by André Caroff
Akamatsu whistled through his teeth. The Chevrolet had been thrown against another car by the blast from the explosion. Its front grill and fender were smashed in and the windows shattered. Soblen’s forehead was bleeding. Beffort had a wide gash on his right cheek. All of them were stunned.
“How did you guess that the Buick was about to blow?” Soblen asked in his inquisitive tone.
Beffort handed him the note. “When that woman sends her compliments, the person receiving them rarely survives. I didn’t know the car was booby-trapped, doctor, but I knew right away that something was wrong… Did you read it?”
“Can’t, Smith. I lost my glasses.”
Beffort read the note aloud, but could not finish because the police and firemen arrived blaring their sirens. The dead were taken away, the blaze was contained and extinguished and then the boulevard fell into that deep silence that only catastrophes create.
“Do you think we have any chance of capturing Madame Atomos?” Soblen asked.
“No,” Akamatsu did not hesitate to answer. “The fact that she could have booby-trapped the car in such a short time proves that she already has accomplices in place. That woman is really diabolical! Tomorrow, if we can’t stop her, she’s going to sink that warship. How’s she going to do it, Smith?”
The G-man shrugged his shoulders, discouraged. “I don’t know, Yosho, but she’ll probably succeed. Come on, this car is out of service.”
They were about to get out when the speaker crackled and hissed before the voice of Max Ritter finally came through. “Ritter?”
The G-man jumped on the microphone. “I’m listening.”
“A suspicious group has just been arrested at Pescadero Point. They’re five Japanese who didn’t show up at the identification check center. One of them has a wounded arm. They’re refusing to talk and we don’t know where they came from. Are you interested?”
“Yes. Where can I find them?”
“At the Pescadero police station. One of my men will be at your disposal. His name’s Packer.”
Beffort thanked him and cut off. He figured it was no use telling Ritter what had just happened. The city was surrounded by the police and the army. Nothing more could be done to apprehend the Japanese woman.
“If I understand correctly,” Akamatsu said, “we’re going straight to Pescadero.”
Beffort scratched his head. “Yes, but we need a car.
Dr. Soblen, who had just found his glasses, craned his neck. “Why not steal one? I have found that system quite practical.”
“You’re joking, doctor…”
“Not at all! If we go back to the FBI office, we’ll lose time. It seems to me that the gravity of the situation authorizes us to make certain… requisitions. How many more dead will there be if the warship sinks tomorrow, Smith?”
“A lot, doctor.”
“And you think that this group of Japanese has something to do with Madame Atomos, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. But, we have to see. Still, I prefer requisitioning to stealing. There are plenty of police cars here… Hey! You there!”
The driver was a young cop. He graciously let himself be requisitioned and was so heavy on the pedal that Smith Beffort and his partners arrived in Pescadero in less than 30 minutes.
Chapter XIII
Osuma, Yamaguchi and the three sailors had been arrested a little before 8 p.m. If it were not for the captain’s wounded arm, the five men would undoubtedly have been let go. They were looking for Madame Atomos and they were examining more women than men who were there illegally. Except Osuma made a mistake. He refused to explain where, how and by whom he had been hurt, supposing wrongly that they would not be able to establish his complicity with Madame Atomos if he did not reveal the existence of the yacht. Since Yamaguchi and the three sailors followed his lead, the Pescadero police found themselves holding five Japanese who apparently fell from the sky.
Nothing is worse than being in such a situation during troubled times. The police informed the FBI and while awaiting a decision from them, they took care of Osuma’s arm and took it upon themselves to hold the others. The G-man Packer, sent by Ritter, realized very quickly that the men were sailors. With this in mind he looked for their boat, but could not find it. He thought that was very strange.
“You’re right,” Beffort agreed, “it’s strange. Where’s this Captain Osuma?”
He was in a spotless room, lying under clean sheets with his arm wrapped in an immaculate bandage. He was in a little pain—not too much—and was daydreaming that his yacht was entering the port in Nagasaki.
“Captain Osuma?”
Osuma pretended not to understand English. Since the beginning, that is to say since his arrest, he pretended to be really stupid.
“Don’t play stupid,” Akamatsu said in Japanese. “Your yacht’s been sunk and five children are on the way to this hospital. They will obviously recognize you. Besides, we have Koji Masuda as a witness. Does that mean anything to you?” It was worth a shot.
Osuma turned green. Akamatsu smiled. “I see that it does mean something to you,” Akamatsu said ironically. He pulled up a chair and showed his badge. “As you see, captain, I belong to the Tokkoka. So, we understand each other. If you want my advice, I would start talking and fast. The Americans are not patient. You’re risking the death penalty. Here it’s the electric chair…”
Osuma blinked and his skin turned ashen gray, but he did not open his mouth. He was scared of Americans, but was even more scared of Madame Atomos.
Akamatsu raised his eyebrows and stood up. “You’re not talking? It doesn’t matter. One of your men will tell me everything I need to know before confiding in the Americans.” He turned and walked to the door, adding, “I’m sorry for you, captain. I did everything in my power to get you some clemency from the court that will be judging you.”
Osuma was affected by these last words. The policeman was a fellow countryman and respected his officer’s pride by leaving the choice up to him. “Wait!” he said. “What do you want to know?”
Akamatsu winked at Beffort and went back to his chair. He looked serious, like a surgeon about to perform a delicate but necessary operation. “You speak and understand English, don’t you, Captain Osuma?”
“Yes.”
“From now on, please speak in this language. Here’s the first question: besides your yacht, does Madame Atomos have any other means available to leave the United States?”
Osuma shook his head and answered slowly, “Madame Atomos doesn’t want to leave the United States. Her goal…”
“We know her goal,” Beffort interjected. “Just answer the question.”
Osuma’s face went hard. Akamatsu gritted his teeth. Smith Beffort was too brutal and risked spoiling everything with his impatience.
The Japanese Special Agent said calmly, “Answer, captain.”
“I can’t say exactly. Madame Atomos is fabulously wealthy. She has airplanes, other boats and probably a submarine.”
Akamatsu and Beffort exchanged a quick glance. The Japanese woman had already used a submarine in Lake Whitney. She could use one again to escape from the “Atomos Zone” or to torpedo a warship…
“You said ‘probably’ when you mentioned a submarine,” Akamatsu said. “Aren’t you sure?”
“No. My second-in-command thinks that we’ve often been led by a submarine in our voyage, but personally I’ve never seen it.”
“Okay. Do you know where Madame Atomos might be hiding out?”
A thin smile crossed Osuma’s lips. “She has several thousand hideouts are her disposal. The yacht I commanded was one of them, but I don’t know any others. Everyone works for her. No one knows anything. Maybe even you are working for her. Maybe the entire Tokkoka is working for her! Maybe the jury I’ll face will be full of Madame Atomos’ servants!” He laughed and continued. “And she can’t be angry at me because I didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything because I am only a tiny part of her o
rganization and I know absolutely nothing about the rest. Even under torture you will get no important information from me. Besides, you don’t have much to blame me for, do you? Just an unfortunate affair…”
“You aided in the kidnapping of 50 children and you locked them up,” Beffort shouted.
“That’s not true,” Osuma protested. “A bus driver from Baxter & Strong asked me very politely to provide shelter for the children for a few hours. I accepted. You can never prove the contrary. Two women took hold of my boat at gunpoint. I tried to fight and they opened fire. Two of my men were killed and I got a bullet in the arm. You also found the corpses of two other sailors killed by the same women on the beach. Gentlemen, I’m a victim!”
It was a wonderful act, a spectacular change of heart, but incomprehensible. Osuma could have just as easily denied that he was working for the terrible Japanese woman. His version of the story made sense, so why did he wait so long to defend himself? What was new in the small room where Osuma, Soblen, Beffort and Akamatsu were shut up?
Smith Beffort opened the door and saw Packer smoking and gabbing with the guard. This wing of the hospital was reserved for prisoners. The windows had bars, the doors had locks and the hospital personnel here belonged to the prison administration.
Packer peeled his broad shoulders off the wall and asked, “Is it over?”
Beffort stepped into the hall and carefully closed the door to Osuma’s room. “Not exactly. Since you’ve been here, has anyone come down this hallway?”
“No. Is something wrong?”
“Not really,” Beffort mumbled. “Osuma just started acting weird. He seemed ready to cooperate as far as he could and then all of a sudden, for no apparent reason, he completely changed his tune. See, Packer, if I wasn’t actually there, I would swear that a third person was whispering in his ear…”
Packer looked uncomfortable. “That’s not possible.”
Beffort smiled. “With Madame Atomos anything is possible. Osuma told us that four of his men had been killed…”
“Japanese?” the young G-man jumped in.
“No doubt. Aren’t you up-to-date?”
“I know that two corpses were thrown up by the sea and two others were lying on the bottom of the big dinghy, which was abandoned on the beach. Since an outboard was beached farther down and weapons were found in the boats, the police figured they were settling scores.
Beffort bit his lip. He felt like he was on to something particularly important, but he was going on instinct, led by his subconscious toward a goal that he was totally ignorant of. It was aggravating.
He went back into the room, sat down far from the bed and listened distractedly to Osuma and Akamatsu talking in their native language. Dr. Soblen came up and whispered, “This man is full of surprises. He just said that the warship will blow up tomorrow at noon sharp. How could he know that if he was already in this room when we got the note?” He caught Beffort’s vacant eye and had the feeling that he was not understood. “Let’s see, Smith,” he insisted. “Figure this out: Madame Atomos made the decision to sink the warship after the radio in the Buick announced that her yacht had been sent to the bottom of the sea. I assert that…”
“Don’t get worked up, doc,” Beffort cut him off. “I understood you very well. Osuma can’t know it and yet he does. It’s very simple. Incredible but simple.”
Soblen looked at him astonished. “What are you trying to say, Smith?”
Beffort snickered. “You’re funny, doc. If Osuma knew something that it was impossible for him to learn about, it’s because somebody told him.”
“But look, Smith, he hasn’t budged from his bed and we’re the only ones who know about the threat on the warship!”
Beffort did not answer. He stood up and walked around staring at his shoes. Confused, Soblen wiped his glasses, put them back on his nose and forced himself not to look at Akamatsu, to fight off the awful suspicion.
Beffort’s footsteps were muffled by the silent floor. The murmur of Akamatsu and Osuma barely disturbed the silence. All of a sudden a radio was turned on somewhere in the building and the speaker said, “… at the moment when five Japanese have been arrested by the Pescadero police. They are suspected of aiding and abetting Madame Atomos. One of them would be the captain of the tragic yacht. At the moment he is being interrogated by federal agents…”
Someone turned down the volume and the words became inaudible.
“Good God!” Beffort swore. “Whoever let word out deserves to be shot! This is the first time we’ve got hold of Madame Atomos’ collaborators.”
“Smith!” Akamatsu shouted.
Beffort leapt toward the bed, saw that Osuma was staring at him and that Akamatsu was shaking his right hand, wincing.
“What did you do to him, Yosho?”
The Tokkoka man smirked. “I was listening to that damned news when Osuma grabbed my hand. Then they lowered the volume, you spoke up and I felt a terrible electric shock. See, Smith, Osuma is dead! I’m sure he was electrocuted!”
Beffort threw back the sheets, ripped open Osuma’s shirt, shook out the pillow, the blanket… “How could he be electrocuted, Yosho? I don’t see any wire. Doctor, could you get a doctor?”
Soblen ran to the door, but it opened at that very second and Packer stood in the doorway.
“What is it?” Beffort asked.
“The coroner just made an amazing discovery. I don’t know what it’s all about, but the lieutenant who called me seemed pretty upset. He wants you to go to the morgue right away. It’s not far.”
Beffort snatched up his hat, asked the guard to watch over Osuma’s body and followed Packer, along with Soblen and Akamatsu.
The coroner met them in his office, sat them down without any unnecessary talk and went to get a glass tray that he put on his workbench. The four men saw that there were four tiny objects on the tray and the coroner asked, “Do you know what these little devices are?”
All of them leaned over. After a second Soblen said, “I might be mistaken, but they look to me like microscopic electronic products. Yet, I can’t figure out the use. What are they really, doctor?”
The coroner shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea! All I can tell you is that I found one of these objects in each of the skulls of the bodies that were delivered to me. The four men underwent an extraordinary brain surgery in which these devices were implanted in a specific location in their encephalon. With our current knowledge, it is obvious that no surgeon could perform this operation without killing the patient! Gentlemen, I’m astounded.”
Apparently he was not the only one.
Chapter XIV
His name was Spencer Holliday and he was an electrical engineer. For more than an hour he had been working with his watchmaker tools and dissecting the object with the help of a huge magnifying glass. Finally he sat up and said, “It is without a doubt an electronic brain of revolutionary design. It is made from miniature pieces cut out a metal—if it really is a metal—which I have never seen before. As far as its use, and even though it seems crazy to me, it agrees in every point with your impression, Doctor Soblen: this brain was designed to control a human brain by electrical or electromagnetic impulses. Otherwise its presence in the Japanese’s head would be inexplicable!”
Later the coroner who autopsied Osuma, Yamaguchi and the three dead sailors at the same time as him confirmed that the five men had been killed by a violent discharge of electricity produced by their electronic brains.
At one in the morning Beffort, Soblen and Akamatsu were still talking about this fantastic discovery while they ate sandwiches. “Madame Atomos heard the news telling about the arrest of Osuma and his men,” Beffort said. “Realizing right away that it could harm her, she pressed the brain button with Osuma’s name and struck him dead. She did the same with Yamaguchi and the sailors.”
Soblen was overwhelmed with sadness. “The power of this woman is frightening. Tomorrow she can very easily get hold of me or you,
Smith, operate on us and release us back into everyday life. We will be ourselves until Madame Atomos remote controls us. Then we will calmly carry out her orders! Isn’t that frightening?”
Akamatsu took a swig of beer and put down his glass. His face was stone and his eyes were nothing but two thin slits in which it was impossible to read an expression. “I often wondered how Madame Atomos could find so many men who hated Americans and willingly became her assassins. Now I have the solution to the puzzle. At first Madame Atomos used only fanatics, but when we so thoughtfully eliminated them, she decided to make living robots subjected to the orders of an electronic brain. Now unless every suspect gets X-rayed, we can’t know how many poor men and women are unconsciously acting on her command.”
“Which amounts to saying,” Beffort remarked, “that she doesn’t need a submarine to destroy the warship today at noon?”
“Are you sure?” Soblen asked.
“Of course, doctor. Look, only one robot-man as part of the crew of the ship can sabotage it at the right moment. We’d have to examine every sailor and officer one by one to be sure that there was no danger. Damn! There’ll be no end to it!”
Akamatsu lit a cigarette and put it out almost immediately. “It’s an awful situation. Every person in this café at this moment might be controlled remotely by our enemy. From now on we have to double our precautions.”
“What precautions, Yosho?” Beffort said. “Let’s go inspect the brain of every American to see if they’ve been drilled into.”
Soblen jumped and shouted, “That’s it!”
“You’re losing it, doctor…”
“Not at all, Smith. We have to warn the population of the United States right away using all the means and media we have at our disposal.”
“There’s an awful lot of people.”
“Not as many as you might think,” Soblen insisted. “The method of inserting a control brain in the human brain has only recently been initiated by Madame Atomos. So let’s say that we’re only interested in those who have had an operation in the last three months.”
