by Perry Rhodan
There was no doubt in Morgan's mind that some invisible person had followed the two directors through that double glass door. He was just going to alarm the guards. But then he realized that he had no real proof of his suspicions. No one would believe him. They would just laugh at him. No, if anything could be done, he was the one to do it. it was now up to him alone.
It was plain to see how proud Lafitte was to have entered negotiations for such a fabulous deal. With incredible self-assurance be elaborated to his board of directors about the offer. He did not seem to notice that the faces of his listeners grew longer and angrier by the minute.
Finally Whitmore rose abruptly, sending his chair sliding back halfway to the wall. "In my capacity as the presiding officer of this board of directors, I want to express my deep concern at this strange offer you have presented to us, Mr. Lafitte."
Whitmore's face had turned beet red with anger, and he shouted furiously,
"What kind of a joke is this, Mr. Lafitte, to have each of us interrupt whatever we were doing, rush over here and then tell us about this idiotic order somebody wants to place with us! How dare you act so irresponsibly!"
Whitmore seemed near apoplexy; his face took on a bluish tinge. "Stand up, Lafitte! Explain yourself! Otherwise, we will be forced to take measures that would be rather unpleasant for you. You deserve to be taught a lesson that you won't soon forget!"
Whitmore turned around to retrieve his chair and was just about to sit down again, to listen to Lafitte's explanation, when suddenly something seemed to occur to him.
"Hold your horses, not so fast!" He waved to Lafitte to take his seat again.
"What did you say the buyer was offering to pay us for this order?"
"They will give us a so-called degravitator." Lafitte repeated his previous explanation of the conditions of the sale. "An instrument that can nullify gravity up to ten times the gravitational pull of Earth. An ideal means for transporting heavy loads, which can't be matched by anything we have so far at our disposal."
Whitmore seemed pleased with this elucidation. "Well, that sounds quite reasonable, gentlemen." He nodded with obvious satisfaction, looking at his colleagues sitting around the conference table. "If this is what the buyers intend to pay, then these terms seem most acceptable to us. Don't you agree, gentlemen?"
Everyone in the room nodded approvingly. Any memory was wiped clean from their minds that but half a minute ago they bad considered Lafitte's suggestions a stupid joke. It did not occur to anyone to inquire who could offer such an instrument, which so far had been dreamed of only in the wildest imaginations of scientific inventors. Suddenly it was sufficient for the board of directors that someone had offered to supply such an apparatus. There was not the slightest doubt in their minds about the absolute sincerity of their customer. Lafitte read out the terms of delivery, and everyone agreed that they were most reasonable and easy to carry out.
Just as Lafitte had promised, the meeting lasted barely an hour. The offer was accepted, and the necessary instructions for the various department heads were given out at once. The members of the board of directors congratulated each other on having concluded the most advantageous deal in the whole history of Ferroplastics, Limited.
The man who had assisted them in making this momentous decision waited until all the directors bad left the conference room. Since he no longer needed to have all the energies of his body at his instant complete disposal-as indeed had been the case when he had started to exert his hypnotic influence on the members of the board-he now preferred not to return the same way he had entered the building. He wanted to avoid causing another unpleasant incident. Therefore, be concentrated his thoughts on a lot near-a rather empty street comer in the vicinity of the Ferroplastics building and transplanted himself there with a telejump.
Exactly the way he had visualized it, he landed on a weed covered lot near the Ferroplastics works. No one could have observed his sudden appearance out of nowhere.
Tako walked down the street and waited until an empty taxi came along. A few minutes later the taxi deposited him in front of his hotel. Lost in thought, he walked by the hotel desk without even looking up and got into the elevator that took him up to his floor.
He was very well pleased with the result of his day's work. The only thing that worried him was that he had been unable to avoid bumping into the office boy since half a second before he had had to step back to avoid someone else. He had not failed to notice that the tall young man who had come to the office boy's assistance had believed more in the boy's account than Tako liked. It looked as if there was now someone who would follow him like a bloodhound; and if he was sufficiently unprejudiced to accept the story of an invisible man with whom the office boy bad collided, this person might turn out to become a rather dangerous opponent.
Tako had got a good look at big face and remembered it well. He planned to submit the man to the influence of the hypno-rod as soon as he could find the opportunity.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tako opened the door of his hotel room and entered. He had almost reached the table on which he had placed his new suit, when he heard a voice coming from behind him. "Don't get scared mister. I won't do you any harm."
Tako spun around swiftly, eyes narrowed, and with lightning speed drew his gun, ready to shoot if necessary.
He saw an older man sitting in an armchair near the door. The man had raised his arms when he saw the gun pointed at him. His face had turned deathly pale in fright.
"For heaven's sake," he panted "put that thing away, please! I am unarmed."
Tako lowered the barrel of his gun. "Who are, you? What are you doing in my room?"
"It doesn't matter who I am in this case. I am nothing but a figurehead in this game. I have been sent here to deliver you a message. Call me Webster, if you want to."
Tako examined the old man. He was dressed a trifle too flashy for his age; he did not make a very reliable impression.
"What is the message you have for me?"
"Listen! We know that you want to get various things that will cost you a lot of effort and also might be quite dangerous for you. We offer to act as go-betweens for you and promise to supply you with anything you want to purchase."
Grinning and pleased with himself, the old man leaned back in his chair.
"For a price, of courser" he added slyly.
Tako looked at him and pondered. But before he could add anything, Webster quickly leaned forward in his chair and said hastily, "Before I forget, we are aware that you have a bag of tricks at your disposal. You can probably influence me and force me to tell you all I know. But this wont do you any good. First of all, I don't know the man behind the scenes, the boss. Furthermore, he would interpret your tricks as a kind of vote of no confidence and break off negotiations at once. But if you want to deal fairly with us and pay us well, you will find us to be the most loyal partners you can wish for."
"Who is 'we'?" asked Tako.
Webster Shrugged. "Sorry, I really can't tell you because I don't know myself."
Tako was frowning. He dropped into a chair across from Webster. "How did you get into my room?" he asked.
"Oh, dear..." Webster grinned with obvious amusement at Tako's naïveté.
"There are a thousand ways for an experienced man to get into any room."
"All right, then. I am willing to listen to your proposal. Where do I have to go hear it?"
"This is the address. But wait!" Webster pulled back the slip of paper that Tako was about to take from-his hand. "Let me tell you once more-no tricks whatsoever, mister. We will subject you to a thorough examination before we start dealing with you. We are running great risks even offering to have dealings with you. We must minimize that risk a much as possible. Do you get me?"
He held out the address to Tako. "This offer is good for ten days. If you are willing to accept, then call this number and say, 'Holloway will come at 2 P.M.' or '8 A.M.' whichever time will be more convenient for you. I
s that clear?"
Tako smiled. "You won't have to wait long for me, Webster."
Webster took his leave. He left behind a rather perplexed Tako. What Webster had referred to as "tricks" were probably the extraordinary feats be could accomplish with the help of the Arkonide suit. But how could anyone have found out about them?
At the same time he was wondering about Webster's personality. There was no doubt that Webster belonged to the lower social classes. The way be dressed and his mannerisms clearly indicated this. But who had sent him, who was behind all this? The kind of answer he'd given when asked how he had entered his room seemed to indicate that he must be a burglar or something of the kind. Could a burglary ring be of any help to Tako in his mission? Did they intend to steal for him all the necessary equipment for a 1,000 foot long spaceship?
This thought was so amusing to Tako that he regained his self-assurance. He had nothing to be afraid of! Nothing as long as be was wearing the Arkonide suit and was capable of teleportation.
Therefore, he did not even bother to change clothes for dinner. Dressed. in his Arkonide suit, he went down to the dining room and completely ignored the surprised looks the other guests sent in his direction. Webster entered a room that contained nothing but a table and two chain. On the table were a telephone and an intercom set.
Webster carefully closed the door behind him, after he switched on the light. Then he pushed a button on the intercom set. A little lamp lit UP, and a voice inquired, "What is it?"
"Webster speaking. I think he will come."
"Good. Anything else?"
"No."
"I have something to tell you, Webster."
"Go ahead!"
"Finch has found out some guy who is spying on that Jap. His name is Morgan, and he works for Ferroplastics, Limited. He is one of their house dicks. You Will have to help Finch keep an eye on that guy till Yakamura has finished his business with us. We can't afford to have some idiot stick his nose into our affairs. No need to be gentle with him anything goes!"
"Okay, boss," Webster replied.
"I want something else from you. Connect the intercom with the phone. I want to hear if the Jap should call."
"Will do, boss!"
Webster pushed a button at the base of the telephone.
"Finch has his headquarters in Fratellini's Cafeteria. Hurry up and get there as quick as you can."
"Right away, boss."
"Get going. That's all for today."
Webster switched off the intercom and took a pistol from the table drawer. Then he walked to the door, turned off the light and left the room. He walked through an office with a row of writing desks and chairs. Everything was covered with a truck layer of dust. A door led to the outside. The Eastern Transport Co. was a fictitious firm that existed only on a big, sign on the office door. Anyone who place an order with the firm would be politely informed that the firm was completely filed up with orders for the next six to eight weeks and could therefore not accept any new orders. The outside door opened on the thirteenth floor of a modern office building. The hallway was deserted at this hour. Quietly Webster walked to the elevator and took it to the ground floor. He waved a friendly hello to the doorman, hailed a taxi and drove off to Seventh Avenue to Fratellini's Cafeteria. Finch was sitting in a special room that Fratellini reserved for his special customers. Webster sat down across. from Finch.
Finch glued up. "It looks as if the fish has just slipped through the net!" he said slowly.
Jesse Morgan had a great deal to do with the temporary defeat that Finch's people had suffered. Morgan was a Pinkerton trained man who was working for Ferroplastics, Limited. He possessed all the good qualities typical of Pinkerton detectives.
It had not taken him long to find out that he was being shadowed constantly while he was trying to get close to the elusive Mr. Yakamura. He noted that several people took turns following him, and all of them seemed experts at their job.
It was quite an effort to shake these bloodhounds. It took several taxi trips, two movie tickets, a huge milkshake, which he unfortunately did not even have time to taste, and some strenuous muscular effort while racing through some side streets and around corners. But finally he managed to get rid of them. Still, this cops and robbers chase foiled his original intention to get to Yakamura's hotel room, at least for this evening.
He tried to figure out who these pursuers might be. But since Lafitte had not found it necessary to inform him about the peculiarities of the Japanese, Morgan considered this affair something to satisfy his own private curiosity. If any beneficial results for Ferroplastics, Limited, should ensue, they would be of only secondary interest to him.
Morgan had rather definite ideas concerning the identity of the Japanese. Until a few weeks ago, when a sudden lull occurred, the newspapers had been full of reports about the strange events in the Gobi Desert caused by the people who called themselves the Third Power. Many of these news items had become distorted, exaggerated and altered during their transit from Chinese to American news agencies-so much so that the U.S. papers were full of half truths that even quite unprejudiced readers would shrug off as ridiculous. Morgan, though, was capable of extracting from such reports the facts based on reality. In this particular case" therefore, it seemed highly probable to him that Yakamura was not acting on behalf of the Asiatic Federation, as Lafitte had revealed in some hints, but rather as an agent of this Third Power.
Such an agent, speculated Morgan In his ignorance, would be liable to fall for a cheap trick he had planned.
As soon as he was absolutely sure that he was no longer being followed, he entered a coffee shop, sat down way in the back and ordered a cup of coffee. After a few minutes he got up and went to the phone booth and closed the door to make sure no one could listen in to what he had to say. He dialed the number of the Atlantic Hotel, where Yakamura was staying.
"This is Robert Donovan calling. I would like to talk to Mr. Yakamura."
"Just a moment, please. I'll connect you with Mr. Yakamura's room."
After a little while a high pitched voice answered the phone. "Hello."
"My name is Donovan," announced Morgan in slow and distinct tones. "I would like to present an offer."
Yakamura seemed to be taken by surprise, to be at a loss for words. But then, he inquired, "Who do you presume is interested in your offer?"
"You, Mr. Yakamura, of course! I have many valuable connections, and everything you would have a hard time locating and purchasing, I could get for you in no time!"
"And why would you do such a thing?" came Yakamura's sarcastic reply.
"Out of sheer love for your fellow man?"
"No, sir. There is a price for everything."
"So what do you suggest?" asked Yakamura.
"Why not get together and talk things over?"
"Where?"
"You say where," answered Morgan.
After thinking it over for a moment or two, Yakamura spoke up. "I don't know this place. Let's say we'll meet in a little bar down the street from the Atlantic Hotel, to the left."
"That sounds fine to me. When?"
"One hour from now."
"Very good, Mr. Yakamura."
The Japanese hung up. Morgan could not repress a smile of satisfaction as he left the phone booth.
No one who did not have rather unusual and effective resources at his disposal would have fallen for such an obvious trick. Morgan did not doubt that Yakamura must be sure of an attempt to get him, although he had promised to come. The Japanese must therefore be very sure of himself and his protective means to walk into such a trap.
Morgan paid for his coffee and started to walk over to the little bar for his rendezvous. Although there was still another hour to go, he wanted to arrive there well before the Japanese.
Finch received two bits of news almost simultaneously. The first report worried him; the second pleased him.
"Pete says that the Japanese fellow is leaving his hotel just
now," he remarked with obvious annoyance to webster. Then his face lit up, and he added, "But Vale has found that Ferroplastics dick again. He is sitting in a bar on Washington Boulevard, down the road from the Atlantic Hotel."
Webster gazed at Finch with concentration.
"I think it's about time to teach that fellow a lesson," said Finch. "How about it, Webster?"
Webster rose to his feet. "That's fine with me. Do You have any suggestions?"
Finch scratched the back of his head. "Get him to come out of the bar under some pretext and then drive him out somewhere and beat him up. Tell him that the next time he'll get more than that if he doesn't stop interfering with us. He must keep his nose out of our affairs!"
"Will do, Finch."
Webster left and took, a taxi to Washington Boulevard. When he saw one of Finch's people waiting near the curb he asked the driver to stop. He paid and got out of the taxi.
"Where is he?" he asked Vale.
Vale pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. "In there."
Webster looked down the street. He knew that the Atlantic Hotel was just a couple of blocks down the road. He did not like the idea. It occurred to him that the Ferroplastics detective might have an appointment with the Japanese right here in this little bar.
Webster's fears were suddenly confirmed when he saw the Japanese coming out of the hotel and leisurely walking down the boulevard. He kept stopping in front of store windows to look at the displays. This gave Webster a chance for some quick action.
Where is your car?" he asked Vale
Vale motioned to an old Ford parked in front of the entrance to the bar.
"Try to detain the Japanese, if he should get here too soon!" snapped Webster, and then ran into the bar.
He knew what Morgan looked like and recognized him at once. Without hurry he walked over to his table, trying to figure out some excuse that would arouse the lease suspicion in Morgan.
