The Nyctalope and The Tower of Babel

by Jean de La Hire

  The rows of skeletons kept Vitto and Soca from hitting the two men standing in the left doorway. While reloading, therefore, they slipped around to get a better shot. All this happened in a matter of seconds. But a second event followed that almost turned the victory into defeat.

  A very powerful mental wave swept across the room and hit Saint-Clair’s men. An order written in letters on fire in their brains:

  YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY ENEMIES. FIRE ON EVERYTHING THAT MOVES, INDISCRIMINATELY! DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU’RE FIRING AT!

  The Nyctalope’s allies hesitated. As happened to the soldiers guarding Sylvie Saint-Clair at her home, they immediately lost their free will and the control of their movements. A superior will took the place of their own. The mind amplifier that the Master of the Seven Lights was using gave them no chance. Armand Logreux d’Albury, endowed with psychic powers, could have taken control of their minds even without the machine. With that device, much stronger even than the one he had used on Rue Montbrun, he would have total control over all the members of the commando team. Even the Nyctalope, whose metal strength had been developed during his stay in Tibet, trained and honed as it was during his confrontations with enemies as fearsome as Lucifer, could only put up a weak resistance to such an assault.

  The two men armed with the disintegrator had not entered the room and therefore were not influenced by Logreux’s psychic power. They kept their reason and could continue their attack. They had seen the Nyctalope hide behind the Radion to escape the disintegrator ray. They exchanged a sly look and decided to get rid of the object, to vaporize the Radion.

  They aimed their rifle at the vehicle and fired. The ray hit the front of it, which disappeared in a cloud of dust. They kept destroying it progressively, piece by piece, in order to reach Saint-Clair who was hiding in the back near the propeller. Le Moal, who had stayed inside the Radion, vanished at the same time as his invention, without realizing what was happening, completely preoccupied with finding a weapon to obey the Logreux’s mental order and kill his companions.

  On the Nyctalope’s side, the destruction of the Radion unleashed true madness. The two close allies, childhood friends, Vitto and Soca, started trying to kill each other. On the left the two agents who were with the Nyctalope stopped heading toward the table where Logreux was hiding with his death machine and turned their weapons against each other in answer to the pitiless order that was hammering away at their brains. Jaws clenched, they opened fire and fell to the ground simultaneously.

  A few feet away, the Nyctalope was mustering all the force of his hardened mind to resist the Master of Seven Lights. But his efforts were in vain. Gradually, his will weakened and he slowly raised the Browning to fire at his friends. He could not resist the inevitable. His will to fight the psychic influence was bolstered by the obsessive thought that he was about to kill his friends just like he had killed his children on Mars. He was suffering, struggling. Sweat started pouring down his face, twisted into a horrible grimace, tormented by terror. Little by little his sweat turned red, infused with blood. Nevertheless, he raised his weapon, inch by inch.

  On the other side, Vitto and Soca, who were sneaking around a pile of bones, stopped abruptly and started circling around each other. They pulled the trigger at almost the same time. But also at the same time, the two machine guns jammed. In fact, at the moment the mental order was given, they were both reloading and interrupted their action. In a way, this saved their lives because the clips were not fully loaded and the guns would not fire. But it was only a pause because their desire to kill each other was still there. They threw down their machine guns and unsheathed their hunting knives.

  The Invisible Man had also been hit by the Master’s mental order. He raised his Browning and shot… the man carrying the disintegrator rifle, whom he hit right between the eyes. In fact, when the two had showed up, he had used his invisibility to get close to them so he could take them out. When the psychic attack hit, he was only a few feet away and the two men closest to him were his designated targets.

  The one holding the cable looked around in total surprise. He was clearly wondering where the shot had come from. He was about to draw the pistol out the holster on his belt but a second bullet stopped him clean when it pierced his heart.

  The Nyctalope was still fighting against the awful feeling inside of him. When he saw his two companions collapse after killing each other right in front of him, the situation took a sudden turn. His nearest enemy was now Logreux d’Albury! He could stop struggling against the psychic order that could now be of some use. But he had to act fast, very fast because the enemy must already be getting ready to change the mental instructions.

  Saint-Clair raised his Browning again. His adversary, still protected by the steel-reinforced table, was out of reach. Nevertheless, the Nyctalope pointed his weapon in that direction. He simply raised it a little higher than if he were trying to hit the count, which would do no good since the bullet would only crash uselessly into the metal table. He fired. The bullet flew over the table and hit the mind amplifier that was a lot taller than the improvised shield.

  The little 9 mm caused damage that was inversely proportional to its size: shot in a critical spot, the machine started crackling, smoking and then turned off.

  The Nyctalope and his three companions immediately felt the control of their thoughts and movements come back them. Vitto and Soca, knives in hand, stood and looked at each other, each feeling the awful fear of having almost killed his best friend with his own hands. The Invisible Man had been a lot luckier. He had only killed enemies whom he had planned to get rid of anyway. He turned and ran to the other side of the room to attack Logreux who was now vulnerable without his psychic amplifier.

  At the same time the Nyctalope also snuck up to the Master of the Seven Lights, who was still hiding behind the table. When he was almost there, the heavy table rose up as light as a feather and came flying in his direction. Saint-Clair was expecting to be targeted by a firearm and was ready to shoot his enemy when he popped up—this took him by surprise. He barely managed to dodge the table and push it out of his way. But in the meantime he had dropped his weapon and stumbled back, falling hard onto the ground.

  Armand Logreux d’Albury, his enemy, the Master of Seven Lights, was now standing over him, leaning over him, his eyes burning with hate, shouting triumphantly:

  “You are going to die, Saint-Clair! I’m going to break your limbs one by one and you will feel the agony that you inflicted on me when you turned me into the living-dead that I am. Only the hope of this moment has kept me alive. And now, it’s payback time!”

  Vitto and Soca had taken these few moments of the Master’s bitter speech to sneak up with their Brownings. They fired at the same time. The two bullets flattened out and dropped to the ground a few inches from the metal frame covering the villain’s exoskeleton. They were amazed to see that their enemy was protected by an electromagnetic force field produced by his suit. He was truly invincible.

  Logreux raised his steel boot to crush the Nyctalope’s head. As the foot came down, Saint-Clair rolled to the right and the boot shattered the floor where his head had been a second before.

  The Nyctalope was stuck against the wall now. Vitto and Soca drew their knives and rushed over to stop Logreux from attacking their boss. The Master swung around, grabbed Vitto under his huge arm and threw him violently into Soca. The two men crashed to the floor together ten feet away, completely dazed.

  The Nyctalope had taken the opportunity to kick his enemy hard in the back, but Logreux did not react. He turned around with an evil smile on his face and every intention of finishing Saint-Clair off for good.

  He leaned forward and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him up easily and holding the Nyctalope a foot over his face. Logreux slapped him hard enough to stun him. The fight was coming to an end and it did not look good for the Nyctalope.

  Logreux d’Albury was about to deal the final blow to Saint-Clair with
a hook in his left hand. A glimmer of satisfaction sparkled in his eyes and he paused a second to contemplate his vanquished enemy. At the moment he decided to finally administer the coup de grâce, he suddenly froze. He tried to move but could not. His balance looked off and the weight of Saint-Clair in his hand seemed to be dragging him down. His body stiffened and he fell forward, unable to make the slightest move.

  The Nyctalope wriggled free and stood up, amazed by this sudden change of events, just like Vitto and Soca a few feet away. Both of them were slowly getting to their feet, still holding their knives, without understanding what happened. Suddenly, a voice rang out next to them, saying:

  “Are you OK, Léo?”

  Saint-Clair knew then that he owed his life and his victory to the Invisible Man.

  “Is that you, Jacques, who stepped in to save me?”

  “Yes. I came up behind him and pulled out the cables connecting his exoskeleton to his brain. As soon as they were unplugged, that madman lost control of his armor and fell. The Master of Seven Lights is beaten and I hope this time it’ll be his final defeat.”

  “The hardest part is still to come. Now we have to beat Korridès who’s holding my wife hostage. He must be hiding upstairs somewhere. We’ll split up into two groups. You, Vitto and Soca, take the main stairs on the right of the entrance hall right by the front door. I’ll take the other stairs straight out of the exhibition hall. I should end up in the other room on the second floor, then down the corridor on the mezzanine that overlooks it, which is on the third floor. Be careful, he still has some henchmen running around.”

  Without a second to lose the Nyctalope ran to the stairs in the exhibition room. The upper floor was not lit. Saint-Clair thought, I hope he’s not thinking that he’ll slow me down by cutting the electricity!

  He walked cautiously up to the second floor. Thanks to his night vision he did not run into any of the obstacles that were in his way. He was as silent as possible so he would not be detected. The ground, indeed, strewn with debris from the renovation work on the building that had barely started when Korridès and his men had discreetly taken possession of the place. The windows were all covered with tarps, which made his nyctalopic powers indispensable.

  He reached the second floor and looked around. He thought he saw something moving in the mezzanine corridor on the upper floor. Then he saw the two men at the top of the stairs armed with disintegrator rifles. If he had not been so careful he would have been spotted on the landing where the tarp on the window let in a little light.

  All of a sudden he heard two gunshots coming from the main staircase on the right. Vitto and Soca were obviously meeting up with some of the Engineer’s men.

  Saint-Clair aimed his Browning at one of the men with the disintegrators. He fired. The man was hit in the head and fell back. His partner jumped up and was shot down in the same place. He stumbled over to the railing, lean on it for a second, then his weight carried him over and he plunged to the second floor.

  Saint-Clair reloaded and continued his climb. He reached the third floor without a problem and headed to the right to go into the room right over the lobby. Two more shots rang out somewhere in front of him. His friends were still fighting. He got to the doorway of the room that suddenly lit up. The Nyctalope stepped back.

  Before him, in a converted alcove in the middle of a bunch of machines, was his old enemy, Engineer Korridès. Saint-Clair thought he looked even more decrepit than the last time he had seen him. Next to him, sitting in a metal armchair, Sylvie was gagged, tied to the chair and wearing a helmet connected by wires to one of the machines.

  The Engineer saw the Nyctalope and said:

  “Hello, Monsieur Saint-Clair! Come over here, please. I was just beginning a revolutionary experiment with your wife as subject. I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

  Saint-Clair was about to step forward but something in the Engineer’s voice sounded suspicious. He looked more carefully and saw that the space where Sylvie and the Engineer were was a lot brighter than where he himself was. He took his hunting knife and threw it into the bright zone. The blade started sizzling and then burst into flames as it flew across the room. A few charred fragments landed inches from the Engineer’s feet. His intuition had been right. The whole area was a trap. If he had stepped in he would have been fried just like the knife.

  The Engineer spoke up:

  “I suppose you don’t really need to come over here. From where you are, you’ll have a fine view of this historic first in science. You’ve witnessed the wonder of my disintegrator rifles on several occasions. This time I’m going to move it up a level. I’m not going to just pulverize your wife, I’m also going to destroy the very fabric of the space she occupies. Nothing at all will be left! Not even ashes! What do you think of that, Monsieur Saint-Clair?”

  The Nyctalope looked around anxiously, searching for some solution. But he found nothing! The barrier was impassable and he had no way to keep the Engineer from completing his sinister project and killing his wife. He tried to gain a little time:

  “You know, Korridès, this vengeance is unworthy of you. The deeds you blame me for were not done of my own free will. My mind was possessed, contaminated by extraterrestrial parasites. You can’t hold me responsible for what happened on Mars, and what you’re doing is not getting justice.”

  “I alone decide what is just or not! I’ll punish whomever I consider guilty and I’ll let go whoever is innocent in my eyes. As for you, you’re guilty and your punishment is coming… right now!”

  With a quick flick of his wrist, the Engineer flipped down a lever. The machine started humming and the space around Sylvie started vibrating, trembling like a mirage in the desert heat. All of a sudden there was something like a rip. A deep, dark fracture appeared in the space where his wife was bound. In an instant she was swallowed up, sucked into the void. The crack stayed open for a few more seconds and a strong suction could be felt. All the objects not bolted down were sucked in, vanishing in a flash. Korridès was hanging onto the lever to fight against the suction. His feet lifted off the ground, then his whole body, like it was being levitated, became horizontal. He could certainly not last long in this position.

  It was then that one of the machines on the right was torn up and sucked into the crack. The destruction of this machine caused a short-circuit that fried the electricity, not only in the building but in almost the whole arrondissement. The museum was plunged into darkness. The force field keeping the Nyctalope from moving was gone.

  The Engineer dropped back down and stumbled over to a small table searching for the drawer with his disintegrator pistol, a smaller version of his famous rifle.

  Saint-Clair, whose face had nothing human about it, watched him with hatred in his eyes. Whoever could have seen him at this moment would have backed away in terror at his transformation. In his eyes was carved the death of the man who had killed his wife in cold blood.

  The Engineer was still feeling around for the drawer. Frustrated, he finally realized that the drawer and all its contents had been sucked into the open fissure of space. Then a hand of steel suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him back in total, terrifying silence.

  The gunshots on the stairs had stopped; the battle must have been over.

  Still in deadly silence Saint-Clair’s other hand clutched Korridès’ throat and started squeezing with uncommon strength, in an unyielding desire to kill him. The Engineer mumbled something incomprehensible. And in the Nyctalope’s fist something gave way. The body of his enemy suddenly went limp: the greatest genius of the 20th century had just died.

  Flashlights appeared behind the Nyctalope. His three comrades were just coming in. They, too, had taken down their adversaries. The CID had triumphed, but at an enormous cost. The organization had been almost completely destroyed and nobody could say if it would ever be rebuilt.

  Saint-Clair was devastated. He left the museum without saying a word. Engineer Korridès and Armand Logreux d’Albur
y had almost succeeded in killing him and something in him had snapped. His family and friends had been exterminated and he had practically nothing left. There was nothing more for him to do in Paris, no more reason for him to live.

  He looked around at the city that held nothing for him. Like in his youth he had to leave. Go to the other end of the world—Africa? Asia? Mars perhaps?

  He looked up. There were clouds in the sky. Behind this veil the red planet was hiding. Yes, the Martians. He remembered now. They, too, had hit him hard. They were dangerous. Yes, he would deal with them. That would give him a new meaning in life and also a little revenge.12

  First of all he, would pick up the Zig in Orléans, then leave for the Congo. There was an abandoned base there with radio-planes and not a chance in hell that he could not get to the red planet to do some investigating. He turned to his companions and gave them a final farewell.

  A few minutes later an ambulance carried Armand Logreux d’Albury to the hospital while the Nyctalope took a taxi to the Villacoublay airport to get his Torpedo and set out for Orléans, the first leg of his journey back to Mars.

  Epilog

  Dumuzi, a shepherd, was guarding his sheep in the green hills. Down below in the plain, lying along the banks of the Great River was the prosperous city of Uruk in the middle of which was a grand, terraced pyramid, a ziggurat.

  Long days would pass before he went back to his house near the city dedicated to the great goddess. Dumuzi looked over his flock to make sure that no animal was wandering off. Everything was in order and he could resume his contemplation. Would the gods be favorable to him? Would he get a good price for his wool? He would only know when he went back.

  All of a sudden he felt a cold wind on his back, unusual at this time of the year. He turned around and what he saw made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.