by Guy d'Armen
Ardan realized it would be useless for him to resist. The diabolical character was too powerful and his infernal ship to well-equipped with hellish devices for any possibility of a successful escape.
“I see you’re beginning to understand,” continued Mendax. “You’ve realized that everything here has been carefully conceived and meticulously constructed. In fact, I studied in France, although I’m originally from Russia. I received my doctorate in science from the Faculté de Paris.
“I had quite a considerable fortune in Russia; mostly in the form of lands that were worked by hundreds of muzhiks. But one day, I got taken over by gambling fever and soon I had lost everything...
“I was well educated and could have become a professor, but on reflection, I decided to use my knowledge in a different way. Little by little, I came to the realization of a plan that you could almost call ‘philanthropic’ in nature. After all, isn’t it philanthropic towards those who work for me, that I take a portion of those fortunes that I deem too large and share them?
“In fact, I would estimate that your father is worth $350 million, and that is just too much, boy! Much too much! And all that because some savages thought he deserved to be given a gold mine! Well what do you say to a small ransom of $100 million? After I get it, you’ll be as free as a bird!”
“I would say that you’re the filthiest scoundrel in the world!”
“Excellent! Insults don’t bother me, boy. Now, you will write to your father, or tell me his wireless code. He’ll get it, because I freed up his receiver not long ago. I had arranged things so that your yacht was unable to communicate, or even turn on its signal beam.”
“I won’t write a damned thing!”
“Very well. You think about it, boy; your freedom can only be purchased at the price I’ve given you.”
Mendax pulled back the red curtain at the far end of the room and Ardan was able to see the impressive equipment that had been installed.
A large tube contained a pair of clearly recognizable binoculars and was obviously a periscope. That meant that the ship was also a submarine as well as a surface vessel. The young man understood the strange feeling that had made him think they were sinking.
The fierce character felt it necessary to continue explaining to him why resistance was futile:
“I can change the Astaroth from a surface vessel to a submarine at will. At the moment, we’re traveling at a depth of 60 meters. In a while, you’ll see that’s not all my ship is capable of doing.”
Scientific interest took hold of Ardan, who forgot his situation for long enough to question his captor:
“You’re able to navigate without looking through your periscope?”
Mendax smiled sardonically.
“The Americans invented a gyroscopic compass. For the last ten years, many of their boats have been equipped with a system that allows them to pilot automatically without human intervention. The chosen course is maintained as long as the coordinates aren’t changed. It’s worry-free, because it’s more vigilant than any helmsman. I travel alone because I don’t like chatter on board, so I have all the automatic devices that I need.”
The brigand was enjoying the astonishment of the young prisoner in his steel cage. He waited to see if he would give in, but Ardan was determined to resist, despite the means of his powerful opponent.
The monster who had captured him seemed not to be worried in the least about navigating the Astaroth, even though she was 60 meters beneath the water. She was headed south-east and he didn’t even check to be sure that her course was true. Everything seemed to be perfectly guided by the ingenious systems created by Mendax.
Ardan watched as the pirate pulled a small cube of less than a centimeter on each side, out of the closet. Then Mendax ate it.
“The food here is simple,” he said. “But the nutritional value of what I just ate is equivalent to two pounds of meat.”
He got another cube and offered it to his prisoner. Ardan wished that it was poison so that he could escape the nightmare into which he had been plunged. He ate the tiny morsel and was astonished to feel that his hunger had disappeared almost immediately.
Suddenly, they heard a very soft rumbling noise. A light started to glow green, then turned orange and finally violet.
Mendax smiled briefly, then flipped a switch. The noise stopped and on a white screen they could see a black line that looked as if some invisible hand had traced it with a pencil. Ardan remembered seeing something similar in a cinema, but what seemed the most strange was the presence of a black dot which moved without creating any line itself.
The young man quickly figured it out, however.
The black line, he thought, must be the course of another ship, while the black dot is clearly the Astaroth. What new crime is this madman preparing?
Mendax seemed to have completely forgotten his prisoner, who was under control and incapable of moving. He carefully examined the black line and muttered:
“3,500 meters! 3,200!”
He pressed a lever and a red streak appeared. It was a band of about a millimeter in width and flashed, then disappeared for several seconds.
The streak appeared to have emanated from the black point, moved to the black line, then returned back to the black point.
“900 meters!” muttered the pirate. “It’s time to stop!”
Indeed, the Astaroth did stop and as she did, the black dot representing her on the screen turned purple. The red streak flashed again and Mendax laughed in a way that made Ardan feel chilled. He saw the pirate gently press a button and heard the noise of gears turning.
Mendax then took hold of an acoustic tube that was hanging from his control panel and spoke into it in a sharp voice that terrorized his young prisoner even further:
“Empress of India, halt!”
What kind of menace could such simple words contain? What extraordinary means had Mendax used so that they could be heard on a ship sailing on the Arabian Sea?
It needed an incredible amplification that would also not distort the sound. Certainly it was well ahead of anything that Ardan knew of loud speakers.
Mendax continued in a voice that was just as distinct, but slightly less loud:
“Empress of India, stop now or I’ll sink you!”
There is no doubt about it, Ardan told himself, this monster has created an amazing means to sow terror on ships by causing his voice to suddenly surge from the waves in mid-ocean.
He watched the black line that he thought was the trajectory of the other ship. It seemed to continue on its way as if nothing unusual had occurred.
He wondered about what was going to happen next.
CHAPTER III
The Looting of the Empress of India
Above the water, the passengers of the Empress of India were witness to a strange phenomenon.
At just after 10 p.m., from deep below the sea, a loud, mysterious voice ordered them to stop. They had just finished dinner and were strolling on the deck, or relaxing in chaise-lounges, enjoying the cool night breeze and the shining stars above, when the astonishing, booming command had shaken them out of their reveries.
“We must be the victims of some kind of collective hallucination,” said Lord Harry Smith, the wealthy British landowner. “I heard it’s frequent at sea in these latitudes.”
The officer on duty thought he had fallen prey to an illusion, until his fellow sailors confirmed that they, too, had heard the voice. Then, they heard the second warning.
Someone put forth the notion of a secret ventriloquist on board, using a hidden amplifier. Much discussion ensued, but all felt anxious at the notion that someone, or something, might actually threaten the Empress of India, the jewel of the mighty Peninsular & Oriental Steam Navigation Company.
Suddenly, they saw a bubbling, phosphorescent turbulence stream across the top of the waves towards the ship.
“A torpedo!” screamed several anguished voices. “We’re doomed!”
The engine of death was zooming towards the ship at incredible speed. Some passengers, panicking, jumped overboard into the sea; some didn’t even take the time to put on lifejackets!
Then, there was a loud, clanging sound—but, fortunately, no explosion!
The passengers breathed a collective sigh of relief and hope returned as Captain Foley, now on the bridge, ordered the ship forward at full speed.
But then, the loud, threatening voice was heard again:
“Empress of India, this is my last warning! The next torpedo will be loaded with explosives. None of you will escape with your lives. If you don’t want to dine with Davy Jones tonight, you will stop at once!”
Panic immediately returned, this time even more exacerbated. The passengers surrounded the captain and begged him to obey the orders of the mighty madman that some though was the Devil himself.
Captain Foley had no choice.
“Stop the engines!” he ordered.
The Empress of India slowed to a crawl as the valves released powerful jets of steam; the ship continued her course for a few minutes while the passengers, now silent, were contemplating whatever sinister fate was in store for them.
Diabolical; laughter burst from the still surface of the water, as if it had emanated from some bellowing monster of the depths.
On the deck of the Empress of India, several passengers fainted. Some feared they might go mad.
The mysterious voice started again, this time with a triumphant tone:
“I only strike at the very rich! Lord Harry Smith, who owns more than a dozen vast estates in the United Kingdom! John Dorgan, the so-called Platinum King! Mr. Pleinhosas, whose Greek merchant fleet is comprised of thirty vessels, not counting three personal yachts! Señor Ramiro Fuentes of Argentina, whose cattle herds are the largest in the world! Monsieur le Comte de Hautefeuille, whose family fought side by side with King Philippe-le-Bel! I have selected you to pay the ransom that will save your ship and her passengers. I know there are two million pounds in the ship’s safe, and with all the money and jewels carried by the passengers, I estimate the fortune on board to be a total of fifty millions pounds. I charge you with collecting this money and all the valuables, and reimbursing their legitimate owners. You have half-an-hour to do this. At the end of this period, you will deposit the loot onto a dinghy that I will release. If you try to cheat me with phony jewelry or short-change me, you will all die! Understood? Now, go!”
At first, a general sense of consternation filled the passengers, but very quickly, human nature being what it is, those who had not been singled out by Mendax’s threats, became almost cheerful again, and helped organize the collection of the boodle.
Captain Foley asked himself how the pirate could have known so precisely how much wealth was on board. If he had checked out the crew one by one, he would have noticed a somewhat smug smile on the face of one Hong Seng, a Chinese cook who had previously sold that information to Mendax for a thousand piasters in Calcutta, three days earlier. For the diabolical pirate had cultivated a network of secret informers in the world’s busiest harbors who kept him apprised of such plundering opportunities.
The captain had set up a table on the forward deck. One of the passengers, a renowned jeweler from Haiderabad, appraised the pile of jewelry that had been gathered and deposited before him. No one tried to cheat or short-change the pirate because of the reality of his deadly threat which had been made so clear, and the sense that any attempt at doing so was doomed to fail.
“This small diamond is worth 5,000 pounds… This emerald, 20,000 pounds… This pearl necklace, 100,000 pounds…”
The five designated victims pulled out their checkbooks and, one after the other, indemnified the passengers.
“Gentlemen, we’re at 37.5 million,” said the purser who was keeping count, “and we’ve only got 12 minutes left!”
After a final rush of activity, the purser declared: “Fifty million!”
As if the mysterious underwater pirate had heard these words, the announced dinghy appeared on the surface of the sea. Six sturdy sailors took the loot of cash and jewels and deposited it inside.
Suddenly, they heard a click and saw the money and the valuables swallowed inside a false bottom that held a waterproof safe that was then collected by Mendax.
Ardan saw the pirate captain absent himself for a few minutes, then return with the safe.
The man must also be an expert jeweler, thought the young man. Otherwise how could he know if he hasn’t been cheated…
But Mendax wasn’t a science-pirate for nothing. He spread the stolen jewelry on a workbench, then grabbed a strange tubular device, one end of which was connected to an electric generator and bathed the contents of the safe in an eerie violet light. Under it, pearls shone black, diamonds green, sapphires pink and emeralds orange… Checking the authenticity of the jewels took less than fifteen minutes.
Then Mendax grabbed a microphone and said:
“Empress of India, you may be on your way. I thank you for your generous contribution!”
And the pirate’s satanic laugh filled the air as the vessel sped away.
Mendax turned to Ardan and gloated:
“Do you understand my methods, now, young man? In the old days, I would have had to board that ship and fight a bloody battle to secure this loot. People would have been killed. I might even have been disturbed by a warship on patrol, which would have complicated matters further. Today, I remain invisible, and I operate in a relatively risk-free environment, for myself and my victims. And all thanks to scientific progress!
“I could have done the same with your yacht, the Isolde, but you were already too close to the coast when I caught up with you, and there wasn’t enough depth for my wonderful craft to operate safely. So I had to use other means to make you my prisoner. But the silver lining is that it’s enabled you to discover my wonderful Astaroth for yourself. And you will see many more wonders if your father doesn’t pay the paltry contribution I require.”
“$100 million is not a paltry sum, you bandit,” protested Ardan.
“Pah! It’s less than a third of your family fortune!”
“What do you plan to do with all this cash anyway?”
“I need it to pay for the maintenance of my ship, and the expenses of my occasional collaborators. Also, I don’t work all year long: in the winter, I retire to my estate.”
“You have an estate and no one has arrested you yet?”
“Ha!” laughed Mendax. “That’s because my Estate is located in a place that no one but I has yet discovered!”
Ardan was puzzled by this revelation. He knew that Mendax wasn’t lying, but he couldn’t fathom the mystery of the location of the villain’s lair.
Leaving the young doctor to his thoughts, the pirate returned to his desk and absorbed himself in the contemplation of a map, performing various calculations. Eventually he walked to the control console and activated various machines.
Ardan felt that the Astaroth was rising, beyond even the time it would taken to reach the surface of the sea.
Indeed, when Mendax pressed a button which caused a wall panel to slide open, he discovered a myriad of stars. The Astaroth was in flight!
Built with a metal lighter than aluminum but tougher than steel, Mendax’s ship could turn into a sky vessel!
The craft was flying northward; soon, they would fly over India, likely en route towards the pirate’s mysterious lair.
All the events of the day finally took their toll on Ardan, who slowly fell asleep. Mendax, who didn’t appear to need sleep, began reading a book, entrusting the direction of his flight to his sophisticated autopilot device. He had calculated that their journey was 2000 nautical miles long and at their present speed of 200 miles per hour, it would take them ten hours to reach their destination. They would arrive around 9 a.m. local time, the best moment to not be obstructed by the ever-present mists which surrounded his estate.
Ardan’s sleep was anything but calm,
and he had many nightmares. When he woke up, he immediately realized that the Astaroth had landed.
Mendax stood before him, but he wasn’t alone. Next to him was an elderly Chinese man, with a white beard, dressed in a scarlet robe embroidered with purple dragons.
“Please come with us, Mister Ardan,” said the Chinese.
CHAPTER IV
The Sinister Kyzyl Kaya
Doc Ardan rubbed his eyes. Where was he and who was this Chinese man who stood next to Mendax?
For the time being, he decided that his best, if not only, option was to obey, so he got up and followed his captors.
He walked down a gangplank leading to solid ground, confirming his earlier impression that the Astaroth had landed. He followed Mendax and the Chinese man down a flight of stone steps until they reached a heavy wooden door with iron locks.
Mendax opened the door and an intense bright light caused the young doctor to blink. It took his eyes several seconds to get used to the glare. Then he noticed that a third man was sitting behind an antique Chinese desk covered with newspapers and documents.
He was a white man with a Mephistophelean face, dressed all in scarlet, wearing a black toque with a feather in it. He was cadaverishly thin and extremely tall; his nearly phosphorescent blue eyes gleamed in the hollow of their dark orbits. His face was ageless, without lines, and his long black hair was impeccably parted in the middle.
Ardan found it difficult to withstand the glare of the man’s eyes when they came to rest upon him.
“You are Francis Ardan, Jr., the son of the notorious millionaire?” asked the man.
The young doctor nodded.
“Excellent, Please sit down. I imagine the conditions of your journey here have been somewhat less than pleasant.”
Ardan obeyed and sat in a plush armchair.
“You are also understandably puzzled by all that you have seen so far. Since I play the role of host to the guests that our dear Captain Mendax occasionally brings here, it is my job to satisfy your curiosity. I can already guess what your first question is… You want to know where you are? I wouldn’t have answered that question yesterday because a young man as resourceful as you might have been able to escape from the Astaroth… It’s happened before,” he added, throwing a dark glance at Mendax. “But it is impossible to escape from here—for you are at the top of Mount Everest!”
