“Which sounds to me like fuel being added to the fire,” the Amazon said, after another thoughtful pause. “First our cities were wrecked and the people are demoralized in consequence—then, magically, leaders turn up and urge everybody to destroy each other in a war. That means Mars is at the back of the whole thing....”
She got to her feet decisively. “Bradley Thomas’s home is only three miles from here,” she said. “The moment I’ve rested I’ll make a point of calling on him and seeing what I can find out. I’m willing to swear that of his own volition Thomas would never exhort the populace to such insanity. I’ll know soon enough the moment I’ve seen him.”
“Up to you, Vi,” Chris said, taking the metal and formulae. “We will leave you to it. Let us know how you get on. Come on, Howard.”
“And you let me know how you progress in protecting vital utilities,” the Amazon responded.
At nightfall, restored to normal by a day-long sleep and a meal of concentrates upon awakening, the Amazon drove the three miles to Bradley Thomas’s suburban home in her private car. It was not the first time she had visited the big, jovial financier. In the course of her extraordinary career she had more or less come in contact with all the big City men, and she could not picture anybody less likely to fill the role of a warmonger.
As she rounded the bend in the road which led to the private acres where the financier’s great mansion stood she received a surprise. When she had last visited it the grounds had been surrounded with high iron railings set in a low brick wall—but now all that had gone. Instead the railings had been replaced with a twelve-foot high fence of very close metal mesh, which also covered the big locked gates giving entrance to the driveway.
The Amazon drew her car to a halt in the twilight and sat considering the transformation. Finally, she gave a taut smile.
“Apparently our financial friend is not in the mood to receive visitors after his war speeches,” she murmured. “Unless I miss my guess, that fence is electrified.”
She reached to the complicated dash and pressed a button. An illuminated dial sprang into being, and a needle wavered lowly about the 10,000-mark. She switched off again.
“Ten thousand volts,” she muttered. “Mmmm... Good job I have all the necessary gadgets with me. This isn’t going to be easy, but I’ve got to see what has transformed Thomas if it’s the last thing I do.”
She eased herself out of the car and glanced up and down m the lowering gloom. Everywhere was completely deserted. Quickly she pulled off her costume coat and skirt and dragged on the close-fitting black tights with which she preferred to handle the less comfortable of her expeditions. She spent a few moments checking the weapons in her gold belt after she had buckled it about her waist, and then she crept forward to within a few inches of the fence and stood looking at it.
“One good thing about electricity is that it can be short-circuited,” she murmured, “even though it will probably raise an alarm in the house. Anyway—here goes.”
From one of the belt pouches she pulled a length of copper wire in the form of a spring. It had flat disks at each end. As far as she could judge, the upper and lower rails of the high fence were the opposite electrical poles, which a bridge across would short-circuit. She measured her distance in the fading light and then tossed the bow-shaped copper spring forward gently. The magnetic disks riveted themselves to top and bottom bars of the fence a split second after the wire had left her fingers. Immediately it glowed violet, smoked, then twanged apart. Far away, like something buried deep in the earth, was the ringing of alarm bells. With a grim smile the Amazon tossed a small pair of pliers against the fence. Since they failed to spark as they hit, she knew that she would be safe. Rapidly, before any fuses could be repaired at the source of the electricity, she climbed to the top of the fence, over it, and jumped down into the grounds to look about her.
The last rays of daylight had almost gone now. Through the trees was the glow from lower windows in the house. silently she moved forward, speeding from the cover of tree to tree—then at a sudden furious barking she paused and glanced around her. She was just in time to see two Alsatians with slavering jaws bearing down upon her from the direction of a distant shrubbery.
Her hand blurred to her disintegrator-gun, but she was not quite swift enough. The nearer of the dogs cannoned into her and knocked her flying backwards against the tree behind her. The animal’s snarling jaws and fetid breath leapt towards her face.
Instantly she flung up her forearm to protect herself, at the same time butting up her right knee. The blow struck the dog in the stomach and winded it badly for a moment: in that second she wrenched herself sideways and met the charge of the second Alsatian full on. As it leapt her left hand clamped over its nose and her right over its glinting lower teeth. Using all her vast strength, she tore her hands apart until the animal, shrieking with rended jaws, crashed dying at her feet.
The remaining Alsatian, recovered, was immediately upon her, flinging her to the ground, its snarling teeth straining savagely to reach her throat. Her steel-strong hands clamped in its powerful neck and held it at arms’ length, then gradually she worked her legs over its back and locked them, scissor-fashion, over its haunches.
“No you don’t, my beauty,” she murmured, and began to press upwards with her powerful arms as the dog fought and yelped and writhed to break the vice which was breaking his spine.
With relentless power the Amazon still pushed upward—still upward, only stopping when the dog’s screaming ceased to the sound of a crack like a breaking bough. Breathing hard, she got to her feet, picked up the heavy, lifeless body, and flung it in the bushes. Then at the sound of a voice she turned.
CHAPTER IV
“Nice work, Miss Brant. Naturally it is Miss Brant—the Golden Amazon? No other woman on earth would be capable of what you have just done. And I think I should warn you that I have you covered.”
The Amazon went forward slowly, just able to distinguish the figure of Bradley Thomas, though she could not quite discern the expression on his face, with all her ability to see in the dark. Her gaze dropped to the automatic in his hand.
“I get the impression, Mr. Thomas, that you’re not anxious to receive visitors,” she commented dryly.
“How right you are! And you least of all! Get into the house—quickly!”
The Amazon gave him a curious glance and then went ahead of him across the sweeping lawn and into a comfortable lounge, by way of french windows. The financier followed her in and closed the windows tightly. He still kept his gun levelled.
In silence the Amazon contemplated him. As she last remembered seeing him he had been round-faced and genial, one of the City’s biggest philanthropists. Now the change in him was remarkable. His mouth was hard and cruel; there was a cold glint in his formerly friendly blue eyes. Even his hair was different. It had once been an untidy grey mop; now it was plastered down with mathematical exactness. Yet it was still Bradley Thomas; of this the girl was quite sure. But somehow he was incredibly altered.
“Well?” he demanded, as she studied him. “What the devil do you mean by breaking into my property in this fashion? What do you want?”
“Explanations,” the Amazon told him calmly, half lounging against the end of the settee.
The financier glared at her. His eyes ranged for a moment over her superb figure, and then moved back to her amber-tinted face. He wondered what she had to smile about, as though she were enjoying a secret joke.
“Since when do I have to give explanations to you, Miss Brant?” he snapped.
“Since you set up in business as a warmonger—and I’m in no mood to stand about whilst you make up your mind whether to speak or not——”
Like the head of a striking snake, the Amazon’s right hand lashed down. The automatic seemed to jump from the financier’s hand into her own. She levelled it steadily and considered him.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now start talking—and don’t try
calling any servants either.”
Thomas did not appear particularly frightened. “I haven’t any,” he said. “I got rid of them. Too much prying.”
“Prying into what?”
“Mind your own business!”
The Amazon tossed the automatic over her shoulder and folded her supple arms. She stood looking at the magnate.steadily, and no words escaped her.
“Now what?” he questioned impatiently. “Can’t you say something? Do you just have to stand there?”
She still did not speak, and the financier found himself chained immovably by the stare with which she had fixed him. He found it difficult to move his limbs, or even his jaws when he tried to make further remarks. The finer details of the comfortable room faded or were drawn into one single focus—the focus of a pair of deep-violet eyes with long lashes, in the pupils of which kindled an intellect denied to any other human being.
The force of this intelligence was compelling, crushing,.and slowly smashed down the barriers of will. To Bradley Thomas it seemed at length as though a cloud rose up in front of him and he was uttering words which made no sense io him—then the unwavering violet eyes drifted back into his consciousness. The room slowly returned to normal.
“Most interesting,” the Amazon commented in an icy voice. “And just as I had suspected. Naturally, it leaves only one answer.”
“What does?” the financier asked, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your confession under hypnotism; I found it most revealing...”
The Amazon drew her disintegrator-gun from her belt, pointed it, and pressed the button. With frozen unconcern on her face she watched the financier crumple slowly and become motionless on the carpet.
“Which leaves others,” she mused, returning the instrument to its holster. “There’s work to be done tonight, no matter how appalling a series of crimes it may appear to be.”
She departed from the house quickly, sped across the grounds, and returned to her car. With grim resolve on her face, she drove rapidly through the night, finishing her journey this time at the London home of the Prime Minister. At this hour Downing Street was deserted. Alighting from the car, she pounded heavily on the door of No. 10. There was a long interval, then a member of the night staff appeared.
The Amazon did not speak. Clamping her hand over the man’s mouth, she forced him back into the hall and then dug the point of her disintegrator-gun in his spine.
“Where’s the Prime Minister?” she breathed. “If you want to stay alive don’t lie.”
“Up—upstairs. He’s asleep—”
“Go ahead of me!”
The servant had no choice other than to obey. It was five minutes later when the Amazon departed, and in the bedroom the Prime Minister lay dead, a smoking hole torn in his chest, whilst his wife gave hysterical orders to the servants to summon the police.
Silently during the night the Amazon moved from place to place, always acting so swiftly that the very surprise of her actions gave her the upper hand. It was towards dawn when she returned to her home, and immediately rang up Chris Wilson and Commander Kerrigan. In half an hour, still two hours before breakfast-time, they had answered her summons, looking as if they had tumbled straight out of bed. Unshaven and grim, they stood looking at the girl as she paced the lounge urgently.
“I’ve got to get out—for two reasons,” she announced finally. “In the telecasts and newspapers today there’ll be the story of several murders by the Golden Amazon, ranging from the Prime Minister and big financiers to smaller fry— but in every case I’ve wiped out those who were responsible for warmongering speeches. I’ve spent all night doing it.”
“But—Vi!” Chris gasped in horror. “The whole force of Scotland Yard will be after you for this—”
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of it, Chris. That’s why I have to get out—but there’s also another reason. I have to fight this business from Mars, not Earth. That’s where the trouble really is.”
“What on earth possessed you to murder all these prominent public figures?” Kerrigan demanded. “It wasn’t very prudent, was it? There surely ought to have been less— violent ways?”
“For your information,” the Amazon replied, “each man or woman I killed was not the possessor of his or her own mind. I’d suspected it—that those warmongering speeches were not spontaneous but somehow dictated, so when I had the chance I hypnotized Bradley Thomas and read his mind. He also had to confess. I made him. What I heard and saw astounded me.... You see, I was not looking into the individual mind of Bradley Thomas, a one-time genial financier, but an alien mind of pitiless cunning, bent solely on the destruction of our civilization.”
The two men glanced at each other in wonder.
“You mean,” Chris asked, “that Thomas was under orders from Mars?”
“No. I mean that Bradley Thomas was a Martian!”
“Oh, come now,” Kerrigan protested. “That’s getting way beyond all reason, Vi! We all knew Thomas. What’s more, I’ll swear that he was Thomas—”
“He was, in body; but he did not possess his own brain. It was a Martian brain in his skull—and if that doesn’t give you some idea of the kind of malignant science we’re fighting, I don’t know what does! Think back for a moment,” the Amazon continued. “Every one of those important people vanished a while back, and then returned—to immediately start their war propaganda. The assumption is that they were silently spirited to Mars, Martian brains were put in their bodies, and then they came back, the Martians using the bodies for themselves but handling matters as their own brains dictated.”
“It’s impossible!” Kerrigan declared flatly.
“Anything but.” The Amazon shook her head. “As far back as 1946 surgeons could give a body a new artificial heart, and in some cases brains were altered, divided, and generally remodelled. We in this age of 1990 are excellent brain-surgeons—and evidently the Martians are far ahead of us. A clock will go with a new mainspring: a body will work with a different brain. Master-surgeons could do it without difficulty....
“So,” the Amazon finished grimly, “I killed every one of the warmongers. It was the only thing to do. That will give us breathing space, but the world will not easily accept the theory of transferred brains, so before I’m arrested for mass-murder—and have all my plans upset—I’m leaving Earth altogether and heading for Mars. We can only kill the branches here: on Mars I hope to lay my axe at the root.”
“Yes, that’s true enough,” Chris assented, “but it’s going to be tough without you, as things are.... The people are pretty well demoralized already with cities falling apart....”
“You’ll have to handle that as best you can,” the girl told him. “You’ve got the metal for blocking the iron-eaters; use it wherever necessary. You, Howard, I want to come with me. Your wife can look after the Venusian end of the Dodd Line during your absence.”
The Commander’s big, craggy face lighted. “To come with you?” he echoed. “You mean it?”
“Naturally. Chiefly because you can best be spared, and because if things get rough you’ve got the physical strength to look after yourself. We’re going in the Ultra this time, because I have the feeling that I may need quite a lot of the weapons she carries. I am also going to try a little subterfuge,” the Amazon added, with a thoughtful smile. “Anyway, more of that later. Be back here for noon, Howard, and then we’ll start. I’ve a busy morning ahead of me.”
“And supposing the police catch up with you before noon?” Kerrigan asked.
“Let me worry about that. They can’t get into my laboratory, where I shall be, and I’ll have Tana tell them I’m not.at home. When you come, Howard, give me a ring over Line Forty-nine: that’s the private beam to the lab; then I’ll know it’s you.”
“Okay.”
With these instructions the Amazon let matters rest and, taking her departure from the two men, hurried into her laboratory. She had Tana get her some breakfa
st, and then set to work with her complicated instruments to create a mass of synthetic flesh. By mid-morning her task was completed, and she stood contemplating a figure seated in a chair—a figure with blonde hair, flawless feature, lissom figure, and wearing black tights and a gold belt. In every particular an identical twin of herself.
“Get up!” she ordered, and her double obeyed and stood motionless, gazing at her with steady violet eyes.
“Sit down!” And the image sat down.
The Amazon smiled and nodded to herself. Once before in baiting an interplanetary criminal she had used a synthetic duplicate of herself in order to confuse matters; and this time her plan was such that she might have to do it again. She knew that within a range of two miles the double’s photoelectric brain would pick up her orders—but nobody else’s and translate them into bodily action; and as for the doubling process itself there was no flaw. The image’s flesh was photographically accurate, internally and externally— except for the brain—even to the altered glandular structure which gave this strange girl her vast strength and abnormal intelligence.
Satisfied with her handiwork, she ordered the image to walk in front of her, and followed it into the gigantic adjoining hangar, where the Ultra was resting in its metal scaffolding. It tapered at the ends, was three hundred feet long, and gleamed like polished silver. Portholes lined it three a side. Within it was an atomic-power plant and every conceivable weapon and necessity which the Amazon’s agile brain had been able to devise.
At her order the image walked through the open air-lock and sat down on the wall-couch, there to await further orders. The next hour the Amazon spent in checking over the various necessities for the trip, and by the time she had finished the private beam was buzzing for attention in the laboratory. As she had expected, it was Commander Kerrigan announcing that he was on his way.
Twin of the Amazon Page 4
