October 1930

by Unknown

  They took me up the landing-incline. A narrow vaulted corridor ranlength-wise of the interior, along one side of the cabin body. To myleft as we headed for the bow control room, the corridor window-portesshowed the rocks outside. To the right of the corridor, the ship'ssmall rooms lay in a string. A metal interior. I saw almost nothingsave metal in various forms. Grid floor and ceiling. Sheet metal wallsand partitions. Furnishings and fabrics, all of spun metal. And alldead black.

  We entered the control room. The two men holding me flung me in achair. I had been searched. They had taken from me the tiny, coloredmagnesium light-flashes. How easy for the plans of men to go astray!Hanley and I had arranged that I was to signal the Porto Ricanpatrol-ship with those flares.

  "Sit quiet!" commanded my guard.

  I retorted, "If you hit me again, I won't."

  * * * * *

  De Boer came in, carrying Jetta. He put her in a chair near me, andshe sat huddled tense. In the dim gray light of the control room herwhite face with its big staring dark eyes was turned toward me. Butshe did not speak, nor did I.

  The bandits ignored us. De Boer moved about the room, examining a bankof instruments. Familiar instruments, most of them. The usualaero-controls and navigational devices. A radio audiphone transmitterand receiver, with its attendant eavesdropping cut-offs. And there wasan ether-wave mirror-grid. De Boer bent over it. And then I saw himfastening upon his forehead an image-lens. He said:

  "You stay here, Hans. You and Gutierrez. Take care of the girl andthis fellow Grant. Don't hurt them."

  Gutierrez was a swarthy Latin American. He smiled. "For why would Ihurt him? You say he is worth much money to us, De Boer. And the girl,ah--"

  De Boer towered over him. "Just lay a finger on her and you willregret it, Gutierrez! You stay at your controls. Be ready. This affairit will take no more than half an hour."

  A man came to the control room entrance. "You come, Commander?"

  "Yes. Right at once."

  "The men are ready. From the mine we might almost be seen here. Thisdelay--"

  "Coming, Rausch."

  * * * * *

  But he lingered a moment more. "Hans, my finder will show you what Ido. Keep watch. When we come back, have all ready for flight. ThisGrant had an alarm-detector. Heaven only knows what eavesdropping andrelaying he has done. And for sure there is hell now in Spawn'sgarden. The Nareda police are there, of course. They might track us uphere."

  He paused before me. "I think I would not cause trouble, Grant."

  "I'm not a fool."

  "Perhaps not." He turned to Jetta. "No harm will come to you. Fearnothing."

  He wound his dark cloak about his giant figure and left the controlroom. In a moment, through the rounded observing pane beside me, I sawhim outside on the moonlit rocks. His men gathered about him. Therewere forty of them, possibly, with ten or so left here aboard to guardthe flyer.

  And in another moment the group of dark-cloaked figures outside creptoff in single file like a slithering serpent, moving down the rockdefile toward where in the cauldron pit the lights of the mine shoneon its dark silent buildings.

  CHAPTER XII - The Attack on the Mine

  There was a moment when I had an opportunity to speak with Jetta.Gutierrez sat watchfully by the archway corridor entrance with aneedle projector across his knees. The fellow Hans, a big, heavy-sethalf-breed Dutchman with a wide-collared leather jerkin and wide,knee-length pantaloons, laid his weapon carefully aside and busiedhimself with his image mirror. There would soon be images upon it, Iknew: De Boer had the lens-finder on his forehead, and the scenes atthe mine, as De Boer saw them would be flashed back to us here.

  This Gutierrez was very watchful. A move on my part and I knew hewould fling a needle through me.

  My thoughts flew. Hanley had notified Porto Rico. The patrol-ship hadalmost enough time to get here by now.

  I felt Jetta plucking at me. She whispered:

  "They have gone to attack the mine."

  "Yes."

  "I heard it planned. Señor Perona--"

  Her hurried whispers told me further details of Perona's scheme. Sothis was a pseudo attack! Perona would take advantage of it and hidethe quicksilver. De Boer would return presently and escape. And holdme for ransom. I chuckled grimly. Not so easy for a bandit, even oneas clever as De Boer at hiding in the Lowland depths to arrange aransom for an agent of she United States. Our entire Lowland patrolwould be after him in a day.

  * * * * *

  Jetta's swift whispers made it all clear to me. It was Perona'sscheme.

  She ended, "And my father--" Her voice broke; her eyes floodedsuddenly with tears "Oh, Philip, he was good to me, my poor father."

  I saw that the mirror before Hans was glowing with its coming image. Ipressed Jetta's hand.

  "Yes, Jetta."

  One does not disparage the dead. I could not exactly subscribe toJetta's appraisal of her parent, but I did not say so.

  "Jetta, the mirror is on."

  I turned away from her toward the instrument table. Gutierrez at thedoor raised his weapon. I said hastily, "Nothing. I--we just want tosee the mirror."

  I stood beside Hans. He glanced at me and I tried to smileingratiatingly.

  "This attack will be successful, eh, Hans?"

  "Damn. I hope so."

  The mirror was glowing. Hans turned a switch to dim the tube-lights ofthe room so that we might see the images better. It brought a protestfrom Gutierrez.

  I swung around. "I'm not a fool! You can see me perfectly well: killme if I make trouble. I want to see the attack."

  "Por Dios, if you try anything--"

  "I won't!"

  "Shut!" growled Hans. "The audiphone is on. The big adventure--and thecommander--leaves me here just to watch!"

  * * * * *

  A slit in the observatory pane was open. The dark figure of one of thebandits on guard outside came and called softly up to us.

  "Started. Hans?"

  "Starting."

  "Should it go wrong, call out."

  "Yes. But it will not."

  "There was an alarm, relayed probably to Great New York, the commandersaid, from Spawn's garden. These cursed prisoners--"

  "Shut! You keep watch out there. It is starting."

  The guard slunk away. My attention went back to the mirror. An imagewas formed there now, coming from the eye of the lens upon De Boer'sforehead. It swayed with his walking. He was evidently leading hismen, for none of them were in the scene. The dark rocks were movingpast. The lights of the mine were ahead and below, but coming nearer.

  The audiphone hummed and crackled. And through it, De Boer'slow-voiced command sounded:

  "To the left Is the better path. Keep working to the left."

  The image of the rocks and the mine swung with a dizzying sweep as DeBoer turned about. Then again he was creeping forward.

  The mine lights came closer. De Beer's whispered voice said: "Therethey are!"

  * * * * *

  I could see the lights of the mine's guards flash on. A group ofSpawn's men gathered before the smelter building. The challengesounded.

  "Who are you? Stop!"

  And De Boer's murmur: "That is correct, as Perona said. They expectus. Well," he ended with a sardonic laugh, "expect us."

  His projector went up. He fired. In the silence of the control room wecould hear the audiphoned hiss of it, and see the flash in themirror-scene. He had fired into the air.

  Again his low voice to his men: "Hold steady. They will run."

  The group of figures at the smelter separated, waved and scatteredback into the deeper shadows. Their hand-lights were extinguished, butthe moonlight caught and showed them. They were running away; hidingin the crags. They fired a shot or two, high in the air.

  De Boer was advancing swiftly now. The image swayed and shifted,raised and lowered rhythmically as he ran. And the dark shape of thesmelter building loomed large as he neared it.

  I felt Jetta beside me:
heard her whisper: "Why, he should attack andthen come back! Greko told my father--"

  But De Boer was not coming back! He was dashing for the smelterentrance. Spawn's guards must have known then that there was somethingwrong. Their shots hissed, still fired high, and our grid soundedtheir startled shouts. Then as De Boer momentarily turned his head, Isaw what was taking place to the side of him. A detachment of thebandits had followed the retreating guards. The bandits' shots werelevelled now. Dim stabs of light in the gloom. One of the guardsscreamed as he was struck.

  * * * * *

  The attack was real! But it was over in a moment. Spawn's men, thosewho were not struck down, plunged away and vanished. Perona haddisconnected the mine's electrical safeguards. The smelter door wassealed, but it gave before the blows of a metal bar two of De Boer'smen were carrying.

  In the unguarded, open strong-room, Perona, alone, was absorbed in histask of carrying the ingots of quicksilver down into the hiddencompartment beneath its metal floor.

  Our mirror was vague and dim now with a moving interior of the mainsmelter room as De Boer plunged through. At the strong-room entrancehe paused, with his men crowding behind him. The figure of Peronashowed in the vague light: he was stooping under the weight of one ofthe little ingots. Beside him yawned the small trap-opening leadingdownward.

  He saw De Boer. He straightened, startled, and then shouted with aterrified Spanish oath. De Boer's projector was levelled: the huge,foreshortened muzzle of it blotted out half our image. It hissed itspuff of light--a blinding flash on our mirror--in the midst of whichthe dark shape of Perona's body showed as it crumpled and fell. LikeSpawn, he met instant death.

  Jetta was gripping me. "Why--" Gutierrez was with us. Hans wasbending forward, watching the mirror. He muttered, "Got him!"

  I saw a chance to escape, and pulled at Jetta. But at once Gutierrezstepped backward.

  "Like him I will strike you dead!" he said.

  * * * * *

  No chance of escape. I had thought Gutierrez absorbed by the mirror,but he was not. I protested vehemently:

  "I haven't moved, you fool. I have no intention of moving."

  And now De Boer and his men were carrying up the ingots. A man foreach bar. A confusion of blurred swaying shapes, and low-voiced,triumphant murmurs from our disc.

  Then De Boer was outside the smelter house, and we saw a little queueof the bandits carrying the treasure up the defile. Coming back hereto the flyer. There was no pursuit; the mine guards were gone.

  The triumphant bandits would be here in a few moments.

  "Ave Maria, que magnifico!" Gutierrez had retreated to our doorway,more alert than ever upon me and Jetta. Hans called through thewindow-slit:

  "All is well, Franks!"

  "Got it?"

  "Yes! Make ready."

  There was a stir outside as several of the bandits hastened down thedefile to meet De Boer. And the tread of others, inside the flyer attheir posts, preparing for hasty departure.

  Hans snapped off the audiphone and mirror. He bent over his controlpanel. "All is well, Gutierrez. In a moment we start."

  Through the observatory window I saw the line of De Boer's men coming:Abruptly Hans gave a cry. "Look!"

  * * * * *

  A glow was in the room. A faint aura of light. And our disconnectedinstruments were crackling, murmuring with interference. Eavesdroppingwaves were here! Hans realised it: so did I.

  But there was no need for theory. From outside came shouts.

  "Patrol-ship!"

  "Hurry!"

  The ship, suddenly exposing its lights, was perfectly visible aboveus. Five thousand feet up, possibly. A tiny silver bird in themoonlight: but even with the naked eye I could see by its lightpattern that it was the official Porto Rican patrol-liner. It saw usdown here: recognized this bandit flyer, no doubt.

  And it was coming down!

  There was a confusion as the bandits rushed aboard. The patrol wasdropping in a swift spiral. I watched tensely, holding Jetta, with theturmoil of the embarking bandits around me. Gutierrez stood withlevelled weapon.

  "They have not moved, Commander."

  De Boer was here. The treasure was aboard.

  "Ready, Hans. Lift us."

  The landing portes clanged as they closed. Hans shoved at hisswitches. I heard the helicopter engines thumping. A vertical lift:there was no space in this rocky defile for any horizontal take-away.

  He was very calm, this De Boer. He sat in a chair at a control-bank ofinstruments unfamiliar to me.

  "Full power, Hans: I tell you. Lift us!"

  * * * * *

  The ship was quivering. We lifted. The rocks of the gully droppedaway. But the patrol-ship was directly over us. Was De Boer rushinginto a collision?

  "Now, forward, Hans."

  We poised for the level flight. Did De Boer think he couldout-distance this patrol-ship, the swiftest type of flyer in theService? I knew that was impossible.

  The silver ship overhead was circling, watchful. And as we levelledfor forward flight it shot a warning searchlight beam down across ourbow, ordering us to land.

  De Boer laughed. "They think they have us!"

  I saw his hand go to a switch. A warning siren resounded through ourcorridor, warning the bandits of De Boer's next move. But I did notknow it then: the thing caught me unprepared.

  De Boer flung another switch. My senses reeled. I heard Jetta cry out.My arm about her tightened.

  A moment of strange whirling unreality. The control room seemed fadingabout me. The tube-lights dimmed. A green glow took their place--alurid sheen in which the cubby and the tense faces of De Boer and Hansshowed with ghastly pallor. Everything was unreal. The voices of DeBoer and Hans sounded with a strange tonelessness. Stripped of thetimber that made one differ from the other. Hollow ghosts of humanvoices. By the sound I could not tell which was De Boer and which wasHans.

  The corridor was dark; all the lights on the ship faded into thishorrible dead green. The window beside me had a film on it. A dead,dark opening where moonlight had been. Then I realized that I wasbeginning to see through it once more. Starlight. Then the moonlight.

  We had soared almost level with the descending patrol-ship. We wentpast it, a quarter of a mile away. Went past, and it did not follow.It was still circling.

  * * * * *

  I knew then what had happened. And why this bandit ship had seemed ofso strange an aspect. We were invisible! At four hundred yards, evenin the moonlight, the patrol could not distinguish us. Only ten ofthese X-flyers were in existence: they were the closest secret of theU. S. Anti-War Department. No other government had them except inimpractical imitations. I had never even seen one before.

  But this bandit ship was one. And I recalled that a year ago, asuppressed dispatch intimated that the Service had lost one--wreckedin the Lowlands and never found.

  So this was that lost invisible flyer? De Boer, using it forsmuggling, with Perona and Spawn as partners. And now, De Boer makingaway in it with Spawn's treasure!

  The bandit's hollow, toneless, unreal chuckle sounded in the gruesomelurid green of the control room.

  "I think that surprised them!"

  The tiny silver shape of the baffled local patrol-ship faded behind usas we flew northward over heavy, fantastic crags; far above the tinytwinkling lights of the village of Nareda--out over the sullen darksurface of the Nares Sea.

  CHAPTER XIII - The Flight to the Bandit Stronghold

  During this flight of some six hours--north, and then, I think,northeast--to the remote Lowland fastness where De Boer's base waslocated, I had no opportunity to learn much of the operation of thisinvisible flyer. But it was the one which had been lost. Wrecked, nodoubt, and the small crew aboard it all killed. The vessel, however,was not greatly damaged: the crew were killed doubtless by escapingpoisonous gases when the flyer struck.

  How long it lay unfound, I cannot say. Perhaps, for days, it stillmaintained its invisibility, while the frantic planes of the U
. S.Anti-War Department tried in vain to locate it. And then, with itsmagnetic batteries exhausting themselves, it must have become visible.Perona, making a solo flight upon Nareda business to Great London,came upon it. Perona, Spawn and De Boer were then in the midst oftheir smuggling activities. They salvaged the vessel secretly. DeBoer, with an incongruous flair for mechanical science, was enabled inhis bandit camp, to recondition the flyer--building a workshop for thepurpose, with money which Perona freely supplied.

  Some of this I learned from De Boer, some is surmise: but I am sure itis close to the facts.

  * * * * *

  I have since had an opportunity--through my connection with thisadventure which I am recording--of going aboard one of the X-flyers ofthe Anti-War Department, and seeing it in operation with its technicaldetails explained to me. But since it is so important a Governmentsecret, I cannot set it down here. The principles involved arecomplex: the postulates employed, and the mathematical formulaedeveloping them in theory, are far too intricate for my understanding.Yet the practical workings are simple indeed. Some of them wereunderstood as far back as 1920 and '30, when that pioneer of modernastrophysics, Albert Einstein, first proved that a ray of light isdeflected from its normal straight path when passing through amagnetic field.

  I am sorry that I cannot give here more than this vague hint of theworkings of the fantastic invisible flyers which to-day are so oftenthe subject of speculation by the general public which never has seenthem, and perhaps never will. But I think, too, that a lengthypedantic discourse here would be out of place. And tiring. After all,I am trying to tell only what happened to me in this adventure. And tolittle Jetta.

  A very strangely capable fellow, this young De Boer. A modern pirate:no other age could have produced him. He did not spare Perona's money,that was obvious. From his hidden camp he must have made frequentvisits to the great Highland centers, purchasing scientific equipment:until now, when his path crossed mine. I found him surrounded by mostof the every-day devices of our modern world. The village of Naredawas primitive: backward. Save for its modern lights, a few localaudiphones and image-finders, and its official etheric connectionswith other world capitals, it might have been a primitive LatinAmerican village of a hundred years ago.