by Various
Jetta of the Lowlands
PART TWO OF A THREE-PART NOVEL
_By Ray Cummings_
We were invisible!]
[Sidenote: Into remote Lowlands, in an invisible flyer, go Grant andJetta--prisoners of a scientific depth bandit.]
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE
In the year 2020 the oceans have long since drained from the surfaceof the earth, leaving bared to sun and wind the one-time sea floor.Much of it is flat, caked ooze, cracked and hardened, with, here andthere, small scum-covered lakes, bordered by slimy rocks. It is hot,down in the depth of the great Lowland areas, and it is chieflyadventurers and outcasts of human kind who can endure life in whatfew towns there are.
Into Nareda, the capital village of the tiny Lowland Republic ofNareda, goes Philip Grant, an operative of the United States CustomsDepartment, on a dangerous assignment--to ferret out the men who aresmuggling mercury into the United States from that place.
Grant falls in love with Jetta, the daughter of Jacob Spawn, a bigmercury mine owner of Nareda, only to learn that Spawn has promisedher in marriage to Greko Perona, the country's Minister of InternalAffairs.
Grant follows Perona to a midnight Lowland rendezvous with mysteriousstrangers and eavesdrops on them, sending their indistinct voicemurmurs to his chief, Hanley, in Washington, who relays them back tohim, amplified. He learns several important things: that Spawn andPerona and a depth bandit named De Boer are together involved in thesmuggling; that they have planned a fake robbery of a fortune inradiumized mercury stored at Spawn's mine, to collect the insurance onit and escape paying the Government export fee: and that they, planto kidnap Grant for ransom.
The plotters learn of Grant's absence from Nareda, and suspect that hemay be nearby. They start to search for him. Grant barely escapes,with the bandits and conspirators in hot pursuit. He flees to Jetta,hoping that they will be able to get away together: but he finds hertied hand and foot in her room.
The door is tightly sealed.
And close behind him are his pursuers!
CHAPTER VIII
_Jetta's Defiance_
I must go back now to picture what befell Jetta that afternoon while Iwas at Spawn's mine. It is not my purpose to becloud this narrativewith mystery. There was very little mystery about it to Jetta, and Ican reconstruct her viewpoint of the events from what she afterwardtold me.
Jetta's room was in a wing of the house on the side near the pergola.Her window and door looked out upon the patio. When I hadretired--that first night in Nareda--Spawn had gone to his daughterand upbraided her for showing herself while he was giving me thatfirst midnight meal.
"You stay in your room: you have nothing to do with him. Hear me?"
"Yes, Father."
From her infancy he had dominated her; it never occurred to either ofthem that she could disobey. And yet, this time she did; for no soonerwas he asleep that night than she came to my window as I have told.
This next day Jetta dutifully had kept herself secluded. She cookedher own breakfast while I was at the Government House, and was againout of sight by noon.
Jetta was nearly always alone. I can picture her sitting there withinthe narrow walls of her little room. Boy's ragged garb. All possiblefemininity stripped from her. Yet, within her, the woman's instinctswere struggling. She sewed a great deal, she since has told me, therein the cloistered dimness. Making little dresses of silk and bits offinery given her surreptitiously by the neighbor women. Gazing atherself in them with the aid of a tiny mirror. Hiding them away, neverdaring to wear them openly; until at intervals her father would raidthe room, find them and burn them in the kitchen incinerator.
"Instincts of Satan! By damn but I will get these woman's instinctsout of you, Jetta!"
* * * * *
And there were hours when she would try to read hidden books, and lookat pictures of the strange fairy world of the Highlands. She couldread and write a little: she had gone for a few years to the smallNareda government school, and then been snatched from it by herfather.
When Spawn and I had finished that noonday meal, I recall that he leftme for a moment. He had gone to Jetta.
"I am taking that young American to the mine. I will return presently.Stay close, Jetta."
"Yes, Father."
He left with me. Jetta remained in her room, her thoughts upon thecoming night. She trembled at them. She would meet me again, thisevening in the moonlit garden....
The sound of a man walking the garden path aroused her from herreverie. Then came a soft ingratiating voice:
"Jetta, _chica Mia_!"
It was Perona, standing by the pergola preening his effeminatemustache.
"Jetta, little love bird, come out and talk to me."
Jetta slammed the window slide and sat quiet.
"Jetta, it is your Greko."
"Well do I know it," she muttered.
"Jetta!" He strode down the path and back. "Jetta." His voice beganrising into a strident, peevish anger.
"Jetta, are you in there? _Chica_, answer me."
No answer.
"Jetta, _por Dios_--" He fumed, then fell to pleading. "Are you inthere? Please, little love bird, answer your Greko. Are you in there?"
"Yes."
"Come out then. Come to Greko."
* * * * *
She said sweetly. "My father does not want me to talk to men. You knowthat is so, Senor Perona."
It grounded him. "Why--"
"Is it not so?"
"Y-yes, but I am not--"
"A man?" Little imp! She relished impaling him upon the shafts of herridicule. Her sport was interrupted by the arrival of Spawn. He hadleft me at the mine and come directly back home. Jetta heard his heavytread on the garden path, then his voice:
"Ah, Perona."
And Perona: "Jetta will not come out and talk to me." The waxenmustached Minister of Nareda's Internal Affairs was like a sulkychild. But Spawn was unimpressed. Spawn said:
"Well, let her alone. We have more important things to engage us. Ihave the American occupied at the mine. You heard from De Boer?"
"I went last night. All is ready as we planned. But Spawn, this foolof an American, this Grant--"
"Hush! Not so loud, Perona!"
"I am telling you--!" Perona was excited. His voice rose shrilly, butSpawn checked him.
"Shut up: you waste time. Tell me exactly the arrangements with DeBoer. _Le grand coup_! now; to-night most important of nights--and yourant of your troubles with a girl!"
* * * * *
They were standing by the pergola, quite near Jetta's shaded window.She crouched there, listening to them. None of this was entirely newto Jetta. She had always been aware more or less of her father'ssecret business activities. As a child she had not understood them.Nor did she now, with any clarity. Spawn, had always talked freelywithin her hearing, ignoring her, though occasionally he threatenedher to keep her mouth shut.
She heard now fragments of this discussion between her father andPerona. They moved away from the pergola and sat by the fountain,speaking too low for her to hear. And then they paced the path, comingnearer, and she caught their voices again. And occasionally they grewexcited, or vehement, and then their raised tones were plainly audibleto her.
And this that she heard, with what she knew already, and with whatsubsequently transpired, enables me now to piece together the factsinto a connected explanation.
In the establishment of his cinnabar mine some years before, Spawn wasoriginally financed by Perona. The South American was then newly madeMinister of Nareda's Internal Affairs. He became Spawn's businesspartner. They kept the connection secret. Spawn falsified hisproduction records; and Perona with his governmental position wasenabled to pass these false accounts of the mine's production. Naredawas systematically cheated of a portion of its legal share.
But this, after a time, did not satisfy the ambitious Perona andS
pawn. They began to plan how they might engage in smuggling some oftheir quicksilver into the United States.
Perona, during these years, had had ambitions of his own in otherdirections. President Markes, of Nareda, was an honest official. Hehandicapped Perona considerably. There were many ways by which Peronacould have grown rich through a dishonest handling of the governmentaffairs. It was done almost universally in all the small Latingovernments. But Markes as President made it dangerous in Nareda. Eventhe duplicity with the mine was a precarious affair.
* * * * *
There was at this time in Nareda a young adventurer named De Boer. Ahandsome, swaggering fellow in his late twenties. He was a goodtalker; he spoke many languages; he could orate with fluency andskilful guile. His smile, his colorful personality, and his gift fororatory, made it easy for him to stir up dissatisfaction among thepeople.
De Boer became known as a patriot. A revolution in Nareda was brewing.Perona, as Nareda's Minister, was De Boer's political enemy. TheNareda Government ran De Boer out, ending the potential revolution.But Perona and Spawn had always secretly been friends with De Boer. Itwould have been very handy to have this unscrupulous young scoundrelas President.
When De Boer was banished with some of his most loyal followers, hebegan a career of petty banditry in the Lowland's depths. Spawn andPerona kept in communication with him, and, by a method which waspresently made startlingly clear to Jetta and me, De Boer smuggled thequicksilver for Perona and Spawn. It was this activity which hadfinally aroused my department and caused Hanley to send me to Nareda.
This however, was a dangerous, precarious occupation. De Boer did notseem to think so, or care. But Perona and Spawn, with theirestablished positions in Nareda, were always fearful of exposure. Evenwithout my coming, they had planned to disconnect from De Boer.
"And for more than that," as Jetta had one day heard Perona remark toher father. "I'll tell to you that this De Boer is not very straightwith us, Spawn." De Boer would, upon occasion, fail to make properreturn for the smuggled product.
* * * * *
So now they had planned a last coup in which De Boer was to help, andthen they would be done with him: the two of them, Spawn and Perona,would remain as honest citizens of Nareda, and De Boer had agreed totake himself away and pursue his banditry elsewhere.
It was a simple plan; it promised to yield a high stake quickly. Afinal fling at illicit activity; then virtuous reformation, withPerona marrying the little Jetta.
* * * * *
Beneath the strong room at the mine, Perona and Spawn had secretlybuilt a cleverly concealed little vault. De Boer, this night justbefore the midnight hour, was to attack the mine. Spawn and Perona hadbribed the police guards to submit to this attack. The guards did notknow the details: they only knew that De Boer and his men would make asham attack, careful to harm none of them--and then De Boer wouldwithdraw. The guards would report that they had been driven away by alarge force. And when the excitement was over, the ingots ofradiumized quicksilver would have vanished!
De Boer, making away into distant Lowland fastnesses, would obviouslybe supposed to have taken the treasure. But Perona, hidden alone inthe strong-room, would merely carry the ingots down into the secretvault, to be disposed of at some future date. The ingots were wellinsured, by an international company, against theft. The Naredagovernment would receive one-third of that insurance as recompense forthe loss of its share. Perona and Spawn would get two-thirds--and havethe treasure as well.
* * * * *
Such was the present plan, into which, all unknown to me, I had beenplunged. And my presence complicated things considerably. So much sothat Perona grew vehement, this afternoon in the garden, explainingwhy. His shrill voice carried clearly to Jetta, in spite of Spawn'sefforts to shut him up.
"I tell to you that Americano agent will undo us."
"How?" demanded the calmer Spawn.
"Already he has made Markes suspicious."
"Chut! You can befool Markes, Perona. You have for years been doingit."
"This meddling fellow, he has met Jetta!"
"I do not believe it." There was a sudden grimness to Spawn's tone atthe thought. "I do not believe it. Jetta would not dare."
"You should have seen him flush when Markes mentioned at theconference this morning that I am to marry Jetta. No one could missit. He has met her--I tell it to you--and it must have been lastnight."
"So, you say?" Jetta could see her father's face, white withsuppressed rage. "You think that? And it is that this Grant might beyour rival, that worries you? Not our plans for to-night, which havereal importance--but worrying over a girl."
"She would not talk to me. She would not come out. He has no doubt putwild ideas into her head. Spawn, you listen to me. I have always beenmore clever than you at scheming. Is it not so? You have always saidit. I have a plan now, it fits our arrangements with De Boer, but itwill rid us of this Americano. When all is done and I have marriedJetta--"
* * * * *
Spawn interrupted impatiently. "You will marry Jetta, never fear. Ihave promised her to you."
And because, as Jetta well knew, Perona had made it part of hisbargaining in financing Spawn. But this they did not now mention.
"To get rid of this Grant--well, that sounds meritorious. He isdangerous around here. To that I agree."
"And with Jetta--"
"Have done, Perona!" With sudden decision Spawn leaped to his feet. "Ido not believe she would have dared talk to Grant. We'll have her outand ask her. If she has, by the gods--"
It fell upon Jetta before she had time to gather her wits. Spawnstrode to her door, and found it fastened on the inside.
"Jetta, open at once!"
He thumped with his heavy fists. Confused and trembling she unsealedit, and he dragged her out into the sunlight of the garden.
"Now then, Jetta, you have heard some of what we have been saying,perhaps?"
"Father--"
"About this young American? This Grant?"
She stood cringing in his grasp. Spawn had never used physicalviolence with Jetta. But he was white with fury now.
"Father, you--you are hurting me."
Perona interposed. "Wait Spawn! Not so rough! Let me talk to her.Jetta, _chica mia_, your Greko is worried--"
"To the hell with that!" Spawn shouted. But he released the girl andshe sank trembling to the little seat by the pergola.
Spawn stood over her. "Jetta, look at me! Did you meet--did you talkto Grant last night?"
She wanted to deny it. She clung to his angry gaze. But the habit ofall her life of truthfulness with him prevailed.
"Y-yes," she admitted.
CHAPTER IX
_Trapped_
"Spawn! Hold!"
There was an instant when it seemed that Spawn would strike the girl.The blood drained from his face, leaving his dark eyes blazing liketorches. His hamlike fist went back, but Perona sprang for him andclutched him.
"Hold, Spawn: I will talk to her. Jetta, so you did--"
The torrent of emotion swept Spawn; weakened him so that instead ofstriking Jetta, he yielded to Perona's clutch and dropped his arm. Fora moment he stood gazing at his daughter.
"Is it so? And all my efforts, going for nothing, just like yourmother!" He no more than murmured it, and as Perona pushed him, hesank to the bench beside Jetta. But did not touch her, just satstaring. And she stared back, both of then aghast at the enormity ofthis, her first disobedience.
I never had opportunity to know Spawn, except for the few times whichI have mentioned. Perhaps he was at heart a pathetic figure. I think,looking back on it now that Spawn is dead, that there was a pathos tohim. Spawn had loved his wife, Jetta's mother. As a young man he hadbrought her to the Lowlands to seek his fortune. And when Jetta was aninfant, his wife had left him. Run away, abandoning him and theirchil
d.
* * * * *
Perhaps Spawn was never mentally normal after that. He had rearedJetta with the belief that sin was inherent in all females. Itobsessed him. Warped and twisted all his outlook as he brooded on itthrough the years. Woman's instincts; woman's love of pleasure, prettyclothes--all could lead only to sin.
And so he had kept Jetta secluded. He had fought what he seemed to seein her as she grew and flowered into girlhood, and denied hereverything which he thought might make her like her mother.
Spawn met his death within a few hours of this afternoon I amdescribing. Perhaps he was no more than a scheming scoundrel. We areinstinctively lenient with our appraisal of the dead. I do not know.
"Jetta," Perona said to her accusingly, "that is true, then: you didtalk with that miserable Americano last night? You sinful, lyinggirl."
The contrition within Jetta at disobeying her father faded before thisattack.
"I am not sinful." The trembling left her and she sat up and faced theaccusing Perona. "I did but talk to him. You speak lies when you say Iam sinful."
"You hear, Spawn? Defiant: already changed from the little Jetta I--"
"Yes, I am changed. I do not love you, Senor Perona. I think I hateyou." Her tears were very close, but she finished: "I--I won't marryyou. I won't!"
It stung Spawn. He leaped to his feet. "So you talk like that! It hasgone so far as this, has it? Get to your room! We will see what youwill and what you won't!"
* * * * *
Again the crafty Perona was calmest of them all. He thrust himself infront of Spawn.
"Jetta, to-night you plan to see him again, no? To-night?--here?"
"No," she stammered.
"You lie!"
"No."
"You lie! Spawn look at her! Lying! She has planned to meet himto-night! That is all we want to know." He broke into a cacklingchuckle. "That fits my new plan, Spawn. A tryst with Jetta, here inthe garden."
"Get to your room," Spawn growled. He dragged her back, and Peronafollowed them.
"You lie there." Spawn flung her to her couch. "After this night'swork is done, we'll see whether you will or you won't."
"She may not stay in here." Perona suggested.
"She will stay."
"You seal her in?"
"I will seal her in."
Perona's eyes roved the little bedroom. One window oval and a door,both overlooking the patio.
"But suppose she should get out? There is no way to seal that windowproperly from outside. A cord!"
A long stout silken tassel-cord had been draped by Jetta at the windowcurtain. Perona snatched it down.
"If her ankles and wrists were tied with this--"
"No!" burst out Jetta. And then a fear for me rushed over her. Arealization, forgotten in the stress of this conflict with herfather, now swept over her. They were planning harm to me.
"No, do not bind me."
* * * * *
A sudden caution came to her. She was making it worse for me. Alreadyshe had done me immense harm.
She said suddenly, "Do what you like with me. I was wrong. I have nointerest in that American. It is you, Greko, I--I love."
Spawn did not heed her. Perona insisted, "I would tie her with care."
He helped Spawn rope her ankles, and then her wrists, crossed behindher.
"A little gag, Spawn? She might cry out: we want no interferenceto-night." He was ready with a large silken handkerchief. They thrustit into her mouth and tied it behind her neck.
"There," growled Spawn. "You will and you won't: we shall see aboutthat. Lie still, Jetta. If I have need to come again to you--"
They left her. And this time she heard them less clearly. But therewere fragments:
Perona: "I will meet him again. After dark, to-night. Yes, he expectsme. For his money, Spawn, his pay in advance. This De Boer works notfor nothing."
Spawn: "You will arrange about your police on the streets? He can gethere to my house safely?"
"Oh yes, at the tri-evening hour, certainly before midnight, beforethe attack on the mine. You must stay here, Spawn. Pretend to beasleep: it will lure the fool Americano out in to the moonlight."
* * * * *
Jetta could piece it together fairly well. They would have De Boercome and abduct me. Not tell him I was a government agent, with themicro-safety alarm which they suspected I carried, but just tell DeBoer that I was a rich American, who could be abducted and held for abig ransom.
Perona's voice rose with a fragment: "If he springs his alarm, here inthe moonlight, you can be here, Spawn, and pretend to try and rescuehim. A radio-image of that flashed to Hanley's office will exonerateus of suspicion."
Perona would promise De Boer that the Nareda government would pay theransom quickly, collecting it later from the United States.
Spawn said, "You think De Boer will believe that?"
"Why should he not? I am skilful at persuasion, no? Let him find outlater that the United States Government trackers are after him!"Perona cackled at the thought of it. "What of that? Let him kill thisGrant. All the better."
Spawn said abruptly: "The United States may catch De Boer. Have youthought of that, Perona? The fellow would not shield us, but wouldtell everything."
"And who will believe him? The wild tale of a trapped bandit! Againstyour word, Spawn? You, an honest and wealthy mine owner? And I--I,Greko Perona, Minister of Internal Affairs of the Sovereign Power ofNareda! Who will dare to give me the lie because a bandit tells a wildtale with no real facts to prop it?"
"Those police guards at the mine to-night?"
"Admit that they took your bribes? You are witless, Spawn! Let thembut admit it to me and of a surety I will fling them intoimprisonment! Now listen with care, for the after noon is going...."
Their voices lowered, then faded, and Jetta was left alone andhelpless. Spawn went back to the mine to meet me. We returned and hadsupper, Jetta could dimly hear us.
* * * * *
There was silence about the house during the mid-evening. I hadslipped out and followed Perona to his meeting with De Boer. ThenSpawn had discovered my absence and had rushed to join Perona andtell him.
But Jetta knew nothing of this. The hour of her tryst with me wasapproaching. In the darkness of her room as she lay bound and gaggedon her couch, she could see the fitful moonlight rising to illuminethe window oval.
She squirmed at the cords holding her, but could not loosen them. Theycut into her flesh; her limbs were numb.
The evening wore on. Would I come to the garden tryst?
Jetta could not break her bonds. But gradually she had mouthed the gagloose. Then she heard my hurried footsteps in the patio; then my tensevoice.
And at her answer I was pounding on her door. But it had been stoutlysealed by Spawn. I flung my shoulder against it, raging, thumping. Butthe heavy metal panels would not yield; the seal held intact.
"Jetta!"
"Philip, run away! They want to catch you! De Boer, the bandit, iscoming!"
"I know it!"
Fool that I was, to pause with talk! There was no time: I must getJetta out of here. Break down this door.
But it would not yield. A gas torch would melt this outer seal. Wasthere a torch here at Spawn's? But I had no time to search for atorch! Or a bar with which to ram this door--
A panic seized me, with the fresh realization that any instant De Boerand his men would arrive. I beat with futile fists on the door, andJetta from within, calling to me to get away before I was caught.
This accursed door between us!
* * * * *
And then--after no more than half a minute, doubtless--I thought ofthe window. My momentary panic left me. I dashed to the window oval.Sealed. But the shutter curtain, and the glassite pane behind it, werefragile.
"Jetta, are you nea
r the window?"
"No. On the bed. They have tied me."
"Look out; I'm breaking through!"
There were loose rocks, as large as my head, set to mark the gardenpath. I seized one and hurled it. With a crash it went through thewindow and fell to the floor of the room. A jagged hole showed.
"All right, Jetta?"
"Yes! Yes, Philip."
I squirmed through the oval and dropped to the floor. My arms were cutfrom the jagged glassite, though I did not know it then. It was diminside the room, but I could see the outline of the bed with her lyingon it.
Her ankles and wrists were tied. I cut the cords with my knife.
She was gasping. "They're planning to capture you. Philip! You shouldnot be here! Get away!"
"Yes. But I'm going to take you with me. Can you stand up?"
* * * * *
I set her on her feet in the center of the room. A shaft of moonlightwas coming through the hole in the window.
"Philip! You're bleeding!"
"It is nothing. Cut myself on the glassite. Can you stand alone?"
"Yes."
But her legs, stiffened and numb from having been bound so many hours,bent under her. I caught her as she was falling.
"I'll be--all right in a minute. But Philip, if you stay here--"
"You're going with me!"
"Oh!"
I could carry her, if she could not run. But it would be slow; and itwould be difficult to get her through the window. And on the street wewould attract too much attention.
"Jetta, try to stand. Stamp your feet. I'll hold you."
I steadied her. Then I bent down, chafing her legs with my hands. Herarms had been limp, but the blood was in them now. She murmured withthe tingling pain, and then bent over, frantically helping me rub thecirculation back into her legs.
"Better?"
"Yes." She took a weak and trembling step.
"Wait. Let me rub them more, Jetta."
Precious minutes!
"I'll knock out the rest of the window with that rock! We'll run;we'll be out of here in a moment."
"Run where?"
"Away. Into hiding--out of all this. The United States patrol-ship iscoming from Porto Rico. It will take us from here."
"Where?"
"Away. To Great New York, maybe. Away from all this; from that oldfossil, Perona."
I was stooping beside her.
"I'm all right now, Philip."
I rose up, and suddenly found myself clasping her in my arms; herslight body in the boy's ragged garb pressed against me.
"Jetta, dear, do you trust me? Will you come?"
"Yes. Oh, yes--anywhere, Philip, with you."
* * * * *
For only a breathless instant I lingered, holding her. Then I cast heroff and seized the rock from the floor. The jagged glassite fell awayunder my blows.
"Now, Jetta. I'll go first--"
But it was too late! I stopped, stricken by the sound of a voiceoutside!
"He's there! In the girl's room! That's her window!"
Cautious voices in the garden! The thud of approaching footsteps.
I shoved Jetta back and rushed to the broken window oval. The figuresof De Boer and his men showed in the moonlight across the patio. Theyhad heard me breaking the glassite. And they saw me, now.
"There he is, De Boer!"
We were trapped!
CHAPTER X
_The Murder in the Garden_
"Hans, keep back! I will go!"
"But Commander--"
"Armed? The hell he is not! Spawn said no. Spawn! Where is Spawn? Hewas here."
I had dropped back from the window, and, gripping Jetta, stood in thecenter of the room.
"Jetta, dear."
"Oh. Philip!"
"There's no other way out of here?"
"No! No!"
Only the heavy sealed door, and this broken window. The bandits in thegarden had paused at sight of me. Someone had called.
"He may be armed, De Boer."
They had stopped their forward rush and darted into the shelter of thepergola. I might be armed!
We could hear their low voices not ten feet from us. But I was notarmed, except for my knife. Futile weapon, indeed.
"Jetta, keep back. If they should fire--"
* * * * *
I got a look through the oval. De Boer was advancing upon it, with hisbarreled projector half levelled. He saw me again. He called:
"You American, come out!"
I crouched on the floor, pushing Jetta back to where the shadows ofthe bed hid her.
"You American!"
He was close outside the window. "Come out--or I am coming in!"
I said abruptly, "Come!"
My blade was in my hand. If he showed himself I could slash histhroat, doubtless. But what about Jetta? My thoughts flashed upon theheels of my defiant invitation. Suppose, as De Boer climbed in thewindow, I killed him? I could not escape, and his infuriated fellowswould rush us, firing through the oval, sweeping the room, killing usboth. But Jetta now was in no danger. Her father was outside, andthese bandits were her father's friends. I would have to yield.
I called, louder, "Why don't you come in?"
Could I hold them off? Frighten them off, for a time, and make enoughnoise so that perhaps someone passing in the nearby street would givethe alarm and bring help?
There was a sudden silence in the patio. The bandits had so far madeas little commotion as possible. Presently I could hear their lowvoices.
* * * * *
I heard an oath. De Boer's head and shoulders appeared in the windowoval! His levelled projector came through. Perhaps he would not havefired, but I did not dare take the chance. I was crouching almostunder the muzzle, so I straightened, gripped it, and flung it up. Ithen slashed at his face with my knife, but he gripped my wrist withpowerful fingers. My knife fell as he twisted my wrist. His projectorhad not fired. It was jammed between us. One of his huge arms reachedin and encircled me.
"Damn you!"
He muttered it, but I shouted, "Fool! De Boer, the bandit!"
I was aware of a commotion out in the garden.
"... Bring all Nareda on our ears? De Boer, shut him up!"
I was gripping the projector, struggling to keep its muzzle pointedupwards. With a heave of his giant arms De Boer lifted me and jerkedme bodily through the window. I fell on my feet, still fighting. Butother hands seized me. It was no use. I yielded suddenly. I panted:
"Enough!"
They held me. One of them growled. "Another shout and we will leaveyou here dead. Commander, _look_!"
My shirt was torn open. The electrode band about my chest was exposed!De Boer towered head and shoulders over me. I gazed up, passive in thegrip of two or three of his men, and saw his face. His heavy jawdropped as he gazed at my little diaphragms, the electrode.
He knew now for the first time that this was no private citizen he hadassaulted. This official apparatus meant that I was a Governmentagent.
* * * * *
There was an instant of shocked silence. An expression grim andfurious crossed the giant bandit's face.
"So this is it? Hans, careful--hold him!"
Jetta was still in her room, silent now. I heard Spawn's voice, closeat hand in the patio.
"De Boer! Careful!" It was the most cautious of half-whispers.
Abruptly someone reached for my chest; jerked at the electrode; toreits fragile wires--the tiny grids and thumbnail amplifiers; jerked andripped and flung the whole little apparatus to the garden path. But itsang its warning note as the wires broke. Up in Great New York Hanleyknew then that catastrophe had fallen upon me.
For a brief instant the crestfallen bandit mumbled at what he haddone. Then came Spawn's voice:
"Got him, De Boer? Good!"
Triumphant Spawn! He a
dvanced across the garden with his heavy tread.And to me, and I am sure to De Boer as well, there came the swiftrealization that Spawn had been hiding safely in the background. Butmy detector was smashed now. It might have imaged De Boer assailingme: but now that it was smashed, Spawn could act freely.
"Good! So you have him! Make away to the mine!"
I did not see De Boer's face at that instant. But I saw his weaponcome up--an act wholly impulsive, no doubt. A flash of fury!
He levelled the projector, not at me, but at the on-coming Spawn.
"You damn liar!"
"De Boer--" It was a scream of terror from Spawn. But it came toolate. The projector hissed; spat its tiny blue puff. The needledrilled Spawn through the heart. He toppled, flung up his arms, andwent down, silently, to sprawl on his face across the garden path.
* * * * *
De Boer was cursing, startled at his own action. The men holding metightened their grip. I heard Jetta cry out, but not at what hadhappened in the garden: she was unaware of that. One of the banditshad left the group and climbed into her room. Her cry now wassuppressed, as though the man's hand went over her mouth. And in thesilence came his mumbled voice:
"Shut up, you!"
There was the sound of a scuffle in there. I tore at the men holdingme.
"Let me go! Jetta! Come out!"
De Boer dashed for the window. I was still struggling. A hand cuffedme in the face. A projector rammed into my side.
"Stop it, fool American!"
De Boer came back with a chastened bandit ahead of him. The man wasmuttering and rubbing his shoulder, and De Boer said:
"Try anything like that again, Cartner, and I won't be so easy onyou."
De Boer was dragging Jetta, holding her by a wrist. She looked like aterrified, half-grown boy, so small was she beside this giant. But thewoman's lines of her, and the long dark hair streaming about her whiteface and over her shoulders, were unmistakable.
"His daughter." De Boer was chuckling. "The little Jetta."
* * * * *
All this had happened in certainly no more than five minutes. Irealized that no alarm had been raised: the bandits had managed it allwith reasonable quiet.
There were six of the bandits here, and De Boer, who towered over usall. I saw him now as a swaggering giant of thirty-odd, with aheavy-set smooth-shaved, handsome face.
He held Jetta off. "Damn, how you have grown, Jetta."
Someone said, "She knows too much."
And someone else, "We will take her with us. If you leave her here, DeBoer--"
"Why should I leave her? Why? Leave her--for Perona?"
Then I think that for the first time Jetta saw her father's body lyingsprawled on the path. She cried, "Philip!" Then she half turned andmurmured: "Father!"
She wavered, almost falling. "Father--" She went down, fainting,falling half against me and against De Boer, who caught her slightbody in his arms.
"Come, we'll get back. Drag him!"
"But you can't carry that girl out like that, De Boer."
"Into the house: there is an open door. Hans, go out and bring the cararound to this side. Give me the cloaks. There is no alarm yet."
De Boer chuckled again. "Perona was nice to keep the police off thisstreet to-night!"
We went into the kitchen. An auto-car, which to the village peoplemight have been there on Spawn's mining business, slid quietly up tothe side entrance. A cloak was thrown over Jetta. She was carried likea sack and put into the car.
I suddenly found an opportunity to break loose. I leaped and struckone of the men. But the others were too quickly on me. The kitchentable went over with a crash.
Then something struck me on the back of the head: I think it was thehandle of De Boer's great knife. The kitchen and the men strugglingwith me faded. I went into a roaring blackness.
CHAPTER XI
_Aboard the Bandit Flyer_
I was dimly conscious of being inside the cubby of the car, withbandits sitting over me. The car was rolling through the villagestreets. Ascending. We must be heading for Spawn's mine. I thought ofJetta. Then I heard her voice and felt her stir beside me.
The roaring in my head made everything dreamlike. I sank half intounconsciousness again. It seemed an endless interval, with only themuttering hiss of the car's mechanism and the confused murmurs of thebandits' voices.
Then my strength came. The cold sweat on me was drying in the nightbreeze that swept through the car as it climbed the winding ascent. Icould see through its side oval a vista of bloated Lowland crags withmoonlight on them.
It seemed that we should be nearly to the mine. We stopped. The men inthe car began climbing out.
De Boer's voice: "Is he conscious now? I'll take the girl."
Someone bent over me. "You hear me?"
"Yes," I said.
I found myself outside the car. They held me on my feet. Someonegratuitously cuffed me, but De Boer's voice issued a sharp, low-tonedrebuke.
"Stop it! Get him and the girl aboard."
* * * * *
There seemed thirty or forty men gathered here. Silent dark figures inblack robes. The moonlight showed them, and occasionally one flashed ahand search-beam. It was De Boer's main party gathered to attack themine.
I stood wavering on my feet. I was still weak and dizzy, with a lumpon the back of my head where I had been struck. The scene about me wasat first unfamiliar. We were in a rocky gully. Rounded broken walls.Caves and crevices. Dried ooze piled like a ramp up one side. Themoonlight struggled down through a gathering mist overhead.
I saw, presently, where we were. Above the mine, not below it: and Irealized that the car had encircled the mine's cauldron and climbedto a height beyond it. Down the small gully I could see where itopened into the cauldron about a hundred feet below us. The lights ofthe mine winked in the blurred moonlight shadows.
The bandits led me up the gully. The car was left standing against thegully side where it had halted. De Boer, or one of his men, wascarrying Jetta.
The flyer was here. We came upon it suddenly around a bend in thegully. Although I had only seen the nose if it earlier in the evening.I recognized this to be the same. It was in truth a strange lookingflyer: I had never seen one quite like it. Barrel-winged, like aJantzen: multi-propellored: and with folding helicopters for thevertical lifts and descent. And a great spreading fan-tail, in theBritish fashion. It rested on the rocks like a fat-winged bird withits long cylindrical body puffed out underneath. A seventy-foot cabin:fifteen feet wide, possibly. A line of small window-portes; a circularglassite front to the forward control-observatory cubby, with thepropellors just above it, and the pilot cubby up there behind them.And underneath the whole, a landing gear of the Fraser-Moodspringed-cushion type: and an expanding, air-coil pontoon-bladder forlanding upon water.
* * * * *
All this was usual enough. Yet, with the brief glimpses I had as mycaptors hurried me toward the landing incline, I was aware ofsomething very strange about this flyer. It was all dead black, abloated-bellied black bird. The moonlight struck it, but did not gleamor shimmer on its black metal surface. The cabin window-portes glowedwith a dim blue-gray light from inside. But as I chanced to gaze atone a green film seemed to cross it like a shade, so that it winkedand its light was gone. Yet a hole was there, like an eye-socket. Anempty green hole.
We were close to the plane now, approaching the bottom of the smalllanding-incline. The wing over my head was like a huge fat barrel cutlength-wise in half. I stared up; and suddenly it seemed that the wingwas melting. Fading. Its inner portion, where it joined the body, wasclear in the moonlight. But the tips blurred and faded. An aspectcuriously leprous. Uncanny. Gruesome.
They took me up the landing-incline. A narrow vaulted corridor ranlength-wise of the interior, along one side of the cabin body. To myleft as we headed for the bow control room, the
corridor window-portesshowed the rocks outside. To the right of the corridor, the ship'ssmall rooms lay in a string. A metal interior. I saw almost nothingsave metal in various forms. Grid floor and ceiling. Sheet metal wallsand partitions. Furnishings and fabrics, all of spun metal. And alldead black.
We entered the control room. The two men holding me flung me in achair. I had been searched. They had taken from me the tiny, coloredmagnesium light-flashes. How easy for the plans of men to go astray!Hanley and I had arranged that I was to signal the Porto Ricanpatrol-ship with those flares.
"Sit quiet!" commanded my guard.
I retorted, "If you hit me again, I won't."
* * * * *
De Boer came in, carrying Jetta. He put her in a chair near me, andshe sat huddled tense. In the dim gray light of the control room herwhite face with its big staring dark eyes was turned toward me. Butshe did not speak, nor did I.
The bandits ignored us. De Boer moved about the room, examining a bankof instruments. Familiar instruments, most of them. The usualaero-controls and navigational devices. A radio audiphone transmitterand receiver, with its attendant eavesdropping cut-offs. And there wasan ether-wave mirror-grid. De Boer bent over it. And then I saw himfastening upon his forehead an image-lens. He said:
"You stay here, Hans. You and Gutierrez. Take care of the girl andthis fellow Grant. Don't hurt them."
Gutierrez was a swarthy Latin American. He smiled. "For why would Ihurt him? You say he is worth much money to us, De Boer. And the girl,ah--"
De Boer towered over him. "Just lay a finger on her and you willregret it, Gutierrez! You stay at your controls. Be ready. This affairit will take no more than half an hour."
A man came to the control room entrance. "You come, Commander?"
"Yes. Right at once."
"The men are ready. From the mine we might almost be seen here. Thisdelay--"
"Coming, Rausch."
* * * * *
But he lingered a moment more. "Hans, my finder will show you what Ido. Keep watch. When we come back, have all ready for flight. ThisGrant had an alarm-detector. Heaven only knows what eavesdropping andrelaying he has done. And for sure there is hell now in Spawn'sgarden. The Nareda police are there, of course. They might track us uphere."
He paused before me. "I think I would not cause trouble, Grant."
"I'm not a fool."
"Perhaps not." He turned to Jetta. "No harm will come to you. Fearnothing."
He wound his dark cloak about his giant figure and left the controlroom. In a moment, through the rounded observing pane beside me, I sawhim outside on the moonlit rocks. His men gathered about him. Therewere forty of them, possibly, with ten or so left here aboard to guardthe flyer.
And in another moment the group of dark-cloaked figures outside creptoff in single file like a slithering serpent, moving down the rockdefile toward where in the cauldron pit the lights of the mine shoneon its dark silent buildings.
CHAPTER XII
_The Attack on the Mine_
There was a moment when I had an opportunity to speak with Jetta.Gutierrez sat watchfully by the archway corridor entrance with aneedle projector across his knees. The fellow Hans, a big, heavy-sethalf-breed Dutchman with a wide-collared leather jerkin and wide,knee-length pantaloons, laid his weapon carefully aside and busiedhimself with his image mirror. There would soon be images upon it, Iknew: De Boer had the lens-finder on his forehead, and the scenes atthe mine, as De Boer saw them would be flashed back to us here.
This Gutierrez was very watchful. A move on my part and I knew hewould fling a needle through me.
My thoughts flew. Hanley had notified Porto Rico. The patrol-ship hadalmost enough time to get here by now.
I felt Jetta plucking at me. She whispered:
"They have gone to attack the mine."
"Yes."
"I heard it planned. Senor Perona--"
Her hurried whispers told me further details of Perona's scheme. Sothis was a pseudo attack! Perona would take advantage of it and hidethe quicksilver. De Boer would return presently and escape. And holdme for ransom. I chuckled grimly. Not so easy for a bandit, even oneas clever as De Boer at hiding in the Lowland depths to arrange aransom for an agent of the United States. Our entire Lowland patrolwould be after him in a day.
* * * * *
Jetta's swift whispers made it all clear to me. It was Perona'sscheme.
She ended, "And my father--" Her voice broke; her eyes floodedsuddenly with tears "Oh, Philip, he was good to me, my poor father."
I saw that the mirror before Hans was glowing with its coming image. Ipressed Jetta's hand.
"Yes, Jetta."
One does not disparage the dead. I could not exactly subscribe toJetta's appraisal of her parent, but I did not say so.
"Jetta, the mirror is on."
I turned away from her toward the instrument table. Gutierrez at thedoor raised his weapon. I said hastily, "Nothing. I--we just want tosee the mirror."
I stood beside Hans. He glanced at me and I tried to smileingratiatingly.
"This attack will be successful, eh, Hans?"
"Damn. I hope so."
The mirror was glowing. Hans turned a switch to dim the tube-lights ofthe room so that we might see the images better. It brought a protestfrom Gutierrez.
I swung around. "I'm not a fool! You can see me perfectly well: killme if I make trouble. I want to see the attack."
"_Por Dios_, if you try anything--"
"I won't!"
"Shut!" growled Hans. "The audiphone is on. The big adventure--and thecommander--leaves me here just to watch!"
* * * * *
A slit in the observatory pane was open. The dark figure of one of thebandits on guard outside came and called softly up to us.
"Started. Hans?"
"Starting."
"Should it go wrong, call out."
"Yes. But it will not."
"There was an alarm, relayed probably to Great New York, the commandersaid, from Spawn's garden. These cursed prisoners--"
"Shut! You keep watch out there. It is starting."
The guard slunk away. My attention went back to the mirror. An imagewas formed there now, coming from the eye of the lens upon De Boer'sforehead. It swayed with his walking. He was evidently leading hismen, for none of them were in the scene. The dark rocks were movingpast. The lights of the mine were ahead and below, but coming nearer.
The audiphone hummed and crackled. And through it, De Boer'slow-voiced command sounded:
"To the left is the better path. Keep working to the left."
The image of the rocks and the mine swung with a dizzying sweep as DeBoer turned about. Then again he was creeping forward.
The mine lights came closer. De Beer's whispered voice said: "Therethey are!"
* * * * *
I could see the lights of the mine's guards flash on. A group ofSpawn's men gathered before the smelter building. The challengesounded.
"Who are you? Stop!"
And De Boer's murmur: "That is correct, as Perona said. They expectus. Well," he ended with a sardonic laugh, "expect us."
His projector went up. He fired. In the silence of the control room wecould hear the audiphoned hiss of it, and see the flash in themirror-scene. He had fired into the air.
Again his low voice to his men: "Hold steady. They will run."
The group of figures at the smelter separated, waved and scatteredback into the deeper shadows. Their hand-lights were extinguished, butthe moonlight caught and showed them. They were running away; hidingin the crags. They fired a shot or two, high in the air.
De Boer was advancing swiftly now. The image swayed and shifted,raised and lowered rhythmically as he ran. And the dark shape of thesmelter building loomed large as he neared it.
I felt Jetta beside me: heard her whisper: "Why, he
should attack andthen come back! Greko told my father--"
But De Boer was not coming back! He was dashing for the smelterentrance. Spawn's guards must have known then that there was somethingwrong. Their shots hissed, still fired high, and our grid soundedtheir startled shouts. Then as De Boer momentarily turned his head, Isaw what was taking place to the side of him. A detachment of thebandits had followed the retreating guards. The bandits' shots werelevelled now. Dim stabs of light in the gloom. One of the guardsscreamed as he was struck.
* * * * *
The attack was real! But it was over in a moment. Spawn's men, thosewho were not struck down, plunged away and vanished. Perona haddisconnected the mine's electrical safeguards. The smelter door wassealed, but it gave before the blows of a metal bar two of De Boer'smen were carrying.
In the unguarded, open strong-room, Perona, alone, was absorbed in histask of carrying the ingots of quicksilver down into the hiddencompartment beneath its metal floor.
Our mirror was vague and dim now with a moving interior of the mainsmelter room as De Boer plunged through. At the strong-room entrancehe paused, with his men crowding behind him. The figure of Peronashowed in the vague light: he was stooping under the weight of one ofthe little ingots. Beside him yawned the small trap-opening leadingdownward.
He saw De Boer. He straightened, startled, and then shouted with aterrified Spanish oath. De Boer's projector was levelled: the huge,foreshortened muzzle of it blotted out half our image. It hissed itspuff of light--a blinding flash on our mirror--in the midst of whichthe dark shape of Perona's body showed as it crumpled and fell. LikeSpawn, he met instant death.
Jetta was gripping me. "Why--" Gutierrez was with us. Hans wasbending forward, watching the mirror. He muttered, "Got him!"
I saw a chance to escape, and pulled at Jetta. But at once Gutierrezstepped backward.
"Like him I will strike you dead!" he said.
* * * * *
No chance of escape. I had thought Gutierrez absorbed by the mirror,but he was not. I protested vehemently:
"I haven't moved, you fool. I have no intention of moving."
And now De Boer and his men were carrying up the ingots. A man foreach bar. A confusion of blurred swaying shapes, and low-voiced,triumphant murmurs from our disc.
Then De Boer was outside the smelter house, and we saw a little queueof the bandits carrying the treasure up the defile. Coming back hereto the flyer. There was no pursuit; the mine guards were gone.
The triumphant bandits would be here in a few moments.
"_Ave Maria, que magnifico!_" Gutierrez had retreated to our doorway,more alert than ever upon me and Jetta. Hans called through thewindow-slit:
"All is well, Franks!"
"Got it?"
"Yes! Make ready."
There was a stir outside as several of the bandits hastened down thedefile to meet De Boer. And the tread of others, inside the flyer attheir posts, preparing for hasty departure.
Hans snapped off the audiphone and mirror. He bent over his controlpanel. "All is well, Gutierrez. In a moment we start."
Through the observatory window I saw the line of De Boer's men coming:Abruptly Hans gave a cry. "Look!"
* * * * *
A glow was in the room. A faint aura of light. And our disconnectedinstruments were crackling, murmuring with interference. Eavesdroppingwaves were here! Hans realised it: so did I.
But there was no need for theory. From outside came shouts.
"Patrol-ship!"
"Hurry!"
The ship, suddenly exposing its lights, was perfectly visible aboveus. Five thousand feet up, possibly. A tiny silver bird in themoonlight: but even with the naked eye I could see by its lightpattern that it was the official Porto Rican patrol-liner. It saw usdown here: recognized this bandit flyer, no doubt.
And it was coming down!
There was a confusion as the bandits rushed aboard. The patrol wasdropping in a swift spiral. I watched tensely, holding Jetta, with theturmoil of the embarking bandits around me. Gutierrez stood withlevelled weapon.
"They have not moved, Commander."
De Boer was here. The treasure was aboard.
"Ready, Hans. Lift us."
The landing portes clanged as they closed. Hans shoved at hisswitches. I heard the helicopter engines thumping. A vertical lift:there was no space in this rocky defile for any horizontal take-away.
He was very calm, this De Boer. He sat in a chair at a control-bank ofinstruments unfamiliar to me.
"Full power, Hans: I tell you. Lift us!"
* * * * *
The ship was quivering. We lifted. The rocks of the gully droppedaway. But the patrol-ship was directly over us. Was De Boer rushinginto a collision?
"Now, forward, Hans."
We poised for the level flight. Did De Boer think he couldout-distance this patrol-ship, the swiftest type of flyer in theService? I knew that was impossible.
The silver ship overhead was circling, watchful. And as we levelledfor forward flight it shot a warning searchlight beam down across ourbow, ordering us to land.
De Boer laughed. "They think they have us!"
I saw his hand go to a switch. A warning siren resounded through ourcorridor, warning the bandits of De Boer's next move. But I did notknow it then: the thing caught me unprepared.
De Boer flung another switch. My senses reeled. I heard Jetta cry out.My arm about her tightened.
A moment of strange whirling unreality. The control room seemed fadingabout me. The tube-lights dimmed. A green glow took their place--alurid sheen in which the cubby and the tense faces of De Boer and Hansshowed with ghastly pallor. Everything was unreal. The voices of DeBoer and Hans sounded with a strange tonelessness. Stripped of thetimber that made one differ from the other. Hollow ghosts of humanvoices. By the sound I could not tell which was De Boer and which wasHans.
The corridor was dark; all the lights on the ship faded into thishorrible dead green. The window beside me had a film on it. A dead,dark opening where moonlight had been. Then I realized that I wasbeginning to see through it once more. Starlight. Then the moonlight.
We had soared almost level with the descending patrol-ship. We wentpast it, a quarter of a mile away. Went past, and it did not follow.It was still circling.
* * * * *
I knew then what had happened. And why this bandit ship had seemed ofso strange an aspect. We were invisible! At four hundred yards, evenin the moonlight, the patrol could not distinguish us. Only ten ofthese X-flyers were in existence: they were the closest secret of theU. S. Anti-War Department. No other government had them except inimpractical imitations. I had never even seen one before.
But this bandit ship was one. And I recalled that a year ago, asuppressed dispatch intimated that the Service had lost one--wreckedin the Lowlands and never found.
So this was that lost invisible flyer? De Boer, using it forsmuggling, with Perona and Spawn as partners. And now, De Boer makingaway in it with Spawn's treasure!
The bandit's hollow, toneless, unreal chuckle sounded in the gruesomelurid green of the control room.
"I think that surprised them!"
The tiny silver shape of the baffled local patrol-ship faded behind usas we flew northward over heavy, fantastic crags; far above the tinytwinkling lights of the village of Nareda--out over the sullen darksurface of the Nares Sea.
CHAPTER XIII
_The Flight to the Bandit Stronghold_
During this flight of some six hours--north, and then, I think,northeast--to the remote Lowland fastness where De Boer's base waslocated, I had no opportunity to learn much of the operation of thisinvisible flyer. But it was the one which had been lost. Wrecked, nodoubt, and the small crew aboard it all killed. The vessel, however,was not greatly damaged: the crew were killed doubtless by escapingpoisonous gases when the flyer struck
.
How long it lay unfound, I cannot say. Perhaps, for days, it stillmaintained its invisibility, while the frantic planes of the U. S.Anti-War Department tried in vain to locate it. And then, with itsmagnetic batteries exhausting themselves, it must have become visible.Perona, making a solo flight upon Nareda business to Great London,came upon it. Perona, Spawn and De Boer were then in the midst oftheir smuggling activities. They salvaged the vessel secretly. DeBoer, with an incongruous flair for mechanical science, was enabled inhis bandit camp, to recondition the flyer--building a workshop for thepurpose, with money which Perona freely supplied.
Some of this I learned from De Boer, some is surmise: but I am sure itis close to the facts.
* * * * *
I have since had an opportunity--through my connection with thisadventure which I am recording--of going aboard one of the X-flyers ofthe Anti-War Department, and seeing it in operation with its technicaldetails explained to me. But since it is so important a Governmentsecret, I cannot set it down here. The principles involved arecomplex: the postulates employed, and the mathematical formulaedeveloping them in theory, are far too intricate for my understanding.Yet the practical workings are simple indeed. Some of them wereunderstood as far back as 1920 and '30, when that pioneer of modernastrophysics, Albert Einstein, first proved that a ray of light isdeflected from its normal straight path when passing through amagnetic field.
I am sorry that I cannot give here more than this vague hint of theworkings of the fantastic invisible flyers which to-day are so oftenthe subject of speculation by the general public which never has seenthem, and perhaps never will. But I think, too, that a lengthypedantic discourse here would be out of place. And tiring. After all,I am trying to tell only what happened to me in this adventure. And tolittle Jetta.
A very strangely capable fellow, this young De Boer. A modern pirate:no other age could have produced him. He did not spare Perona's money,that was obvious. From his hidden camp he must have made frequentvisits to the great Highland centers, purchasing scientific equipment:until now, when his path crossed mine. I found him surrounded by mostof the every-day devices of our modern world. The village of Naredawas primitive: backward. Save for its modern lights, a few localaudiphones and image-finders, and its official etheric connectionswith other world capitals, it might have been a primitive LatinAmerican village of a hundred years ago.
* * * * *
But not so De Boer's camp, which presently I was to see. Nor this, hisflyer, with which his smuggling activities had puzzled Hanley's Officefor so many months. There was nothing primitive here.
De Boer himself was a swaggering villain. I saw him now with his cloakdiscarded, in the normal tube-lights of the control room when, after atime, the mechanism of invisibility of the flyer was shut off. Afellow of six feet and a half at the very least, this De Boer. Heavy,yet with his great height and strength, lean and graceful. He wore afabric shirt, with a wide-rolled collar. A wide belt of tanned hide,with lighters, a little electron drink-cooler and other nick-nackerieshanging from tasseled cords--and a naked, ugly-looking knife bladeclipped beside a holster which held an old-fashioned explodingprojector of leaden steel-tipped bullets.
His trousers were of leather, wide-flaring, ending at his brawny bareknees, with wide-cut, limp leather boots flapping about his calves inancient piratical fashion. They had flaring soles, these shoes, forwalking upon the Lowland caked ooze. The uppers were useless: I ratherthink he wore them because they were picturesque. He was a handsomefellow, with rough-hewn features. A wide mouth, and very white, eventeeth. A cruel mouth, when it went grim. But the smile was intriguing:I should think particularly so to women.
He had a way with him, this devil-may-care bandit. Strange mixture ofa pirate of old and an outlaw of our modern world. With a sash at hiswaist, a red handkerchief about his forehead, and a bloody knifebetween his teeth. I could have fancied him a fabled pirate of theSpanish Main. A few hundred years ago when these dry Lowlands held thetossing seas. But I had seen him, so far, largely seated quietly inhis chair at his instrument table, a cigarette dangling from his lips,and, instead of a red bandanna about his forehead, merely the elasticband holding the lens of his image-finder. It caught in the locks ofhis curly black hair. He pushed it askew; and then, since he did notneed it now, discarded it altogether.
* * * * *
Where we went I could not surmise, except that we flew low over thesullen black waters of the Nares Sea and then headed northeast. Wekept well below the zero-height, with the dark crags of the Lowlandspassing under us.
The night grew darker. Storm clouds obscured the moon; and it was thenthat De Boer shut off the mechanism of invisibility. The control room,with only the watchful Gutierrez now in it--besides De Boer, Jetta andmyself--was silent and orderly. But there were sounds of roisteringfrom down the ship's corridor. The bandits, with this treasure of theradiumized quicksilver ingots aboard, were already triumphantlycelebrating.
I sat whispering with Jetta. De Boer, busy with charts andnavigational instruments, ignored us, and Gutierrez, so long as we didnot move, seemed not to object to our whispers.
The night slowly passed. De Boer served us food, calling to one of hismen to shove a slide before us. For himself, he merely drank hiscoffee and an alcoholic drink at his instrument table, while absorbedin his charts.
The roistering of the men grew louder. De Boer leaped to his feet,cursed them roundly, then went back to his calculations. He stood oncebefore Jetta, regarding her with a strange, slow smile which made myheart pound. But he turned away in a moment.
The bandits, for all De Boer's admonitions, were now ill-conditionedfor handling this flyer. But I saw, through the small grid-opening inthe control room ceiling, the pilot in his cubby upon the wing-top.He sat alert and efficient, with his lookout beside him.
* * * * *
The night presently turned really tumultuous, with a great windoverhead, and storm clouds of ink, shot through occasionally bylightning flashes. We flew lower, at minus 2,000 feet, on the average.The heavy air was sultry down here, with only a dim blurred vista ofthe depths beneath us. I fancied that now we were bending eastward,out over the great basin pit of the mid-Atlantic area. No vesselspassed us, or, if they did, I did not sight them.
De Boer had a detector on his table. Occasionally it would buzz withcalls: liners or patrols in our general neighborhood. He ignored themwith a sardonic smile. Once or twice, when our dim lights might havebeen sighted, he altered our course sharply. And, when at one periodwe passed over the lights of some Lowland settlement, he flung usagain into invisibility until we were beyond range.
I had, during these hours, ample opportunity to whisper with Jetta.But there was so little for us to say. I knew all of Spawn's andPerona's plot. Both were dead: it was De Boer with whom we weremenaced now. And as I saw his huge figure lounging at his table, andhis frowning, intent face, the vision of the aged, futile Perona, whohad previously been my adversary, seemed inoffensive indeed.
De Boer obviously was pleased with himself. He had stolen half amillion dollars of treasure, and was making off with it to his base inthe depths. He would smuggle these ingots into the world markets athis convenience; months from now, probably. Meanwhile, what did heintend to do with me? And Jetta? Ransom me? I wondered how he couldmanage it. And the thought pounded me. What about Jetta? I felt nowthat she was all the world to me. Her safety, beyond any thought ofsmugglers or treasure, was all that concerned me. But what was Igoing to do about it?
* * * * *
I pressed her hand. "Jetta, you're not too frightened, are you?"
"No, Philip."
Her mind, I think, was constantly on her father, lying dead back thereon his garden path. I had not spoken of him, save once. She threatenedinstant tears, and I stopped.
"Do not be too frightened. We'll get out of this."
/>
"Yes."
"He can't escape. Jetta; he can't hide. Why, in a day or so all thepatrols of the United States Lowland Service will be after us!"
But if the patrol-ships assailed De Boer, if he found things goingbadly--he could so easily kill Jetta and me. He might be caught, butwe would never come through it alive.
My thoughts drifted along, arriving nowhere, just circling in the samefutile rounds. I was aware of Jetta falling asleep beside me, her faceagainst my shoulder, her fingers clutching mine. She looked like ahalf grown, slender, ragged boy. But her woman's hair lay thick on myarm, and one of the dark tresses fell to my hand. I turned my fingersin it. This strange little woman. Was my love for her foredoomed toend in tragedy? I swore then that I would not let it be so.
CHAPTER XIV
_Jetta Takes a Hand_
I came from my reverie to find De Boer before me. He was standing withlegs planted wide, arms folded across his deep chest, and on his facean ironic smile.
"So tired! My little captives, _di mi_! You look like babes lost in awood."
I disengaged myself from Jetta, resting her against a cushion, and shedid not awaken. I stood up, fronting De Boer.
"What are you going to do with me?" I demanded.
He held his ironic smile. "Take you to my camp. You'll be well hidden,no one can follow me. My X-flyer's a very handy thing to have, isn'tit?"
"So you're the smuggler I was sent after?"
That really amused him. "Er--yes. Those tricksters, Perona andSpawn--we were what you would call partners. He had--the perfumedPerona--what he thought was a clever scheme for us. I was to take allthe risk, and he and Spawn get most of the money. Chah! They thought Iwas imbecile--pretending to attack a treasure and being such a foolthat I would not seize it for myself! Not De Boer!" He chuckled."Well, so very little did they know me. No treasure yet touched DeBoer's fingers without lingering!"
* * * * *
He was in a talkative mood, and drew up his chair and slouched in it.I saw that he had been drinking some alcholite beverage, not enough tobefuddle him, but enough to take the keen edge off his wits, and makehim want to talk.
"Sit down, Grant."
"I'll stand."
"As you like."
"What are you going to do with me?" I demanded again. "Try to ransomme for a fat price from the United States?"
He smiled sourly. "You need not be sarcastic, young lad. The betterfor you if I get a ransom."
"Then I hope you get it."
"Perona's idea," he added. "I will admit it looked possible: I did notknow then you had Government protection." He went grim. "That wasPerona and Spawn's trickery. Well, they paid for it. No one plays DeBoer false and lives to tell it. Perona and Spawn wanted to get rid ofyou--because you annoyed them."
"Did I?"
"With the little Jetta, I fancy." His gaze went to the sleeping Jettaand back to me. "Perona was very sensitive where this little woman wasconcerned. Why not? An oldish fool like him--"
* * * * *
I could agree with that, but I did not say so.
I said, "You'd better cast me loose, Jetta and me. I suppose yourealize, De Boer, that you'll have the patrols like a pack of houndsafter you. Jetta is a Nareda citizen: the United States will take thatup. There's the theft of the treasure. And as you say, I'm aGovernment agent."
He nodded. "Your Government is over-zealous in protecting its agents.That I know, Grant. I might have left you alone, there in the garden,when I realized it. But that, by damn, was too late! Live men talk.Any way, if I cannot ransom you, to kill you is very easy. And deadmen are shut-mouthed."
"I'm still alive, De Boer."
He eyed me. "You talk brave."
This condescending, amused giant!
I retorted. "How are you going to ransom me?"
"That," he said. "I have not yet planned it. A delicate business."
I ventured, "And Jetta?" My heart was beating fast.
"Jetta," he said with a sudden snap, "is none of your business."
Again his gaze went toward her. "I might marry her: why not? I am notwholly a villain. I could marry her legally in Cape Town, with all thetrappings of clergy--and be immune from capture under the laws there.If she is seventeen. I have forgotten her age, it's been so long sinceI knew her. Is she seventeen? She does not look it."
I said shortly. "I don't know how old she is."
"But we can ask her when she awakens, can't we?"
* * * * *
He was amusing himself with me. And yet, looking back on it now, Ibelieve he was more than half serious. From his pouch he drew a smallcylinder. "Have a drink, Grant. After all I bear you no ill-will. Aman can but follow his trade: you were trying to be a good Governmentagent."
"Thanks."
"And then you may make it possible for me to pick a nice ransom.Here."
"I hope so." I declined the drink.
"Afraid for your wits?"
I said impulsively, "I want all my wits to make sure you handle thisransom properly, De Boer. I'm as interested as you are: in that atleast, we are together."
He grinned, tipped the cylinder at his lips for a long drink.
"Quite so--a mutual interest. Let us be friends over it."
His gaze wandered back to Jetta. He added slowly:
"She is very lovely, Grant. A little woodland flower, just ready forplucking." A sentimental tone, but there was in his expression aribald flippancy that sent a shudder through me. "She has quiteovercome you, Grant. Well, why not me as well? I am certainly more ofa man than you. We must admit that Perona had a good eye."
* * * * *
My thoughts were wandering. Suppose I could not find an opportunity toescape with Jetta? De Boer might successfully ransom me and take herto Cape Town. Or if he feared that to try for the ransom would be toodangerous, doubtless he would kill me out of hand. An ill outcomeindeed! Nor could I forget that there was half a million of treasureinvolved.
It was obvious to me that Hanley would not permit the patrol-ships toattack De Boer with the lives of Jetta and myself at stake. Hanleyknew, or suspected, that De Boer was operating an invisible flyer, butI did not see how that could help Hanley much. Markes, acting forNareda, would doubtless be willing to ransom Jetta: the United Stateswould ransom me. I must urge the ransom plan, because for all themoney in the world I would not endanger Jetta, nor let this banditcarry her off.
Or could I escape with her, and still find some means to save thetreasure? It was Jetta's treasure now, two-thirds of it, for it hadlegally belonged to her father. Could I save it, and her as well?
Not by any move of mine, here now on this flyer. That was impossible.In De Boer's camp, perhaps. But that, too, I doubted. He was tooclever a scoundrel to be lax in guarding me.
But in the effecting of a ransom--the exchange of me, and perhapsJetta, for a sum of money--that would be a delicate transaction, andsome little thing could easily go wrong for De Boer. There would be mychance. I would have to make something go wrong! Get in his confidencenow so that I would have some say in arranging the details of theransom. Make him think I was only concerned for my own safety. Appearclever in helping plan the exchange. And then so manipulate the thingthat I could escape with Jetta and save the treasure--and the ransommoney as well. And capture De Boer, since that was what Hanley hadsent me out to accomplish.
* * * * *
Thoughts fly swiftly. All this flashed to me. I had no details as yet.But that I must get into De Boer's confidence stood but clearly.
I said abruptly, "De Boer, since we are to be friends--"
"So you prefer to sit down now?"
"Yes." I had drawn a small settle to face him. "De Boer, do you intendto ask a ransom for Jetta?"
"You insist with that question?"
"That is my way. Then we can understand each other. Do you?"
"No," he said shortly.
I frowned. "I think I could get you a big price."
"I think I should prefer the little Jetta, Grant."
I held myself outwardly unmoved. "I don't blame you. But you willransom me? It can be worked out. I have some ideas."
"Yes," he agreed. "It can be worked perhaps. I have not thought ofdetails yet. You are much concerned for your safety, Grant? Fear not."
An amused thought evidently struck him. He added. "It occurs to me howeasy, if I am going to ransom you, it will be for me to send you backdead. You might, if I send you back alive, tell them a lot of thingsabout me."
"I will not talk."
"Not," he said, "if I close your mouth for good."
* * * * *
I had no retort. There was no answering such logic; and with hismurders of Spawn and Perona, and the deaths of some of the policeguards at the mine, the murder of me would not put him in much worse aposition.
He was laughing ironically. Suddenly he checked himself.
"Well, Jetta! So you have awakened?"
Jetta was sitting erect. How long she had been awake, what she hadheard. I could not say. Her gaze went from De Boer to me, and backagain.
"Yes, I am awake."
It seemed that the look she flashed me carried a warning. But whateverit was, I had no chance of pondering it, for it was driven from mymind by surprise at her next words.
"Awake, yes! And interested, hearing this Grant bargain with you forhis life."
It surprised De Boer as well. But the alcholite had dulled his wits,and Jetta realized this, and presumed upon it.
"Ho!" exclaimed De Boer. "Our little bird is angry!"
"Not angry. It is contempt."
Her look to me now held contempt. It froze me with startled chagrin;but only for an instant, and then the truth swept me. Strange Jetta! Ihad thought of her only as a child; almost, but not quite a woman. Afrightened little woodland fawn.
"Contempt, De Boer. Is he not a contemptuous fellow, this American?"
Again I caught her look and understood it. This was a differentJetta. No longer helplessly frightened, but a woman, fighting. She hadheard De Boer calmly saying that he might send me back dead--and shewas fighting now for me.
De Boer took another drink, and stared at her. "What is this?"
She turned away. "Nothing. But if you are going to ransom me--"
"I am not, little bird."
* * * * *
She showed no aversion for him, and it went to his head, stronger thanthe drink. "Never would I ransom you!"
He reached for her, but nimbly she avoided him. Acting, but cleverenough not to overdo it. I held myself silent: I had caught again theflash of a warning gaze from her. She had fathomed my purpose. Get hisconfidence. Beguile him. And woman is so much cleverer than thetrickiest man at beguiling!
"Do not touch me, De Boer! He tried that. He held my hand in themoonlight--to woo me with his clever words."
"Hah! Grant, you hear her?"
"And I find him now not a man, but a craven--"
"But you will find me a man, Jetta." De Boer was hugely amused. "SeeGrant, we are rivals! You and Perona, then you and me. It is well foryou that I fear you not, or I would run my knife through you now."
I could not mistake Jetta's shudder. But De Boer did not see it, forshe covered it by impulsively putting her hand upon his arm.
"Did you--did you kill my father?" She stumbled over the question. Butshe asked it with a childlike innocence sufficiently real to convincehim.
"I? Why--" He recovered from his surprise. "Why no, little bird. Whotold you that I did?"
"No one. I--no one has said anything about it." She added slowly, "Ihoped that it was not you, De Boer."
"Me? Oh no: it was an accident." He shot me a menacing glance. "I willexplain it all. Jetta. Your father and I were friends for years--"
"Yes. I know. Often he spoke to me of you. Many times I asked him tolet me meet you."
* * * * *
They were ignoring me. But Gutierrez, lurking in the door oval, wasnot: I was well aware of that.
"I remember you from years ago, little Jetta."
"And I remember you."
I understand the rationality of her purpose. She could easily get DeBeer's confidence. She had known him when a child. Her father had beenhis business partner, presumably his friend. And I saw her nowcleverly altering her status here. She had been a captive, allied withme. She was changing that. She was now Spawn's daughter, here with herdead father's friend.
She turned a gaze of calm aversion upon me. "Unless you want him here,De Boer. I would rather talk to you--without him."
He leaped to his feet. "Hah! that pleases me, little Jetta! Gutierrez,take this fellow away."
The Spanish-American came slouching forward. "The girl's an oldfriend, Commander? You never told me that."
"Because it is no business of yours. Take him away. Seal him inD-cubby."
I said sullenly. "I misjudged both of you."
Jetta's gaze avoided me. As Gutierrez shoved me roughly down thecorridor, De Boer laughed, and his voice came back: "Do not be afraid.We will find some safe way of ransoming you--dead or alive!"
I was flung on a bunk in one of the corridor cubbies, and the doorsealed upon me.
(_To be continued._)
