“Dead—of old age,” Clem snapped.
A murmur went through the people and the three men on the rostrum looked at each other questioningly; then the centermost turned to face Clem again.
“I hope, Mister Bradley, you are not going to be so foolish as to use the present all-prevailing senility as an excuse for your behavior? The Master couldn’t have died of old age. Such a thing is not even possible. He has been hidden somewhere, was probably removed under heavy disguise which accounts for his clothes being left behind.”
Clem breathed hard. “If I were to explain this matter in full detail I would only be derided by you and the people, because it involves a most complicated scientific theory—but the Master understood it, and accepted it. Will you be content to base your decision on the Master’s own conclusions?”
“So you mean to restore him from—wherever you have hidden him?”
“Nothing of the kind. The Master is extinct, dying of age so great that even his body turned to dust. However, he recorded the interview Mister Cardew and I had with him, and to the best of my knowledge that recording is still in his office if I could be allowed to obtain it.”
“That’s only fair, surely?” Buck demanded.
“You have overlooked the fact that you are prisoners,” the ‘judge’ snapped, “and such a request as you have made cannot be granted. In any case we have no guarantee that the recording to which you refer would prove genuine. Since the abduction of the Master must obviously have been planned in detail long ago, there would be nothing to prevent scientists faking a recording purporting to belong to the Master. Nothing would be easier than to leave it in his office at the time of the abduction, to be used later as so-called proof of innocence. I, and the people, can well understand how essential it is that you three should escape justice since you are obviously the cleverest spies in the entire Eastern organization—”
“We’ve nothing to do with the Eastern organization!” Buck roared in fury. “Why can’t you three men up there use some commonsense? Any man, or woman, no matter what their crime, is entitled to use every available form of evidence to prove innocence. That’s all we’re asking for.”
“And it is not granted!” the ‘judge’ retorted.
“Who says it isn’t?” a voice asked coldly—and immediately attention was distracted from the ‘judge’ to a man at the back of the hall. Somehow he had reached one of the higher windows and evidently entered thereby. At the moment he stood against the empty top balcony, using its ledge upon which to rest the heavy barrel of a blast-gun. His steel helmet and grimy face immediately betrayed where he had come from.
“The boys!” Buck cried in delight, glancing about him to behold other engineers from the foundation site at different parts of the balcony, their blast-guns poised. “They’ve followed us up.”
“That’s right, Buck,” agreed the one who had first spoken. “Since you’d been taken away by the people we decided to see that the people gave you a fair deal—and at the moment they don’t seem to be doing so—”
“Get those men from that balcony!” the ‘judge’ shouted in fury. “Whose negligence allowed them to get in, anyway?”
“Not a matter of negligence,” responded the spokesman engineer. “Everybody’s so confoundedly busy trying to crush into this place that nobody’s about in the city—and certainly nobody was guarding this building. We just went round the back of it and climbed up to the first story. Now—how about letting the three prisoners have a fair hearing?”
“Waste of time,” Clem called. “Even if the record was produced they’d say it was faked.”
The engineer considered, his sharp eyes glancing to his comrades at the ready along the balcony, their guns aimed.
“All right,” he said. “In that case you’d better go—whilst you’re safe. We’ll cover you.”
The people jumped to their feet in fury, then they hesitated as Clem spoke to them.
“Better look at this thing sensibly,” he warned. “I invented the blast-guns these engineers are using and I warn you their power is sufficient to mow down everybody in this hall. Better give us a safe passage if you wish to stay in one piece.”
“And where do we go?” Buck murmured.
“To the Master’s office,” Clem whispered. “The highest point in the city and easy to defend against most comers. Right, let’s risk it.”
“I’m going to let the boys know where we’re going,” Buck said. “They can be of tremendous help to us with those blast guns— Follow us to the Master’s office, boys!” he yelled, and then hurried after Clem and Lucy as they got on the move.
Under the circumstances there was nothing the people could do with the deadly blast-guns threatening them. Even without the warning Clem had given them they knew the power of the guns because the news announcements had been full of the details at the time Clem had secured his Government contract.
“You can’t possibly get away with this!” Guard Sixty-Seven shouted angrily. “Even less so since you’ve told us where you’re going! What are you people scared of?” he demanded, wheeling round. “Don’t you realize they’re getting away? Those men with the blast-guns can’t get all of us! Come on!”
Pretty well sure of his safety because he was so hemmed in by the people around him Sixty-Seven plunged in the wake of the departing trio and, moved by his example, the people also started to push and shove. The spokesman-engineer watched the proceedings for a moment, his keen eyes to the sights of his blast-gun.
“I never did like that guard,” he muttered. “Too much to say for himself—”
Abruptly the guard became visible in the sight for a second or so and the engineer instantly pressed the button. A shaft of violet flame stabbed down from the balcony and struck Sixty-Seven straight in the back. He howled in sudden anguish and then dropped flat on his face, the people around him recoiling hastily and staring over their shoulders, upwards to where the engineer stood.
“Just to warn you,” he shouted. “If you dare follow those three you know what you’ll get! Now get back before I give the order for every gun to be used.”
By this time Clem, Buck and Lucy had reached the main doorway at a slithering run. They glanced back quickly over their shoulders.
“The boys are pinning ’em,” Buck exulted. “Quick! With things like this we may just make it to the Master’s office, and if we get that far there’s no reason why we shouldn’t be able to get the Council to listen to us later. If they won’t listen, then we’ll barricade ourselves in until they do.”
“And use what for food?” Clem questioned. “Anyway, we’ll sort that out later— Ready for a sprint, Lucy? Here we go.”
Helping the girl between them they hurried out into the main street and, as the engineer had said, it was almost empty of people, most of them having congregated in the vast public hall. What few there were glanced after the scurrying trio but paid no more attention—and since the guards within the public hall were unable to send advance warning to the main headquarters building there was no danger in this direction at the moment, either.
“We’d better take the back entrance and use the service lift,” Clem said quickly, when at last they had reached the broad avenue leading to the rear of the vast building. “We’re not so liable to be questioned.”
Buck nodded, not letting up for a moment in his run. The main doorway to the rear was gained and so was the lift marked STAFF ONLY, which at this period was empty.
“Done it,” Clem panted, slamming across the grille and pushing in the button. “We’ll think out later what we do next.”
To Lucy the journey to the top of the vast edifice seemed interminable and every moment she was expecting the lift to stop, halted by some official order or other, but nothing happened—and at last there was a click as the ascent finished and the lift gates automatically opened on to an opulent corridor. Here indeed were the sacrosanct regions of the building, as Clem and Buck well knew—the private chambers and office of the
departed Master.
“There’s a guard at the Master’s office door,” Lucy whispered, peering outside.
“There is?” Buck clenched his fists. “I’ll deal with him. Follow me.”
Unarmed as he was, and knowing there was, no retreat now they had come thus far, he stepped out boldly and advanced. The guard instantly leveled his atom-gun.
“Business?” he asked curtly.
“Urgent,” Buck replied, still on the move. “You’d better see these papers. There are some records in the Master’s office that I have permission to get. See—”
He fumbled in his overalls and unconsciously the guard watched the moving hand. The next thing he knew was that the other hand, bunched into a fist, had lashed a smashing left-hook under his chin. He gulped and his head snapped back to a sharp angle. Before he could attempt to recover the right hand whipped upwards and then descended in a fist on the back of his neck. He flattened knocked out.
“Okay,” Buck called, heaving the unconscious man to one side. “Coast’s clear for the moment.”
Still hanging on to Lucy, Clem hurried forward; then Buck swore under his breath as he tried the Master’s office door. It was locked, and made of solid metal so no shoulder heaving could possibly break it open.
“Only one answer,” Buck said, and from the floor he picked up the atom-gun that the guard had dropped.
“That’s going to ruin the lock when we want to barricade ourselves in,” Clem pointed out.
“Maybe so, but it’s a better alternative than being shut out here, isn’t it? The mob’ll be after us the moment they dare to risk it.”
He fired the gun into the lock and the third shaft of intolerably bright energy did the trick. Clem hurtled straight into the office and brought up sharp against the desk. Instantly Buck and the girl followed him, then Buck closed the door and used the atom-gun again to fuse frame and door into one solid piece down the opening side.
“May hold,” he said, “We’ll live in hope! Our best place at the moment seems to be the window. We can watch what’s happening.”
They moved to it, and for Lucy at least, it was a dizzying experience to gaze down into that two-thousand-foot canyon, of steel and stone and see the main street below like a ribbon amidst the smaller buildings.
“There they come!” Buck exclaimed suddenly, pointing to the left. “Swarms of ’em! Like ants on a strip of tape.”
His simile was very accurate. In silence Lucy and Clem watched the hordes swelling along the white roadway, plainly heading in the direction of this headquarters building. At this great height, and with the windows closed, there were no sounds, but presumably the mob was shouting for vengeance if their wild, surging movements were any guide.
“I’d give anything at this moment for a stack of bombs,” Buck muttered, glancing angrily around him.
Clem shrugged. “And what good would that do?”
“Good? Probably save us. I’ve no illusions about being able to stick in this office indefinitely.”
“Neither have I,” Clem answered. “Which means we might as well do what we can whilst we are here. Where’s that recording machine?”
He hurried across to the desk and looked at the recording instrument. A full reel of tape was on the take-up spool and, as far as could be judged, was the one that had recorded the interview with the Master. Quickly Clem laced the free end of the tape back on the empty spool and then set the machine in reverse until the tape was back at its start-ting point. A preliminary test satisfied him that it was the interview.
“And how far does that get us?” Buck asked, watching. “Nobody here to listen except us. It’s the people who ought to hear it. Some of them might believe it. However, it can’t be done until they break in here, and by that time I fancy they’ll be too fighting mad to listen to anything!”
“They can hear it before they break in here,” Clem replied quickly, studying the various instruments on the huge desk. “Here’s a direct transmission radio, used only by the Master, I suppose, but according to the meter readings it is tuned to all public speakers— Yes, that ought to do it, providing the power is permanently on.”
He switched on the apparatus, then when the pilot-light glowed he spoke into the microphone. Apparently nothing happened.
“Can’t tell whether this works or not,” he said quickly glancing up. “Buck, open the ventilator shaft at the top of the window there: it will enable me to hear my voice in the city if the speakers are working.”
Buck promptly obeyed, studying the still surging mob as he did so. The moment the ventilator opened the noise of the people floated up in an. indistinguishable blur of sound, but a second or two later it was completely swamped by Clem’s own vastly amplified voice thundering through the public loudspeakers.
“Attention all listeners! Attention to a special broadcast on the wavelength of the late Master!”
“Keep it up!” Lucy exclaimed excitedly, peering below. “The mob’s halted and is listening for what comes next.”
Clem switched on the recorder and the playback voices spoke into the microphone and thence relayed themselves to every public loudspeaker in the city and surrounding districts. Little by little the entire interview with the Master was given, ending at the point where he had decided he must search the records.
“There it is!” Clem cried. “Believe it or otherwise, but that is a genuine record of what happened. Surely now you can see that the Master was not abducted or murdered? He died as I told you—of extreme old age!”
Clem ceased announcing and hurried to the window to join Buck and the girl in watching the scene below. From the look of things the people were discussing amongst themselves what they should do next—then the attention of the trio was suddenly diverted by the sight of heli-jet planes hurtling towards the headquarters building. Apparently they had come from the space-airport a quarter of a mile distant.
“Now what?” Buck looked above, his eyes narrowed. “Are these devils trying to get at us from the sky as well as the ground?”
“No idea,” Clem muttered, “but they’re certainly headed this way.”
Anxiously he, Buck and Lucy watched. The jet planes circled for a few moments, then they made a swift dive to the roof of the headquarters building and landed on the immense flat space. Presumably they did so, at least. From their angle at the window the trio could no longer detect what had happened.
“They’re coming on again below,” Lucy said, her voice dispirited. “Evidently they don’t believe what you told them Clem—”
She broke off at a sudden battering din upon the office door.
“Those from the jet planes,” Buck snapped. “A quicker way than coming by the lift. It’ll take ages for the mob to get up here anyway— “You’re wasting your time!” he yelled, as the hammering on the door continued. “We’re not coming out and the door’s sealed.”
“It’s me, Buck!” a voice shouted. “Get the door open, can’t you? We can’t leave you in there—”
“The boys!” Buck gasped, surprised. “I’d forgotten all about them— Blast the door open if you’ve got your blast-guns!” he shouted. “We’ll stand clear.”
There was an interval of a moment or two, then a burning redness appeared in the center of the metal door. It quickly changed to white and at last the metal itself began to run like melting butter before the terrific heat of the blast-gun the chief engineer was using. The moment a hole large enough had been made he clambered through into the office, avoiding the searingly hot sides of the opening.
“In you come, boys,” he called, and the rest of the men followed him, bringing the heavy blast-guns on their broad shoulders.
“Nice work,” Buck complimented them. “Even though I don’t quite understand what you did.”
“Simple enough, Buck. When we departed from the balcony of the public hall the people were more concerned in finding you than bothering with us—particularly as we had blast-guns with which to protect ourselves—so we carried
the stuff unmolested to the airfield and used six heli-jet planes. The authorities couldn’t stop us. We were in the air before the facts had dawned on them. Seemed to me the only way to get here ahead of the mob, and now we are here,” the engineer finished grimly, “we’ll give them a run for their money the moment they show themselves through that opening.”
“I don’t want any massacre,” Clem snapped.
“Maybe not, Clem, but this is out of your hands now,” Buck answered. “You’ve given them the record of the interview and it seems pretty clear that they haven’t accepted it. They’ve come into the building and any moment now they’ll be on top of us. I’m for fighting them—to the finish. Even if we go down let’s thin their numbers in the process.”
“At least let one of them speak, then,” Clem insisted. “We don’t know that they didn’t believe what they heard. If they’re still after us then let ’em have it, with my blessing.”
“Right!” Buck gave a grim nod and stood beside the chief engineer behind the line of blast-guns that had now been set in position. Lucy moved back also, Clem’s arm about her.
So they waited, listening to the growing sound of the mob ascending from the depths. They were coming by the moving stairways and had evidently swept all opposition out of the way in the process for, normally, nobody could get past the guards in the main hall of the building.
Nearer and nearer still, until their voices began to take on distinctness and their feet made a muffled thunder. And it last the first man and woman appeared—and stopped dead at the sight of the trained blast-guns.
“One step,” Buck warned, “and it’s the finish! If you’re resolved to take us to your blasted people’s justice you’re going to lose an awful lot of your numbers doing it!”
More men and women piled up behind the two hesitating in the broken doorway, until at last the space was jammed and there were shouts in the corridor demanding to know what was causing the hold-up.
“You heard my broadcast,” Clem snapped. “What more do you want?”
The Science-Fantasy Megapack: 25 Classic Tales From Fantasy Adventures Page 20
