by Edwin Benson
“Perhaps not such a gamble,” said Vanja. “I told you that it was too late now to change events. No matter what the Nazis do, it will be too late to change their plan. Hitler will discover in the next few weeks that Hess has lied to him. And when he does . . .”
Vorosh paled.
“Then he’ll discover too, that you have lied to him!” he exclaimed.
“Yes,” said Vanja. “He will. But when he does, perhaps we will have time to escape by air from Berlin. General Vidkov’s secret service has arranged it for us. A plane—a German light bomber—will be ready at a certain point. You’ll have to pilot it.”
“If we get warning,” said Vorosh bluntly. “If our work is done, why can’t we leave now?”
“Don’t you see?” said Vanja. “It isn’t done. We can’t leave, because that would make von Holder—and through him, Hitler—suspicious of the truth of what has been told him. Von Holder is already suspicious. He was just up here, and has ordered my performances to cease for the time. He gave no reason.”
“It’s sure as shooting he has one,” Vorosh said anxiously. “And I’m going to keep my eye peeled. The minute German reverses become apparent, we’re going to skidoo!”
DAYS passed. Days in which the famous Nazi Storm Troops revolted and were crushed, disbanded, and suppressed.
“I did most of it,” admitted Vanja Nilchenko. “The tele-radio wavelength is very close to the mental wavelength of an editor of the S. A. Mann, the official publication of the Stormtroopers. It has been suppressed, supposedly for paper shortages, although less important papers are still being published.”
“Yes,” said Vorosh, “and I heard how certain storm-troopers were made to talk, give the names of seditious leaders. It all ties up with von Holder. He is said to have a strange mechanical lie detector which was invented by a Polish scientist and criminologist. The inventor is dead, but von Holder has the machine. I hate to think of what it would reveal if you were subjected to it! Once the Nazis knew all the things you—and I—were mixed up in, they’d make short work of us.”
“I knew about all that when I took this job,” said Vanja. “And so did you.”
“Of course. But frankly, I see no reason why we should sacrifice ourselves by staying here. We can do only minor work now . . .”
“You are wrong. Hitler still trusts Hess. Hess still sends information to Hitler—information that is true. I have acted on much of it, and we have managed to circumvent a great many minor disasters to Russian arms. Until Hitler has his trust in Hess broken, and this great Allied leak is stopped, our work isn’t finished. We must accomplish that. Then we can leave. If we die, we will not have died in vain.”
“The waiting is hard,” said Vorosh. “I want action.”
“Why don’t you go to Russia now? Join the air force, as you wish. I can finish alone.”
“You too?” asked Vorosh half-angrily.
“What do you mean?” she asked puzzledly.
“Giving me the needles! You know very well that you can’t finish alone. When the time comes to leave here, you must have a pilot.”
Vanja leaned forward and kissed him.
“Forgive me, Peter,” she said softly. “I know the waiting is hard, but it won’t be long now. Timoshenko’s armies are attacking now. Even as we talk, Hitler’s armies are being driven from Rostov in a retreat they call necessary so that the rebellious and treacherous civilian population may be dealt with. Dealt with by shelling them indiscriminately along with advancing troops!”
“I know that,” said Vorosh. “I know too of how the Nazis have been stopped at Bryansk, and are even now retreating toward Vyasma. But, it’s December already, and there’s a lot of snow in Russia. That may be the sole reason.” He looked thoughtful.
“Somehow, it doesn’t seem to me that your plan has worked. Everything seems to be going against Russia. Even the government has been moved to Kuibishev!”
“Silly,” Vanja chided. “That’s part of the plan to instill overconfidence in the Nazis. There was no need to move the government. We wanted only to create the impression that we were convinced we had to give up Moscow, and the danger was so great we could not prevent its capture.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Vorosh. Vanja smiled.
“Just to keep you from being too bored, I’ll let you listen in with me for awhile on the tele-radio. Maybe we can learn something from Hess, or even from someone else. Sometimes faint snatches come from other minds . . .”
SHE got the macabrely camouflaged radio out, put it on the table. They sat down, and she turned on the controls located in the eyes.
“I won’t turn on the broadcaster, because all you’d hear would be my thoughts, and all I’d hear would be yours.”
“Would that be bad?”
They spent the next hour chatting and listening for something to come over the tele-radio. Suddenly, in midsentence Vorosh stopped speaking and silence fell over them. In his brain a voice was speaking in German. It grew stronger, seemed vibrant with excitement, held a note of satisfaction and exultancy.
Vanja was sitting, wide-eyed. Horror crept over her face like a mask, setting it into immobile lines. It was as though she were hearing a death pronouncement.
“What is it?” Vorosh asked anxiously.
She shook her head, listened as Hess’ voice droned on in both their brains.
Finally it died away to a whisper and she reached out and shut off the tele-radio. Her face was pale.
“This means . . . we’ve got to do something . . .” she choked out.
Vorosh gripped her arm.
“For crying out loud, tell me what you heard!”
“At approximately seven o’clock this morning, Hawaiian time, the Japs attacked Pearl Harbor I And it was so well-planned that Hess firmly believes the whole United States fleet stationed there was caught unprepared and destroyed! It’s come, Peter. Your country is in the war now too!”
Vorosh was dazed by the stunning suddenness of the revelation. He had expected that sooner or later the Japs would attack. But not today. Not today, on a Sunday! It would be more than logical that Hess was right, and that the attack would be terrifically successful. Sunday . . . when Americans were least wary!
He stumbled to his feet.
“What are we going to do now?”
“You’ve got to escape,” said Vanja quickly. “I’ll arrange to have that bomber ready. You must go.”
“You’re going along!”
“Yes . . . yes of course,” she said. “Stay here. I’ll see that the plane is made ready. We may have to fight our way to it. But we have men at the airport who will cover our take-off.”
Vorosh thought of Briggs.
“This news! No one will know of it for awhile yet. Not even the Germans. I’ve got to warn him. There may be people he can get out of harm’s way before it is too late. Americans marooned here . . .
“Congress will declare war on both Japan and Germany in the morning!”
“Yes,” said Vanja. “Go ahead. Then come back as soon as you can. We will leave as soon as possible.”
VOROSH grabbed his coat and hat and plunged through the door. Outside he took a cab and gave the address of the American Consulate.
Within fifteen minutes he was standing before the puzzled man.
“What’s the uproar?” asked Briggs.
“Nothing. Except that at approximately seven o’clock this morning, Pearl Harbor time, the Japs dropped in on us—and if Hess isn’t wrong, wiped out the United States Pacific fleet!”
Briggs paled.
“Man, you’re lying!”
“I won’t argue that,” said Vorosh grimly. “You’ll find out whether I am or not soon enough—but not soon enough to do a lot of things you could do now if you’ll use your head. That’s up to you. I came to warn you, and give you that chance to act. As for myself, I know where I stand. And I’m getting out of Berlin as fast as I can. It’s Russia for me . . .”
Briggs
stared at him, seemingly stunned by what he had heard. Then he swallowed hard, stuck out his hand and shook that of Vorosh fervently.
“Men don’t look like you do when they’re lying,” he said. “I’m grateful for the warning, Vorosh. And if you don’t mind, I’ll begin a little bonfire downstairs. He half-turned, then wheeled back to Vorosh.
“Maybe I can help you get out of town . . .”
Vorosh shook his head.
“No. Miss Nilchenko is arranging that. She’s leaving too . . .”
“That’s best,” agreed Briggs. “And I hope to hell we have the chance to meet again!”
“Sure thing!”
Vorosh wheeled and left the Consulate. He made his way back to the hotel, walking swiftly because he saw no cabs in the evening dusk. After a half-hour walk, he neared the hotel, then stopped short and ducked behind a huge tree.
“Soldiers! Gestapo guards!” he gasped.
Even as he watched, von Holder appeared in the doorway of the hotel, accompanied by Vanja Nilchenko. She was pale, but composed. There was a half-smile on her face.
Von Holder put her into his car, climbed in after her, and the soldiers got into the front seat. With a roar of its motor the car spun around the corner and away.
Vorosh was stunned.
“They’ve got her!” he exclaimed. “I’m too late. And I don’t even know where they’ve taken her . . .”
He stopped as a horrible thought struck him.
“My God! The lie detector! That’s where they’ll take her. And when they get the truth out of her . . .!”
Vorosh left the protection of the tree and plunged toward the hotel. He forced himself down to a walk as he reached the entrance, and went in. He looked neither to right nor left as he went toward Vanja’s room.
CHAPTER XI
Lie Defector
“GO IN!” said Von Holder grimly, motioning to the door.
Vanja Nilchenko walked into the room wordlessly, then stood calmly while Von Holder followed her and closed the door behind him. She stared around the room, noted the strange machine that stood beside a low couch.
It looked very much like the barrel of a cannon, with strange electrodes attached to it by means of wires. There was a small control box mounted on it, with several switches protruding from it. The side of it bore an insignia, R-8. “What is that?” asked Vanja.
“A very clever invention of a Polish scientist. It is the most effective and perfected lie detector ever invented.”
“But what is that to me?” asked Vanja.
“Possibly nothing,” admitted Von Holder. “However, things have happened which suggest some use for it. For instance, you may remember that your first performance here in Berlin was before Hitler himself. At that time you gave him a strange message. A very strange message indeed. One which you could not have known—unless it is true that either you do have powers of reading the human mind, or you knew from another source. It is that power, or source, I wish to verify. If you can read minds, this instrument will accept your statement that this is so as true. If you lie, the instrument will tell me.”
“What has my mind-reading got to do with it?” repeated the girl. “Why must you verify what is obviously a simple hoax performed on the stage?”
“You can read minds, you’ve said,” reminded Von Holder. “Now you say it is a hoax?”
“I say the act is a hoax. I can, and do read minds, but only under certain conditions, and only certain minds. In an audience . . .”
“Certain minds!” Von Holder placed special emphasis on the words as he interrupted her. “Yes, my clever actress, that is exactly the point that intrigues me. Which certain mind did you read when you gave our Fuehrer that tremendously important message?” Vanja did not answer him but stared into space. In her mind an urgent voice was ringing—the voice of Pete Vorosh!
VANJA! Vanja! it called desperately. Can you hear me?
“Yes . . . yes!” breathed the girl softly. Her eyes closed.
Von Holder stared at her, moved forward.
“What did you say?” he asked. “Fraulein Nilchenko, what is the matter?”
Vanja ignored him for the moment.
What are they doing to you? came Vorosh’s voice. Are they using that new lie detector on you?
Not yeti Vanja returned mentally. But very soon now. I’m afraid this is the end for me, Peter . . .
If they use it, you’re sunk! The whole truth will come out. I’ve heard of the new detector. It’s a wonderful thing—but a terrible thing for you. Listen, please, Vanja. There is one hope. Let me hypnotise you as we did Hess. Then I can erase all these memories from your mind, and put new answers into their place. Thus, you will answer innocently, and the machine may not dig out the truth . . .!
Vanja loosed a little moan, clutched at Von Holder.
“I’m fainting!” she said.
Mentally she answered Vorosh.
I’m faking a faint. Go ahead and hypnotize me.
As she slid to the floor Von Holder leaped forward and caught her. He lifted her and carried her to the couch. There he fastened the electrodes to her wrists, bared her body, and placed other electrodes at the base of her skull and along her spinal cord.
In Vanja’s brain a voice was ringing.
Sleep! Go to sleep! You are becoming drowsy. You want very much to sleep. You are placing yourself entirely under my control. You are perfectly willing that I should control your every thought. Sleep! Sleep! Sleep . . .
Slowly Vanja’s consciousness slipped away from her. Her breathing became deep and regular and she slept soundly. She was unaware of Von Holder’s puzzled gaze as he stared down at her. And also, she was unaware of the man with a moustache who entered and stood beside Holder, looking down at her.
“YOU are sleeping, Vanja. You are completely in my control.” Vorosh concentrated intently on the skull before him in Vanja Nilchenko’s room at the hotel. His face was drawn with intent lines, and he was pale. But his voice droned on penetratingly, soft but vital.
“You have forgotten what your mission here was. You came only to be an actress in Berlin. You are not a spy, and never have been. You are opening your mind to me, Vanja, listening to all around you, so that I may hear their voices . . .”
Vorosh paused in his concentrated mental effort, which he was aiding by speaking aloud. Would it work? Could he command such miracles as this?[9]
His answer came almost immediately. For a moment his jaw dropped as a voice sounded in his brain.
“Fahren sie fort, General Von Holter, und was ist mit dem Amerikaner? Ist er in verwahrung genommen?”[10]
It was the voice of Hitler himself! The voice that followed was also familiar. It was that of the Nazi officer, Von Holder.
“Jawohl, Herr Hitler. Er wird arestet in kürze.”[11]
Although he recognized the voices, Vorosh failed to understand the words. But now Von Holder began speaking in Russian, questioning Vanja.
Vorosh telepathed a hasty message to Vanja’s mind:
“Answer only in my words!”
“You can read minds?” asked Von Holder.
Even in his own mind Vorosh could hear the low droning of the strange mechanism of the lie detector.
Vorosh answered through Vanja’s lips.
“Yes. I can read certain minds whose vibrations are in attunement with mine.”
“Can you read my mind?”
“No.”
“Can you read the Fuehrer’s mind?”
“No.”
“Whose mind did you read the night you gave the Fuehrer a message?”
“Rudolph Hess.”
“Gott im Himmel!” It was Hitler’s voice.
“Have you read his mind since that time?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
VOROSH trembled before the skull in Vanja’s room at the hotel as he put words into Vanja’s mouth. Abruptly he was realizing the opportunity that had been placed before him to strike a gr
eat blow for the eventual defeat of Hitler and the Axis. And also, the opportunity to finish right now the work that he and Vanja had been intent upon since their departure from Moscow.
“I cannot read his mind so literally. But many times I have gotten the impression that he thought of important things to be discussed between himself and two men high in British military and diplomatic circles . . .”
“Which men?”
“Winston Churchill and Anthony Eden.”
“What sort of discussions?”
“Plans for the future, after the war, and after Germany is defeated. Plans to trap German armies. Plans to cause unrest in Germany, to foster revolution. To deceive the German High Command. And even to deceive Hitler himself. It seems to me that Rudolph Hess hates Hitler, that he has sworn to testify one day at his trial, for murder! For the murder of a girl named . . .”
“Stop!” Von Holder’s voice rang harshly.
Vorosh waited for another question, inwardly exulting.
“Can you name one plan to entrap German armies, in specific detail?” Von Holder’s voice was hoarse now.
“Yes. One was a trap for German arms at Rostov. Another, but not so important, at Vyasma.”
“Then Rudolph Hess is a traitor to Germany; he has given the enemy vital information about our secrets?”
“Yes. I am sure that is true.”
In Vorosh’s ears rang a hoarse, shouted curse in German, and he smiled gleefully as the Nazi leader ranted madly.
Von Holder spoke again.
“Vanja Nilchenko, thus far the lie detector has confirmed your every word.[12] What are you doing in Berlin?”
“I have always wanted to come to Berlin to perform on the stage. Here there is opportunity.”
“You are a Russian. Are you against Russia?”
“I do not care who wins the war, personally. I only hope that whoever wins, it will not interfere with my career.”
“Would you renounce Russia, if we guaranteed your career here?”
“Why not?”
“Do you know any secrets of the Russian military?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell us of them?”
