by Denis Hughes
Nargan bowed his head, concealing the flush of satisfaction that rose to his cheeks at Dale’s simple words. The man was a fool, he decided. He might be clever, but he was certainly a fool to trust anyone, let alone himself, the most cunning of men!
“You are too kind, Professor,” he murmured. “I am a man of faith myself as you must have heard. Whatever you show me will remain locked in my mind, safe from danger.”
Dale gave a matter-of-fact nod. “That is understood,” he said more briskly. He indicated the Telecopter. “Now this piece of apparatus is my latest development. I have not yet perfected it, nor devised uses for its possibilities, but you shall see me demonstrate it in spite of that.”
As he talked he was operating the controls of the Telecopter. He then gave Nargan a brief and lucid description of the principle on which the machine worked and described what results it gave. When he mentioned its ability to see into the future Nargan realised he was on to something of the utmost value.
Dale turned the lights out and started the Telecopter, showing Nargan pictures from the Past as they had happened in the vault years before. Nargan saw the same group of conspirators as Bentick had seen. He was convinced of Dale’s genuineness by this brief demonstration, for there was no denying the proofs the scientist gave him of the efficacy of the machine.
When Dale had established his proof in this way he paused, leaving the screen blank for a moment.
“Not only can the Telecopter reveal the past,” he said, “but the future is also available at will. Watch!”
Nargan, in a fever of excitement, kept his eyes on the screen as Dale brought light to its shimmering surface again. Next moment the Professor was showing him an image of Carol, screaming in terror.
Nargan himself became aware of fear for the first time. His bulky frame went rigid.
Dale, fighting for control over his own emotions and keeping his eyes from the screen, changed abruptly in manner.
“That is written in the Future!” he whispered with a remorseless hate in his words. “That girl you see will scream in terror, and do you know why? Because she will see you die! That is your own doom foreshadowed, Nargan! Nothing can prevent it; nothing can alter the destiny that rules our lives. The terror of death is in that girl and in you!”
CHAPTER 7
SPY BY NIGHT
With a supreme effort Nargan gained some control of his fear. His sallow face was patchy and grey, his lips quivered, but now he was angry as well as frightened.
“You shall pay for this trickery, Dale!” he whispered in a barely audible voice. “There is nothing but tricks in your brain. Cunning tricks because you do not like me. Tricks that can frighten for a moment or two, but have no power over life!”
Dale gave a shrug, but his face was crinkled in a thin smile that was like a mask of venom. The madness in his eyes gleamed fiercely, yet the man himself was perfectly calm. When he spoke again his words were cool and level.
“I do not indulge in cheap trickery, Nargan,” he said. “What you have seen is the shadow of Destiny. Nothing I or you can do will alter it. I think perhaps you had better leave me now. I have work to do.”
Nargan, a frightened, angry man, turned on his heel and hastened from the laboratory without a backward glance. He knew in his own heart that Dale had been speaking the truth. And the truth was a terrifying thing. Had he thought otherwise he would willingly have killed Dale where he stood, but he knew it would not save his own skin if the things the scientist had said were true. And Nargan knew they were true.
He arrived back in the kitchen with a troubled frown on his face and shaking nerves, a very unusual thing for such a hardened man.
In the kitchen he came across Bentick, roaming about like a caged animal in search of something.
The two men stared at each other for an instant before either spoke. Then Nargan started the ball rolling by abusing Bentick as hard as he could.
“I have had to wander about this cursed house to find you!” he shouted furiously. “Why are you never on hand when I want you? This matter will be reported to your superiors just as others will be. I am going to break you and watch it happen!”
Bentick kept his temper with difficulty. It took all his reserves of tact to handle Nargan, and even then he was never sure that the man was mollified. Nargan was like an ever-hungry devil. And Bentick could sense that he was frightened of something as well, though he concealed his fear behind a facade of anger.
“You have been in the laboratory?” he asked quietly. “I hope it proved interesting, but I hardly expected the Professor to show you around there!”
Nargan drew himself up. His bulky figure seemed to tower suddenly. “Dale will do exactly as I wish!” he snapped. “I have nothing more to say on the matter. If you are not to be found when I need you again there will be further trouble. From now until your country’s representative arrives here tomorrow I shall be in my own room and shall not leave it. You or the girl will bring my meals to me there.”
Bentick nodded slowly. To be honest with himself, he felt quite relieved at the news. He could not guess what Dale had shown Nargan to frighten him so much, but thought that perhaps it might be the Telecopter, yet it seemed unlikely that the Professor would do a thing like that under the circumstances. Unless, of course, he had some ulterior motive behind the action. Bentick was a worried young man as he watched Nargan strut from the kitchen and disappear.
He himself went in search of Carol after that. He felt he had sufficient excuse for finding her since he could pass on the latest news from the Nargan front. As there was still no sign of the girl in the lower part of the house he took his courage in both hands and tried some of the bedroom doors on the upper floor. One he found to be locked, and gave the panel a tap.
Carol came to the door and opened it quietly and a little fearfully, but when she saw Bentick her face cleared at once. Bentick noted the dark shadows under her eyes and realised she was worried out of her wits about something.
“Hello!” he said lightly. “What’s the trouble? I’ve been hunting for you.”
“Have you?” she answered. “I’ve been meaning to come and talk to you, but I didn’t have the courage. I’m all tied up and scared, you see?” Her eyes were appealing as she met his steady gaze.
Bentick said: “Come downstairs for a minute. We can talk in peace there.”
She shook her head. “Nargan might be listening,” she whispered. “Come in here. There are things I feel I have to tell you, but I’m frightened.”
Bentick did not speak, but followed the girl in through the open door of her room. He glanced round automatically, noting its tidiness and the charm of the furnishings. He could also tell from the rumpled condition of the bed itself that Carol must have flung herself full length on the cover and stayed there for quite a long time.
She turned and faced him near the open window.
“That awful machine,” she began.“That awful machine the Professor calls the Telecopter. There’s something evil about it.”
Bentick nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I know,” he mused. “I felt it myself. Have you had another chance to experience what it does?”
She rubbed her forehead in a dazed kind of fashion.
“After you left the laboratory,” she whispered. “It was terrifying! I saw myself, in the future, screaming! The fear in the image entered into me. I knew I was seeing something that was bound to happen! And I felt, too, that I myself might have done something terrible just before I screamed.”
Bentick frowned. His mind was troubled by what she told him, and thoughts of Dale were also worrying. He did not now trust the scientist as he might have done earlier. Nargan had been down to the laboratory, and Dale had already disclosed his hate of the man. There was disaster in the not-far-distant future, thought Bentick grimly.
“The Telecopter is certainly an evil invention,” he said. “I’ve noticed it myself. It throws out emanations of a similar character to the scene it shows. For i
nstance, when we saw that age-old conspiracy I felt as if I was actually taking part in it. It was the one important thing in my life for the time it lasted.” He paused, thinking and co-ordinating various things in his mind.
“I felt the same,” whispered Carol. “More intensely, perhaps, but it’s true. The Telecopter not only brings to the Present events which have happened or will happen, but it also brings to life the emotions behind those events. That’s what terrifies me so!”
Bentick reached a decision of the utmost gravity.
“Listen, Carol,” he said earnestly, “I don’t think it’s safe for you to get any further involved in this business. Can’t you leave here? Have you nowhere you could go?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t leave Dale even if I wanted to,” she whispered. “He relies on me, you see? He more than relies on me. If I wasn’t here he’d starve to death. Besides, there’s his work. I’m quite a valuable assistant, although I may not appear to be. I couldn’t leave, you understand. It—it wouldn’t be fair.”
“All right then,” said Bentick. “But do this to please me. Nargan will be gone by tomorrow evening. I have a hunch that Dale is in this strange mood of his on account of Nargan’s presence. I can feel there’s danger in the air for everyone till that man has left the house. What I want you to do is remain in your room till then. Lock your door and do not leave under any circumstances.” He broke off for an instant. Then: “I shall feel a lot happier if you do as I ask, Carol. Somehow or other your safety and my work seem inextricably mixed. They have been ever since I arrived. Will you do as I ask?”
The girl hesitated. There was doubt in her eyes and uncertainty in the way she looked at Bentick, but in the end she nodded quickly.
“Yes,” she said in an undertone. “Yes, I’ll do it, but please be careful yourself. The Professor has some plan up his sleeve. I’m sure of that! Even if I stay away from him I feel that his power—or rather the power of the Telecopter—can reach out to wherever I am. It influences my life now that I’ve seen what it does. And it frightens me so much that I don’t seem to have a will of my own.”
There was an anguish in her voice that troubled the agent, but he smiled reassuringly.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he said gently. “You rely on me to keep Nargan safe till he’s finished here, and I’ll be relying on you to stay clear of trouble. As for Dale, I’ll keep an eye on him as best I can, but he’s his own master of course.”
“Yes,” murmured Carol. “That’s what worries me! And I’m not even sure that he is his own master! I think the Telecopter rules his life now that he’s had success with it. It’ll kill him in the end!”
She turned away, eyes dark and unreadable.
Bentick made for the door. “Take it easy,” he advised. “Everything comes to an end, you know. The Telecopter isn’t going to influence my life for me!”
“Isn’t it?” she breathed. “I wonder if you’re right?”
Bentick left her room and listened till he heard the key turn sharply in the lock. Then he sighed and went downstairs again, deep in thought.
He saw no sign of Professor Dale or Nargan for several hours, but remained in the library, trying to concentrate on a book and failing miserably.
Darkness had fallen by the time Nargan summoned him and shouted for food. The man was in a filthy temper and obviously suffering from a half concealed fear that rode him remorselessly.
Bentick succeeded in escaping with little more than a few words of abuse after taking a meal to Nargan’s room. Then he was once more on his own.
There was still no sign of the Professor, and Bentick thought it wise not to hunt him out. If he was down in the vaults he would not welcome a visitor.
Bentick dozed in an armchair, mentally tired and less alert than he should have been.
When he woke he did so with a guilty start, to find it was well past midnight. The house was dark and silent. He had left a light on in the library, but someone had turned it out as he slept. Cursing himself for a negligent fool, he felt his way across the room and switched on the light again, staring round as if expecting to see some intruder. There was nothing. He listened intently but no murmur of sound broke the stillness.
Creeping upstairs, he heard heavy snoring from the other side of Nargan’s door. The man was as gross in sleep as he was in waking, thought Bentick.
He listened at Carol’s door but could hear no sound to indicate that the girl was either asleep or awake.
Going back downstairs to the library, he sat down after helping himself to a drink and did some thinking. What was Dale doing now? Was he still playing with the Telecopter? Seeking further and further into the Future or the Past?
Bentick felt so restless that he could no longer contain his curiosity. He simply had to know what everyone in the house on the moor was doing. Reduced to its minimum, it meant that he must spy on Professor Dale. Carol and Nargan he already knew about, but Dale was always an unknown and unpredictable quantity.
Bentick finished his drink, made sure his automatic was in his pocket, and then left the library.
He suffered from doubts about the wisdom of what he was doing when he reached the kitchen, but something stronger than himself drove him on. The steel door to the vault stood slightly ajar, and the air was filled by the high pitched hum of the generator. Bentick listened intently, then started through the door and crept towards the steps that led down to Dale’s own sanctuary.
CHAPTER 8
MACHINE OVER MIND
When Bentick started down towards the laboratory he had a feeling that he was walking into some unknown danger, yet nothing could have stopped him finding out what Dale was doing.
He hesitated on the steps where the gallery branched away on either side.
Gazing down to the floor of the laboratory, he made out Professor Dale bending down in front of the Telecopter. The man was completely absorbed, and although most of the lights were turned out there was a faint glow shining on his face from the unseen screen of the machine. From where Bentick stood the screen was not visible, but it was plain that Dale had the machine working from the intensity of his attitude.
Bentick, a prey to all manner of feelings, started working his way cautiously along one branch of the gallery to bring himself to a position from where he would be able to see the screen himself. The gallery was high above the floor. He did not think the Professor would be able to see him in the dim light.
Grasping the butt of his automatic in his pocket, he moved with a stealth that surprised him. There was a sense of secrecy in the atmosphere that gripped him irresistibly. He wished he could break it, but the spell of the Telecopter and the circumstances under which he was going to spy on its screen were too strong for him.
Reaching a point on the gallery level with the back of Dale, he halted, crouching as if to fend off some unseen peril. He noticed that Dale himself was stooping forward staring at the screen with a concentration that was somehow terrifying.
Bentick felt stealth and secrecy flowing into him.
The Professor manipulated the controls of the Telecopter as Bentick had seen him do before. The screen, visible now to the hidden watcher on the gallery, glowed and flickered eerily as Time was thrown across its square, opalescent surface.
Bentick saw once more that group of conspirators that he and Carol had seen earlier on when Dale was demonstrating. The whole spirit of that clandestine meeting seemed to flow up towards him as he watched.
Then Dale made further adjustments and the scene was changing abruptly. Now there were only two figures on the screen. A young man, richly dressed in the clothes of another period, was deep in conversation with an older man. This second figure was bearded, and even from the distance Bentick could read the cunning gleam in his eyes. Yet he was smiling easily enough as he talked with the younger of the two.
Bentick had a sudden forewarning that soon he would witness something of a dreadful nature, but still he could not withdraw hi
s gaze from the distant screen and the dim images that moved across it.
The younger of the two figures revealed by the Telecopter was plainly in a state of doubt. Bentick came to the conclusion that the old man was trying to persuade him into doing something against his will. Just beyond the reach of his comprehension Bentick knew that he himself was a part of that scene. The power of the emanations that reached him was enormous, stealing his own will and putting in its place something frightening. He was so absorbed that every other thought was driven from his mind. Dale was forgotten; Carol became a shadow somewhere in his life, but a shadow that had no substance beyond the fact of its being there.
And then, a moment later, the atmosphere was charged with an evil that was greater than ever.
The young man on the screen turned away, a worried expression on his face. His companion smiled faintly as he watched. For an instant the figures were immobile, then the old man moved with a lightning gesture and Bentick was seeing an age-old murder committed. There was a knife in the upraised hand of the young man’s companion. It caught a gleam of hidden light as it struck, straight for the young man’s unprotected back.
The urge to kill swept over Bentick in a manner that stole his reason. At the identical moment of the murder his hand withdrew his gun from his pocket. An insane desire to kill seized him in a remorseless grip. Without knowing what he was doing he levelled the gun at Dale’s crouching figure on the floor below where he stood. Subconsciously he realised that Dale himself was holding something in his hand, upraised in a similar attitude to the old murderer’s knife. Bentick realised it was a long-bladed screwdriver.
Bentick’s finger tightened on the trigger of his gun. He had no will of his own outside this insane desire to kill. The power of the Telecopter was boundless.
