“The admiral!” I looked helplessly at Moira.
“ ’Tis best to be going, Somhairle,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”
“No. You can’t!” I turned to the bigger sergeant. “Look. I’ve got to get this girl to a hotel. Can we drop her off on the way?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir. We’ll go along with you.”
I considered. That was better than nothing. But the admiral—how had I gotten in bad with the admiral?
In the admiralty vehicle I pondered my situation. It didn’t seem good. In a short chat with the two marines I discovered that Joe was on his way to the admiralty too. We were both in it together. It must have something to do with Gorgo.
Worried, and hardly aware of what I was doing, I installed Moira at the Berkeley Hotel near Piccadilly Circus, and then went with the silent, stolid, very British marine sergeants.
We drove to Whitehall, drawing up in front of a huge red brick and stone building with three tower corners and a campanile. It was one of those Italian palladian style buildings, imposing and in the grand manner. Naval guards stood sentry duty in front of the wide doorway, and passed us quickly through into the quiet doorway, and passed us quickly through into the quiet interior without any fuss.
The sergeants hustled me down a corridor and up a flight of stairs to a room marked “Admiralty Communications.” It was a room with a long row of uniformed naval radio operators seated at what looked like an elaborate switchboard on one side. On the other side of the room a huge wall map of the British Isles hung from the ceiling to the floor.
I saw Joe. He was in conversation with a gray-haired, straight-backed man in his sixties, obviously the admiral. Joe saw me come in and waved me over. I left the big sergeant who caught a nod from the admiral and vanished.
“Admiral Hugh Brooks,” said Joe. “This is my partner, Sam Slade.”
The admiral stared at me with startling deep blue eyes. I felt as if he were reaching down inside me to see what made me tick.
“Ah, yes, the young man whose message alerted us to the trouble on Nara.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “There are no survivors—except for a girl named Moira McCartin.”
The admiral nodded briskly. “We knew the moment we lost contact with Nara that there was some difficulty there.” The bright blue eyes probed me. “Your clear-cut report leaves no doubt in our minds now as to the fantastic thing that happened.”
The admiral waved at the huge map on the wall.
“Her Majesty’s Aircraft Carrier Royal Oak has proceeded to area N-3-4 to report any unusual sightings or conditions in the vicinity of Nara Island.” He paused significantly and looked at Joe and then at me.
“Reconnaissance aircraft from the carrier, as well as one destroyer, have sighted a creature answering your description.” The admiral turned to the map and indicated a spot in the sea south of Ireland. “In this area. The creature submerged when they approached. We are waiting a further report at this moment.”
The admiral’s icy blue eyes chopped to me.
“I feel you two gentlemen should be the first to know about this situation.” I shivered. He had us by the short hairs, and he knew it. Business-like, he went right on. “Perhaps there is something you know about this creature which will help us to appraise it.”
I nodded. “First off, sir,” I said, “I’d say it isn’t an ‘it’ or a ‘him.’ It’s a ‘her.’ ”
The admiral lifted an eyebrow. So did Joe.
“I’d guess it’s the adult of the species. The mother. The one we’ve got quartered at Battersea Park is her child.”
The admiral stared at me stonily.
“Check with Professors Hendricks and Flaherty,” I said impatiently.
“I already have,” the admiral said coolly. “They concur with you in your theory.” The admiral shrugged. “Very well then. The monster—the second monster—is hereafter referred to as ‘her.’ ”
Joe was staring up at the map on the wall. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “It looks to me as though the thing’s heading for London. That sighting’s along the same route the Triton took.”
“Definitely,” said the admiral. “Which in itself calls for some kind of explanation. Do you have one?”
Joe frowned, looking a bit subdued. “Well, we were playing a stream of water over it—him—during the passage. That was Professor Flaherty’s idea. We may have left some kind of a track in the ocean.”
“Joe,” I broke in. “The phosphorescence. When Moira and I looked out to sea after the thing had left Nara we saw a long trail of iridescence in the water.”
“I see,” mused the admiral. “Well, we don’t really anticipate any great difficulties in controlling the monster. I have already taken notes from Professors Hendricks and Flaherty on the creature. Outstanding characteristics, vulnerable areas.”
The admiral picked up a radiophone headpiece from the table in front of the map and slipped it on. He listened a moment, then pushed an intercom switch on the table. A squawk box beside it immediately came to life.
“We’re in contact with the reconnaissance plane,” the admiral explained briefly, taking the phones off. “That’s the skipper of the destroyer speaking to the recon plane’s pilot. Listen.”
“Plane to Bridge. I see something now. She’s four point off your starboard bow. Have you got that?”
“Four point starboard.” The skipper’s voice repeated.
“Don’t you see her?” The pilot’s voice became suddenly agitated. “My God, she’s massive! That head, weaving back and forth!”
“We see her now.” The skipper seemed calm.
“She’s looking for something. What’s she want?”
“We’ll never know. Fire number one turret.”
We could hear the concussion echo from the shot.
“Plane to Bridge. I can see her. You’ve missed her! You’re way off to the left.”
“We can see. Fire number two.”
Again we heard the concussion.
“You’ve hit her direct! She just staggered back. Can you see? She’s impervious! Looks like she wants to throw the shells back!”
“Fire number three!”
Again the concussion.
“Plane to Bridge! She’s gone now!” The pilot’s voice went a bit slack then, apparently in reaction from the excitement.
“Cease fire!” That was the skipper’s voice. “Cease fire!”
“That did it, men. Good show!”
“Port two points,” said the destroyer’s skipper calmly.
“Whew!” sighed the pilot. “What a close thing that was! You can’t see her from there, but I’m telling you—she was a huge thing! A great green lizard.” The squawk box went silent.
The admiral turned to us. “At least two direct hits. I don’t suspect the monster will be coming back for more now.” There was just the hint of satisfaction in his voice.
“They killed it?” I asked. I didn’t want to throw any cold water on his jubilance, but frankly I had my doubts.
“She disappeared beneath the sea, as you heard yourself. They are sweeping the area now, but I’m sure she has almost certainly been killed.”
The admiral was about to reach across the table and flick the squawk off, when we all heard it at once.
“She’s up again!” the pilot’s voice yelled. “Plane to Bridge. She’s out of the water! Look out! Your starboard bow! She’s reaching out for you!”
“I see her!” cried the skipper.
“She’s coming at you! Get out of there, fast! Move! She’s going to—”
“Fire Four! Fire fi—”
There was a crackle of static, and then silence, silence in the middle of a word.
In the Communications Room no one moved.
The pilot’s voice came on again. “Flight deck! Royal Oak! Plane to Flight Deck!” the voice cried, trembling, on the verge of hysteria. “I’ve lost contact with the Destroyer Bridge.” Now the voice broke. “The destro
yer has been turned over! I can see men swimming in the water. I can see—”
There was another pause.
“Oh, my God!” cried the pilot’s voice. “She’s—she’s breaking up the ship! She’s smashing it in two! It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen! She’s huge—vast—absolutely impregnable.”
A calm flat voice cut in on the air. “Flight Deck, Royal Oak, to Recon Charlie. Do you read me, Recon Charlie?”
“I read you,” the pilot’s voice choked.
“Radio your position. We’re on our way.”
There was no answer for a moment. Then we could hear what seemed to be a sob. “It’s no use. The ship is gone. The—the thing pushed it down into the—the water! She pushed it down and broke it to—to pieces under the water!” The pilot’s voice soared to a thin tremor. “She ripped it to pieces like a kid with a toy!”
The Royal Oak Operations Chief’s voice shook now. “But—the men—can’t we save the men?”
“There’s no chance. There’s nothing afloat to save them. The thing has pushed the destroyer down under the water. No hope.” The voice went dead.
“Report in,” said the carrier’s Operations Chief wearily.
“She’s going under the water now,” the pilot whispered. “No! she’s rising! She’s screaming, roaring out! She sees me up here! She’s reaching up! But I’m too high for her. Too high!” The pilot began laughing hysterically.
Then there was a click, and the squawk box went dead.
Everyone in the room was frozen, and a deathly quiet settled down. The admiral was completely stunned. His face was white and he could not speak for a long while. No one would say anything until he did.
“Capsized,” he muttered finally. “Sunk. With every man aboard.”
I jumped up. “All right! Now what?”
The admiral shook his head. “It’s terrible.”
Joe snapped it up. “But what’ll you do now?”
“I know what we’ll do!” I said, turning to Joe. “We’re going to turn the thing loose! Take it back to sea and dump it! While we’re still got a chance!”
Joe moved against me, gripping a handful of my shirt tightly. “What’s the matter with you? This is the twentieth century! There’s got to be a way to handle an overgrown lizard.”
I flicked his hand away and stared at him. Then I turned and hurried over to the door.
“No you don’t!” Joe cried out, and moved after me.
Angered by Joe’s remark about the lizard, the admiral came to life. He shook himself, as if rousing himself from a bad dream. “There’s no doubt we can stop the creature.” He looked about him for support. Everyone was staring at him dully. “We’ll call you if we need you again. Good evening, gentlemen.”
Always the officer, I thought. I ran through the doorway and out into the quiet corridor.
Joe came right after me.
Chapter 13
As we drove back to Battersea Park in Joe’s Frazer-Nash, I told him in detail about what had happened on Nara Island. I told him that Moira was at the Berkeley, and that I was going to let her sleep through the clock before disturbing her again. She had been through a terrible ordeal and needed rest. Later, her brother Sean could move in with her. He would be much better off away from the negative influence of the circus people and the Gorgo crowds.
If, that is, Sean would be willing to leave Gorgo’s side.
Joe drove me up in front of the circus wagon and let me out. As I stood there, about to mount the steps of the wagon. I could hear the rumbling, fearsome cry of Gorgo at my back. The sound of his roar had changed subtly in quality since we’d come to Battersea Park. It had taken on a kind of mournful note that made my flesh crawl.
“So long, Sam,” Joe said, flicking on the ignition. “I wish you’d take my advice sometime and live it up a little! Do you good!”
I shook my head. “Not me, Joe. I like it here.”
He shrugged, gunned the engine, and drove off as I stood there watching him. I climbed the steps of the circus wagon, opened the door and snapped on the light. Sean was all bundled up in his bed asleep. I didn’t wake him. I didn’t want to disturb him, and I thought Joe must have told him about his father’s death already.
I crossed quietly over to the refrigerator and got out a fresh bottle of Irish whiskey. I poured myself a stiff one and sat at the table to toss it down. I needed some kind of bracer. That damned monster. Not Gorgo. The big bugger. She was the one to make you really sit up and take notice.
I finished two more shots and then got up and went to the window. I looked through the darkness toward Gorgo’s cement tank. I could hear him out there, thrashing around restlessly, every so often letting loose that plaintive, mournful bellow.
I shivered.
I came back to the table, and almost knocked down Sean, who was standing in my path, his wide eyes watching me curiously.
“You knew,” I said to him, my tongue suddenly loosened by the liquor. “You knew all the time, didn’t you?” He just looked at me. “You knew it was more than just a big lizard! All their science. All their civilization. You knew more than the whole bunch of them.”
Sean glanced at the half empty bottle of Irish whiskey on the table.
“Come on, then! If we’ve got to free the Avenging Angel, let’s go!”
Sean was puzzled. “Go, Sam? Go where?”
I shook my head and opened the door. I stumbled down the steps onto the ground, and I could hear Sean’s steps coming after me.
“Come on boy! Come on!” I was really warmed up now. I wanted action.
“Sam, now,” Sean wheeled, “what would you be doing?”
I grinned at him, ruffling his tousled mop of red hair. “Don’t you know, boy? Don’t you know?”
“Sam!” he cried, but I was already headed for the scrap lumber pile at the corner of the grounds. I pulled out a choice length of two-by-four, and turned toward Gorgo’s tank. Sean grabbed hold of my arm. “Somhairle!” he cried. “Ná déan é! Nëan déan é! Don’t do it!” he pleaded.
I threw him off me, and continued determinedly toward the cement basin. I could see the shape of Gorgo ahead of me, staring out through the wires, his tiny red eyes gleaming in the dark.
“Sam!” Sean cried, getting to his feet and racing after me. “Don’t! He’ll kill you.”
“What’s the difference?” I snarled. “One more death or other.”
I stumbled up to the first line of wires, the ones with the electric current running through them. Gorgo watched me, and moved closer, peering out at me. He raised his head and growled a spine-chilling warning, the echoes returning from the woodland of Battersea Park with an eerie wail.
Sean grabbed hold of me from behind, but I threw him to the ground and swung the two-by-four. I hit the first strand of wire. There was a crackling blue flash. The end of the two-by-four burst into flame.
Sean screamed.
Gorgo reared back, rising to his full height, bellowing frantically into the skies.
I swung the two-by-four again. A brilliant lightning flash followed. But this time the timber slipped from my numbed fingers and spun through the air into Gorgo’s enclosure. The sharp claws reached down quickly, grabbed up the timber, and imitated me, flailing at the electrified wires. He poked the timber through the wires, bouncing it up and down. Instantly a blinding sheet of flame curtained up between the monster and me.
Before I could react, the flaming two-by-four shot through the wires and hit me a glancing blow on my shoulder.
I went down in a heap.
Stunned, I lay there. The monster howled and beat his tail on the concrete flooring. Sean was weeping, tearing off his shirt, trying to smother me in it. I realized in a sort of vague way that my clothes were on fire, and that I could not move.
The boy blanketed me with his shirt, and tried to haul me to my feet. I was too heavy, too sodden with alcohol. He knelt beside me then, and I could see the tears streaming out of his eyes. Over my s
houlder he looked up at the beast’s head, peering down at us, and shuddered.
Sean shook me again. I finally roused myself enough to get to my knees. Trying to support most of my weight, Sean moved me slowly toward the circus wagon. With the last vestiges of my fading strength, I pulled myself together. I staggered up the wagon steps and fell onto my bed. He undressed me and covered me. I was too drunk, too stunned, to really care.
I was so exhausted from the long events of the day before I slept through till noon. When I awoke, I found a note from Joe:
TOOK THE KID TO SEE HIS SISTER. SLEEP TIGHT. JOE.
I grinned, got up, shaved, and wandered over to the pub across Queens Road for breakfast. I was amused at the newspaper headlines. One of them suspected the whole monster story to be a hoax, a deliberate attempt to build up box office patronage at the Gorgo exhibit. Another accused the prime minister of using the monster story to cover up and attack on the navy by a “foreign power.” Another claimed that Nara Island had been destroyed by a malfunctioning intercontinental ballistic missile.
No one believed the truth.
I shook my head. The gullible people. What fools they were.
I grabbed a cab and went into London to Piccadilly, where I waited for Moira in the lobby of the Berkeley. Soon she and Sean and Joe came in from shopping, and we split up. Joe taking Sean back to Battersea Park to collect his things preparatory to moving in with Moira at the Berkeley, and I taking Moira on a tour of the city. I had to admit Joe was quite decent about everything. I wondered if he’d really reformed.
It was dusk when we got through a short sightseeing tour of London. Moira, who had never been among people much before, was like a hick from the boondocks. I was amused at the way she gaped at the buildings and watched the Londoners with her wide, innocent, sea-green eyes.
I took her out to Battersea Park to see Gorgo, and she shuddered and held my hand tightly as we stood there. I could feel the chills running down my own back. I couldn’t forget how easily, and how accurately, Gorgo had thrown that flaming two-by-four at me the night before.
We went to the pub on Queens Road for dinner, and it was there that Moira saw her first television set. She was fascinated at watching the moving pictures coming from the little box, and she observed everything with undisguised fascination. Finally the evening newscast began. I pricked up my ears, too, trying to hear the broadcaster’s words over the din of the pub, which was now beginning to fill with after-work customers.
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