by André Caroff
At first sight, Witter noted that Susan Doolittle had taken absolutely nothing with her. Her wardrobe looked full and the suitcases were on the top shelf of the closet. Moreover, in a small jewelry box, Witter found earrings, a ring, two heavy gold bracelets and a watch set with diamonds. More than anything else, this proved that the young lady had fled on the spot, without looking back, like a robot following urgent orders.
Witter brought all his men back to the car and waited for Charles Hyde to call. This happened seven minutes later. After exchanging their codes he said, “The girl hasn’t been seen anywhere, Eddy. Her parents haven’t heard from her for more than a week, but her fiancé saw her the day before yesterday. Everyone says she was normal, with nothing particular on her mind and nobody understand what could have got in her head.”
“You said it,” Witter groaned.
“Motor-brain?”
“Most likely. She took off without taking anything, without even coming back home. Has her description been circulated?”
“Yes, but the Doolittle girl’s got a good headstart on us and I don’t think watching the airports and train station is going to help us. On the other hand, we might get a lead from the highway patrol.”
“Ah!” Witter exclaimed, not expecting so much. “Don’t tell me she took off in her car.”
“Nothing’s for sure. Maybe she only used it to get to a nearby airport, but anyway, wherever we find the car, we’ll have a good place to start.”
The conversation stopped there as far as Susan Doolittle was concerned and the two FBI cars went back to radio central at the FBI building. If any information could put them on her trail, that was where it would come.
At 2 a.m. a newsflash came through the teletype. It said that Susan’s car, a Plymouth, had just been found in the parking lot of the Washington-Virginia airport. The G-men crossed the city, went immediately to the main airport office and discovered Susan’s name on the passenger list of a Boeing that had taken off at 9:08 p.m. for Los Angeles, California. Since the duration of the flight was five and a half hours, Susan should still be on the plane since her ticket was good for the whole flight. However, it just as well could have been a trick and the girl could get off at one of the scheduled layovers.
A simple radio-message to the captain on board answered Witter and Hyde’s question with a certain anxiety: Susan Doolittle was still on board the Boeing that would land at 2:38 a.m. in Lockheed Air Terminal located 16 miles northeast of Los Angeles.
It took about 30 minutes for Witter to inform Smith Beffort, who was in Reno so he could certainly get to L.A. pretty quickly and deal with the Doolittle girl. Considering how important she was in this new Atomos affair, there was no doubt that Beffort would decide to focus his energy on her. In the past, it was always through her servants that Madame Atomos was unmasked, hunted down and finally forced into fleeing as fast as possible to save her skin.
The Boeing landed on time and the wave of passengers headed for the main hall. Almost all of them had luggage, except for one young brunette, not very pretty, but nice enough to look at, who carried only her handbag.
“There she is,” Akamatsu spotted her first with his eagle eye. “We should give her some room.”
Susan Doolittle had never seen Smith Beffort, Akamatsu or Dr. Soblen, but it was a good precaution because the young lady’s eyes were cameras sending pictures back to the Great Brain by means of the motor-brain implanted in her head by the surgeons of Madame Atomos at some date that Susan was probably totally ignorant of.
Moreover, since Madame Atomos had let her lead a normal life, it was clear that the young lady was probably completely unaware of her operation. At some time in the past the Atomos Organization figured it would be good to have a servant in the FBI headquarters and Susan had the dreadful honor of being chosen by the computers on Atomia Island. Consequently, they must have snuck into her house at night, put her into a deep sleep with some powerful anesthesia and placed the extraordinary motor-brain in her head, which would transform her into a robot. Since the surgeons of Madame Atomos had perfected this type of surgery, Susan could have woken up fresh as a daisy and gone to work as if nothing had happened, feeling not even the slightest post-operative pain. But from then on, she was entirely under the control and an integral part of the Great Brain, like a finger is part of a hand. Therefore, if she saw one of the three men who were waiting for her at the airport, the Great Brain would see them at the same time, maybe a split second later. And the Great Brain knew the descriptions of everyone fighting against Madame Atomos.
“This young lady works for our enemy,” Dr. Soblen said. “That’s a certainty now.”
Beffort nodded silently. The servants of the Organization had a particular walk, a strange way of holding their heads and a cloudy look in their eyes that betrayed no emotion. Unfortunately, not everyone was able to recognize a servant only by these details, which explained why the Organization could rather easily infiltrate American society.
Susan Doolittle was just one piece of a vast network firmly implanted in the United States. Because of one mistake her real personality had just been revealed but tomorrow Beffort might find out that J.E.E. himself was working for Madame Atomos without knowing it. Of course, this was only hypothetical but it was in the realm of possibilities…
Susan Doolittle entered the hall, crossed it and went straight to a car that was parked at the end of the lot. It was a new Cadillac painted hot pink, not made to go unnoticed. This put Beffort instantly on the alert.
“Watch out,” he warned, “I have the feeling that Susan is here just to lead us into a trap.”
Soblen was startled. “Damn but your way of drawing conclusions from the smallest anomaly is staggering.”
“It’s too easy, doc, too easy,” Beffort grumbled. “Susan left a trail as big as a river behind her so we practically couldn’t miss her.”
“I agree,” Akamatsu declared. “Madame Atomos first got us to Reno by making the desert burn and now we’re forced to follow the Doolittle girl. I wonder what she’s been doing all this time?”
Soblen sighed and watched the landscape roll by. “You’re too suspicious,” he said, wiping his fogged up glasses, “and in a way you refuse to admit that Madame Atomos is fallible. How can she be certain that we’re on Susan’s tail.”
“She doesn’t know it yet,” Akamatsu said, “but that damn Great Brain is fully capable of calculating the probabilities. Susan has behaved suspiciously since she left. Her escape could have been a lot more discreet. Look, her Plymouth was left in plain sight at the Washington airport. Now she’s driving around in a hot pink Cadillac. If she knew the FBI was following her and counted on getting us into a trap, she’s couldn’t have done better. Where’s she going, Smith?”
Beffort shrugged, took a turn and said, “I wonder myself. She’s taking Highway 99, that’s all I can tell you.”
Soblen looked at a map. “If she keeps on it, we’ll end up in Sacramento. Hey, Sacramento isn’t far from Reno!”
“On the map, doc,” Beffort replied, “but in reality there’s almost 100 miles between the two cities. Your habit of taking airplanes is making you lose your sense of distance. Anyway, there’s something not right…”
“You mean that Madame Atomos’ attack seems to be focused on the States she was asking for?”
Beffort nodded and changed the subject, “Since we left Reno, we’ve been kind of cut off from the world. This car doesn’t have a radio and we can’t know what’s happening elsewhere. I’ve never felt so strongly like I’m being played.”
When Susan’s Cadillac reached a turnoff, it turned straight onto Highway 6. “Toward Mojave,” Soblen said, “but it joins up with 395, which goes to Reno!”
No one said anything. Akamatsu just grabbed the case containing the paralyzing rifles and took one out, placing it between his knees.
Beffort glanced at him. “Uncomfortable, Yosho?”
“No. I have the same feeling as you, Smith.
It was wrong for all three of us to come down here. In two years, this is the first time that the principle enemies of Madame Atomos have been together on what you might call the battlefield. And we’re especially vulnerable in this car. One shot from a disintegrator rifle and little Susan can wipe us all out. I don’t like it.”
“Okay, at Mojave you get out, Yosho. Soblen and I will follow her while you get in touch with the local FBI. Your job will be to cover us and control the region. But do it on the sly. We can’t alert Susan and the Great Brain.”
Akamatsu looked relieved and then suddenly thought of something. “We can do the opposite if you want. I’ll take the wheel and you get out at Mojave.”
Beffort grinned. “None of that between us, Yosho.”
“Please…”
“Look at you!” Soblen interjected scornfully. “Trying to be polite when Madame Atomos is once again raising hell! While you two are dancing around, I’ll have you know that Susan is about to lose us!”
The taillights of the Cadillac were, indeed, just two small points in the distance. Beffort slammed on the accelerator, flew over a series of small hills and got to the top of the last time in time to see the Cadillac speeding around a turn.
Akamatsu noted, “The warm-up is over. It looks like Susan has spotted us.”
Beffort pushed the car even faster and drove like a bat out of hell for a few miles, but he only caught up with the Cadillac in Mojave. The two cars entered the sleepy town and Beffort said, “Get ready to jump out, Yosho.”
“Okay, but drop me off at the end of the street by the taxis you see there and don’t worry about anything. I’ll watch over you like a mother.”
When he came to the taxi stand, Beffort lifted his foot. Akamatsu said, “See you.” He opened the door and glided out.
Soblen closed the door, clambered over the seat and sat next to Beffort. “Yosho just got into a taxi,” the G-man said, watching the rear-view mirror.
Soblen grabbed the paralyzing rifle and as the car was already leaving Mojave said, “The next town is Bishop, but it’s 160 miles away and Yosho will have plenty of time to set up a tracking network.”
“If the Cadillac goes that far,” Beffort did not hide his pessimism. “What time is it, doc?”
The doctor looked at his watch. “3:30. I didn’t think we’d been driving for so long. And to think that we got from Reno to Los Angeles in 25 minutes by plane. That could put you off driving forever.”
In front of them, the Cadillac kept a fast, steady pace. “It’ll have to stop for gas sometime,” Soblen said, who hated speed. All of a sudden Beffort looked at his gas gauge. The tank was still three quarters full. “Smith!” Soblen shouted. “Look!”
Beffort looked up and saw the Cadillac’s lights make a wide turn and get lost in the forest that the road cut through. “What does that mean?” Beffort grumbled.
He slowed down gradually and then came to a full stop when all the trees suddenly caught fire in front of him. It had been quick, but the blaze was raging and spreading at a fantastic rate. The Cadillac was nowhere in sight and the burning trees that barred the road kept them from going any farther. Moreover, the fire was rushing toward the two men, burning up the vegetation on the side of the road. The heat was already unbearable.
Without a word, Beffort whipped the car around and cursed when he saw that the fire had mysteriously extended behind him to cut off their retreat.
“Well,” Soblen said calmly, “You were right. The trap was set and we jumped in with both feet.”
“We have to get out of the car, doc. Move it! In one minute it’ll be too late.”
Soblen did not answer, but he was sure that it was already too late.
Chapter VI
Akamatsu got in a taxi and was taken to the Mojave police headquarters. The Japanese knew that if he wanted to assure his friends’ safety, he did not have a second to lose. When he jumped out of the taxi, Akamatsu had an emergency plan for the situation that was adapted to all the present demands. He rushed into the station and before saying anything showed his mission order stamped with the seal of the White House and signed by the President. This was a sure way to get instant action and both support and resentment.
The first thing Akamatsu said was, “I need an airplane, a case of grenades and a rifle with a scope. All of it in ten minutes.”
The lieutenant he was talking to was all thumbs. “I have grenades and a rifle, but no plane will be ready to take off for 30 minutes. On the other hand, our helicopter has been on alert since the fire…”
Akamatsu cut him off, “Warn the pilot. Give me the grenades and the rifle and get me to the airfield.”
“Can you tell us what’s happening?”
“Madame Atomos,” Akamatsu said.
The lieutenant had a little jolt, gave his orders and the station went into a fever of excitement. Two minutes later Akamatsu was speeding toward the airfield while the pilot was informed by telephone. When he arrived at his destination, the helicopter was ready to take off. The squad car stopped ten feet from the machine and Akamatsu changed vehicles with his bag of grenades and the rifle.
“Okay!” he shouted over the furious roar of the rotor. “Follow Highway 6. Go!”
The helicopter howled off the ground, tipped slightly and sped off to the north. Akamatsu looked at his watch. Only nine minutes had passed since he left Beffort’s car. And only the name of Madame Atomos could accomplish such miracles.
“Target?” the pilot asked.
“Two cars driving toward Bishop. They’re about half a mile apart. In the first is a woman who works for the Atomos Organization.” He had sat in one of the three empty seats and was watching Mojave disappear. The road was unwinding deliriously under the belly of the helicopter and then his eye caught a bright light flooding the sky very far to the northwest. “What’s that burning over there?”
“The forest,” the pilot responded. “It’s been burning for an hour and a half. The blaze started over by Dos Palos and several towns are already under threat. It seems that another fire broke out in a big department store and is about to destroy a whole district of Sacramento. That’s why we were on alert.” He stopped talking and pointed to the highway. “I see headlights behind those hills!”
Akamatsu nodded, but he did not know if they were the cars of Smith Beffort and Susan Doolittle, seeing that they were still far away and only the headlights were visible. Two long beams of light separated by a large area of darkness that looked strangely immobile because of the helicopter’s superior speed.
They got closer over the next few minutes and when they were no more than a mile behind the back car, the fire suddenly broke out on both sides of Highway 6. In the blink of an eye, the night become fantastically bright while the flames devoured the dry vegetation, running along the embankment and rushing to join another fire that had spontaneously burst out farther back. In the midst of this hell, on a stretch of road that was still clear but being narrowed every second, Beffort’s car had just made a quick U-turn and just as quickly stopped before a curtain of fire.
“Put it down!” Akamatsu yelled.
But the helicopter was already plunging toward death. The pilot had seen that the two men in the car could not escape by themselves because they were completely encircled by flames. Flames that were strangely intelligent or being guided like a radio-controlled missile, bearing down in only one direction.
“Be careful,” the pilot warned, “I’m putting her down.”
On the ground Beffort and Soblen were running in a rain of glowing embers, a continual barrage that did not spare the car, whose seats were starting to burn. The helicopter touched the ground between two trees that were burning, collapsing onto the road in a shower of sparks and shooting out dangerous firebrands. Akamatsu threw open the door, helped Soblen and then Beffort into the cabin that was heating up from the invasive flames. Then the helicopter roared and shot up over the fire that looked like it was chasing them with its hooked claws befo
re it was blown away by the gusts from the rotor blades.
“By the skin of our teeth,” Beffort said. “We owe you our lives, Yosho.”
The Japanese waved it off. “And now?” he asked.
“Now,” Soblen said, turning quite pale, “we’re going to be crossed off the list of the Great Brain’s enemies. Personally, I’m delighted. For me, it’s the best thing that’s happened all year.” As his legs gave way, he collapsed into a seat.
Beffort sat down in turn and pointed to the highway beyond the fire. “Susan Doolittle is continuing her trip.” The Cadillac’s headlights were, in fact, clearly visible between the hills.
“How did she manage to set the forest on fire so quickly?” Akamatsu asked.
“Phosphorous strips,” Soblen offered. “They were shooting out of her car like fireworks. As you can see, the girl is out to set fire to all of California.”
Akamatsu showed them his bag of grenades and rifle. “To stop her would be relatively easy with this, but I don’t think her death would solve our problem.”
“Certainly not,” Beffort said. “Plus, I don’t think she’s really equipped to start fires. Her job was to destroy us. Now that she’s done her duty she might just go into hiding, to some meeting point from where they’ll take her to Atomia Island.”
“That would be logical,” Akamatsu agreed. “Susan is being sought by all the police and her description is known. She can no longer be any use to the Great Brain in the United States.”
The pilot turned to him. “Should I keep following the car?”
