by Denis Hughes
If only there was time, he told himself. Time to plan and know what would happen exactly before it took place. But there wasn’t time for that. It would be many weeks or even months before the Telecopter could do all the things he wanted it to do, and during that period Nargan and others like him would be bringing Britain to her knees.
Professor Dale finally rose to his feet as the first streaks of light from the rising sun were seeping in at the window and spreading across the bleak and lonely moor outside.
He went upstairs on silent feet, without knowing what took him there. Outside Nargan’s room he found Bentick, sound asleep in a chair that barred his way. He could hear the foreigner’s gross snores from the other side of the door. He knew without trying it that the door would be locked. That was inevitable. Nargan’s fear had been great, and the man was craven enough to think that hiding behind a locked door might save him from the doom that Dale had threatened him with. Dale laughed thinly. There was destiny itself in the sound.
Dale stood in the corridor looking at Bentick. The agent was still sleeping, head drooping to one side and one arm slack as it hung over the edge of the chair. The scientist reached out and shook him into wakefulness.
Bentick started violently, opening his eyes and staring round in alarm, hand flashing to his pocket for the feel of his gun.
Dale chuckled to himself.
“You should have learnt not to sleep on duty!” he said. “Suppose I had been an assassin? What chance would Nargan have stood, eh? But it is lucky I am not that kind of man.”
Bentick rubbed his chin. Fully awake now he began to wonder whether Dale was playing with him or not. The Professor was a cagey person, difficult to deal with unless one knew him well. Bentick did not know him as well as he would have liked to.
“A man has to sleep sometimes,” he said defensively. “There is little danger to Nargan anyway, except from the things we can’t understand.”
“Come down and have some breakfast,” said Dale with a friendly smile. “If you do not have it now while your charge is asleep he will give you no peace to get it later!”
Bentick watched him curiously. “Maybe you’re a human being after all, though I find it hard to believe at times.”
Professor Dale gave a lift of his shoulders. He turned and jerked his head at the door of Carol’s room.
“Is she inside?” he asked quietly. “She ought to be up and about by now. We want cooking done! And I need her assistance this morning in the lab.”
Bentick hesitated fractionally. Then: “She wasn’t feeling too good last night,” he said slowly. “Maybe she’s taking a day off, Professor. Better not disturb the girl. She’s labouring under a severe strain of some sort. Perhaps you know the cause yourself.”
The Professor did not answer, but walked to Carol’s door and knocked on it loudly.
“Who’s there?” came her faint answer through the panel. “You can’t come in whoever it is.”
Dale chuckled again. “I don’t want to, my dear,” he said softly. “Are you getting up? It’s late, and Bentick and myself want our breakfast. So will your friend down the corridor before long—when he wakes up!”
“Go away,” she said in a stifled voice. “I don’t feel well enough to get up this morning. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to look after yourselves today.”
She did not sound very sure of herself, thought Bentick grimly. She was still very much afraid, that was obvious, and it was plain as well that Dale was the cause of her fear. Dale and his Telecopter.
The scientist shrugged and started down the corridor. His back had a disapproving look about it—a certain stiffness in bearing that was foreign to his movements.
Bentick consoled himself with the thought that Carol was apparently determined to do as he had suggested and remain in her room till Nargan had left the house. He was glad about that, but wished he could have helped her in a more tangible fashion. Perhaps he’d be able to later on.
After giving the Professor time to get down the stairs and disappear from view he glanced at Nargan’s door, gave a sigh of disgust, and followed the scientist to the ground floor of the house. As he reached the big hall he heard a clang as Dale closed the steel door out in the kitchen. Whether the man had gone below again or not Bentick did not bother to find out. He was too worried by other things to care at the moment.
Sunlight was streaming in through the tall windows in a warming flood of brilliance that made the early morning unforgettable. Bentick wished he could have enjoyed it more fully, but his mind gave him little rest from the various problems that faced him. At noon Britain’s own representative would arrive at the house. The meeting and discussion between him and Nargan would probably take place in the afternoon. What the outcome would be was no concern of Bentick’s, but he hoped it would be for the good of the country instead of against it as Dale seemed convinced.
He went into the library and scratched his chin, not sure whether he wanted a meal or not. In the end he decided that he must have something. And Carol, too, ought to eat. The Professor had to be looked after as well, though Bentick didn’t worry a lot on that score.
And of course there was always Nargan.
Bentick grinned to himself, suddenly cheerful again. It touched his sense of humour to think of himself as Nargan’s guard in one of the strangest households he had ever struck, getting ready to do the cooking and look after the people who owned the place. His shoulders were suddenly shaking with laughter at the thought. It was all so crazy, he decided. But then, he reflected, everything was crazy about this job. Dale was crazy; the things he did were crazy; even Carol wasn’t as steady as she might have been, though that Bentick blamed on the Telecopter. And Nargan’s general behaviour was not only crazy but completely disgusting.
It did not take him very long to find his way round the kitchen and start on his self-imposed duties as servant to the remainder of the people in residence.
He made up two trays of food and coffee, one for Carol and the other for Nargan. On the kitchen table he left a place laid for Dale and a note to say there was food in the oven.
Then he carried Carol’s tray up the stairs and tapped on her door.
“Who is it?” she called uncertainly.
“Bentick,” he answered. “I’ve brought you some breakfast. Shall I leave it outside the door?” He waited patiently.
“Hold on,” she said quietly. “I’ll let you in, in a moment.”
Bentick went on waiting.
There was movement in the room and then Carol turned the key in the lock and opened the door a few inches. She darted a glance up and down the corridor before meeting Bentick’s eyes. She was fully dressed. Her face was pale and she looked as if she hadn’t slept for long in the night. Bentick felt sorry for her.
“You’re very good,” she whispered uneasily. “Bring it in, will you? It’s good to see someone reliable again. I’ve been frightened and so terribly worried all night. Now it isn’t so bad.”
Bentick grinned reassuringly and strode into the room as she stood aside. He put her tray down on the dressing table and turned to face her. She was smiling faintly now.
“Everything’s better in daylight with the sun out,” he said. “You needn’t be afraid. If you do as I say and re¬main in here you’ll come to no harm. Take no notice of Dale; he’s a bit on the selfish side, I think. Stick to your story of being ill.”
A shadow crossed her face as he finished speaking.
“Coffee?” she asked hesitantly. “There’s plenty here for both of us.”
Bfntick shot her a sideways glance. “Maybe I’d better not stop,” he said. “Nargan may wake up at any minute, and then he’ll want me for sure. I know his sort. He’ll keep me kicking my heels around whether there’s any need to or not!”
She shook her head. “You’ll hear him from this room,” she said. “Please sit down.”
Bentick gave up resisting. He wanted to talk to the girl in any event, but had not wished to force h
imself on her. There was a jagged edge to her nerves, and he could sense it plainly. His own were none too good at the moment. What Professor Dale’s were like he didn’t know, but the man didn’t seem to have a great many. As for Nargan, the foreigner had been extremely shaken the last time Bentick saw him. A thoroughly disturbed and disturbing household.
“Have you seen the Professor again since last night?” Carol asked.
“For a short while,” answered Bentick. He did not want to tell the girl about his visit to the laboratory in the dark hours. There were things connected with it that were better left unsaid. Later on, perhaps, when matters were straightened out and the unknown or half-known future was clear he might find the courage to tell her what a strange and terrifying effect Dale’s Telecopter had had on his will. But now was certainly not an opportune moment.
“I’ve left the Professor some food ready to eat,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. Just take it easy.”
She sipped a cup of coffee.
“I wish I could say the same.” she answered wryly. “I am worried, and there aren’t two ways about it. I don’t quite know exactly what worries me, but there’s something at the back of my mind that makes me feel as if I wasn’t my own master any longer. Some influence. Left over from the Telecopter maybe.”
“It’ll go if you keep away from the sight of that screen,” Bentick told her. He was not quite so positive as he sounded, for he, too, felt that nebulous, instinctive lack of will power. There was nothing he could do about it, but it jagged his nerves and made him feel that if at any given moment something urged him to do a thing against his better judgment he would do it irresponsibly, regretting it later.
“I wonder if you’re right,” said Carol gloomily. “I wish I could feel as certain as you.”
Bentick forced himself to seem natural when he answered:
“I wasn’t so certain myself last night,” he said. “I think the darkness and the atmosphere in the laboratory worked a kind of spell. It’s broken now, thank heavens, but I didn’t like it any more than you did while it lasted. Try to forget what’s happened.”
He watched her eyes as he talked, hoping to see a return to her more normal steadiness when she heard his words. It flickered there for a moment, but was shadowed again. Then she gave a shaky laugh.
“Nerves, I suppose!” she said. Her voice sounded false. “I’m still scared though. There’s no getting away from that.”
Bentick might have said more in his efforts to reassure her, but at that moment they both heard Nargan’s loud and ill-mannered summons from his room down the corridor.
Bentick pulled a rueful face and rose to his feet.
“I’ll see you later,” he said, making for the door. “Don’t leave the room, Carol. And don’t be afraid. The Telecopter can’t hurt you if you stay away from its aura. Remember that!”
“I’ll try to remember it,” she answered.
Then Bentick was gone and the girl was alone with her thoughts and fears and that strangely potent influence that haunted her.
CHAPTER 11
NARGAN IS TROUBLED
Bentick found the foreigner standing in his own open doorway. The man’s sallow face was flushed and ugly. He held an automatic pistol in one hand and was shaking his other fist at Bentick as the agent reached him.
“What kind of a bodyguard do you think you are?” raved Nargan. “When I want you, you are always somewhere else! Now I see you coming from the woman’s room! That is too much! I have killed men before and could do the same to you with the greatest ease were you worth a bullet!”
Bentick halted and stared at him with a coldly calculating gaze.
“You ready for your breakfast?” he asked at length. “Maybe you’ll be better tempered when you’ve got some food inside you. That seems to be your main trouble usually!” He felt like flaying the man.
Nargan almost choked, but controlled himself sufficiently to gulp back an angry retort that rose to his lips. Instead he drew a deep breath and thrust his gun away savagely.
“You are not even fit to serve me!” he snapped, “But I will eat. Let us go downstairs at once!”
Bentick looked at him shrewdly.
“I thought you wanted your meals in your room?” he said. “Have you changed your mind?”
“Is it any concern of yours what I choose to do?” the other demanded. “Yesterday I had a headache! Today I am feeling fine! Hurry now. I am hungry!”
Bentick grinned to himself. Nargan was far from fine, he reflected. The man’s hands were shaking even now, and his eyes were never still for more than a second at a time. He, too, was apparently suffering from an attack of nerves—a kind of mental hangover from his past experiences. The Telecopter had a wide range of influence, thought Bentick a little grimly.
Aloud he said: “I’m glad to hear it! I had your meal ready to bring up, but if you’d rather come down so much the better.”
“We waste time!” snapped Nargan, thrusting past him. Bentick followed the foreigner down the stairs, hating his back all the way. This, he thought, was the queerest, most unpleasant job of work he had ever been involved in. He had undertaken many others far more dangerous, but none with such an ungraspable sense of evil about it.
Somewhat to Bentick’s surprise, and much to his interest, they found Professor Dale sitting at the big kitchen table. The scientist was eating as if he had not seen food for weeks, and Bentick wondered how Carol ever made him have any meals to a routine at all. Probably she didn’t.
At sight of Nargan the Professor put his knife and fork down with a double thud on either side of his plate and eyed the man narrowly. There was a faintly cynical light in his stare as if he was probing into Nargan’s mind with a microscopic insight that missed very little.
Nargan halted on the threshold of the kitchen and met the Professor’s gaze. Bentick, close at his heel like a faithful but resentful dog, sensed the battle that was going on wordlessly between these two. Both were strong, but whereas Dale feared nothing Nargan was already afraid.
Dale said: “So we meet again, my friend!” He smiled. “Do come in and make yourself welcome. The food is fair, but the service poor. My ward, you understand, is not feeling very well and is confined to her room. You must forgive her.”
Nargan had time during the Professor’s sarcastic little speech to find his level and pull himself together. He seized the tenor of the situation and answered in kind.
“You are most thoughtful, Professor,” he said. There was barely the hint of a sneer in his words, but it was not very far below the surface. “Naturally,” he continued, “I am used to better conditions than are offered here, but there are times when we all have to make allowances, are there not?” He smiled in an oily, fulsome fashion and went towards the table.
Dale watched him closely. “We certainly do,” he said feelingly. Then he picked up his knife and fork and went on with his meal in silence.
Nargan shot him a quizzical glance, but the Professor was now entirely absorbed, ignoring the foreigner as if he did not exist.
Bentick, feeling a little uncomfortable at the heavy atmosphere that surrounded the two men, busied himself and soon had Nargan’s breakfast before him. It was a duty that galled him considerably, but under the present circumstances there was not very much he could do to avoid it. His only consolation was that this state of affairs would not be a lengthy one.
After continued silence for several minutes it was Dale who spoke again.
“I trust you slept well?” he said to Nargan.
The foreigner blinked at him owlishly. He was putting on a stupid act, but it did nothing to fox either Bentick or the Professor.
“I always sleep well,” he grunted ungraciously. “But I must admit that I have slept in more comfortable beds than the one I was given.”
Dale let it pass. Then: “You were not troubled by evil thoughts or the ghosts of unseen events, then?”
Nargan’s eyes flickered
as he stared at Dale icily.
“I do not know to what you refer,” he snapped. “If it is of interest to you I slept very well. Nothing ever troubles me at night.”
Dale grinned vindictively. “I hope you’ll always be able to say the same!” he retorted. “Some men are not as fortunate as you.” He pushed back his plate and sat there smiling in a strangely disarming manner. Then he rose to his feet and hesitated, looking from Nargan to Bentick.
Bentick, leaning against the end of the table with his hands on the edge, grinned boyishly. He still did not trust Professor Dale, but the scientist seemed to be far more human now than he had been on the previous night. Maybe he wasn’t so bad outside his laboratory or under the gentle influence of sunshine, he thought. He wished he could say the same for Nargan.
Dale gave a nod, then he shook himself.
Addressing Bentick he said: “Would you be kind enough, young man, to let me know when our second visitor arrives? If it is the man I think it is we are well acquainted. I should like the opportunity of seeing him and having a talk on certain extraneous matters unconnected with his purpose here. You will find him a charming man I think. Please do your best to make things easy for him.”
Bentick nodded quickly. “Certainly, Professor,” he replied. “I will pass on your message if I cannot let you know directly. You may rely on me.”
Dale grunted. “It’s a good thing I can rely on someone!” he said maliciously. “Maybe I’m wrong even then.”
Bentick made no reply. He glanced at Nargan and caught the ugly glint in his eyes. Nargan was going to be awkward, he decided.
