Death Dimension

by Denis Hughes

  Varden refused to answer, but went past Rhonna, drawing her through the doorway with him, keeping her close at his side as he headed for the video cabinet. “Don’t ever, ever let me drop off to sleep,” he whispered as Varden Two strolled after them a few feet in the rear.

  She gave him a puzzled look, but nodded her head.

  He asked for Merrick’s number at Viki’s flat. The screen glowed to life and showed the familiar room. Viki was there as well as Merrick. Viki wore a negligée and very little else.

  “What did I tell you, pal? See that?” He studied the intimate little scene with a glitter of amusement. “Quite a love-nest, isn’t it?”

  Merrick blocked Viki out of sight. He frowned when he saw Varden’s features. Varden had pushed Rhonna out of range of the screen

  “Well?” demanded Merrick curtly. “What have you got to report?”

  “Nothing as yet,” answered Varden tersely. “I just thought I’d tell you I don’t like being watched when I’m working. One of your men keeps hanging around. I’m busy, understand?”

  Merrick made a deprecating gesture. “I was only taking care of you in case the police got you,” he said. “Are you on to Blake yet?”

  Varden bit his lip, hearing Rhonna catch her breath. “I’ll call you when there’s anything definite,” he snapped. Then he switched off the video and lifted his eyes to the red-haired woman with the gun in her hand.

  “You’re spying on me for Merrick, aren’t you?” she said. Her voice was hard and edged.

  Varden spread his hands a little helplessly. “Don’t get wrong ideas,” he told her. “I’ve been honest with you except in one respect.” He paused, hesitating slightly. “Merrick wanted me to find out what your father could do to stop war. I told him I wouldn’t do it, and I meant it.”

  “Is that true? You’re being honest with me?” There was an anxious ring in her words as if she prayed he would not let her down. Varden nodded firmly, catching the eye of the other man as he stood beside her. Varden Two winked in a knowing fashion.

  “It’s perfectly true,” Varden insisted. “If you were on the run from the police would you bother to spy on people for another man’s benefit?”

  “All right,” she said, relieved. “We’d better go now. Is—is that other thing around still?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid he is.”

  “Don’t worry about me, brother. I’m content to stay where I am for the time being. Later on I might make other plans. But you go right ahead with the lady. And don’t forget to come through with the dope, either. If you slip I’ll be right there beside you, understand?”

  Varden nodded. He said nothing for fear of starting an unwanted train of thought in Rhonna’s mind. Rhonna said, “Bob, if you’re ready, we’ll go.”

  “Let’s,” he said. “Where to?”

  “You’ll see.” She glanced at the gun in her hand, then picked up a light coat and dropped it over her arm, covering the gun but still leaving it usable if Varden turned killer. He watched her with mingled amusement and hurt. She still didn’t trust him entirely.

  The other Varden strolled to the front door of the flat in a leisurely manner. Then he leant against the jamb and barred the way as Varden made to leave. Varden stopped abruptly. “Well?” he demanded.

  “I just want to impress on you what I’ve already said. Oh, and by the way, I discovered why Merrick’s so anxious to have a war. He’s deep in the armament business. That’s strictly for your own information, but I thought you’d like to know.”

  “Thanks!” Varden was sceptical of the being’s intention, but accepted it for what it was worth. Rhonna made no comment, but followed him closely and quickly as he stepped past the figure of the leaning entity.

  “Up in the lift,” she said. “To the roof: I have a plane of my own up there.”

  The other Varden watched them go, a cynical smile on his lips.

  CHAPTER 8

  MENTAL PROBE

  Viki Rochelle stretched her arms luxuriously, smiling at Merrick as he brought her a drink and perched himself on the settee beside her.

  “You know, darling,” she murmured huskily, “you’re very sweet and very important to me, but I’ll be glad when all this is over and we can really enjoy the fruits of what we’re doing.” She took the glass he offered and raised her mouth for the kiss that went with it.

  “Viki,” he whispered intensely, “it’s as much for you as for myself. We shall have the world at our feet before long, and then we can dictate our own terms.” He paced the floor, an odd expression on his fleshy face. “And when it’s all over I shall finish off Varden,” he added, smiling grimly.

  Viki looked worried for a moment. “It can’t be true about there being two of him, can it?” she said. “It gives me the creeps when I remember the other night.”

  Merrick waved a podgy hand. “Rubbish, of course!” He bent forward, smiling.

  It was then that the video screen flickered to life and Varden came through from Rhonna’s flat. When the conversation was over, Viki was even more worried than before. Her nerves were on edge and she grew more restless. She and Merrick began snapping at each other over trivialities. In the end he smoothed her down, but she was still disgruntled.

  Neither of them saw the figure of Varden’s other entity come in and take a seat at the writing desk. Viki glanced round uneasily, sensing something in the atmosphere, but there was nothing visible to her eyes. She shivered and snuggled more deeply on the settee, huddling down so that Merrick shot her a curious look.

  “You cold or something?” he inquired impatiently. “Better go and dress if you are.” He walked about restlessly.

  “What a way to appreciate a lady’s charm!” murmured Varden, shaking his head as if scandalised. But they took no notice of him.

  “I’m all right,” said Viki. “It’s just…Oh, I don’t know!” She got up and poured herself another drink, double the size of her last. Her hands were none too steady.

  Merrick grinned at her. “You’ll feel better when we fly to the yacht,” he said quietly. “All I’m waiting for is Varden to make his report. Then we can go ahead. Think of it, honey! War! A war of our own creation, with all the loot and profit that belongs to war. My contracts are bigger than ever, and even if war eventually blocks the raw materials from reaching us we shall clear a thousand million at the least!” His eyes were gleaming greedily as he spoke.

  The Varden by the desk smiled slowly and thoughtfully. He would have liked to have discussed the question with Merrick, but was seriously handicapped in that respect. There was no way of getting into direct communication as far as he could see. Then he wondered, looking at the clean sheet of blotting paper on the desk.

  Viki was saying, “You’re sure no one can give us away? The yacht. I mean…. Suppose they discovered the launching gear?” Her voice was harsh with worry. Merrick spun round on her almost savagely.

  “For heaven’s sake!” he snapped. “There isn’t any danger! Why the devil should anyone suspect a cruising yacht in the Atlantic Ocean? My dear girl, be your age!”

  Varden was scribbling with a pencil, listening as he wrote. If he could get rid of whiskey there didn’t seem to be any reason why he shouldn’t write messages, he thought with amusement. When he had finished to his satisfaction he picked up the blotter and took it across to Merrick, thrusting it into the man’s hand. Merrick gave a yell of dismay and horror. Viki screamed. But the moment Merrick had recovered his balance he saw that there was scrawly writing on the blotter. The first few words riveted his attention, and in spite of his astonishment and fear be began to read the message through.

  “Shut up, Viki!” he snarled. “ ‘Listen; I am Varden. You can’t see me, but I’m real for all that. I’m not the other Varden who’s now with the Blake girl, but I feel we should get together on this war question. Varden means to double-cross you and is on his way to Blake with the girl. If you want to get in with a rush I should fire those projectiles as soon as you can’.”r />
  “Do you bear that, Viki?” His tone was scared as he peered round the room uneasily. “This—this was written in here!”

  Varden’s entity drifted round behind Viki where she cowered on the settee, terrified. He stroked her hair, wondering if she could feel him. She may have sensed his presence, but no more.

  Merrick thrust his hands in his pockets, striking a pose of courage which he did not feel. “Er —Varden,” he said firmly. “Is this true? Can’t you speak to me, man?”

  Silence. Varden grinned and studied the big man’s face. He wished he could do something really frightening. However, by coming here like this he had learnt something fresh, and he had also jogged Merrick considerably.

  Merrick frowned. “All right,” he said loudly. “If you can’t make me hear. I’m thanking you for this information. If it interests you we are leaving shortly for the projectile base. That is all you need to know. Later on we may be able to take you into partnership when things get going.” Merrick beamed a big business smile, tossing it round the room in all directions, hoping it would land.

  Varden smirked. “You poor sap” he said. “Do you imagine I’ll swallow that? When you begin, friend, I’ll take up where you leave off!”

  Merrick rubbed his hands together. “Good!” he said with a hearty chuckle. “I’m glad you called, Varden. You’ve put, us on our guard. Much obliged to you!” He waved his hand in dismissal, then turned to Viki. “Go and dress, my dear,” he said. “I think we will be off. Hurry now!”

  Viki glanced round with frightened eyes, then ran from the room. Varden decided she might be worth following. Merrick was alone, though even he could not be sure on that point. He helped himself to a drink and a cigarette, scowling and chewing his lower lip. So the fool meant to double-cross him, did he? Well, there was a simple way of beating him at that! Once the war was started it would be much more difficult to stop—even if Blake did have the means. Merrick wracked his brains, but could think of no possible way in which one man could prevent a war by scientific methods. The whole idea was ridiculous, he told himself, yet there was little conviction in his mind.

  Viki slipped the negligée from her shoulders and turned to study her reflection in the glass. She gulped and gave a yell of dismay as Varden wrote something on the mirror with lipstick. She couldn’t even see the lipstick itself, because for some reason that even Varden’s second entity did not understand things were not always visible to other people when he picked them up. He watched vindictively as the woman ran and hid on the other side of the bed.

  At last Merrick himself came in, hurrying Viki impatiently. Within five minutes they were going up in the lift to the roof, where Merrick’s personal jet helicopter was parked.

  *

  The small, fast machine bearing Rhonna and Varden winged its way north across the drowsy summer countryside. The woman handled her aircraft expertly, so that Varden was reminded of his own flying days, now finished. He was troubled, too, by recurring headaches and a growing certainty that his eyesight was not as good as it had been when he left the hospital. But he said nothing to Rhonna about it. Better to get this other affair settled before bringing up his own particular worries. And he could not, in any event, return to the little fat doctor with rimless-glasses at the hospital. There were times when he forgot he was a wanted man, but this was not one of them.

  Rhonna said little during the flight. Once when Varden asked her again where they were going she told him to wait and see. It was plain that although she would have liked to, she could not place all her trust in this man. He swallowed the hurt of her attitude, but kept his temper.

  Two hours swift flying brought them to the highland country of Scotland, bare and heather clad, with occasional small farms dotted here and there in the dales, a country that had not changed as much as England and London,

  She took the plane down in a perpendicular drop, landing it neatly and without fuss alongside the buildings of a somewhat larger farm than most, a place without neighbours closer than several miles across the hills.

  “Here we are,” she said quietly. “You can get out now, and remember I still have you covered with this!” She jerked the little gun in her hand.

  Varden grinned. “You won’t have to use it,” he said. “I’m in your hands now, and when your father hears what you have to tell him, he’ll see the wisdom of acting quickly.”

  “I hope so, for your sake,” she told him enigmatically.

  They left the jet-powered ’copter and walked quickly to the farm houses fifty yards away. Before they reached it the front door opened and a man stepped out into the clear sunlight. His hair was almost white. He was smallish, a little bent about the shoulders, and none too tidily dressed, but his eyes lit up when he saw Rhonna coming.

  Varden shot her a sidelong glance, seeing the answering warmth in her eyes, the unconscious quickening of her step so that she almost outdistanced him. “Dad!” she said. “Dad, is it all right? Is everything all right?”

  He was a tired looking man, past middle age, with a lot of work and personal struggle behind those weary eves of his. Varden liked him on sight. He realised that, this was the first time he’d met Rhonna’s father. In the old days before the crash he hadn’t known her long enough to get as far as meeting dad, and since then…well, there hadn’t been time.

  Blake was peering at him curiously, fumbling his hands in the side pockets of his coat, waiting. Rhonna turned and made a comprehensive gesture with her gun. Blake didn’t seem to have noticed the gun till then. He gave a start of surprise.

  “Don’t worry,” said Rhonna, smiling a little. “He’s a wanted man, but I don’t think he did it. There’s something you can help us with, dad. And something even more important, too, that you’ve got to get hold of.”

  Blake surveyed Varden with a calculating stare that was partly friendly and partly hostile.

  “You’d both better come indoors,” he said. “I’ll send one of the men to put the plane under cover.”

  Varden decided he was going to like Blake. He walked in behind him, with Rhonna bringing up the rear. The inside of the house was like that of any other remote farm, plain and comfortably furnished. Blake closed the door as his daughter entered, then waved Varden to a chair.

  “Make yourself at home,” he said. He glanced at Rhonna. “I think I can trust my daughter’s choice of friends.”

  “I’m Robert Varden. I didn’t come here to escape the law, Mr. Blake, but because you’ve got to listen to something I have to say, something about war…”

  Blake showed no immediate reaction. Rhonna went close to her father’s side. “He means it, dad,” she said. “A man by the name of Merrick is aiming to start the war on his own. Bob says that if you can prevent it you must act now.”

  Blake eyed Varden closely. “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll have a talk with Rhonna about it.” He paused. Then: “Don’t run away; there isn’t any need. If you’re honest you’re with friends.”

  Varden smiled gratefully. Blake and Rhonna went into a second room and closed the door. He could hear their voices for several minutes before Blake returned alone. He seemed more interested in Varden now.

  “I’ve been hearing about your double being,” he said slowly. “Will you place yourself in my hands?”

  “You can do what you like if you’ll get rid of that awful killer that’s part of me.” Varden answered.

  Blake nodded. “Rhonna believes your story,” he said. “I want to check it myself. Come with me, will you?”

  Varden followed him from the room, through a second one to a flight of steps down which they walked. The steps were broad concrete ones, well lighted. From far below came the hum of machinery. Puzzled, Varden wondered where the scientist was taking him, wondered too, why a man like Blake should bury himself in the highlands. It only dawned on him slowly that he was being taken to a great underground laboratory and workshop. But he saw little of it at that stage.

  Blake led him through a steel
door to a small, office-like room. “Sit down,” he said quietly.

  Varden glanced apprehensively as the scientist wheeled a trolley towards the chair in which he sat. “What’s this in aid of?” he demanded uneasily, as the man placed a metal plate on his skull and put a pistol grip attachment in his hand.

  Blake smiled. “Nothing to be afraid of,” he assured him. “I want to check this story you’ve been telling Rhonna. And it might help to solve your other problem, too. You can trust me.” He made some adjustments to an electrical apparatus on the trolley. “Now I want you to let your mind relax,” he said, peering into Varden’s eyes.

  Panic gripped him. “Don’t you put me to sleep!” he said.

  Blake shook his head. “Rhonna told me about that. All you have to do is relax. You won’t sleep, but I shall get all the information I want without your knowing.”

  Varden could hardly believe his ears. He watched as Blake put on a pair of headphones and flicked a switch, his eyes on a dial, the needle of which was moving spasmodically.

  “Relax!” said Blake sharply.

  Varden closed his eyes, striving to make his mind a blank. Then suddenly he felt a probe working deep in his brain. It was as if something hard and metallic was feeling its way through his skull, seeking and questing blindly. Queer thoughts rose in his mind, unbidden, strange to him. He felt as if he was floating on a calm sea, yet was perfectly well aware of his surroundings.

  He opened his eyes and watched the face of the scientist. It was intent, concentrated. More thoughts passed through his mind. He visualised the second Varden, a naked figure with devil’s eyes and a leering grin; Viki in all her seductiveness; Merrick with his big business pomposity and phoney heartiness. He thought of a thousand tiny details relating to his life during the past few days, and not one of them did he call up consciously from the dimness of his mind.

  At last Blake gave a satisfied nod. He switched off the apparatus, smiling at Varden with friendly eves as he lifted the plate off his skull and relieved him of the pistol grip gadget.