by John Blaine
Time passed as he lost himself in the clear, exciting descriptions in Dr. Walter’s book.
He heard a bell ring downstairs, but paid no attention. Then Scotty stuck his head in the door. “Rick! Your mother’s calling you.”
Rick sat up swiftly. It was true, and his mother had urgency in her voice.
He dropped the book and ran to the stairs, going down them three at a time. A strange, dark-haired man was standing in the hallway, and his mother, Barby, and Jan were waiting for him with strained white faces.
“Your father has been hurt,” Mrs. Brant said with false calm. “He’s on this gentleman’s houseboat!”
CHAPTER XVI
The Vanishing Mermaids
Parnell Winston worked as Hartson Brant described his experience.
“There really isn’t much to it,” Mr. Brant said. “I started out for Whiteside in the fast boat.”
Winston focused a flashlight into one eye, then the other.
“I was on the north side of North Cove when the boat smashed into something. I was thrown violently into the water.”
Winston tested the scientist’s reflexes, using a finger instead of the traditional rubber hammer.
“Apparently I was badly shaken up, because my memory becomes unclear at this point.
I do recall being fished out of the water, and when I came to enough to recognize my surroundings, I was in a strange room. It turned out to be the cabin of the houseboat.”
“Do you remember any strange sensations, or smells?” Winston asked.
Rick listened, his heart pounding.
“None.The people on the houseboat were most considerate. One of the men insisted that I get into some of his spare clothes, and I did so.One of the women-the wife of the man who came here, I believe-made me a cup of hotconsomme . They told me I was
apparently whole, no broken bones.”
“They were very pleasant and helpful,” Rick admitted.
The houseboaters had done just the right things, including coming to Spindrift for help rather than bringing the scientist home in the slow-moving and rather uncomfortable pram. Instead, Hartson Brant had waited on the houseboat while one of the men brought the pram to the island with a request that someone follow him back in a more
comfortable boat.
Rick and Scotty had done so, and were almost limp with relief at finding the scientist apparently unhurt and comfortable.
“How does your head feel?” Parnell Winston demanded.
“Rather stuffy,” the scientist admitted. “I’m finding it difficult to collect my thoughts.Parnell, why all these questions?”
The cyberneticist rubbed his bushy eyebrows with both hands, a habit he had when agitated. “Hartson, as you know, I am not a doctor of medicine. However, I do claim competence as a physiologist, and consequently bodily reactions are familiar to me. I believe you have been drugged.”
“Drugged?” Rick’s heart stopped momentarily.
“Yes. I’ve looked for the mark of a hypodermic needle, but there is none. If I’m correct, the drug was a light one, possibly amytal. Your reflexes are slower than normal, even taking the accident and subsequent shock into account, and your pupils react slowly.”
Rick came to a sudden decision. He went to the desk and picked up the phone.
“What are you doing?” Hartson Brant demanded.
“I’m calling Steve Ames. We need help.”
In a few minutes Rick had the agent on the wire and was giving him the details of the accident over the scrambler system. He concluded, “If Dad was drugged by the
houseboaters, as Dr. Winston thinks, that means the enemy has his brain pattern!”
Steve Ames asked, “Is Winston there?”
“Yes.”
“Ask him a question for me. Would the brain waves be considered quasi-optical?”
Steve meant would the waves be of such high frequency that they would act like light.
Rick put the question to Winston.
“Tell Steve the answer is a qualified yes.”
Rick repeated the information.
“All right.Then we must assume that the brain scrambler-or whatever you call it-can operate only from short distances, approximately to the horizon. Tell your father he is to get out of town. Have him pack a bag,then deliver him to the New York JANIG office.
We’ll take it from there. Got it?”
Rick had it. “How do I make sure we’re not followed?”
Steve paused. “That’s a tough one. Air travel would be surest. Do you have any landing lights on Spindrift?”
“No. Besides, it’s a short runway, and only a pilot who knew the island could possibly land at night.”
“I’ve got a pilot who knows it, so forget going toNew York .Rig lights of some kind.
You can put lights on the roof of the lab building, I’m sure. Then put a pair of lights at each side of the runway’s end, so he’ll know how far he can go. If you have nothing else, soak newspapers in gasoline. He’ll buzz the island. That will be your signal to light up.”
“Is Mike Malone the pilot?” Malone had landed there before.
“Yes.Hell take over. Just deliver your father intact.”
“If we can,” Rick said slowly. “Steve, suppose the enemy activates their machine when they hear the plane? Suppose they suspect he’s getting away and turn on the mind reader?”
“We’ll have to chance it. Best thing is to move fast. Get your father in with Mike, and let them clear out. I’ll tell Mike to put distance between him and you as fast as he can.”
“All right, Steve.” There seemed to be no other way.
Rick turned to his father and Winston, and repeated the conversation.
“He’s right, Hartson,” Winston said. “You’re in good enough shape to travel. Better get packed.” The cyberneticist looked at Rick. “What did you call the enemy gadget?A mind reader? That’s an odd name.”
“I didn’t think about it,” Rick told him. “The name just popped into my mind. But doesn’t the enemy machine read the patterns in peoples’ minds,then erase them?”
“As good a name as any, I guess,” Winston agreed. “Well, let’s tell the others. Then you havework to do getting ready for the plane, Rick.”
Mrs. Brant, after making sure that her husband was no more than slightly dazed, had been forced to turn her attention to Barby and Jan. The two girls were on the verge of sheer hysteria with fear for their fathers. Scotty had joined Mrs. Brant, in an effort to soothe thegirls frayed nerves. Now, as Rick opened the library door, he could see that the two pretty young faces were tear-streaked, but as calm as could be expected under the circumstances. Scotty looked worn out. Rick could only marvel at his mother. She could always be relied upon in a crisis.
Mrs. Brant listened to her son’s report,then nodded firmly. “Steve is wise to insist, Rick.
I’ll help your father pack.”
Rick beckoned to Scotty. “We havework to do. Let’s start with the lab.”
On the way, he filled Scotty in on the details of what had happened in the library. Then he asked, “How did you get the girls calmed down?”
Scotty shook his head wearily. “It wasn’t fun. The poor kids are scared stiff. Remember they haven’t been exposed to stuff as we have. To them, our stories are just exciting fun, because we leave out the rough parts. Now they’re getting a taste of this business the way it really is.”
“Did you say that?”
“That,and a thousand other things. Nothing did much good, and Mom couldn’t make any headway, either. Another ten minutes of tears and the island would have been under water, honest. Finally I got rough. I told them we were all in this, and they were only creating a nuisance that complicated things and didn’t help at all. Then Mom chimed in.
You know how she does. Never raises her voice. She said real courage consisted of being terribly frightened, but trying to remain calm in spite of it. Then she said she was rapidly becoming ashamed of both of them. Th
at did it. They stuck their chins in the air, wiped off the tears, and actually managed a smile.”
“Good for them!” Rick exclaimed.
Inside the laboratory they went at once to the stockroom. Floodlights were stored there, among other items. Extension cords were plentiful, and there were electric outlets on the roof. In a few moments the boys had strung the lights and Rick had readjusted the board downstairs, so that all the lights were on a single circuit. That way, they could all be switched on or off at once.
Joe Blake came to watch. Rick explained what he was doing, and told Joe of Steve’s conversation.
“I know,” Joe said. “Steve called me on the radio. He didn’t want us shooting Mike down for trying to land without warning. But how come you can cut circuits in and out like this?”
“We never know when an experiment will call for electric power in some unexpected place,” Rick explained. “The main board is set up so we can do just about anything we need to. We can feed normal current in, or 440 volts, and we can cross-link the circuits any way we like.”
Scotty checked Rick’s work,then took the switch handle. He touched the contacts briefly, and there was a quick pulse of light as the roof lighted up and went dark again.
‘I’ll stand by here,” Scotty said. “You stand by at the end of the runway. Are we going to use gasoline?”
“We’ll have to. It would take a while to run power from the house and hook up lighting units. Gasoline will be quicker and easier. Let’s go.”
There was a supply of gasoline for the boats. Rick got a five-gallon can while Scotty collected newspapers. Two trash cans served as containers. The cans were filled with newspapers, then drenched in gasoline and placed at the last possible point of runway that could be used. If Mike overshot the containers he would land in the sea.
Rick worried about the problem of lighting the containers without getting burned, then went to the workshop and selected rags. He twisted the rags loosely and tied them together, poured gasoline into a bucket and soaked his rag fuse. The last step was to insert one end of the fuse in each can. When the time came, he would be between the cans, and he would light the center of the rag string. The fire would travel rapidly, because of the gasoline.
In case Mike was delayed for any great period, Rick kept the gasoline handy. He might have to wet down the cans and fuse again. He had forgotten to ask where Mike would come from, and Steve hadn’t volunteered. Probably he would come from Washington, which meant about an hour’s flying time in the plane Mike would use, a fast little four-place job that Rick had long coveted. But Mike wouldn’t be ready for take-off instantly.
Time had to be allowed for Steve to give him instructions, to get from wherever he was to the airport, and then get the plane gassed and ready. Allow another hour. That meant two hours in all.
Inside, Rick was still scared. How did they know the electronic mind reader wouldn’t be activated at any moment? He hurried into the house and went upstairs to where his father was packing. He couldn’t do anything, and he knew it. But it helped, just being near the scientist. Apparently Scotty felt the same. He had joined Hartson Brant, too. But Barby, Jan, and Mrs. Brant had preceded him.
The scientist smiled.“Never had so much help packing before.”
The smile was strained, and Rick thought he knew why. He had seen his father face great physical danger without losing a bit of his composure. But the insidious weapon that could read all reason out of minds was far more horrible to a man like Hartson Brant than any physical danger could be. Bullets, knives, and clubs may leave bad wounds, or they may kill. But what chance is there for anyone with a damaged brain?
Scotty looked at his watch and held it up for Rick to see. Nearly an hour and three-quarters had passed since the call to Steve. Rick gestured to Scotty and urged, “Hurry, Dad.”
“I’m ready.” The scientist closed his bag. Barby got to it first and lugged it down the stairs, refusing Scotty’s offer of help.
The boys went to their stations while the others waited on the porch. Rick checked to be sure he had matches,then worried because a wind had sprung up. Suppose it blew his match out? He was about to go borrow his father’s lighter when he heard the far off drone of a plane. There wasn’t time now! He held the matches in his hand, ready.
The drone grew nearer, rising to a high whine. The plane was diving! Suddenly it was overhead and gone with a crash of sound. Rick saw its lights head out to sea. Mike was making a tight turn to come in for a landing.
Rick’s lips formed the words. “Now, Scotty!Now!”
And, as though he had heard, Scotty threw the switch. Lights flared on the lab roof, outlining it clearly. Rick struck a match and held it to the saturated cord of rags. Flaming gasoline ran along the cord in both directions, ran up the sides of the cans. There was a loud whoosh of exploding gasoline, and both cans were ablaze. Rick ran away from the heat.
Mike came in low and fast over the lab roof and slapped the plane down on the turf. In a moment he applied the brakes and the wheels whined their protest as they dug up grass.
Then the plane was rolling to a stop directly in front of the house.
The pilot jumped out and called, “Hello, gang! Come on, sir. No time to waste!”
Hartson Brant kissed Mrs. Brant and the girls, found time to pat Rick’s shoulder, and climbed in. Rick took the suitcase from Barby and handed it to the scientist. The door closed and the plane was whirling, catching them in its prop blast. Mike taxied back fast to the laboratory, turned the plane and revved up, holding on the brakes. Rick saw Scotty emerge from the lab building and go right back in again as the prop wash caught him.
Then the plane was rolling . . . and lifting. Mike skimmed low over the burning trash cans, banked out to sea, and was gone.
Rick felt a sob rising in his throat and resolutely squelched it. He walked to the burning cans and dropped covers on them. Scotty cut the lights on the lab building.
Had they made it? They wouldn’t know. Not until Steve reported that the scientist was safe.
On the porch, Barby asked, “How soon will we know?”
Rick was proud of her. Her voice had trembled only slightly.“Probably not until tomorrow, Sis. Come on. Let’s all hike off to bed. It’s been a rough evening.”
“All right.Rick, we still don’t know for sure, do we?About the people in the
houseboat?”
“Not for sure. But we have a pretty good idea. How else would Dad get drugged?”
“Mightn’t they have given him a sedative?” Jan asked. “That would have the same effect.”
Rick hadn’t thought of that. He admitted it was possible.
“I wish the radio trick had worked,” Barby said sadly. “I wish we had some way of getting a radio on the houseboat. Then we could listen in on everything they said.”
“No way of doing it,” Rick said. He was very tired.
“Forget it for now and let’s all turn in. We can talk some more in the morning.”
Steve Ames phoned atfive o’clock in the morning. Rick had been sleeping lightly, his rest broken by nightmares that he couldn’t remember when he awoke. He got to the phone in the hall. “Just a minute,” he said. “Let me get downstairs to the switch.”
The entire family was close on his heels as he went into the library. He threw the scrambler switch, then asked anxiously, “Yes, Steve?”
“Just had word, Rick, so I called in spite of the hour.Your father is safe inside the compound atLos Alamos . He’s all right. And just as a precaution, he’ll spend most of his time in a shielded area where no radio signal can penetrate. Now go on back to bed and get some sleep.”
Rick thanked him gratefully.Los Alamos ! That was one of the two main atomic energy weapons laboratories. No place in theUnited States was more closely guarded. Now he could be sure his father was safe as anyone could be.
He repeated the conversation to his anxious family. “Now,” he said, echoing Steve’s advice, “let’sget back to b
ed. Perhaps we can really sleep for a change.”
He did sleep. It was nearlynoon before he awoke. He got up sleepily and found Scotty had just barely preceded him and was now taking a shower.
Downstairs, things were apparently normal. Mrs. Brant and Mrs. Morrison were at work on lunch, but since an hour was too long to wait, Rick had a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk. He was careful not to choose Crummies. Scotty settled for three doughnuts and milk.
“Where are the girls?” Rick asked.“Still asleep?”
“They’ve gone swimming,” Mrs. Morrison replied. “They should be back soon, though.
They’ve been gone over an hour.”
“I could use a swim myself,” Rick admitted.
“Not me,” Scotty said. “Wait until afternoon and I’ll join you. That cold water would shock me into a state of galloping goose pimples the way I feel now.”
Rick had forgotten how cold the water was. “Okay. We’ll wait. Let’s go over to the lab and take down the lights. I want to clean up the trash cans, too.”
They walked leisurely over to the laboratory and stopped for a moment to chat with Joe Blake. Then, before starting on the lights, they walked around behind the lab building.
The laboratories were built on a promontory that sloped inland toward Pirate’s Field, which was just above sea level. The raised area ran around the seaward side of the island, so that the Brant house was on high land, too. On the north side, the land sloped down toward the boat landing.
Rick stood on the edge of the low cliff and looked for Barby and Jan. They weren’t in sight.
“They must be using lungs,” Scotty said. “Watch for bubbles.”
No bubbles were visible, either. Rick checked carefully and began to worry. It was a calm day with little wave action, and the bubbles from the lungs should have been clearly visible. Surely they wouldn’t swim so far the bubbles couldn’t be seen on a day like this.
“Let’s check,” Rick said.
The boys hurried to the room where the Scuba equipment was kept. Two lungs and the blue and white equipment were gone. So was the cart. A quick look at Pirate’s Cove showed no cart in sight.