by John Blaine
He thought despairingly that he couldn’t run much farther.
But the pursuers were closing the distance!
There was a high wall to Rick’s left and some kind of temporary buildings across the street. He saw no place where he and Scotty might find sanctuary. Every breath was an effort now. When he tried to breathe deeply it was like a knife-thrust in his lungs. He knew he couldn’t last much longer.
Scotty was ahead of him, arms and legs pumping. He was running purposefully, as though with a definite goal in mind. Rick threw a glance back over his shoulder and saw his pursuers coming up on him. They were within range now!
He saw one man lift a black box!
Fromahead came- a wild yell, an instant before the shrill whisper of the box.
“Sergeant of the guard!Help!”
Rick’s legs crumpled. Ahead, he saw Scotty sway. He fought to keep his balance without success. He landed on the, sidewalk and tried to keep crawling ahead. Every ounce of his will was concentrated in the terrible effort. He thought that he still moved, but he couldn’t be sure. He kept trying, even when he realized he wasn’t moving.
He rolled over, face to the night sky, and his imagination filled the sky with leaping bodies.
He thought: I’m going crazy!
They were flying at him, past him, coming out of the sky from nowhere.Some in full uniform, some in shirts and trousers.
Right out of the sky!
Marines!
CHAPTER XI
The Next Target
Rick sat on a chair, his head in his hands. He was still dizzy and his throat felt parched.
Scotty was next to him, grinning from ear to ear, and around them were almost two dozen Marines in various stages of dress and undress.
And opposite Rick sat Gizmo, Scotty’s taxi-driver friend.
“I never saw such a sight in my life,” Rick said. “Honest, I thought I was going batty. I lay there on my back and you guys came right out of the sky. It was weird.”
“Weird and wonderful,” Scotty agreed. “No kidding, I expected to see you wearing wings.”
Gizmo, grinning widely, repeated what he had told them five times before. “We were all having a bull session when that yell for help came. That sergeant-of-the-guard business was what made us move fast. We didn’t know what was up, but from the tone of voice, we knew some ex-serviceman was in plenty hot water. So we didn’t bother going out through the gate. We went right over the wall. That’s a high wall, too. Wonder we didn’t break our necks.”
A youthful Marine lieutenant, the officer of the deck, pushed his way through the group and spoke to Rick. “I called that number. Your friends will be here in a few minutes.”
Rick had given him the number of the hotel and asked him to call, knowing that the clerk would send Steve Ames or someone.
The lieutenant chuckled. “It wasn’t funny at the time, but now that it’s over I can see the whole picture and believe me, it is funny.” He sat down on a vacant chair.
“I was just coming back from making the rounds and I heard you yell. The next thing I knew, this bunch of madmen came pouring out of the armory and flew over the walls. I ran after them and jumped up on the wall and looked down. All I could see was Marines,
and all flat on their backs. I thought they were dead. Then I saw Gizmo and the corporal of the guard hightailing it down Twenty-third after a couple of people.”
The corporal of the guard, a youthful-looking Marine private, grinned. “I was
reallyhightailing it, too. My shirt wasn’t tucked in, and the tail was flapping like a parachute. And what made it even funnier was that I didn’t even know why I was running, except that two guys were running away from me.”
“They got into a car and beat it,” Gizmo said.“Some car, too. One of its headlights was busted and the rear window was damaged.”
A husky six-footer in full khaki uniform scratched his head. “What I want to know is, what hit us? I was the first one over the wall. I saw Brant lying on his back, and a little farther up, Scott was on his knees trying to move. Thenwhammo ! I’m on my back too, deafer than a post and not able to even wiggle my eyebrows.”
“Same here,” another Marine said, and several others joined in.
Only Gizmo and the corporal, the last ones over the wall, had escaped the box.
Evidently the wall had saved them.
They had all come over the wall in response to Scot-ty’sdesperate yell for help and had run into the two gang members. The whispering box had reaped a harvest of Marines for a few minutes, then the two men had turned tail and run to their car. Rick wondered. Had they run because the whispering box was out of compressed air? Or had they realized that it wouldn’t be possible to knock out a whole barracks of Marines and sailors? He probably would never know.
No one answered the question of what had hit them. Scotty spoke up. “I was running like crazy, right alongside the wall. For a while it didn’t register, then I remembered that a guard post was up at the next corner. I let out a yell, but I didn’t have much hope. Then you guys dropped from heaven. Gizmo, how did you get in on it?”
“I come down often,” Gizmo said. “Sometimes I have a couple of hours when there’s no rush for cabs, so I come down and have a gabfest with this gang. I went through boot camp with a couple of ‘em. Some others I knew when I was in the Pacific, before I got into the squad with you.”
A Marine showed up and spoke to the lieutenant. “There’s a man at the gate to see the officer of the deck, sir.Says his name isAmes.”
“Send him in,” the lieutenant ordered.
Rick breathed a sigh of relief. Now Steve could take over and he and Scotty wouldn’t have to answer embarrassing questions.
In a moment Steve entered. His keen/glance went from Scotty to Rick.“The box again?”
“Twice,” Rick said. He shuddered. “They almost had us when the Marines landed.”
Steve turned to the lieutenant. “Did it get any of your men?”
“All of those here but two.Except for myself.”
“Let’s hear the whole story,” Steve requested. “The Marines’ story, that is.”
The corporal of the guard outlined what had happened. Steve nodded. He spoke to the curious group of Marines. “Listen, gang, I know you’re all plenty curious about what hit you and what Rick and Scotty were doing with a couple of hoods chasing them, but if you want to continue to be helpful, don’t ask any questions.”
There was a chorus of complaints.
Steve held up his hand for silence. “I know it’s tough, but if I tell you it’s a question of national security, you’ll all know what that means. Keep quiet about this. Don’t let it out of the barracks. I promise that within a week or two we’ll take you all out for a cup of Java or something and give you the whole scoop.”
There was more grumbling, but the magic word “security” had the desired effect because there were no more questions, Rick and Scotty shook hands all around, thanking their rescuers wholeheartedly, then Steve Ames ushered them out to the waiting car.
Gizmo trailed behind.
Outside the barracks gate, Steve spoke to Gizmo. “You’ve gotten into this by accident, but your record is good so I don’t suppose it will hurt. Want to stay on the case?”
Gizmo’s face lighted. “Doggone right!”
“Okay.Report to the Hotel Elliston in the morning. Rick and Scotty will ride with you.
You’ll be private chauffeur for them. From now on they’re not to walk anywhere, and they are not to ride with anyone but you.”
Gizmo saluted.“Right, chief. I’ll take care of these two babes in the woods.”
“You and a whole guard detachment,” Scotty said, grinning. “Thanks, Giz. We’ll see you in the morning.”
They climbed into the waiting car and settled back. “Now,” Steve said, “what’s the rest of it?”
Rick told him the story, beginning with when they had first noticed the pursuer. Steve listened in sil
ence until the recital was done, then he laughed grimly. “I guess you know how lucky you were. Many people right here inWashington don’t know there’s a Marine Barracks behind that wall.”
“I didn’t remember myself until it was almost too late,” Scotty said.
“Good thing Marines are used to acting fast and asking questions later,” Steve assented.
“We’ll have to do something nice for that gang. Well, kids, have you any bright ideas?
Why did those men want to snatch you?”
“Not because I look like Dad,” Rick said. “They must know the difference by now.”
“You bet they know the difference,” saidAmes . “It’s pretty obvious that you boys know something which makes them uncomfortable. Either that, or they would like to hold you as hostages to keep Hartson Brant from going ahead on the counterweapon. We’ll have to see that you chaps get better protection from now on.”
Rick noticed that the car had gone past the hotel street and was proceeding uptown.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“The lab.Your father and Doc Keppner will want to hear about your latest brush with the whispering box. That business about a partial effect because of distance is interesting. It offers possibilities for a defense until some gadget is worked out to handle the job.”
“We need a defense to carry in our pockets,” Scotty said ruefully.
They fell silent as the car sped through the streets toward the lab. Rick was going back over the events of the preceding hour. Every detail might be important to Dr. Keppner or Hartson Brant. He wanted to be sure he remembered everything. He knew he couldn’t recall their exact route. Perhaps it would help if he could see a map. He was curious about what their trail would look like on paper.
He marveled at the assurance inspired in the enemy by the whispering box. The men using it hadn’t seemed at all afraid of interference. They had gone about their work with
a casualness and persistence that was terrifying.
In the laboratory, Hartson Brant and Dr. Keppner greeted them anxiously, then with relief when it developed that the boys were none the worse for their experience.
“I phoned the lab before coming after you,” Steve told Rick. “Now, suppose you give your father and Dr. Keppner the whole story? Try not to leave out anything.”
Rick launched into a recital of the evening’s events, omitting no details. Now and then Scotty broke in to elaborate on a point that he thought important.
When Rick had concluded, Hartson Brant and Dr. Keppner started a barrage of
questions.
“I want to know more about the distance at which the box operated,” Hartson Brant said. “Rick, review that for me.”
Rick thought back. The first time the men had used the whispering box had been as they ran through the second underpass. He turned to Scotty. “How far away was the man on foot when he turned the box on?”
“About seventy-five yards,” Scotty said. “That’s only a guess, of course, but I thinkit’s pretty close. I’m used to judging distance.”
“And the effect was only partial?” Dr. Keppner made notes on a pad of paper. “Was that the first time either of the men got closer than a hundred yards?”
“No,” Scotty said. “They were closer than that at first, but we doubled back so fast I don’t think they had a chance to get the box into position.”
Dr. Keppner continued making notes. “Correct me if I’m wrong on any points. When you were hit by the box from seventy-five yards, you were deafened, but the deafness soon wore off. Also, your balance was disturbed but not sufficiently so that your progress was materially hindered. Witness the fact that you managed to stay well ahead of the driver.”
“That was because he wasn’t in very good shape,” Rick volunteered. “Anyway, that’s what I think. He kept up with us at first, but he began to lose ground a little even before he fired the box.How about it, Scotty?”
Scotty assented. “That’s my idea, too. By the time he got close enough to fire the box he was out of breath. Toward the end, when we were crossing the field, we made better
time than he did even with our legs wobbling.”
“Why didn’t the car overtake you while you were on the road?” Hartson Brant asked.
Rick thought back. “A couple of times, it was because the car had to turn around, which took time.”
“When we went through the second underpass,” Scotty added, “the car shot past within fifty yards of us, or that’s how it looked to me. But the driver was on the side of the car that was away from us. By the time he could have gotten out, we’d have been out of range again.”
Steve Ames complained, “There’s too much talk about drivers. Let’s get it straightened out. The man on foot was the driver of the car that almost got you yesterday, right? Now, was the driver of tonight’s car the man who was in the car yesterday as a passenger?”
“No,” Rick said. “I didn’t get too good a look, but I’m sure it wasn’t the same man.
We’d never seen this one before.”
Scotty nodded agreement. “What I want to know is why the men don’t suffer from the effects of the box? I wondered about that while we were running. Do they have some kind of defense?”
“I think not,” Hartson Brant said. “It’s evident that the box is highly directional. Its effective field might be compared to that of a searchlight. A man in front of the light is blinded, while the man behind it gets only a very small percentage of reflectedglare .”
“But anyone behind a car horn hears it as well as the people in front,” Scotty objected.
“True,” Mr. Brant said. “However, we are not dealing with audible sound like car horns, Scotty. These are ultrasonics, which act differently. Remember that the higher the frequency of a wave the greater its tendency to travel in a straight line.”
Steve Ames was obviously restless. During the questioning he had risen several times and walked to the window, staring out into the street, then resuming his seat for a few moments.
“I’m getting into a fine state of nerves,” he announced. “We’ve made no progress whatever in collecting this gang. We’ve no idea where Weiss and Zircon are being kept.
We haven’t a defense against this thing. I’m sure the gang is planning something, maybe another attempt to break into one of our labs or offices, but not knowing where or when, it’s a tough job to set up a defense. And, finally, I can’t imagine why they made this
second try to get Rick and Scotty. Yesterday I was sure they mistook Rick for Mr. Brant.
Tonight, that theory no longer holds water.”
“There’s one more thing you haven’t mentioned,” Dr. Keppner reminded. “What is delaying Dr. Bertona? He should have arrived by now.”
“I’m checking on him,” Steve said. “I’ve wired our offices all the way from here toCalifornia . I should have a report on his whereabouts any moment.”
Rick asked, “Why are you sure the gang is planning another try at getting secret stuff?”
“They’re smart,” Steve said. “So far, they’ve been smarter than we have. But they’re also smart enough to know that no one can get fancy with the United States Government for very long. We may be slow, but we’re certain. They know that before long we’ll have a counterweapon. They also know that some one of these days a member of the gang will slip and we’ll discover his identity. After that, it isn’t a far step to getting the dope on the rest. I think they have set up a definite number of items they want, and that they have set a time limit within which to get them. At least that’s what I would do if our positions were reversed.”
“That would account for their snatching Weiss and Zircon,” Rick agreed. “They could slow down the production of a counterweapon.”
“Who are they?” Scotty demanded.“Spies?”
Steve shrugged. “That’s the jack-pot question. Before we can answer that, we’ll have to catch them. Their identities will tell us.”
“
Who else but spies from another country would want our secrets?” Rick asked.
“Anyone who wants to get rich quick and doesn’t care how he does it,” Hartson Brant said. “There are always groups of men who will sell their own nation’s secrets to the highest bidder, Rick.”
Steve Ames nodded. “I have a hunch this is such a gang. For one thing, the secrets they’ve already stolen are not strictly military. They could be sold to industrialists of other countries as well as to governments.”
A request that they be told the nature of the stolen secrets trembled on Rick’s tongue, his curiosity overcoming his reluctance to ask questions.
The telephone rang.
Dr. Keppner answered it, then beckoned to Steve.
Steve took the phone. “Ames. Yes? Okay, let’s have it.”
He jotted down notes in a notebook, interrupting the man on the other end of the phone occasionally with terse questions. Finally he closed the notebook, said, “Keep checking,” replaced the phone, and turned to the group in the lab.
“Well, here it is,” he said flatly. “Dr. Bertona boarded the plane inCalifornia as scheduled. He was aboard atDenver ; he didn’t even get off to eat or stretch his legs. He was aboard at every other stop untilPittsburgh . He got off atPittsburgh and went into theTerminalBuilding .”
Steve’s grim eyes went from one face to the other. “He never got back on the plane.”
CHAPTER XII
A Desperate Dilemma
Scotty, in a spare moment, had found a sheet of cardboard and a wax crayon and had printed a sign which he placed over the lab door. The sign was on the inner side, of course, so that it wouldn’t attract the attention of occasional patients who came to see Dr. Keppner who was actually a doctor of medicine as well as a physicist. The sign read: homeof the sleepless wonders
In the past few days, sleep had become a commodity that was, to use government terminology, “in short supply.”
