The Touch of Death

by John Creasey

  He stood in front of Anak.

  “Sit down, Palfrey,” Anak said, in the most casual way. “Klim, push up a chair.” He paused, then sat down himself. “I understand that there isn’t going to be any further opposition.”

  “There’ll be no organised opposition,” Palfrey said. “There’ll probably be guerrilla resistance.”

  “Oh, that.” Anak shrugged it off. “That does not matter. Very well. I have drawn up a list of instructions. Each nation will scuttle its warships, nothing over two thousand tons is to remain afloat. All military aircraft must be destroyed. Armies, navies and air forces are to be disbanded at once – it will take a little time to disperse them; I have allowed two months. All weapons are to be destroyed – all land and air weapons of every kind. Fortifications are to be dismantled everywhere.” He paused, and tapped the documents. “It is all in there.”

  Palfrey said: “Anak, we must keep civil order. We—”

  “I shall keep civil law and order,” interrupted Anak. “The first thing you will do will be to issue a proclamation simultaneously in all countries, telling the people what has happened.”

  “The death sentence, to be carried out summarily, will be applied for a variety of offences, such as carrying arms, organising opposition to my World Government, and to theft of any kind whatsoever. The present civil authorities will be responsible for enforcing the law until I make arrangements for them to be superseded. It is all in there,” Anak added, impatiently. “Is there anything you want to ask?”

  “I am instructed to put certain questions,” Palfrey said carefully, “and I am also instructed that unless there is a favourable answer, the governments cannot undertake to maintain order or to guarantee the obedience of the peoples. I—”

  Anak said: “What on earth are you talking about? Don’t you understand that you simply have to do what you’re told?”

  “As an emissary,” Palfrey asserted, “I have to tell you what I am instructed to tell you. First, we want assurances, in the form of pledges, that you will not use the weapons fatalis or pulveris anywhere again, or weapons of like destructive quality.”

  “If you people behave yourselves, there’ll be no need,” Anak said carelessly. “What else?”

  “Have I your assurance?”

  Anak said sharply: “You are getting beyond yourself. I shall make no promises, give no undertakings of any kind. Didn’t you understand that I wanted unconditional surrender?”

  Palfrey kept silent.

  Banister and Rita were leaning forward, elbows on the big table, looking at him. They seemed touched with tension; and for that matter, so did the others. Palfrey sensed the gaze of everyone there, and saw the storm gathering in Anak’s eyes.

  He had been frightened before; he was doubly frightened now.

  “Did you understand or didn’t you?” demanded Anak.

  Palfrey said: “I don’t think you quite understand. You’re dealing with people – men and women with minds of their own, and people who aren’t all afraid of death. Many of them would rather die than live in your kind of world.”

  “You think so,” sneered Anak. “You don’t think that I can deal with them?” He gave a sharp, explosive laugh. “I’ll show you whether I can! I’ll teach anyone, governments or people, to defy me. I’m ready, Palfrey, didn’t you make that clear?”

  Palfrey didn’t speak.

  Anak leaned forward and pressed a button on the table. Everyone else looked towards the far wall; and Palfrey looked with them.

  It slid sideways in two directions, making a door. There was a lighted landing beyond and then steps leading into a vast lighted chamber. One after the other they got up and walked towards the steps. Anak was at Palfrey’s side. He saw that Rita and Banister were together, a little way behind him.

  Anak went on: “Do you remember what happened at the Wentworth Stadium, Palfrey? I heard about your silly, frantic scramble to try to get the people away. That should have taught you the final lesson – that you can’t escape from me. Everything has been too carefully planned. But—Banister set that little business in motion—didn’t you, Banister?” There was a sneer in Anak’s voice. “I insisted that he should. It was the only way for him to prove how completely he was with me. Wasn’t it, Banister?”

  Banister said huskily: “Yes, Anak.”

  “Fatalis is, of course, passed from person or thing to another person or thing, and the actual distribution is from sources down below. However, we have to be able to give instructions, and these are done by radio in direct transmission to our agents. Plans for the little demonstration at Wentworth had been in hand for some time – Banister gave the orders by radio for the plans to be put into effect. Didn’t you, Banister?”

  The sneer was there again.

  Banister said huskily: “Yes.”

  Palfrey sensed something which he couldn’t understand; tension which hadn’t been here when he had been with Anak before. That took away from any shock he felt; any revulsion against Banister.

  “But in spite of that demonstration and others, the people below still want to impose terms,” said Anak. “Will they never learn? It is a clear indication of their intellectual dullness – they are so dull-witted. I’m sure you find that the case, Palfrey. However, I was half-prepared for it, and I have another demonstration ready.”

  Palfrey said sharply: “I am here under a truce—”

  “I made no truce,” Anak said brutally. “I delivered an ultimatum.”

  They fell silent.

  Banister and Rita were some distance away; and Palfrey, used to these things, saw that a group of men had surrounded them. Banister appeared to be walking wherever he wished, quite freely; but in fact he was hemmed in. He looked as if he realised that.

  Palfrey could imagine what Banister had felt like when he had issued those orders. He could understand the shock it had given to Banister’s mind and body. It would explain the oddness of his expression, the way he walked; the fear that was in him.

  They came into a large room.

  This, Palfrey judged, was at least a hundred feet below the level of the Council Chamber itself. It was empty. The walls were smooth. The shape of the room was circular. He looked up – and was reminded of a planetarium, where the wonders of the skies by day and by night, and in all seasons of the year, could be made clear.

  There were circular rows of seats also; and in the middle of a raised platform some instrument which looked like a gigantic telescope on a swivel base. Two men stood beside it.

  The seats were upholstered and comfortable.

  They all sat down, Palfrey next to Anak. He glanced along and saw that Banister was several seats away from him; and that Rita was next to Banister. He saw Banister look towards him; he had never seen greater horror on the face of a man. He sensed vicious disappointment, too – an awful frustration. He guessed that something had gone badly wrong, and he could not understand what; but he could guess.

  Banister had laid plans, had plotted as he had promised – but was now fearful of failure.

  The great hall was silent when the lights began to fade. Soon, only a glow showed about the great sphere, or globe, which was suspended above their heads.

  The world gradually appeared in front of their eyes, a great relief map, moving slowly. There was Australia, New Zealand, the Pacific islands . . . there were the dots which represented the ships . . . there were the cities and the large towns.

  It moved round slowly.

  There was South America . . .

  Mexico, the United States, the Atlantic, Great Britain looking so tiny against Europe, Russia, the Middle East. It was all there; as if they were looking at a huge globe which was turning on its own axis in such a way that they could see it from every angle.

  “You are looking at the world as it would be seen from
another planet – from Mars, the Moon, any one you care to name,” said Anak. “This is the way that we on this planet look at Mars and the Moon. This particular model is to scale, of course. Also, it is in radio contact with the world itself – you see that?”

  A light glowed at Sydney, Australia.

  “At the moment,” said Anak, “we are in direct radio-beam contact with Sydney – at Sydney Bridge. Do you see that little red knob, Palfrey – little more than a pin-head? . . . That is a lever. If it were pulled, it would light up. Sydney, or that part of it we were beaming, would crumble to dust. Still, I’ve nothing against Sydney! Some of its slums will have to be cleared eventually, but there is no hurry, and there are plenty of worse places. The slums in the East End of London, for instance – there are a lot of them, aren’t there, Palfrey? I am sure that your great humanitarian mind is often sick with grief because of the unfortunates living there. Well, here is your chance to take them out of their squalid surroundings, to ease their life of misery. You see those red lights—”

  Tiny red lamps began to glow, round the base of the instrument.

  Palfrey said hoarsely: “Yes.”

  “Good. Go forward. As you draw nearer, you will see that each is labelled. Pull the little lighted lever which says London, and there will be no more East End slums. The radio beam will set off the controlled atmospherical disturbances which will destroy it – pulverise it. Go forward, Palfrey. And perhaps after this you will persuade the governments below to stop arguing.”

  Anak stopped.

  Palfrey didn’t move.

  “Or perhaps you would prefer to destroy part of Chicago or New York or Moscow – perhaps you would gladly cleanse part of someone else’s city and not your own. You’ve a great sentimental regard for the East Enders of London, possibly, but not for those who live on East Side, New York. Very well, find the New York lever. The beam is already poised. Not a single modern building will be touched. Of course a few highly intelligent people might suffer with the rest, but does that really matter?”

  He stopped.

  Palfrey didn’t move.

  “Go forward,” Anak said, softly.

  Palfrey found himself being pulled from his chair by forces which he was powerless to resist.

  Chapter 23

  Banister could remember what had happened when he had been in a smaller room than this, and when he had sent the order to the world for the release of fatalis at the stadium. He, Neil Banister, had actually set that dreadful tragedy in motion.

  He felt frozen with the horror of that, even now.

  It was useless to tell himself that if he had refused, he would have been pushed aside, someone would have sent the order – or perhaps sent pulveris waves spinning towards the earth. He had been a tool used by Anak; used by the Leader to compel him to admit how utterly he was in the power of his captors.

  He might have refused.

  He had known in advance what he had to do.

  “You must do it,” he had told himself. “You must do it, you must prove how loyal you’ve become. It will give us a little more time.”

  He had known that the conspirators who had not been found were working. He knew that Doggett and Sophie had disappeared – and at times dared to hope that they had escaped.

  The conspirators had needed time.

  So Banister had pulled the lever and given an order. Before he had recovered from the physical and mental revulsion, he had been shown cine pictures of what had happened in the stadium. From that moment on, he had moved about like an automaton. He could not understand how he managed to keep calm; how he avoided losing his head completely, how he kept his hands off Anak.

  He dreamed of killing Anak. He dreamed of breaking his neck. He had nightmares of Morris-Jones, trying to kill Anak – and suffered physical torment because he, Neil Banister, had stopped him – had pulled the maddened Professor away.

  He had done nothing, because: “We must have time.”

  In the past few days, since the moment when he had given the signal to spread fatalis, there had come a new fear.

  Even the knowledge that he was being watched everywhere he went had faded. He had almost believed that they had come to trust him, believing that he had been drawn into the conspiracy against his will. In fact, he thought, Rita had pleaded for him. In the back of his mind was the horror of knowing that but for her, he would have suffered much more; would be dead.

  Whatever the reason for the easing of the control, the watchers had appeared again, and the television screens had glowed all the time. If he went to bed, and slept, and woke in the darkness of the night, that glow would still be there; he was never free from the watching eyes.

  He had heard that Palfrey was coming.

  Now, he saw Palfrey getting out of his chair, as if drawn by forces which were too strong to resist, pulling him towards the lever which could strike disaster on London and on a million of its people.

  Palfrey was moving towards the circle of lights; and could now read the names of the cities on them.

  He went more slowly.

  “Go on, Palfrey,” jeered Anak. “It will take only a moment. Just a flash of time. Then you can congratulate yourself – you will have given some of them a chance to live a little longer.”

  Palfrey didn’t speak, but turned to face him. There was just light to show him Anak’s face; to glisten on the Leader’s eyes.

  “Perhaps you’d like some help,” jeered Anak. “Banister, say, he’s an expert by now. How about it, Banister?”

  Banister didn’t move.

  After a pause, Anak spoke with sudden fury which burst from him viciously, brutally: “You weak-bellied fools! Now you’ll do one each – Banister the East End of London, Palfrey New York’s East Side. One each, and—”

  Banister shouted: “I won’t do it! I won’t do it again! Palfrey, can’t we stop him, can’t we—”

  Men came towards him; held him; and held Palfrey. The light grew brighter. Faces and figures showed up clearly. Rita was by Anak’s side, standing up; and Klim was on her other side. She had never looked more lovely. Banister tried to move towards her, tried to say that he couldn’t stand it any more; tried to make her understand that she couldn’t allow this.

  She smiled at him, and at Anak.

  Anak put his arm round her shoulders.

  “Rita won’t help you,” he said. “Rita is loyal, aren’t you, my sweet?” He hugged her to him. “Did you really hope she would change, Banister?” The sneer was like flame. “Never mind, you’ll soon forget that – when I’ve punished you! You’ll forget everything then. So will the rest of the conspirators. You were allowed some freedom to see whether you contacted them. You didn’t, but we found them all the same. They were all detained when you came in here this afternoon. Palfrey’s arrival was the signal for the arrest.”

  Banister didn’t speak.

  The men let him go.

  “Press those switches,” Anak ordered. “Palfrey – you too.”

  Neither man moved.

  Anak’s laboured breathing sounded very loud in the great hall. He strode forward. He slashed Palfrey across the face, and Banister too.

  He roared: “Very well, I’ll do it. But I’ll destroy whole cities – watch them go, watch them crumble into dust, watch them.” He raised his hands over the little levers. “You’ll see them light up, you’ll see what happens to them.” He flung his arms round, his hands touched a dozen levers, and smashed at more, pressing them down, as if the moment had driven him mad. “Watch them disappear, watch them die!” he roared.

  The lighted cities remained as they had been, in clean relief on the great globe. There was no sign of crumbling cities.

  Anak’s voice, roaring like a lion’s, gradually faded. The last note was one of disbelief.

  Banister and Palfre
y, watching the cities, knew that he had expected to see them disappear. He was astounded, and alarmed, because of the stillness.

  He struck at more levers.

  The same thing happened.

  He said in a strange voice: “What does this mean? What has happened?”

  “It means that I could not stand by and see you destroy the world,” Rita said, very softly, very clearly. “I have seen you going more and more mad. I could not go on with this. So, I helped the conspirators. I freed Doggett and Sophie – that is how they escaped. They are busy, now – they’ve cut off the beams, Anak, but they’re going to destroy—”

  She broke off.

  Everyone present knew that this was the final truth. It showed in Anak’s face, and in Klim’s. It was like a sentence of death.

  Banister felt a great exaltation.

  Television screens, dark until that moment, began to glow all round the walls.

  No one but Rita spoke in this hall.

  Doggett’s face appeared.

  “Rita, get away if you can. Use escape shaft two – we’ve cut the pulveris beam off the lower world, it’s now on High Peak and we can’t stop it. It’s on the other cities, too – hear that, Anak, everything you’ve built is being destroyed, everything. Rita—Rita, try—”

  The glow faded, abruptly.

  There was darkness.

  There came a deep rumbling sound.

  Palfrey and Banister saw and heard everything that went on, without fully understanding it. Banister had one clear picture; of Rita. Life and death were trivial things compared with the knowledge of what she had done.

  He heard her voice.

  “Take Palfrey – go to the door marked four. Hurry along the tunnel beyond it. I’ll stop—”

  A man leapt at her, and touched her; and there was a flash of light. The man fell. In that flash Palfrey and Banister saw the faces of the other men, the incredulous dismay on Anak’s. In that flash they saw other men leap at Rita, but she had only to spread out her arms and touch them.