The War Terror

by Arthur B. Reeve

  CHAPTER II

  THE ELECTRO-MAGNETIC GUN

  "What shall we do?" demanded Burke, instantly taking in the dangeroussituation that the Baron's sudden change of plans had opened up.

  "Call O'Connor," I suggested, thinking of the police bureau of missingpersons, and reaching for the telephone.

  "No, no!" almost shouted Craig, seizing my arm. "The police willinevitably spoil it all. No, we must play a lone hand in this if we areto work it out. How was Fortescue discovered, Burke?"

  "Sitting in a chair in his laboratory. He must have been there allnight. There wasn't a mark on him, not a sign of violence, yet his facewas terribly drawn as though he were gasping for breath or his hearthad suddenly failed him. So far, I believe, the coroner has no clue andisn't advertising the case."

  "Take me there, then," decided Craig quickly. "Walter, I must trustMiss Lowe to you on the journey. We must all go. That must be ourstarting point, if we are to run this thing down."

  I caught his significant look to me and interpreted it to mean that hewanted me to watch Miss Lowe especially. I gathered that taking her wasin the nature of a third degree and as a result he expected to derivesome information from her. Her face was pale and drawn as we four piledinto a taxicab for a quick run downtown to the laboratory of Fortescuefrom which Burke had come directly to us with his story.

  "What do you know of these anarchists?" asked Kennedy of Burke as wesped along. "Why do you suspect them?"

  It was evident that he was discussing the case so that Paula couldoverhear, for a purpose.

  "Why, we received a tip from abroad--I won't say where," replied Burkeguardedly, taking his cue. "They call themselves the 'Group,' Ibelieve, which is a common enough term among anarchists. It seems theyare composed of terrorists of all nations."

  "The leader?" inquired Kennedy, leading him on.

  "There is one, I believe, a little florid, stout German. I think he isa paranoiac who believes there has fallen on himself a divine missionto end all warfare. Quite likely he is one of those who have fled toAmerica to avoid military service. Perhaps, why certainly, you mustknow him--Annenberg, an instructor in economics now at the University?"

  Craig nodded and raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. We had indeedheard of Annenberg and some of his radical theories which had sometimesquite alarmed the conservative faculty. I felt that this was gettingpretty close home to us now.

  "How about Mrs. Annenberg?" Craig asked, recalling the clever youngwife of the middle-aged professor.

  At the mere mention of the name, I felt a sort of start in Miss Lowe,who was seated next to me in the taxicab. She had quickly recoveredherself, but not before I saw that Kennedy's plan of breaking down thelast barrier of her reserve was working.

  "She is one of them, too," Burke nodded. "I have had my men outshadowing them and their friends. They tell me that the Annenbergs holdsalons--I suppose you would call them that--attended by numbers of menand women of high social and intellectual position who dabble inradicalism and all sorts of things."

  "Who are the other leaders?" asked Craig. "Have you any idea?"

  "Some idea," returned Burke. "There seems to be a Frenchman, a tall,wiry man of forty-five or fifty with a black mustache which once had amilitary twist. There are a couple of Englishmen. Then there are fiveor six Americans who seem to be active. One, I believe, is a youngwoman."

  Kennedy checked him with a covert glance, but did not betray by amovement of a muscle to Miss Lowe that either Burke or himselfsuspected her of being the young woman in question.

  "There are three Russians," continued Burke, "all of whom have escapedfrom Siberia. Then there is at least one Austrian, a Spaniard from theFerrer school, and Tomasso and Enrico, two Italians, rather heavilybuilt, swarthy, bearded. They look the part. Of course there areothers. But these in the main, I think, compose what might be called'the inner circle' of the 'Group.'"

  It was indeed an alarming, terrifying revelation, as we began torealize that Miss Lowe had undoubtedly been telling the truth. Notalone was there this American group, evidently, but all over Europe thelines of the conspiracy had apparently spread. It was not a casualgathering of ordinary malcontents. It went deeper than that. Itincluded many who in their disgust at war secretly were not unwillingto wink at violence to end the curse. I could not but reflect on thedangerous ground on which most of them were treading, shaking the basisof all civilization in order to cut out one modern excrescence.

  The big fact to us, just at present, was that this group had madeAmerica its headquarters, that plans had been studiously matured andeven reduced to writing, if Paula were to be believed. Everything hadbeen carefully staged for a great simultaneous blow or series of blowsthat would rouse the whole world.

  As I watched I could not escape observing that Miss Lowe followed Burkefurtively now, as though he had some uncanny power.

  Fortescue's laboratory was in an old building on a side street severalblocks from the main thoroughfares of Manhattan. He had evidentlychosen it, partly because of its very inaccessibility in order tosecure the quiet necessary for his work.

  "If he had any visitors last night," commented Kennedy when our cab atlast pulled up before the place, "they might have come and goneunnoticed."

  We entered. Nothing had been disturbed in the laboratory by the coronerand Kennedy was able to gain a complete idea of the case rapidly,almost as well as if we had been called in immediately.

  Fortescue's body, it seemed, had been discovered sprawled out in a bigarmchair, as Burke had said, by one of his assistants only a few hoursbefore when he had come to the laboratory in the morning to open it.Evidently he had been there undisturbed all night, keeping a gruesomevigil over his looted treasure house.

  As we gleaned the meager facts, it became more evident that whoever hadperpetrated the crime must have had the diabolical cunning to do it insome ordinary way that aroused no suspicion on the part of the victim,for there was no sign of any violence anywhere.

  As we entered the laboratory, I noted an involuntary shudder on thepart of Paula Lowe, but, as far as I knew, it was no more than mighthave been felt by anyone under the circumstances.

  Fortescue's body had been removed from the chair in which it had beenfound and lay on a couch at the other end of the room, covered merelyby a sheet. Otherwise, everything, even the armchair, was undisturbed.

  Kennedy pulled back a corner of the sheet, disclosing the face,contorted and of a peculiar, purplish hue from the congested bloodvessels. He bent over and I did so, too. There was an unmistakable odorof tobacco on him. A moment Kennedy studied the face before us, thenslowly replaced the sheet.

  Miss Lowe had paused just inside the door and seemed resolutely boundnot to look at anything. Kennedy meanwhile had begun a most minutesearch of the table and floor of the laboratory near the spot where thearmchair had been sitting.

  In my effort to glean what I could from her actions and expressions Idid not notice that Craig had dropped to his knees and was peering intothe shadow under the laboratory table. When at last he rose andstraightened himself up, however, I saw that he was holding in the palmof his hand a half-smoked, gold-tipped cigarette, which had evidentlyfallen on the floor beneath the table where it had burned itself out,leaving a blackened mark on the wood.

  An instant afterward he picked out from the pile of articles found inFortescue's pockets and lying on another table a silver cigarette case.He snapped it open. Fortescue's cigarettes, of which there were perhapsa half dozen in the case, were cork-tipped.

  Some one had evidently visited the inventor the night before, hadapparently offered him a cigarette, for there were any number of thecork-tipped stubs lying about. Who was it? I caught Paula looking withfascinated gaze at the gold-tipped stub, as Kennedy carefully folded itup in a piece of paper and deposited it in his pocket. Did she knowsomething about the case, I wondered?

  Without a word, Kennedy seemed to take in the scant furniture of thelaboratory at a glance and a quick step or two
brought him before asteel filing cabinet. One drawer, which had not been closed as tightlyas the rest, projected a bit. On its face was a little typewritten cardbearing the inscription: "E-M GUN."

  He pulled the drawer open and glanced over the data in it.

  "Just what is an electro-magnetic gun?" I asked, interpreting theinitials on the drawer.

  "Well," he explained as he turned over the notes and sketches, "theprimary principle involved in the construction of such a gun consistsin impelling the projectile by the magnetic action of a solenoid, thesectional coils or helices of which are supplied with current throughdevices actuated by the projectile itself. In other words, the sectionsof helices of the solenoid produce an accelerated motion of theprojectile by acting successively on it, after a principle involved inthe construction of electro-magnetic rock drills and dispatch tubes.

  "All projectiles used in this gun of Fortescue's evidently must havemagnetic properties and projectiles of iron or containing largeportions of iron are necessary. You see, many coils are wound aroundthe barrel of the gun. As the projectile starts it does so under theattraction of those coils ahead which the current makes temporarymagnets. It automatically cuts off the current from those coils that itpasses, allowing those further on only to attract it, and preventingthose behind from pulling it back."

  He paused to study the scraps of plans. "Fortescue had evidently alsoworked out a way of changing the poles of the coils as the projectilepassed, causing them then to repel the projectile, which must haveadded to its velocity. He seems to have overcome the practicaldifficulty that in order to obtain service velocities with serviceprojectiles an enormous number of windings and a tremendously longbarrel are necessary as well as an abnormally heavy current beyond thesafe carrying capacity of the solenoid which would raise thetemperature to a point that would destroy the coils."

  He continued turning over the prints and notes in the drawer. When hefinished, he looked up at us with an expression that indicated that hehad merely satisfied himself of something he had already suspected.

  "You were right, Burke," he said. "The final plans are gone."

  Burke, who, in the meantime, had been telephoning about the city in avain effort to locate Baron Kreiger, both at such banking offices inWall Street as he might be likely to visit and at some of the hotelsmost frequented by foreigners, merely nodded. He was evidently at aloss completely how to proceed.

  In fact, there seemed to be innumerable problems--to warn BaronKreiger, to get the list of the assassinations, to guard Miss Loweagainst falling into the hands of her anarchist friends again, to findthe murderer of Fortescue, to prevent the use of the electro-magneticgun, and, if possible, to seize the anarchists before they had a chanceto carry further their plans.

  "There is nothing more that we can do here," remarked Craig briskly,betraying no sign of hesitation. "I think the best thing we can do isto go to my own laboratory. There at least there is something I mustinvestigate sooner or later."

  No one offering either a suggestion or an objection, we four againentered our cab. It was quite noticeable now that the visit had shakenPaula Lowe, but Kennedy still studiously refrained from questioningher, trusting that what she had seen and heard, especially Burke'sreport as to Baron Kreiger, would have its effect.

  Like everyone visiting Craig's laboratory for the first time, Miss Loweseemed to feel the spell of the innumerable strange and uncannyinstruments which he had gathered about him in his scientific warfareagainst crime. I could see that she was becoming more and more nervous,perhaps fearing even that in some incomprehensible way he might readher own thoughts. Yet one thing I did not detect. She showed nodisposition to turn back on the course on which she had entered bycoming to us in the first place.

  Kennedy was quickly and deftly testing the stub of the little thin,gold-tipped cigarette.

  "Excessive smoking," he remarked casually, "causes neuroses of theheart and tobacco has a specific affinity for the coronary arteries aswell as a tremendous effect on the vagus nerve. But I don't think thiswas any ordinary smoke."

  He had finished his tests and a quiet smile of satisfaction flittedmomentarily over his face. We had been watching him anxiously,wondering what he had found.

  As he looked up he remarked to us, with his eyes fixed on Miss Lowe,"That was a ladies' cigarette. Did you notice the size? There has beena woman in this case--presumably."

  The girl, suddenly transformed by the rapid-fire succession ofdiscoveries, stood before us like a specter.

  "The 'Group,' as anarchists call it," pursued Craig, "is the loosestsort of organization conceivable, I believe, with no set membership, noofficers, no laws--just a place of meeting with no fixity, where thecomrades get together. Could you get us into the inner circle, MissLowe?"

  Her only answer was a little suppressed scream. Kennedy had asked thequestion merely for its effect, for it was only too evident that therewas no time, even if she could have managed it, for us to play the"stool pigeon."

  Kennedy, who had been clearing up the materials he had used in theanalysis of the cigarette, wheeled about suddenly. "Where is theheadquarters of the inner circle?" he shot out.

  Miss Lowe hesitated. That had evidently been one of the things she haddetermined not to divulge.

  "Tell me," insisted Kennedy. "You must!"

  If it had been Burke's bulldozing she would never have yielded. But asshe looked into Kennedy's eyes she read there that he had long sincefathomed the secret of her wildly beating heart, that if she wouldaccomplish the purpose of saving the Baron she must stop at nothing.

  "At--Maplehurst," she answered in a low tone, dropping her eyes fromhis penetrating gaze, "Professor Annenberg's home--out on Long Island."

  "We must act swiftly if we are to succeed," considered Kennedy, histone betraying rather sympathy with than triumph over the wretched girlwho had at last cast everything in the balance to outweigh the terriblesituation into which she had been drawn. "To send Miss Lowe for thatfatal list of assassinations is to send her either back into the powerof this murderous group and let them know that she has told us, orperhaps to involve her again in the completion of their plans."

  She sank back into a chair in complete nervous and physical collapse,covering her face with her hands at the realization that in hernew-found passion to save the Baron she had bared her sensitive soulfor the dissection of three men whom she had never seen before.

  "We must have that list," pursued Kennedy decisively. "We must visitAnnenberg's headquarters."

  "And I?" she asked, trembling now with genuine fear at the thought thathe might ask her to accompany us as he had on our visit to Fortescue'slaboratory that morning.

  "Miss Lowe," said Kennedy, bending over her, "you have gone too far nowever to turn back. You are not equal to the trip. Would you like toremain here? No one will suspect. Here at least you will be safe untilwe return."

  Her answer was a mute expression of thanks and confidence.