Passenger to Frankfurt

by Agatha Christie

quickly.

  'He says he can depend on me to transcribe anything

  you wish to say to him or I to you.'

  'You have, I think, already received a letter from me,'

  said Colonel Munro.

  That is so,' said Miss Neumann. 'Professor Shoreham

  received your letter and knows its contents.'

  A hospital nurse opened the door just a crack--but ch1' did not come in. She spoke in a low whisper:

  'Is there anything I can get or do. Miss Neumann? I "

  any of the guests or for Professor Shoreham?'

  'I don't think there is anything, thank you. Miss Eiiis. I should be glad, though, if you could stay in your e.ttingroom

  just along the passage, in case we should nee.-' anything.'

  'Certainly--I quite understand.' She went away, "S the door softly.

  'We don't want to lose time,' said Colonel Munr �

  doubt Professor Shoreham is in tune with current i ^

  'Entirely so,' said Miss Neumann, 'as far as he is inte L

  'Does he keep in touch with scientific advancements and

  such things?'

  Robert Shoreham's head shook slightly from side to side.

  He himself answered.

  I have finished with all that.'

  'But you know roughly the state the world is in? Th� success of what is called the Revolution of Youth. The

  seizing of power by youthful fully-equipped forces.'

  180

  Miss Neumann said, 'He is in touch entirely with everything

  that is going on--in a political sense, that is.'

  "The world is now given over to violence, pain, revolutionary

  tenets, a strange and incredible philosophy of rule

  by an anarchic minority.'

  A faint look of impatience went across the gaunt face.

  'He knows all that,' said Mr Robinson, speaking unexpectedly.

  'No need to go over a lot of things again. He's

  a man who knows everything.'

  He said:

  'Do you remember Admiral Blunt?'

  Again the head bowed. Something like a smile showed

  on the twisted lips.

  'Admiral Blunt remembered some scientific work you had

  done on a certain project--'I think project is what you call

  these things? Project Benvo.'

  They saw the alert look which came into the eyes.

  'Project Benvo,' said Miss Neumann. 'You are going back

  quite a long time, Mr Robinson, to recall that.'

  'It was your project, wasn't it?' said Mr Robinson.

  'Yes, it was his project.' Miss Neumann now spoke more

  easily for him, as a matter of course.

  'We cannot use nuclear weapons, we cannot use explosives

  or gas or chemistry, but your project. Project Benvo, we could use.'

  There was silence and nobody spoke. And then again

  the queer distorted sounds came from Professor Shoreham's

  lips.

  'He says, of course,' said Miss Neumann, 'Benvo could be

  used successfully in the circumstances in which we find

  ourselves--'

  The man in the chair had turned to her and was saying

  something to her.

  'He wants me to explain it to you,' said Miss Neumann.

  'Project B, later called Project Benvo, was something that

  he worked upon for many years but which at last he laid

  aside for reasons of his own.'

  'Because he had failed to make his project materialize?'

  'No, he had not failed,' said Lisa Neumann. 'We had "of failed. I worked with him on this project. He laid it ^ide for certain reasons, but he did not fail. He succeeded.

  He was on the right track, he developed it, he tested it in "arious laboratory experiments, and it worked.' She turned w Professor Shoreham again, made a few gestures with

  181

  her hand, touching her lips, ear, mouth in a strange kind of

  code signal.

  'I am asking if he wants me to explain just what Benvo does.'

  'We do want you to explain.'

  'And he wants to know how you leamt about it.'

  'We learnt about it,' said Colonel Munro, 'through an

  old friend of yours. Professor Shoreham. Not Admiral

  Blunt, he could not remember very much, but the other

  person to whom you had once spoken about it. Lady Matilda

  Cleckheaton.'

  Again Miss Neumann turned to him and watched his lips. She smiled faintly.

  'He says he thought Matilda was dead years ago.'

  'She is very much alive. It is she who wanted us to know

  about this discovery of Professor Shoreham's.'

  'Professor Shoreham will tell you the main points of what

  you want to know, though he has to warn you that this

  knowledge will be quite useless to you. Papers, formulae,

  accounts and proofs of this discovery were all destroyed. But

  since the only way to satisfy your questions is for you to learn

  the main outline of Project Benvo, I can toll you fairly

  clearly of what it consists. You know the uses and purpose

  of tear gas as used by the police in controlling riot crowds;

  violent demonstrations and so on. It induces a fit of weeping,

  painful tears and sinus inflammation.'

  'And this is something of the same kind?'

  'No, it is not in the least of the same kind but it can have

  the same purpose. It came into the heads of scientists that

  one can change not only men's principal reactions and

  feeling, but also mental characteristics. You can change man's

  character. The qualities of an aphrodisiac are we'i

  known. They lead to a condition of sexual desire, there ai-:

  various drugs or gases or glandular operations--any of thes.e

  things can lead to a change in your mental vigour, increase'

  energy as by alterations to the thyroid gland, and Professor

  Shoreham wishes to tell you that there is a certain processhe

  will not tell you now whether it is glandular, or a gas thi

  can be manufactured, but there is something that can chants a man in his outlook on life--his reaction to people a" '

  to life generally. He may be in a state of homicidal t'.ir

  he may be pathologically violent, and yet, by the influer

  Project Benvo, he turns into something, or rather son-. quite different. He becomes--there is only one word if

  I believe, which is embodied in its name--he becomes volent. He wishes to benefit others. He exudes kindnes

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  n

  ;_ has a horror of causing pain or inflicting violence. Benvo

  can be released oyer a big area, it can affect hundreds, thousands

  of people if manufactured in big enough quantities,

  and if distributed successfully.'

  'How long does it last?' said Colonel Munro. Twenty-four

  hours? Longer?' ,

  'You don't understand,' said Miss Neumann. 'It is permanent.'

  'Permanent? You've changed a man's nature, you've

  altered a component, a physical component, of course, of

  his being which has produced the effect of a permanent

  change in his nature. And you cannot go back on that? You cannot put him back to where he was again. It has

  to be accepted as a permanent change?'

  'Yes. It was, perhaps, a discovery more of medical interest

  I at first, but Professor Shoreham had conceived of it as a

  deterrent to be used in war, in mass risings, riotings, revolutions,

  anarchy. He didn't think of it as merely medical. 'It

  does not produce happiness in. the subject, only a great wish
r />   for others to be happy. That is an effect, he says, that everyone

  feels in their life at one time or another. They have a

  great wish to make someone, one person or many people--to

  make them comfortable, happy, in good health, all these

  things. And since people can and do feel these things, there is,

  we both believed, a component that controls that desire in

  their bodies, and if you once put that component in operation

  it can go on in perpetuity.'

  'Wonderful,' said Mr Robinson.

  He spoke thoughtfully rather than enthusiastically.

  j 'Wonderful. What a thing to have discovered. What a

  "thing to be able to put into action if--but why?'

  The head resting towards the back of the chair turned

  slowly towards Mr Robinson. Miss Neumann said:

  'He says you understand better than the others.'

  'But it's the answer,' said James Kleek. 'It's the exact answer!, It's wonderful.' His face was enthusiastically excited.

  Miss Neumann was shaking her head.

  'Project Benvo,' she said, 'is not for sale and not for a Sift. It has been relinquished.'

  'Are you telling us the answer is no?' said Colonel Munro incredulously.

  'Yes Professor Shoreham says the answer is no. He decided

  thai. u ?as against--' she paused a minute and turned to look at taste nan in the chair. He made quaint -gestures with his

  head, with one hand, and a few guttural sounds came

  183

  from his mouth. She waited and then she said, *He will tell

  you himself, he was afraid. Afraid of what science has done

  in its time of triumph. The things it has found out and

  known, the things it has discovered and given to the world.

  The wonder drugs that have not always been wonder drugs,

  the penicillin that has saved lives and the penicillin that has

  taken lives, the heart transplants that have brought disillusion

  and the disappointment of a death not expected. He has lived

  in the period of nuclear fission; new weapons that have slain.

  The tragedies of radio-activity; the pollutions that new

  industrial discoveries have brought about. He has been afraid

  of what science could do, used indiscriminately.'

  'But this is a benefit. A benefit to everyone,' cried Munro. 'So have many things been. Always greeted as great benefits

  to humanity, as great wonders. And then come the side

  effects, and worse than that, the fact that they have sometimes

  brought not benefit but disaster. And so he decided

  that he would give up. He says'--she read from a paper

  she held, whilst beside her he nodded agreement from his chair--' "J am satisfied that I have done what I set out to do, that I made my discovery. But I decided not to put it into

  circulation. It must be destroyed. And so it has been destroyed.

  And so the answer to you is no. There is no benevolence on tan.

  There could have been once, but now all the formulae, all t:e

  know-how, my notes and my account of the necessary prcx. dure are gone--burnt to ashes--I have destroyed my brc

  child":

  Robert Shoreham struggled into raucous difficult sp-sec' .

  'I have destroyed my brain child and nobody in the

  world knows how I arrived at it. One man helped rr'� *"?t

  he is dead. He died of tuberculosis a year after w :'"

  come to success. You must go away again. I cannoi ;'. ;

  you.'

  'But this knowledge of yours means you could save if

  world 1'

  The man in the chair made a curious noise. It was laughter.

  Laughter of a crippled man.

  Save the world. Save the world! What a phrase! Tha-'s

  what your young people are doing, they think! Tney going

  ahead in violence and hatred to save the work ' ' they don't know how! They will have to do it them, ~'i~ out of their own hearts, out of their own minds. We ^ l give them an artificial way of doing it. No. An artificial goodness? An artificial kindness? None of that. It wo'lldfl t

  184

  be real. It wouldn't mean anything. It would be against

  Nature.' He said slowly: 'Against God.'

  The last two words came out unexpectedly, dearly enunciated.

  He looked round at his listeners. It was as though he

  pleaded with them for understanding, yet at the same time

  had no real hope of it.

  ''I had a right to destroy what I had created--'

  'I doubt it very much,' said Mr Robinson, 'knowledge is

  knowledge. What you have given birth to--what you have

  made come to life, you should not destroy.'

  'You have a right to your opinion--but the fact you will

  have to accept.'

  'No,' Mr Robinson brought the word out with force,

  Lisa Neumann turned on him angrily.

  'What do you mean by "No"?'-

  Her eyes were flashing. A handsome woman, Mr Robinson

  thought. A woman who had been in love with Robert

  Shoreham all her life probably. Had loved him, worked

  with him, and now lived beside him, ministering to him

  with her intellect, giving him devotion in its purest form

  without pity.

  There are things one gets to know in the course of one's .lifetime,' said Mr Robinson. 'I don't suppose mine will

  be a long life. I carry too much weight to begin with.' He

  sighed as he looked down at his bulk. 'But I do know some

  thing--. :'m right, you know, Shoreham. You'll have to admit

  I'm ' , it, too. You're an honest man. You wouldn't have

  des -;, d your work. You couldn't have brought yourself to

  do t You've got it somewhere still, locked away, hidden

  aw,,/, of in this house, probably. I'd guess, and I'm only

  nia-in; a guess, that you've got it somewhere in a safe

  deposit or a bank. She knows you've got it there, too. You

  trust her. She's the only person in the world you do trust.'

  Shoreham said, and this time his voice was almost distinct:

  'Who are you? Who the devil are you?'

  'I'm just a man who knows about money,' said Mr

  Robinson, 'and the things that branch off from money,

  you know. People and their idiosyncrasies and their practices

  in life. If you liked to, you could lay your hand on the

  work tha.t you've put away. I'm not saying that you could 00 ^"e ' ame work now, but I think it's all there somewhere.

  iou we ;old us your views, and I wouldn't say they were all ^ong,' --aid Mr Robinson.

  185

  'Possibly you're right. Benefits to humanity are tricky

  things to deal with. Poor old Beveridge, freedom from

  want, freedom from fear, freedom from whatever it was,

  he thought he was making a heaven on earth by saying

  that and planning for it and getting it done. But it hasn't

  made heaven on earth and I don't suppose your Benvo or

  whatever you call it (sounds like a patent food) will bring

  heaven on earth either. Benevolence has its dangers just

  like everything else. What it will do is save a lot of suffering,

  pain, anarchy, violence, slavery to drugs. Yes, it'll

  save quite a lot of bad things from happening, and it might save something that was important. It might--just might

  --make a difference to people. Young people. This Benvoleo

  of yours--now I've made it sound like a patent cleaner--is

  going to make people benevolent and I'll admit perhaps that it's also going to make
them condescending, smug and pleased

  with themselves, but there's just a chance, too, that if y;>u

  change people's natures by force and they have to go on

  using that particular kind of nature until they die, one or t" /o

  of them--not many--might discover that they had a natural

  vocation, in humility, not pride, for what they were being

  forced to do. Really change themselves, I mean, before they

  died. Not be able to get out of a new habit they'd learnt.'

  Colonel Munro said, 'I don't understand what the hell

  you're all talking about.'

  Miss Neumann said, 'He's talking nonsense. You have

  to take Professor Shoreham's answer. He will do what he

  likes with his own discoveries. You can't coerce him.'

  'No,' said Lord Altamount. 'We're not going to coerce you or torture you, Robert, or force you to reveal your

  hiding-places. You'll do what you think right. That's agreed.'

  'Edward?' said Robert Shoreham. His speech failed him

  slightly again, his hands moved in gesture, and Miss ^umann

  translated quickly.

  'Edward? He says you are Edward Altamount?'

  Shoreham spoke again and she took the words fron

  'He asks you. Lord Altamount, if you are defi

  with your whole heart and mind, asking him to put P; ije t

  Benvo in your jurisdiction. He says--' she paused, wal '-" ?

  listening--'he says you are the only man in public lif ' he

  ever trusted. If it is your wish--'

  James Kleek was suddenly on his feet. Anxious, wick

  to move like lightning, he stood by Lord Altamount's '""

  'Let me help you up, sir. You're ill. You're not ell.

  Please stand back a little. Miss Neumann. I--I mu set

  186

  to him. I--I have his remedies here. I know what to do--*

  His hand went into his pocket and came out again with

  a hypodermic syringe.

  'Unless he gets this at once it'll be too late--' He had

  caught up Lord Altamount's arm, rolling up his sleeve,

  pinching the flesh between his fingers, he held the hypolennic

  ready.

  But someone else moved. Horsham was across the room, lushing Colonel Munro aside; his hand closed over James

  {.leek's as he wrenched the hypodermic away. Kleek struggled

  �ut Horsham was too strong for him. And Munro was now

  here, too.

  'So it's been you, James Kleek,' he said. "You who've

  �een the traitor, a faithful disciple who wasn't a faithful ' ijdisciple.'

  j | Miss Neumann had gone to me door--had flung it open

  imd was calling. .1 'Nurse! Come quickly. Come.'

  The nurse appeared. She gave one quick glance to Professor

  Shoreham, but he waved her away and pointed across

  he room to where Horsham and Munro still held a struggling

  Kleek. Her hand went into the pocket of her uniform.

  | Shoreham stammered out, 'It's Altamount. A heart attack.' i 'Heart attack, my foot,' roared Munro. 'It's attempted jnurder.' He stopped.

  I 'Hold the chap,' he said to Horsham, and leapt across """ie room.

  'Mrs Cortman? Since when have you entered the nursing

  "ofession? We'd rather lost sight of you since you gave > the slip in Baltimore.'

  Milly Jean was still wrestling with her pocket. Now her

  hand came out with the small automatic in it. She glanced

  towards Shoreham but Munro blocked her, and Lisa Neumann was standing in front of Shoreham's chair.

  James Kleek yelled, 'Get Altamount, Juanita--quick--get Altamount.'

  Her arm flashed up and she fired, James Kleek said,

  'Damned good shoti'

  Lord Altamount had had a classical education. He murmured

  faintly, looking at James Kleek,

  'Jamie? Et to Brute?' and collapsed against the back of ^s chair.

  I>r McCulloch looked round him, a little uncertain of what

  K 187

  he was going to do or say next. The evening had been a

  somewhat unusual experience for nun.

  Lisa Neumann came to him and set a glass by his side.

  'A hot toddy,' she said.

  'I always knew you were a woman in a thousand. Lisa.'

  He sipped appreciatively.

  'I must say I'd like to know what all this has been about--

  but I gather it's the sort of thing that's so hush-hush that

  nobody's going to tell me anything.'

  The Professor--he's all right, isn't he?'

  The Professor?' He looked at her anxious face, kindly. ^He's fine. If you ask me, it's done him a world of good.'

  'I thought perhaps the shock--'

  Tm quite all right,' said Shoreham. 'Shock treatment is

  what I needed. I feel--how shall I put it--alive again.' He

  looked surprised.

  McCulloch said to Lisa, 'Notice how much stronger his