by Jerry Sohl
"What do you figure it is?" Travis asked, leaning on the counter.
The repairman shrugged. "Oh, sunspots or something. I thought it was too good to be true, all this business so suddenly. Now all I have to do is wait until whatever it is clears up and then take the sets back. What can I do for you?"
"I just want some information," Travis said. "Has this ever happened before?"
The repairman shook his head. "Nope. I don't remember anything like this ever. Oh, sometimes somebody has us come out and pick up a radio saying it doesn't play and then when we get it back to the shop here and plug it in it plays like a million dollars. Usually a tube or something loose, and jiggling in the truck helps it get back into condition again, re-establishing the ruptured contact. That's why I make it a practice now of pushing the tubes around a bit, banging the set a little to see if it will play."
"How about last Monday? Did you have any business like that then?"
"Monday?" The man scratched his head. "Let me see." He opened a drawer, took out a book, thumbed back through the pages. "Monday. Monday. Yeah, here we are. Yes, there were three cases like that Monday. I never thought much about it then. The people who owned them said they went out on Sunday, but we weren't open then. They played all right when we got the sets here."
"Now comes the vital question," Travis said. "Just where did you pick up these sets?"
The proprietor looked at him closely. "Now just why do you want to know that?"
"I'm just trying to figure something out in my own mind in connection with what's going on today. Your information would help."
"O.K. Let's see now. Here are the addresses: 1300 Willard Street, 1635 Winthrop Street and 2110 Ridgeway Avenue." He looked up. "But I don't see what that has to do with this stuff yesterday and today. Those sets Sunday worked all right when we got them here."
Travis copied down the addresses. "Got a phone?"
The repairman, now thoroughly confused, pointed to the phone off the hook.
"That's right," Travis said. "I forgot you said you had one." He replaced the phone on the hook, then took it off and got the dial tone. He buzzed the Star, asked for Hal Cable.
"Hal," he said, "Travis."
"Hey, I hear Cline's after you."
"Never mind, Hal, and before I proceed, thanks for the use of your car. Did you get it all right?"
"yeah. Yeah. What's up?"
"Listen. You remember telling me about those films that turned black last Monday when you came to visit me at U.C. Hospital?"
"Do I remember? How can I forget!"
"All right. Now, here's the sixty-four dollar question: Where did the guys go for pictures that day?"
"Yeah, yeah. I see what you mean. Why, ah, I think it was west somewhere. Yeah, I remember now, one of them went out to an orphan's home on the west side and got a shot of-"
"Never mind what. How about the others?"
"Oh, let's see . . . Yeah, Winters went west, too, out to the athletic field. Just routine for sports, I think. And Hay-den went out . . . Hell, I can't think of where he went."
"Hal, could any of them conceivably have gone by or near the house that burned down on Winthrop Street?"
"Wait a minute. . . . Why, sure, the buses, the cars— they'd all go by within a couple blocks on Leland there. Hey, Travis, you think there is a connection?"
"I know damn well there is. I've got to go." He hung up, grabbed a cruising cab for police headquarters.
"Travis!" Captain Tomkins said as he strolled into his office. "Good to see you. What a mess we're in now, with all the radios not working. Damned sunspots! You don't know how much you need a thing until you're without it."
"You mean to say nobody has thought to connect the black film and the interference yet?" Travis asked.
"The black film? What are you talking about?"
"Don't you have a police camera? You know, one of those Rogue's gallery things?"
"Sure, but—"
"Well, then you'll know soon enough. Film all around town has turned black. Of course it doesn't turn black, really, it just does that when you develop it."
Captain Tomkins stroked his chin. "That's interesting."
"Yeah," Travis continued. "But that's not the half of it."
He told the captain how he had worked out the information about the Star film that had turned black on Monday, how the radio repairman had called for radios in the neighborhood of the Winthrop Street house that same day, sets that had gone out Sunday, when the radiations had no doubt started.
"Then you mean—! God!" Captain Tomkins stared at him. "It means it's all over town, more powerful than before!"
"Exactly," Travis said. "Figure it this way: whatever it is they started, it began in the Winthrop house on Sunday. The radios first go out, but the people can't call the radio repair shops because it's Sunday. Only those people right around the house get the interference—it isn't like now when it seems to be all over.
"Then on Monday Hal Cable, the chief photographer at the Star, sends a couple fledglings out to take their first pictures and a couple of old hands at the camera go out, too. Some of them go by the Winthrop house. What happens? When they get. back to the office and Hal develops their film—black. Radiation has ruined it.
"All this on Monday. The radiations have worked two days now. On Monday night as I'm in Union City Hospital they bring the old man in. An old man screaming his head off. We find he's been at the Winthrop house. He was closest to it and he's got it. Then there's Chester Grimes. He's in the basement of the house. He probably passes out the same time or before the old man. Two days are over.
"Next comes Wednesday morning and the hospital starts filling up and they establish a contagion ward. Only a dozen men are brought in altogether. The whole thing had been confined to a small area. Now the thing is covering the whole city, whatever it is. Yesterday morning as I'm in the chief's office with you your radio won't work. It's 10 o'clock. That was yesterday. Here it is today, Friday. Think of it as Monday. They ought to be bringing them in to the hospitals before long, Captain."
The police captain stood there with his mouth open. His bushy eyebrows were drawn down in terrific concentration, at trying to understand it. His face was whiter than Travis had ever seen it.
"Right now," Travis continued, "around you and me are going these radiations, commencing their work, if they haven't already got a good foothold. We're going to have to do something. Now, let me tell you some more, some things I should have told you before."
Travis related his finding the filing card, his interview with Rosalee Turner, his talk with Betty and her warning that some calamity would overtake him—that he would turn gray and die if he didn't get out of town.
"why?" the captain shouted. "Goddamn it: Why?" For a moment the captain stood there in the anguish of thought. The next moment he was a frenzy of action. He pressed every buzzer on his desk and a half dozen policemen came in.
He gave one of them Rosalee Turner's home address, another her business address. He had another call up every man on the force to report for duty, rang up the chief and talked with him a few minutes, then grabbed Travis's arm.
A few moments later they were heading toward Union City Hospital, siren screaming. They slid to a stop in the courtyard, jumped out. They found Dr. Leaf and Dr. Wilhelm in Dr. Stone's office. In a few minutes they had told them everything they knew about the new development. After they had explained it all, the three doctors sat there, their faces white and expressionless.
Finally, Dr. Leaf broke the silence. "The work of madmen!" he breathed. "Who would want to do a thing like that?"
"It's no madman, Doctor," Travis said. "At first I thought Dutch McCoy, a big gambler in town, might have been at the bottom of it. But now I know he isn't. Gentlemen, I feel certain that women are responsible."
"Women!" Dr. Wilhelm remarked incredulously. "But why, Mr. Travis?" He was more respectful than he had been during Travis's Wednesday night hospital visit
"It was a woman who rented the house from Dutch McCov for six thousand dollars for six months."
"Why, Travis," Captain Tomkins said with surprise, "you didn't mention that before."
"Just another thing I picked up and forgot to tell you about. And then all along the line there's been a woman somewhere. Never a man. I repeat: Women are behind all this."
"Could they be agents of some foreign power?" Dr. Leaf asked. "Women sent over here to do away with the men?"
Travis shook his head. "No. The girls I have talked to have no trace of any accent or anything. Besides, I think they've been around a long time."
"But what incentive would they have?" Dr. Leaf put in.
"We can't waste time dwelling on the whys and wherefores," Travis said. 'We've got to find out what's causing the radiations and destroy it."
"That's easier said than done, Mr. Travis," Dr. Stone said.
"So it is radiation after all," Dr. Wilhelm said glumly.
"But how can we track down this radiation?" Captain
Tomkins wanted to know.
"I remember how it was done in a hospital I was associated with a few years ago," Dr. Leaf volunteered. "When television first came out there were people in the vicinity of the hospital who couldn't get good reception. Every time we'd turn on our diathermy machine they d get a wide band of fine pattern traveling up and down their screens. We didn't know it was causing the interference, so we did nothing about it.
"Finally one of the television retailers, who was getting no business from that end of town because of the interference, referred the matter to the television station. The station told the Federal Communications Commission about it. In a month or two they sent out a mobile truck to tour the neighborhood. It wasn't long before they got their line-up on the hospital and they walked right in and told us we'd have to get the diathermy machine shielded or else get a new one. I understand new ones now come completely shielded so there can be no interference."
"Well," Dr. Stone said, "the only thing to do then is to call in the FCC and get them to locate the machine for us."
"There's no time for that," Travis said. "We've got to have action right away. Why, late tonight or early tomorrow you're going to start filling up with patients—men turning gray and dying."
"Maybe we ought to evacuate the city," Dr. Wilhelm said.
"Nonsense," Dr. Stone replied. "What Mr. Travis said is probably true and it will probably happen, but who's going to believe it? You'd really create, bedlam then! People would be going crazy trying to escape. No, it wouldn't work. There'd probably be more loss of life if you tried to evacuate the people than if you just let them stay to face this thing as best they can."
"How would you get the notice to them, anyway?"
"You couldn't do it through radio."
"People with families wouldn't leave home," Captain Tomkins said solemnly.
"You could send them a notice through the Star and the other newspapers," Travis declared. "But even then it wouldn't get to them until too late. Dr. Leaf, I believe you said the FCC got around to checking that diathermy machine in a month or two. What are we supposed to do, just sit here?"
"Well," Dr. Leaf said, "what would you suggest?"
"There are enough radio amateurs in this town to do the job. I know because I've worked with them on stories. I admit I didn't learn anything about electricity or radio, but I want to say those boys really know their stuff. If anybody can locate that machine, they can."
"We could round them up," Captain Tomkins suggested. "We could give them complete run of the town."
"Aren't we forgetting something, gentlemen?" Dr. Stone said calmly. "After all, here we are, all upset talking about evacuating the city and not a single patient has shown up. Clearly the same thing is happening now that happened on Monday, but maybe it's weaker or different. What I'm saying is that we don't absolutely know this thing is going to be harmful."
"No, but it's best we get ready for the worst," Travis said. "After all, I've seen these girls. I've seen the light they have in their eyes. They're up to something. These radiations aren't being broadcast for nothing. I suggest we start the ball rolling right now, and then, even if nothing develops, at least we were ready for it."
"I agree with Mr. Travis," Dr. Leaf said.
"So do I," Dr. Wilhelm said.
Captain Tomkins nodded.
At that moment the phone rang and Dr. Stone answered it.
"It's for you, Captain," he said, handing the receiver to the policeman.
"Yes, Mr. Mayor," he said. After a few minutes he put the phone down.
"Mayor Barnston says he wants this thing cleared up as soon as it is humanly possible," the captain said- "He lays the complete resources of the city at our disposal, to use however we can to nip this thing in the bud. And you, Travis, he wants to talk to when you get back."
Ten minutes later Travis was in the mayor's office. Mayor Harvey Barnston was a heavy-set man with flowing black hair just turning gray at the temples. He had a magnificent figure and was very impressive on occasions of state in his formal clothes. Now he wasn't formal—he was just worried.
"There's going to be plenty happening around here if everything goes as you say it will," the mayor said soberly. "If this thing develops the way you think it will there are going to have to be certain public relations utterances made. I'd like to put you in charge of that, if the thing ever gets that big. Would you do it?"
"I'd be glad to, Mayor Barnston," Travis said, "and like you I hope it doesn't become necessary. But I'd still like to have the privilege of continuing investigating my own hunches. Maybe I'll think of a few angles."
"From what I've been told I understand you've figured things out pretty well already. Especially this last thing. That sort of gives us a start on whatever it is. Maybe we can stop it from boiling over the way you say it will.
"As far as this having a free hand, I don't want you tied down to a desk. But whenever you're here I wish you'd drop in and check with me. In the meantime pursue any course you like and I'll handle the press.
"And Travis," the mayor said with feeling, "if you could lick this thing you would have a grateful city. Of course fm still speaking as if what you are predicting is an actuality."
"I understand, Mr. Mayor."
Chief Riley knocked and came in the office without waiting for an answer.
"There are several radiomen assembling some equipment at the Union City Radio Shop right around the corner," he said. "I'm sending Captain Tomkins and two squads along with them to try to run this thing down. And, Travis, the girl you mentioned to Captain Tomkins—Rosalee Turner—he says she didn't report for work today. She's also cleared out of her room."
"Thanks, Chief," Travis said. "Might have expected it. Say, on this radio thing, mind if I ride along?"
"Not at all," the chief replied. "But you'd better hurry. The two cars left a minute ago. But you can walk to the shop in about the same time as they drive around the block."
"See you later," Travis said as he ran through the door.
NINE
"This is Bill Skelley," Captain Tomkins said, indicating a large, raw-boned man Travis recognized as the radioman he had talked with earlier in the day.
"Seems the information I gave you came in handy," Bill said, putting some shielded wire on the stake truck parked in front of the radio shop.
"That's right," Travis answered.
"That's Thornton Rhoades—we call him 'Thorny'—and Bob Donn up there on the truck," Bill said, indicating two men who were moving radio equipment up near the cab of the truck. The men nodded to Travis. "We about ready, Captain?"
"If you are," Captain Tomkins said. "Think I'll ride with you in the back of the truck, if you don't mind. The three men in each police car can take care of themselves. They know what to do."
Captain Tomkins climbed aboard with Travis and Bill. Thorny drove. In a few moments the stake truck, sandwiched between two police cars, sped through the dow
ntown streets. The captain, Travis, and Bill hung on to the sides of the truck as they wound in and out of traffic, sirens on the police cars screaming. The truck rumbled and jerked and Travis hoped the radio equipment was standing the ride better than he was.
"Where we headed?" he shouted to the other two hugging the side of the truck near him.
"The country," Bill shouted back. "Too many buildings and antennas around here."
Travis glanced at the equipment. A few batteries, an outfit that looked like a public address system and a circular aerial. It was mounted on a box that he guessed was a gadget to move it in various directions. When they got to the boulevard leading out of town it was smoother riding and they could talk in a more normal tone.
"What's that round antenna?" Travis inquired.
"Rotating loop," Bill said. "Standard RDF stuff."
"RDF?"
"Radio direction finding. When we get to a spot we want we'll set it all up. Lines of force—the interference we've been hearing—will cut the loop, creating electrical energy in it. Fortunately, it's a vertically polarized wave we're after."
Travis nodded. "That's good, eh?"
"It's like a wire you run across a magnet and it lights a lamp," Bill explained. "Only our current is weaker. We'll have to amplify it. We'll keep turning the loop until we get a maximum signal and a minimum signal. The pointer on that loop is going to show us from what direction it's coming."
Travis nodded again.
"You watch when we get started. Thorny and Bob will wear earphones to check the interference by listening. But we also have a cathode ray tube—see that tuning eye?—to tell us when we hit the high and low." He pointed to a round eye on the amplifier.
"We may have to vary the size of the loop if we run into trouble, but judging by the kind of wave, I don't think we'll have to. The interference sounds like simple high voltage. It probably sweeps across the entire band—we know already it's on the broadcast, FM and TV bands because we've heard and seen it. For all we know it extends from a hundred kilocycles to a thousand megacycles, covering the whole spectrum directly or harmonically. I guess nobody's tried to check that."
