The Nyctalope and The Tower of Babel

by Jean de La Hire

  “Greeting to you, O Great Chief! I am the spokesman for our own Chief and I am come from the Heavens with him on a great iron bird. Our Chief, the great Hubert de Pibriac, challenges you to hand-to-hand combat. If victorious, we will stay here because that is the will of God. If defeated, we will go back to our celestial abode but that will not be the case because we cannot be defeated.”

  The great white chief, a real giant at six and a half feet tall, flexed his powerful muscles that had no war paint. His men yelled in triumph, sure of their chief’s victory.

  “I see that you know us well, Spokesman, since you invoke this old tradition that I cannot refuse! You, Chief of the white men, you have given me a solemn challenge and as is the custom you have told me your name. Therefore, I have to tell you mine: I am Nimrod and I am the champion of Nod. I propose that we meet in the middle of the lake on canoes. We will face each other in one and the last man on board will be declared the victor.”

  The professor translated this to Hubert.

  “Tell him I accept,” de Pibriac said.

  The professor looked at Hubert. In the strange glimmer in his eyes there was undeniable admiration. Turning to face Nimrod he said:

  “It’s agreed, O champion of Nod. Our Chief, the champion of Heaven, will face you on a big boat that we’ll get from this tower. Both of you can get on board and when you’re ready you can fight.”

  “So be it,” Nimrod answered. “I can only admire the bravery of your chief. To engage in a traditional combat whose only outcome can be death, simply to remain in the House of the Gods, is very courageous of him. But he must know that I have never been defeated in combat!”

  Professor Noque translated the native Chief, then turned to Hubert and said:

  “There might still be time to stop this madness.”

  While he was speaking Hubert stood straight up and faced Nimrod. Spreading out his legs, he took off his coat and pith helmet and showed off his own muscles, which were as brawny as his enemy’s.

  “Don’t worry, professor. I think the fight is far from a foregone conclusion. Remember that when I was in the Olympics, not so long ago, the sports commentators called me Herkulos!”

  With a firm and determined step Hubert went to the boat that was hanging over the water by the hoist and he climbed in. Pir and Bob came over and started to pull the ropes to lower it into the lake.

  When it hit the water Hubert untied it and started rowing slowly toward Nimrod’s canoe. He drew alongside the natives’ canoe, the giant scrambled on board and Hubert pushed the boat a few yards away so the two champions could fight without being disturbed by the other warriors. Neither Nimrod nor his men did anything to hinder the preparations.

  The two fighters stood up and faced each other. Nimrod was two heads taller than Hubert and looked down on his adversary with a smile on his lips. Although shorter than him Hubert’s muscles were the same size. Moreover, he was a grand champion and had competed internationally. Indeed, he had perfected his fighting techniques with the Nyctalope who had learned his from the greatest of Tibetan and Chinese Masters and he had taught Hubert during their training sessions.

  The boat was narrow and the balance unstable: every step, every move could have toppled them over.

  Abruptly, Nimrod jumped forward and tried to punch his enemy in the face. With a graceful movement of his chest Hubert easily dodged the attack. The other was now vulnerable, so Hubert threw an uppercut that dazed his adversary for a moment. The giant was still feeling the shock when Pibriac spun around, grabbed his arms and tossed him to the far end of the boat where he crashed on his back.

  Nimrod turned on his side and jumped up his feet, scowling. His eyes burned with rage. Until this moment he had never met an enemy who could, even for an instant, get the better of him.

  They faced off again. This time Nimrod was more cautious, staying just out of arm’s reach. He was also protecting his face. At the last moment he spread his arms to get his enemy in a bear hug.

  Pibriac was too close to the gunwale and could not back up. He dodged the attack by squatting down. He wrapped around this waist and spun behind him. This allowed him to try a hold known to wrestlers as the Double Nelson, which would immobilize the adversary by securing his arms over this neck. But Nimrod had almost supernatural strength and under his weighty pressure Hubert was forced to release his hold. Looking triumphant the giant turned around and started charging but his show of force, which made him overly confident, had made him careless. Sure of his victory he forgot to protect himself. For an Olympic level athlete such a mistake was valuable.

  Hubert grabbed one arm, bent it back and spun him around. Then he pushed Nimrod backward where he flew into the prow, his spine crashing into the wooden frame. The hull of the boat, already weakened by previous shocks, started to crack and under the 250 pounds of the giant, the solid boat started coming apart.

  The two men fell into the water amid the floating debris. Nimrod, handicapped by his wound, could not swim and sunk straight down. When Hubert surfaced he searched for his adversary. Just as he was about to dive down to save him, the water was stirred up by a strong current coming from riverbank. The crocodiles who had been lazing on the lakeshore were rushing into the water and heading for them. Hubert saw them coming, the biggest of them over twenty feet long. He had to get to safety quickly if he wanted to escape these predators.

  As fast as he could he started swimming for the shore. The lizards were busy with Nimrod for the moment and forgot about Hubert who was able to cross most of the distance to the shore with ease. But the final few yards could prove dangerous because the feast was over and the huge reptiles were concentrating on him now.

  He had only a few yards to go to safety but was about to be caught when his companions opened fire on the crocodiles. At this short distance and with their precision weapons Pir, Bob, Pierre and Professor Noque slaughtered them. The few crocs who were not hit ignored their prey to deal with their wounded brothers. Thus, Hubert was able to get back to the tower without any more trouble.

  When “Herkulos” was safe and sound he stared at the rough water being agitated by the wild movements of its ferocious inhabitants. At last everything became calm again and the explorers’ attention was turned to the natives. To their great surprise they saw that the warriors had already left the lake and were going back into the jungle.

  “I don’t think we have anything more to fear from them,” Professor Noque said. “This ritual combat was a divine endorsement of our presence in the House of the Gods.”

  “True, but we’ve also seen that the crocodiles are very quick to act. I hope we can avoid them in the veloscaphe,” Hubert said.

  “Now it’s our turn,” Pir and Bob said in unison. “It’s time to launch.”

  CHAPTER X

  Sabotage

  On the runway at the Madrid airport the Nyctalope was walking to the hangar where the Zig was parked. It was 4 a.m., the air was fresh and he could see as clear as day thanks to his extraordinary night vision.

  The memory of his battle against Engineer Korridès had kept him from sleeping. In the past Korridès had already attacked his family and kidnapped his wife and son. As the Nyctalope had feared, they were once again in danger.

  Korridès was without a doubt one of the greatest scientific geniuses of the 20th century. Unfortunately, his unbalanced mind made his behavior unstable and unpredictable. In his youth he had been locked up for a few years and he had left the mental asylum only because a rich American had needed his inventions to go in search of an unreachable treasure. For a time during his second marriage he had been relatively stable. After a few years he had decided to explore the planet Mars with his wife. That was when the Nyctalope had met him for the first time, beaming and friendly in the French colony of Argyre. They had not seen each other for a long time after that trip. But then it had been to fight. Korridès had prematurely aged for reasons unknown and his third marriage was to one of the Nyctalope’s old enemies,
the Red Princess, always hungry for vengeance. The scientist had founded the Hashishin with her, the diabolical organization that Léo had broken up. Their confrontation had ended in the death of his two enemies. At least that was what Saint-Clair had thought until he had opened the coffin where Korridès was believed to lie.

  Worried and troubled the Nyctalope decided to depart earlier than planned and leave Madrid as soon as possible, whenever his plane was ready to go.

  From a distance Saint-Clair saw that the door of the hangar was open, which seemed strange to him. No light shined through the windows. He had a bad feeling, so he walked off to the side, staying out of sight of the doorway. Nevertheless, the night was dark and his nyctalopic ability let him see as clear as day, which was not the case with whoever was inside. He snuck a peek through the open door to try to see if anything unusual was happening. The huge hangar was completely dark. He saw a light glowing in front of the plane as if someone was doing some night work on it. He was just about to step in when he saw the upper body lying on the ground, halfway out the doorway leading to the crew quarters. The nocturnal visitors who were working on the plane obviously had hostile intentions.

  Saint-Clair snuck silently through the shadows to get as close to the light as he could. Two men were bent over the engine. The Nyctalope could not yet see exactly what they were doing, but he knew that it was some kind of sabotage. He had got within a few feet of them when the man on the left of the cockpit raised his head, probably to say something to his accomplice. He was just opening his mouth when he saw the Nyctalope coming out of the shadows.

  Saint-Clair knew he was discovered and figuring that the other man would be taken by surprise and probably not react, he dove forward and smashed his head into the fuselage. The villain was knocked out and dropped to the ground. As the Nyctalope stepped up to the second man, the guy grabbed a crowbar and swung it hard at the Nyctalope. The attempt was so clumsy that Saint-Clair saw exactly where it was going and easily sidestepped it. His adversary, on the other hand, did not manage to dodge the karate chop that the Nyctalope delivered to the right side of his neck. The man stumbled to the left as he dropped his improvised weapon. Before he could get his balance Saint-Clair threw a strong hook into his solar plexus and put an end to the fight.

  The hangar fell silent again. Saint-Clair looked all around the place to make sure that the two men had no more partners, then he headed toward the room where the pilot and mechanic stayed.

  There was nothing he could do for them: they were lying in a pool of blood. They had obviously been attacked in their sleep and the pilot had the strength to drag himself to the door, which had given, whether he knew it or not, a warning to the Nyctalope about something wrong in the hangar.

  Saint-Clair went back to the plane and tried to determine the extent of the damage caused by the two men. The engine was completely destroyed and it would take a long time to find the spare parts to get it working again, especially since it was ultramodern and most of the parts were not available in Spain.

  He looked at the two men to make sure they could not escape. There was nothing to fear on this score because they would be unconscious for a quite a while.

  He put them in chairs and tied them up. Then he went to search the cockpit for the medical kit that was always kept there. He opened it, took out a vial and a syringe, drew out the contents of the small bottle and gave one of the men an injection. A few seconds went by and saboteur opened his eyes. He looked a little groggy but you could see in his eyes that he knew he was the Nyctalope’s prisoner. Saint-Clair started interrogating him without delay:

  “Who sent you to sabotage my plane?”

  The man clenched his jaw, looked defiantly at Saint-Clair and remained silent. The Nyctalope understood that he would have to change methods if he wanted to get anything out of him. He could, of course, always resort to strong-arm tactics but his adversary looked like a fanatic and it would probably turn out to be futile. Besides, he hated to use violence. Therefore, he decided to use hypnosis. When he was traveling through the secret regions of Tibet many years ago, he had learned to develop his psychic abilities among the lamas who had initiated him into the occult sciences. Since then he had had several opportunities to practice hypnosis with some success. In order to make it easier, he injected his prisoner with a narcotic that would break down his resistance. After locking eyes he made a few hypnotic hand movements, then fixed the guy’s attention by swinging a watch before his eyes, all the while whispering calmly to put him into a trance. When the man was staring straight ahead, Saint-Clair smiled with satisfaction. The interrogation could begin. He asked his original question:

  “Speak! Who sent you to sabotage my plane?”

  There were a few seconds of silence, then the criminal started talking in a flat voice:

  “I was sent by our boss… Engineer Korridès.”

  “Tell me everything you know about it.”

  “Yesterday we were contacted by the Engineer. We thought he’d died years ago when he had killed himself in that Madrid prison. But he’s back and he told us that his old enemy, the Nyctalope, was in Spain and we had to sabotage his plane. The Engineer said we had to do it so he could fulfill his plan. And that’s what we did.”

  “What’s this plan?”

  “The Engineer didn’t say. I have no idea.”

  “Did he give you any other instructions?”

  “Yes, we got orders to kill all the Nyctalope’s collaborators to avenge the Hashishin who were killed because of him.”

  “Do you have any way to communicate with the Engineer?”

  “No. He said that if need be he’d contact us by radio.”

  Seeing that there was nothing more to get from the prisoner, the Nyctalope finished up:

  “When I snap my fingers you’ll forget this conversation and fall asleep.”

  The Nyctalope snapped his fingers and the Hashishin—since he was indeed a member of this enemy organization—slumped down in the chair and slept.

  Saint-Clair could not get over it. Not only was it confirmed now that the enemy who attacked his mansion was the Engineer, but he just learned that Korridès was back in contact with members of the organization that he had led and he had sent them after him, his family and his men. An organization that the Nyctalope, a few days ago, had sworn was totally annihilated and no longer existed! From now on he had to double his guard because his enemy had obviously been preparing his revenge for a long time and would leave nothing to chance. A few hours earlier he learned that some of his men had simply disappeared. Now he was seeing that the attack was on a much bigger scale. He had never before felt such a serious threat and for the time being he had no real clue or lead to follow! He had to be ready for any eventuality because the battle was certainly going to be pitiless.

  He left the hangar and headed for one of the control towers. He had to inform the police and start contacting the different companies to get the spare parts he needed. But this was going to take time. Korridès, once again, had struck first and won the round.

  He was thinking, not without a certain pain in his heart, Korridès 2, Nyctalope 0. Luckily this round is over and he didn’t win the match. However, his mysterious plan that the saboteur mentioned is troubling and I have to be ready to retaliate at any moment.

  CHAPTER XI

  Exploring the Tower

  Pir and Bob had taken their seats in the veloscaphe. They were wearing their diving suits and fastened to it with seatbelts. After giving them some final encouragement the other members of the expedition watched them manipulating their machine. They put the lateral blades in down position and started pedaling. The veloscaphe slowly descended. They were already sunk up to their helmets, which soon disappeared under the dark water.

  Going down only three or four feet they were already blind and had to turn on the spotlight on the front of the machine. In the impenetrable darkness only the zones lit by this spot were visible. There were almost no fish. But Pir and Bob
were more interested in what they were hoping to find at the bottom of the tower that was buried in the depths of the lake.

  Gradually as they descended the two underwater cyclists saw that the only openings visible along the smooth-as-glass walls were long, narrow windows, like arrow slits in a fortress, which must have let in a very meager light when the tower was built. The tower, although strong and built to last, seemed to have been shaken up pretty badly by the Flood. The walls were cracked, some parts in very bad shape and they could easily imagine that the inside of the building must have suffered a great deal of damage. The whole thing looked fragile and entering it might prove difficult and dangerous.

  About ten yards down they saw that the tower had a big circular terrace under which the tower grew bigger. Archways opened up at this level but like higher up the passages were completely blocked by rocks and other debris.

  The two young men shot each other an understanding glance and were about to continue their descent when a huge crocodile surged out of the shadows right in front of them. It was gigantic, probably twenty feet long, and its crooked fangs were frightening. With a strong whip of its tail it came shooting forward, its jaws wide open.

  Pir and Bob turned on the electric feed to their spur and pointed it at the animal. The lizard was quickly on top of it. An electric flash, brighter than the spotlight, blinded them. The crocodile started shaking and then went stiff. The luminous arc was cut off and the two divers saw that the body of their monstrous adversary was not moving. It started sinking slowly and disappeared out of sight.

  Confident now in their system of defense, they continued their descent along the tower.

  Fifty feet farther down they saw a second balcony under which the tower was fatter again. The building, in fact, was like a round pyramid whose perimeter, going up from the base to the summit, got progressively smaller. Once again, big stone blocks forbid access inside the building.