor – Drummond’s motor, which everyone had believed was only making electricity for his house. In fact it was used for both purposes.
Until now, Costain had been aware of hardly any feeling, conscious only of a kind of numbness throughout his body. But now that he saw the feeder pipes and realised that they were carrying the helia into the gas-laden chambers, his heart began to thump.
Then, at last, he saw the testing chambers.
They ran along the wall, as the laboratory had done. Outside each were great meters, showing the degree of pollution or the freshness of the air. Each chamber was made of some material which had the clarity of glass; each was about twenty feet long, and he could see partitions in each.
Storr said: “When you step into the first, David, a glass screen will move to one side, this will carry you into a trap which in turn will take you into the next cubicle. There is a seat in each, there are magazines and books. You may do anything you wish except move about quickly or do anything to make yourself breathe quickly or agitatedly.”
Costain nodded understanding.
“You stay in each cubicle for an hour,” Storr went on. “You will be warned when there are five minutes left in the cubicle you are in. Do you understand that, too?”
“Yes.”
“After each period of an hour you will have fifteen minutes to drink or eat; you must not drink in the testing chambers themselves. At the end of each three and three quarter hours you will have a period for normal eating, washing, showering. During the entire test you will be under observation. If you feel the effects of the toxic air—of any smog signs at all—put your hands to your throat.”
Costain said: “Can’t we get on with it?”
“You are to go into that shower, undress, shower, put on bathing trunks you will find there. Afterwards you can start whenever you wish.”
“Right,” Costain said.
“Perhaps you should know this,” Storr went on. “The chambers are in a tunnel cut by a river of scalding water. We call it Boiling River. We diverted it, and now it runs almost parallel with the chambers. Helia is present in the river water. That is what makes this a perfect testing place.”
Costain said gruffly: “I’m glad something is perfect.”
Soon, he was showered and ready. He could not stop his heart from thumping or the muscles in his neck from tightening, but it did not occur to him to hesitate or draw back. He saw the sliding doorway close to the shower and pressed a button marked open, waited for it to slide back, and stepped through.
This was an air trap, between the gas-filled cubicle and the outside air. The next sliding door led him into the first of the gas chambers.
He tried not to breathe too deeply or too heavily, but even so his breath came in shorter gasps, and when the door slid to behind him, he felt a moment of near panic, and turned, hands raised as if to batter down the door.
He stopped and stood rigid with his hands clenched, his chest heaving. Soon, he moved to the stool and picked up the newspapers. There was a London Times, three days old, telling the story of what had happened at Mountview.
His breathing eased, and became normal.
He read on.
In the chalet, sitting before a television set, Marion Kemble watched, saw the momentary panic and cried out in fear for David. And, her heart thumping at least as fast as his, she saw him settle down.
In his aircraft, already nearing the coast of North America, Palfrey had a radio report, saying very simply: “Costain is in the testing chambers.”
“If he gets out alive,” said Erasmus Smith shifting in his sea
t across the gangway, “it will be a miracle. But you believe in miracles, Palfrey, don’t you?”
Chapter Twenty
The Vengeance
As the aircraft taxied in at the airport at Yellowstone, Palfrey tore his gaze away from the wonders of the land about them, astonished by the size of Yellowstone Lake and seeing, though he did not know it then, a sight much the same as he would see in Pale Valley. He saw a small group of people near a twin-engined jet passenger aircraft. A man and a woman stood close to this and he recognised Griselda Kemble and Arthur Harrison.
Palfrey’s aircraft pulled up, near the small airport building.
Another – the one in which young Collins and three other Z5 men were flying – was still a speck in the distance.
Palfrey and Smith walked down the short flight of steps which was pushed close to the plane door, and almost at once Smith began to gasp for breath. Palfrey turned to him in concern.
“Don’t worry—don’t worry,” Smith gasped. “Altitude. Always the same. Won’t stop me—” he positively gulped for breath— “talking for long.”
He followed Palfrey more slowly, as Harrison came towards them, the roar of the other jet making the air quiver and the ground shake.
“Dr. Palfrey,” Harrison said, advancing awkwardly to Palfrey’s outstretched hand, in which, after a moment’s hesitation, he placed his own. “We are all ready to fly to the Professor, who asks me to tell you that the first six of a hundred and forty cubicles have been successfully tested.”
“Six out—how many?” gasped Smith.
“One hundred and forty.”
“My God!”
“It will take less than forty minutes to fly to the Valley,” said Harrison, changing the subject. “I—ah—don’t think that Professor Storr is expecting the second aircraft, is he, Griselda?”
She was watching it taxi towards them.
“No,” she said. “Is everyone in your party to fly with us, Dr. Palfrey? Mr. Andromovitch is already with Stephen.”
“No,” Palfrey answered in turn, “the second aircraft will follow us, and constant surveillance will be kept while I’m in Pale Valley.”
“You will be quite safe,” she said, almost testily. The other aircraft stopped and Collins, wearing an open necked, short sleeved shirt and a Paisley pattern choker, and slacks, stepped out; he looked like a model for men’s outdoor clothes, and his flaxen hair had a golden sheen. His gaze rested on Griselda in unfeigned admiration.
“All set, sir,” he said to Palfrey.
“I must consult the Professor about this,” Harrison said. He took off his horn-rimmed glasses and did much as Palfrey had with his watch. “Professor, Dr. Palfrey has—”
“Let me talk to him,” Palfrey suggested, and took the glasses from the old man’s hands. “Professor …” he told Storr what he proposed, and almost without hesitation Storr replied: “I have no objection at all.”
“Good. How many tests has Costain passed now?”
“Another one cubicle. You understand that it will take several days, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Palfrey, and he thought: Agonising days of waiting.
“Palfrey,” Storr said abruptly.
“Yes?”
“Is Philip Montefiore with Mr. Harrison?”
“I haven’t seen him,” Palfrey said, and looked at Harrison. “Is Philip with you?”
“No,” answered Harrison. “He stayed in the Valley.”
“I heard that, thank you,” Storr said. “Will you tell my pilot to watch the lake? Sometimes Philip takes a launch out by himself.” After a pause he went on in a less worried voice: “I shall look forward to seeing you very soon. Goodbye.”
Palfrey said: “Goodbye,” and handed the glasses back to Harrison.
In five minutes they were airborne again; in ten, they were in sight of the Grand Tetons, and Palfrey felt the same almost hypnotic pull as Costain had felt in the chair lift. It was virtually impossible to feel the sense of urgency which had driven him here.
Costain put down a newspaper which had two fascinating articles, one on world population and the other on the origins of sport, stood up, and moved to the door of the eighth chamber. It slid open, and he stepped through.
The palpitations which followed were less vigorous than before; the fear of death remained but was less harsh.
He saw Philip Montefiore, some distance along, in his wheel chair, but gave no thought to that, knowing he would be watched every moment of his testing.
After a few moments, he sat down.
Palfrey stepped out of the aircraft on a landing strip along the shore of the lake, bemused by the beauty, dazzled by the sun’s reflection from the snow, thoughtful at the sight of Pale Valley and both reassured and inwardly excited by the sight of Stefan, towering above Storr. There was bright eagerness in Stefan’s eyes as he came forward. They shook hands. Stefan engulfed Palfrey’s in both of his for a moment, and then drew back.
“Dr. Smith,” Palfrey said, and Smith, still affected by the atmosphere, shook hands with Storr and then with Stefan. Overhead the Z5 aircraft roared, and dipped its wings; Collins was enjoying himself.
“Has Philip turned up?” Palfrey asked.
“No.”
“There was no sign of him on the lake,” Griselda said. “Would he be in the Valley?”
“Marion has gone to see,” Storr told her, looking very straight at Palfrey. “I am most concerned, Palfrey. Philip is a brilliant young man but too often unpredictable. He bitterly resents his incapacity, and I have heard him threaten to wheel himself into one of the pools. I—”
He broke off, at a peep of sound, a radio signal; and it came from his watch, as Palfrey’s had.
“Yes, Marion,” he said sharply.
Her voice came very clearly.
“Philip has been here, I can see the tracks of the chair’s wheels. But I can’t find him.”
“We will organise a comprehensive search at once,” promised Storr, “Goodbye.” He beckoned a man from the dinghy, and said: “We want all the launches quickly.” He turned to Palfrey: “You are welcome to come with us or to rest here.”
“I’ll come,” Palfrey said promptly.
“It is vital to keep to the paths—” Storr glanced at Stefan and went on: “There are large areas where the earth’s crust is so thin here that even a man of ordinary weight would sink. It would be instant death.”
“I will be very careful,” Andromovitch said mildly.
Costain stepped into the next cubicle.
Philip was still watching him, and, strangely, giving him a greater feeling of disquiet than the gas-filled cubicle itself, in which he was now sealed.
Two launches drew up at a landing stage close to the biggest of the geyser fields. Palfrey saw two places, under water, where boiling mud bubbled up into the cold of the lake. Close to the water’s edge, steam was rising in dense clouds. From a hundred feet up in the mountainside, boiling water first erupted, then fell, then trickled, steaming, into the lake. On each side there were colours of rich hues – gold, bronze, purple, green, blue. As they stepped out, a geyser erupted, not a hundred yards away, and a huge spout of water rose high into the air, and a great roar travelled along the surface of the lake.
They stepped on to the wooden stage.
Paths of rough-hewn logs led up the mountainside and into tunnels, pools of bubbling water looked like rainbows leading down into the earth. Circles of brown mud plopped and bubbled. A drifting log reached one of these circles and slowly sank, as if into quicksand. One large pool of water, fifty feet across, was like an enormous simmering saucepan.
Harrison said nervously to Andromovitch.
“Please—please keep to the middle of the path. If the edge crumpled we would all fall in. And if that happened—”
The path now led slightly uphill. The mud and water hissed and bubbled, while every so often a geyser blew with a deafening roar. Palfrey, who knew Yellowstone, and so was acutely aware of all the dangers, felt the thickness of sulphur in his nostrils, making breathing difficult.
They turned a corner – and Marion stood at the entrance of a tunnel which oozed mud and from which scalding water poured. A little further along, a waterfall gushed, steaming, out of the wall of rock. This was where Boiling River had been diverted. Marion was peering into the tunnel, and saw them, and moved nearer.
“Philip’s gone in there,” she said in a harsh voice. “I think he’s out of his mind. He—” She looked in almost unbearable distress. “He said he can get through to the test chambers this way and he’s going to blow them up.”
Then she said. “And David’s in there.”
Costain saw the steam, not far ahead: one chamber ahead, or two, perhaps three, cubicles from him. Philip was grinning. By the side of the wheel chair was a cloud of steam. Water was seeping through the sides of the tunnel, and he remembered that Boiling River ran almost parallel.
Philip was beckoning.
“Can we go round to the main entrance?” Palfrey asked urgently.
“There isn’t time,” Harrison told him. “The test chambers are only fifty or sixty feet from here, through the rock. I surveyed the rocks seeking a place for an air vent. But—I didn’t think there was a path. It’s damnably close to the new channel of Boiling River.”
“If Philip went that way—” began Griselda.
“I saw him,” insisted Marion. “I’m going.”
“Marion, a single slip and you would be in that scalding water!” Harrison barked. “If you’re right and Philip is going to destroy the test chamber, he’s planning to divert the river back to the main tunnel.”