Priestess of the Floating Skull

by Edwin Benson

  “It will check,” promised Vanja. “General Vidkov has arranged for the proper ‘information’ to reach a certain man in Berlin. When the ‘truth’ of your mission in Moscow is established, you will be a free man. Just what your status will be, we can’t be sure, but America is not at war with Germany, and . . .”

  “And,” said Vorosh, “if I figure right, from what Von Holder said, I might be able to hang around quite conveniently if I gave the impression that some sort of a deal might be made with American planes as the lure.”

  “Eat your soup,” said Vanja softly. “It will get cold . . .”

  Vorosh picked up his spoon, observed the man who entered the lunchroom and sat down at a table opposite them, ostensibly to order.

  “You’re right,” he muttered. “They are not trusting one of us, or both, very far. But does he have to watch so obviously? A Buffalo flatfoot could do it better!”

  CHAPTER VI

  Performance in Warsaw

  SATURDAY night it was raining.

  All day Warsaw had been shrouded in mist. Pete Vorosh leaned now against a wooden lamp post that was used for a stage prop, and looked out through the wings onto the stage where Vanja Nilchenko was beginning her act.

  She stood in the center of the stage, and around her lights were coming up slowly. She was dressed in a long, flowing gown, and before her, on the floor, lay the skull. It was illuminated. The lights of the stage slowly turned green until the whole stage was bathed in an eerie radiance.

  Vorosh sucked in his breath sharply as he saw the beauty that was Vanja’s cast its spell over the scene.

  “She’s lovely!” he exclaimed silently.

  Vorosh could see the audience. Every seat in the theater was filled. Soldiers in every one of them. In the front rows sat many officers, and directly out front sat Von Holder and his staff. Major Ettling, the man who had brought Vorosh to the city, was absent. Apparently gone back to his post.

  Admiring exclamations caused a murmur of sound from the audience, and German soldiers gaped.

  At Vanja’s feet the skull began to glow, its light becoming brighter until it began to cast light upward into her face, outlining her features weirdly. Her hands extended out over the skull, fingers outstretched. Her eyes grew penetrating. Then, slowly, the skull left the floor and floated up toward her slowly moving hands—slowly moving because invisible threads were winding around her fingers and wrists and gradually elevating the skull. She did it cleverly, Vorosh had to admit. Even though he knew how it was done, little shivers ran up his spine, and the hair on his scalp crawled.

  In the light from the skull, Vanja’s gown glowed red and yellow and violet against the flaming green of the eerie background. Her hair also took on a coppery golden tint, and eyes flamed with violet.

  The skull faced forward, toward the audience, and the fascinated eyes of every man in the theater were fixed on it.

  Vanja’s voice came softly, compellingly. She was calling out a name.

  “Heinrich,” she said. “Heinrich, ich verstehe deine jrage, bitte erhebe dich und dann werde ich dir antworten.”[7] She spoke in German.

  Amazed, Vorosh stood there listening. He had not known she spoke the German language; but now he realized that it was obvious that she should have known it, since her intentions were to go to Berlin with her act—which would naturally require that she understand German.

  Vorosh noticed a man in the audience, in the fifth row, standing, and realized that Vanja was speaking directly to him. The man, a sergeant, was standing with a dazed expression on his face, and as Vanja questioned him, he answered in a hoarse voice.

  Vanja spoke further, and the man’s face whitened. His voice registered amazement, and as Vanja stopped speaking, he slumped back in his seat, staring at her in awe.

  Even from where he stood, Vorosh heard his exclamation:

  “Sie spricht die wahrheit!”[8]

  THE audience seemed to tense with interest, and Vorosh grinned to himself. The girl was putting her act over in grand style. He understood the “Heinrich” now. It was a common German name, and someone in the audience would be sure to have it. And it seemed that in this case, if Vanja did not use it for that reason, she used it because the tele-radio had given her that name. Vorosh felt sure, from the man’s reaction, that Vanja had read his thoughts accurately, and had answered his questions with what must have seemed to him supernatural ability.

  For perhaps fifteen minutes more Vanja continued to amaze and mystify her soldier audience, and Vorosh noted from the expressions on the faces of the officers down in front, and especially from the look on the face of Von Holder, that she was making a terrific impression. On Von Holder’s visage was a calculating look that was growing more pronounced minute by minute as the incredible accuracy of Vanja’s mind-reading feats sank home.

  Several times Vorosh noted him nudge a fellow officer and whisper intensely to him. The fellow’s eyes widened. He stared at Vanja, and several times he nodded as if in agreement to something Von Holder was suggesting.

  All at once Vorosh sensed a change in Vanja’s act. She stiffened, remained silent for what seemed an interminable number of seconds. Even the audience grew hushed, watching the entranced girl, who stood motionless. She reached out, took the skull in both hands, held it tightly. Vorosh could see one finger roving into an eye and he knew what she was doing—she was switching on the full power of the tele-radio.

  But why?

  Vanja’s face was pasty white in the light from the skull, and her eyes were filled with growing anxiety. Abruptly she turned out the lights and fled from the stage, straight into Vorosh’s arms.

  The curtain came down, and applause broke from the audience.

  “Vanja!” Vorosh whispered in alarm. “What is wrong?”

  “Peter! I have terrible news. Something terrible is going to happen . . .”

  She stopped speaking as several stage hands and the stage director came hurrying up.

  “I can’t say more now!” she finished hastily.

  “What is wrong?” asked the stage director.

  Vanja ran a hand over her forehead.

  “It is nothing. I felt faint, so I had to leave the stage. The strain—it was a little too much for me, after so many months.”

  The stage manager nodded.

  “I am sorry. But you did wonderfully. Just listen to them applaud. It would be well if you could manage a bow . . .”

  VANJA nodded dumbly, turned and walked out past the closed curtain. The applause became thunderous. Vorosh saw Von Holder getting up from his seat and making his way around to the side. There he stood talking to an orderly who had obviously come to call him from his seat.

  Vanja came back now, and Vorosh saw no more.

  “Come,” she said. “Back to my dressing room. I have something I must tell you immediately!”

  He followed her, wondering.

  Once inside, she put the skull down tremblingly and took his hands in hers.

  “We will have to change our plans.” she said.

  “But why . . .?”

  “Out there—I heard Hess’ voice!”

  “Hess! All the way from England? But how could that be? Even from Berlin it was very hard to contact him—and only when he was concentrating deeply.”

  “He was concentrating deeply this time!” Vanja said breathlessly. “And what he said has shocked me so that I can hardly find words . . .”

  “What is it?” Vorosh demanded. “For pity’s sake, girl, don’t keep me in suspense. Why must we change our plans? What news . . .?”

  “It is about your country,” she said.

  Vorosh stiffened.

  “My country!”

  “Yes. I heard Hess’ voice—or rather, his thoughts, and he was thinking of—the invasion of American possessions by the Japanese!”

  “The invasion of American possessions!”

  “Yes. The Philippines; Pearl Harbor; Midway . . . it is all planned! They are ready to strike!�
�

  Vorosh gripped her hands tightly. “When?” he asked hoarsely. “When!”

  “In September . . . next month!”

  “Next month?” Vorosh stared uncomprehendingly. Then realization swept over him. “We’ve got to notify . . .”

  She interrupted him.

  “Yes! We must warn them. Even now it may be too late. The Pacific is huge, and by the time sufficient forces get to the garrisons Hess mentioned, it may be only to find . . .”

  “But how?” asked Vorosh. “Right in the middle of German-occupied territory . . .”

  “You must escape. You must get either to Russia or to England. A plane . . .”

  “Can you get one?”

  “Yes. But it will take a week. I have a means of contacting General Vidkov.”

  “Then why can’t we just tell him of what you have learned?”

  She looked troubled.

  “We can. But you must escape too . . .”

  “Why?”

  “Because once America is in the war, you will become a prisoner of war, and useless to our plans. You must be on the outside, to receive my messages—because you are the only man in the world who can hear my thoughts from anywhere in the world.”

  “Yes, that is true. We can’t carry out our original plan of returning via Berlin.”

  “Then we must change plans immediately. I will be able to contact General Vidkov’s messenger tomorrow night. We can arrange to have a Russian bomber flown here from the front, pick you up at a field I have already selected for such a possibility just outside Warsaw, and you can carry this information back to Russia, or better still, to England, where there is greater chance of you reaching the proper authorities.”

  A KNOCK on the door froze them both into immobility.

  “Come in,” said Vanja, dropping Vorosh’s hands from hers.

  The door opened and Von Holder appeared. He was smiling broadly, and he beamed on Vanja.

  “It was a magnificent performance, Fraulein Nilchenko! Never have I seen such a demonstration of ability, nor such showmanship. You were superb. I am very glad indeed to know that you cannot read my mind! No secret would be safe from you if you could.”

  “Thank you, Herr Von Holder,” said Vanja. “But do not be too sure that I cannot read your mind.” She arched her brows covertly at him.

  He laughed aloud.

  “Hah! Then if you can, read my mind now. What news have I for you?”

  Vanja stared.

  “News? You have news for me?”

  Von Holder chuckled.

  “So you cannot read my mind. Well, little one, it is very good news indeed. You are going to get your most desired wish. You are going to get your chance at the stage in Berlin! And I have it on good authority that your first performance will be before Hitler himself! There, my pretty one, does that not please you?”

  “When?” gasped Vanja. “When will I . . .”

  “We,” corrected Von Holder. “All three of us. We will fly to Berlin. And we go immediately. Tonight, Actress-for-the-Reich Nilchenko! Tonight . . . within the hour!”

  (To Be Concluded. Next Month)

  Don’t fail to read the smashing climax to this thrilling story of an amazing adventure on the battlefields of Europe. Here is the first great Russian science fiction story to come out of the war—based on actual truth, and as science fiction always is, actually prophetic. The second and concluding installment of this great story will make you gasp—more, it will make you think . . . and wonder!

  What will Peter Vladimir Voroshilov, whose name is the same as that of one of Russia’s greatest modern heroes, do to warn America of the impending attack by Japan? What are Vanja Nilchenko’s plans regarding Rudolph Hess? What lies ahead for the two in Berlin?

  Read the answers in the June issue!

  [1] Scientific experiments by American laboratories have definitely proven that an electrical wave is generated by the brain, of sufficient force to be recorded on very delicate instruments. So far, no means of reading the meanings of these waves, nor of amplifying them sufficiently to utilize them, or even re-broadcast them, has been discovered. But enough research has been done to convince scientists that the process of thinking is electrical in nature, and that brain cells produce these waves by a chemical process, which, though it may not be “thinking” itself, is a by-product of thinking. It may be an effect rather than a cause.—ED.

  [2] Hypnotists employ a bright light, or a spinning disc, or merely a hand held before the subject’s eyes, to focus attention, and take from the mind disturbing thoughts which would detract from concentration.—ED.

  [3] Was machen sie da?—What are you doing there?

  [4] Herunter mit dir oder ich schiesse!—Come down, or I’ll shoot!

  [5] Holt ihm herunter!—Get him down!

  [6] Er ist unbewaffnet.—He is unarmed.

  [7] Literally translated, this means: “Henry, I understand your question; please stand up and then will I you answer.”—ED.

  [8] “She speaks the truth!”—ED.

  Synopsis of Part One

  PETE VOROSH, testing a U.S. P-40 over Buffalo, finds himself caught in a weird stratospheric storm which carries him up far beyond the normal ceiling of the plane he is testing. He fears that he will freeze to death, and when he sees a huge white human skull floating in the sky above him, he thinks he is seeing an illusion created out a mind faced with great danger. But then he hears a voice—not the voice of JOE HAMILTON, his assistant at the radio on the ground—but the voice of a woman, speaking in Russian.

  Vorosh is a naturalized American citizen, having been born in Moscow. His name is a shortened version of Peter Vladimir Voroshilov. He is amazed to hear the voice, and thinking it comes from his radio, turns it off. But the voice persists, asking his name in an urgent manner.

  Vorosh tries to answer, but is being rapidly overcome by the extreme cold. The voice seems to be aware of his predicament, and begins compellingly to urge him to sleep, to be warm, to turn off his motor. Sleep—sleep—sleep, says the voice. Vorosh sleeps.

  An unguessed time later the voice awakens him, urgently warning that he is falling toward earth. To his amazement, he finds himself over Moscow. The plane is hurtling toward the ground. Gaining control of the craft, he is attacked by a Nazi Messerschmitt, and in the ensuing battle, fought under the handicap of having no guns on his own plane, Vorosh sends the Nazi to his doom by cutting him to pieces with his propeller.

  Out of gas, a hundred miles from Moscow, he crashes in a haystack and is captured by a Russian lieutenant who takes him to GENERAL VIDKOV. This officer listens to his incredible story, believes it because he saw Vorosh down the Nazi, and claims that he will take Vorosh to the voice.

  In a little office off Red Square, Vorosh meets VANJA NILCHENKO and she is carrying the skull which he had seen in his stratosphere vision! After questioning, in which Vanja is convinced of the truth of his story, and of his regard for Russia and hatred of the Nazis, Vorosh enlists his services in the mysterious work Vanja, and her companion, JOHN ZYMANSKI, a Polish radio mechanic, are doing.

  The skull contains a cleverly concealed telepathic radio, the only one in existence, operating on a fixed wavelength—the result of a pure accident of construction. This radio can receive the thoughts of persons attuned to it. Vanja Nilchenko is one of these, and Rudolph Hess, number three Nazi, now a prisoner in England, is the other.

  When Vanja heard Vorosh, from his plane, she was desirous of learning who and where he was, with the hope of using him as an aid in her work, which she explains now is espionage. She has certain plans involving Rudolph Hess. If she can reach Berlin, perhaps she can use the knowledge she can steal from his mind to circumvent many Nazi plans.

  Thus, she hypnotized Vorosh, saved him from freezing to death. Hypnotized persons can withstand much more than normal danger.

  The plan now is to “escape” to Warsaw, where Vanja and John originally were, and from which they fled when Poland was invaded
, partly because Vanja learned of the invasion from Hess and wished to warn her countrymen. Vanja is Russian.

  Vorosh and Vanja fly the P-40 to Poland, set it afire and bail out. Vorosh loses Vanja, and is captured by the Nazis. MAJOR ETTLING takes him to Warsaw, where Vorosh convinces the gauleiter, VON HOLDER, that he is an American airplane salesman, escaped from Russia with his American plane because he does not wish to deal with the Russians. Vorosh fears Vanja is dead when the Nazi gauleiter asks him to describe her clothing, etc. But it developed that she had also been captured, and they had been kept apart, to see if their stories checked.

  Vanja has successfully put over her subterfuge of desiring to bring her mind-reading act to the German stage, where “the best opportunity for the future” lies. She is to perform for the German soldiers at a Warsaw theater the coming Saturday night.

  She performs amazing feats of mind-reading, and impresses Von Holder.

  But midway through her act, she grows pale, rushes from the stage. She has just heard Hess mentally telling of the invasion of American possessions. The Japs plan to attack Pearl Harbor in September, one month hence!

  Now, Vorosh must escape. In German territory he would be a prisoner of war. Vanja tells him she will send through the underground for a plane . . .

  Von Holder enters, tells them that all three are leaving for Berlin this very night—where Vanja Nilchenko will become “actress-for-the-Reich” and will give her first performance before Hitler himself!

  Now go on with the story:

  Chapter VII

  Accusation Without Documentation

  “YOU understand, of course,” said Von Holder suavely, “we had to hold you until the American Consul assured us you were all right. After all, you had no passport, since it was destroyed in the fir e that wrecked your plane—you said that yourself.”

  Vorosh grimaced.

  “I supposed you’re right, but it wasn’t exactly the reception I expected in Berlin. I’ve been rotting here for nearly two weeks.”