by John Blaine
Hartson Brant, Dr. Keppner, and Terhune the draftsman were bleary-eyed from hours spent over sketches, preliminary drawings, and equations. Mr. Brant’s prized slide rule was in constant use for computations. As Scotty said, it never had a chance to cool off.
Rick, Scotty, and Fanning were also pale from lack of sunshine, too hurried meals, and inadequate sleep, but they were in far better shape than the older men.
Steve Ames could only be described as haggard. Rick wondered if he slept at all. He would pop in at odd hours of the day or night, have a cup of the coffee that was constantly brewing in the lab,announce dejectedly that he had nothing whatever to
report, then vanish again.
An equivalent of the whispering box had been built, Rick and Scotty doing most of the wiring under Keppner’s direction. They could now produce ultrasonic blasts of any frequency. The sound apparatus was yet to be tested, but they were sure it would work.
The thing holding up progress on the counterweapon was the electronic control.
“The theory is simple enough,” Hartson Brant said during one of his increasingly rare moments of relaxation. “We simply make an automatic device that will analyze the frequency of the whispering box, adjust itself, and emit a counterfrequency that will cancel out the box. It sounds easy. It isn’t.”
Dr. Keppner sighed. “No, it most definitely isn’t. There are times when I’ve come close to admitting defeat.”
“So have I,” Hartson Brant admitted.
Rick stared at his father. It was unthinkable that any problem could stump Hartson Brant!Any problem in the field of electronics, at any rate.
The scientist saw the look. “Do I surprise you, son? Why do you think the Spindrift group has been so successful in the past? Not because of the brilliance of any one of us, but because of the combined training of all of us. We have faced every problem and solved it because each of us is strong in certain fields. My particular field happens to be design. But my designs have been based on the mathematical computations of Weiss, on Zircon’s intensive knowledge of material analysis, and on John Gordon’s ingenious solving of mechanical problems.”
“Don’t be overmodest, Hartson,” Dr. Keppner said. “You have conceived the ideas.
That takes a special kind of genius.”
Mr. Brant smiled.“Perhaps. But an idea doesn’t end when it is ‘dreamed up,’ as Rick would put it. The idea must be resolved into a working arrangement. On a matter like this, I admit myself lost without my associates.”
Rick asked hesitantly, “Couldn’t we get Dr. Gordon down?”
“He couldn’t help us very much in this case,” Hart-son Brant said. “What we need most is Julius Weiss’s mathematical mind.”
“I wonder where theyare? ” Scotty murmured.
All of them had refused to consider that the missing scientists might not be alive. What would anyone have to gain by murder? If the whispering box gang was after delay, as seemed likely, the same purpose would be achieved by merely holding the scientists.
Rick thought of Weiss and Zircon when anyone mentioned the missing scientists. After all, he hadn’t known Dr. Bertona.Neither had Scotty nor his father. He asked, “Dr.
Keppner, you know Bertona, don’t you?”
“Very slightly,” Keppner said. “I met him several years ago at a scientific convention inSan Francisco . We have corresponded on mutual problems since then, but we haven’t met.”
“Could he have solved this problem?” Scotty wanted to know.
“He could have helped. He does not have the specialized knowledge of either Weiss or Zircon, but he would have been an extra mind to grapple with these confounded
equations.”
Hartson Brant finished his coffee and put his cup on the lab bench. Rick noticed that his hand shook with fatigue.
“Well, Keppner, that last design has possibilities, I think. We might see what results we get by coupling the frequency analyzer to the variable resistor.”
Rick and Scotty watched as the two scientists walked back to where Terhune labored over a drawing.
“It must be tough if it has, Dad buffaloed,” Rick said.
Scotty nodded. “You know, I get the feeling that we’re parked on an unexploded atom bomb. I keep waiting for it to go off.”
“Same here.I keep waiting for Weiss or Zircon to walk in the door. I keep waiting for news that someone else has vanished into thin air. And mostly I keep waiting to hear that the gang has cracked some other government building and walked off with more of our secrets.”
“I wonder why theyhaven’t? ” Scotty mused.
“Maybe there’s nothing more they want at the moment.”
“At the moment,” Scotty repeated. “Maybe you have something there. We know they must have inside information. Suppose they’re just killing time until something big is completed?”
“Steve Ames has thought of that,” Fanning said from behind them.
Rick turned. “Where did you drop from?”
Fanning put down a package and began untying it.
“Out to get a few parts we needed. Anyway, I heardAmes tell Dr. Keppner they have an extra guard on all special assignment stuff that’s being developed right now.”
“They think of everything,” Rick said. “I don’t know why we bother speculating.”
“Except we’d go balmy if we didn’t try to figure it out,” Scotty told him. “Well, what do we work on now?”
“Check the ultrasonic gadget,” Fanning said.
“And knock ourselves silly?” Rick objected.
“We’ll set the frequency above the whispering box,” Fanning said. “That will give us different results. Wait a minute, I’ll get the reports on ultrasonic experiments from the government clearinghouse.”
The ultrasonic part of the counterweapon was mounted on the aluminum chassis Rick and Scotty had made. It looked like an ordinary radio set without its cabinet except for the conical metal projection from which the ultrasonic sounds came. This was Dr.
Keppner’s “silent loud-speaker.”
Fanning returned from a desk at the front of the lab carrying a sheaf of papers. “Doc Keppner says to go ahead and try it out.” He consulted a sheet covered with
mathematical symbols. “Want to see this thing set fire to a sheet of paper?”
“I’ll have to see it before I believe it,” Scotty said.
“Okay, Doubting Thomas. Watch this.”
Rick watched closely as Fanning set a control dial to the frequency indicated on the report, then found a sheet of paper and held it before the conical projector.
“Turn on the juice,” the assistant directed.
Rick threw the switch, a little fearfully. He still wasn’t certain that the machine wouldn’t act like the whispering box. Instead, his skin tingled as though from a faint electric shock.
The paper turned brown, charred, then burst into flame!
Fanning blew it out and grinned triumphantly at Scotty. “See? Try holding your hand in front of the speaker.”
“Not me,” Scotty objected. “I need my hand. I only have two.”
Fanning puthis own hand directly in front of the conical metal. Rick stared. A moment ago, a paper held there had burst into flame!
“Try it,” Fanning invited.
Rick did. The tingling sensation in his hand increased a hundredfold. It wasn’t unpleasant, just strange.
“Well, I’m a chimp’s cousin!” he exclaimed.
“There’s something in here about that experiment in washing clothes,” Fanning said. He leafed through the papers. “Here it is.” He grinned at Scotty. “Want to see if we can wash the gravy stains out of that necktie?”
“Those are part of the design,” Scotty said with dignity. “Wash your own necktie. Want everyone to know you had ketchup on your sandwich thisnoon ?”
“That’s not ketchup. That’s the blood of the last guy who insulted me,” Fanning retorted. “Hey, there isn’t any frequency given.”
>
“Try it anyway,” Scotty said. “What have you to lose? Or are you afraid it will ruin that burlap bag you wear?”
“Listen to the way he talks about fine linen. Okay. Stand by. I’ll shoot the frequency up 2,000 cycles. That ought to give us plenty of vibration.”
Rick objected quickly, “Wait a minute! How do you know what will happen?”
“Don’t worry,” Fanning soothed. “It’s 40,000 cycles higher than the whispering box. It
won’t hurt you.”
Rick watched nervously as the assistant moved the frequency control higher. He didn’t like experimenting without any idea of the possible results.
Fanning turned on the power.
Scotty had been standing directly in front of the projector. He let out a yelp and jumped into the air. Rick stared as his friend started to do a jig, then he burst into laughter.
Fanning was laughing, too, so hard he couldn’t manage to shut the switch again. Scotty, his face contorted in a look of utter amazement, was doing a wild jittering dance!
Rick stopped laughing abruptly. It was funny, but it might be serious! He stepped forward to grab Scotty and the thing hit him, too! For a moment he felt as though needles were pricking him, then, unable to control his movements, he began jumping around, holding tightly to Scotty’s shoulder!
Their inability to control their movements finally saved them. Scotty’s long legs tangled with Rick’s. For a moment they tottered, then they collapsed on the floor, out of range of the speaker.
Fanning controlled his mirth long enough to throw the switch.
Rick and Scotty sat up, dazed. The scientists had arrived on the run from across the lab.
“Are you all right?” Hartson Brant demanded anxiously.
“I don’t know,” Rick said ruefully. He tried his arms and legs and found he could control them once again, then he got to his feet. Scotty got up, too, grinning from ear to ear.
“I’ll buy it,” Scotty said. “With that thing, Rick and I can become dancing champions overnight. What hit us?”
Dr. Keppner shook his head. “There is a lot we don’t know about ultrasonic sound.
Fanning, I told you to stick strictly to established experiments. You might have killed yourself and these boys!”
Fanning was still trying to smother a grin. The grin broke through. “I never saw anything so funny!”
“Laugh,” Scotty said ruefully. “Go ahead. Laugh your head off.”
“Thanks, I will.” Fanning went off into another gale of mirth.
Even the scientists chuckled.
“It was amusing,” Hartson Brant agreed. “I thought Rick had suddenly gone berserk. Or that he and Scotty were having some strange kind of fight.”
“As long as no harm was done, we’ll forget it,” Dr. Keppner agreed. “But stay strictly within bounds from now on,Fanning . You should knowthat ultrasonics are not to be played with.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Fanning said. To Rick and Scotty, he said seriously, “Dr. Keppner’s right. It was a dumb stunt for me to pull.”
Rick saw the twinkle in Fanning’s eyes. “Forget it,” he said.
“Forget it for the time being,” Scotty added.
“And watch out for arsenic in my soup? Okay, Scotty. By the way, speaking of soup, you kids had your lunch?”
Rick looked at his watch. It was almost five in the afternoon. “Gosh, we forgot,” he said.
“That won’t do,” Hartson Brant told them. “No matter how busy we are, you must eat on schedule. Otherwise you’ll serve no other purpose than dragging down your
resistance. Skip out, both of you. There’s nothing for you right now anyway.”
Rick and Scotty cleaned up their workbench and went down the stairs to where Gizmo’s taxi was parked. He was their constant shadow now when they were outside the lab.
“Where to?” he demanded.“Chow? I wondered if you’dforgot to eat. I’ll take you to a good place.”
The cab whisked them through the streets to a restaurant onNew York Avenue near the corner ofTenth Street . On the way into the restaurant Rick purchased a copy of theWashington Star. Gizmo parked the cab and followed them into the restaurant.
The trio sat down at a table and Rick and Scotty ordered. Gizmo accepted a sandwich, not that he was hungry, he said, but to keep them company.
Rick studied the newspaper. He had been out of touch with the news and he was curious about what was happening outside the tight little sphere of lab activity. There was only the usual news of government activities, diplomatic difficulties, and so on. Then, on an inner page, he found a column written by a leadingWashington newsman. He stiffened as a short paragraph caught his eye. “Scotty! Listen to this!”
He read it aloud.
“ ‘Unless a certain government protection agency has more luck in the next few days than it has had in the past, one of the biggest stories of recent months will break soon.
Newsmen in the know can’t keep it under their hats much longer. Big names are
involved, including those of a trio of missing science savants.’”
Scotty gave a low whistle. “If the newspapers have it, the top will blow right off. Didn’t I say we were sitting on an atom bomb?”
Gizmo instinctively looked under his chair. For a moment he was shocked into silence, then he asked shakily, “You kidding?”
“Just a figure of speech,” Rick said quickly.
Scotty hurriedly changed the subject. “Listen, Giz, I just thought of something. Do you know where there is a store that sells jokes? I want to get something.”
Gizmo’s forehead furrowed.“Jokes? What kind?Like in books?”
“No.Practical jokes. You know. Exploding matches, itching powder, stuff like that.”
“What do you want a store like that for?” Rick asked suspiciously.
“I want to find something to amuse our friendFanning ,” Scotty said.
Rick grinned. Scotty hadn’t forgiven the lab assistant’s laughter.
“There’s one down onPennsylvania Avenue ,” Gizmo said. “Let’s go. It’ll only take a minute.”
They paid the check and went out to where the cab was parked. As they approached, Rick saw a figure seated in the back. He stopped short.“Giz! Someone’s in your cab”
“Some guy wanting a taxi,” Gizmo said. “I’ll tell him it’s already hired.”
He walked to the cab, Rick and Scotty beside him. Then, as Gizmo opened the door, Rick gasped.
Sitting calmly in the rear seat was the driver . . . the man with the flattened nose, who had chased them on foot with the whispering box!
Rick’s first instinct was to run. He turned, Scotty beside him.
The stranger’s voice stopped them.
“Wait a minute, Look, I haven’t got the sound box. Turn around, both of you.”
Rick half turned, still poised to run, and saw the man with both his hands in the air. And his hands were empty.
“Peace conference,” the man said, smiling.
“Don’t trust this joker,” Rick warned.
Again Scotty turned to run. “I’m going to call a cop!”
“Wait! Don’t, if you value your friends’ lives!”
That stopped Scotty. Rick stood as though frozen.
“Weiss and Zircon?Are they all right?”
“They’re fine,” the man said. “Get into the cab.”
Rick’s eyes met Scotty’s.
“If he has any information about Weiss and Zircon, we want to know it,” Scotty said.
“I hope you guys know what you’redoin ’,” Gizmo said. “If it was me, I’d call for help!”
Rick stood undecided. He couldn’t believe that one of the gang had placed himself in their hands without the whispering box! Yet the man’s hands were empty, and there was no place he could have concealed the box and still have been able to reach it before they could jump him!
“Can’t you make up your mind?” Again the man smiled confidently. “I’ll
make it up for you. I’m unarmed, sure, but I have a weapon that will persuade you. Unless I return to my headquarters tonight, and unless you two are with me, Weiss and Zircon will be shot!”
CHAPTER XIII
In the Hands of the Enemy
There was nothing Rick or Scotty could do. Behind the man’s smile they sensed his deadly seriousness. They knew how ruthless the gang was, and they had every reason to believe his words were not a bluff. Unless they went along with him, Weiss and Zircon would almost certainly suffer for it.
“You win,” Rick said dully. He got into the cab and sat down beside the man.
Scotty followed suit. “Okay,” he said. “You’ve got us over a barrel. What do you want us to do?”
“Just makeyourselves comfortable,” their enemy directed. “McLean, get in and drive us.
I’ll tell you where to go.”
Gizmo looked at Scotty and Rick hesitantly.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Rick told him. “Better do as he says, Giz.”
Gizmo shrugged and got into the driver’s seat. It was obvious that he didn’t like giving in so easily. “I could drive right up to a cop,” he offered. “We could land this character in the city brig so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him.”
“Neither would your scientist friends,” the man said gently. “Don’t try anything foolish.”
Rick studied the gang member’s face. He was young, but a definite puffiness around his cheeks and eyes told of soft living. No wonder they had been able to outrun him that night by the Lincoln Memorial. Once, though, he had been an athlete, and probably a fighter or wrestler. His nose had stopped many a punch.
“Are Weiss and Zircon all right?” Rick demanded.
“And how about Dr. Bertona?”Scotty added.
“They’re okay.A little unhappy but healthy.Unless you three try something foolish, of course.”
Rick was on the right side of the rear seat and Scotty on the left. Their “captor,” if he could be called such, was seated between them, very much at ease.
Gizmo looked back over his shoulder.“Where to?”
“Drive over toFourteenth Street and go downtown.”
The taxi moved away from the curb and into traffic. By the stiff set of his neck, it was obvious that Gizmo was unhappy about the situation. Rick guessed that he might try something. That couldn’t be permitted, if Weiss and Zircon were to escape the gang’s vengeance.
