She smiled shyly. “You were very nice about it, Brad. It was fun, talking to you on the radio. You didn’t get fresh, and you didn’t pry or ask questions. You were just . . . well, understanding, always pleasant.”
“I share the same sentiments where a girl named Faye Manning is concerned,” Dunn said. “But where did you get the set you were using?”
“There was a powerful model of standard design in a small studio adjoining the laboratory. All of the real Stonecrest’s experiments seem to have been with short-wave radio apparatus of new and highly advanced design, but apparently he had one set that he could use for ordinary broadcasting. He had a special room for it, too. This room opened out on a narrow side hall, and I could reach it without being seen. I knew I wouldn’t have been permitted so near to the laboratory. Hardly anyone was. Borzeny and his assistants kept the laboratory locked when they weren’t there, and I was careful to use the radio only when they were in some other part of the house.”
Faye paused, and then went on, “My father was a radio ham, and he taught me how to twiddle the right dials. I was lonesome here, at the house, wanted someone to talk to. Borzeny always tried to discourage me from going out in the evenings—for security reasons, he said. And the few times I did go out, he had me followed. I learned about that quickly enough. It was one of the things that convinced me something strange was going on.
“The secret experiments seemed only part of whatever this was. There was something odd about Stonecrest himself—or Borzeny, that is. He avoided meeting people and carried on most of his affairs by correspondence. He refused to see unexpected visitors, appeared suspicious of almost everyone around him. He didn’t hire me to work for him until he had investigated every detail of my background. Practically all of his employees seemed to be new. I learned a short time later that he had fired all the old servants who had worked at the house.”
FAYE changed position on the floor, her soft voice quickening. “The arrival of this object in the sky that Borzeny calls the Celestial Hammer seemed to bring matters to a head. There was suddenly a lot of excitement. The guards at the estate were doubled—not ordinary guards, either, but professional toughs. From the scraps of information I was able to pick up, it seemed clear that Borzeny and his assistants had found they could control the object. What they used, of course, was the special shortwave apparatus with which they had been experimenting, in the laboratory.”
“So that’s the explanation!” Dunn said. “I’d been wondering how control was possible.”
Faye nodded. “This special apparatus evidently had been built by the real Stonecrest. The basic idea, I think, was a completely new type 6f radio communication. But Borzeny found he was getting signals with it—signals that came from the Celestial Hammer. No ordinary set could have picked them up. And when Borzeny signalled back, the Celestial Hammer responded by moving toward Earth.
Further experiment showed that a great deal of control was possible. Borzeny could have sent the object back into space if he had wanted to. There was no actual intelligence directing the object itself. It was like . . . well, it was like a huge machine.”
“There are theories that the planetoid is a space ship,” Dunn put in. “Suppose it is. A space ship with a stone hull would be practical enough, where meteors are considered. I don’t know about the passengers. They might all be dead—or in suspended animation, as some persons claim. But suppose that ship were guided in its flight by radio impulses like those sent out by Stonecrest’s apparatus. Perhaps to keep it from hitting a planet, or falling into a sun. If Stonecrest’s set sent out impulses of the same frequency as those sent out by the guiding device, then the ship would follow those impulses. That would explain how control of the planetoid was possible at all.”
He gestured. “Anyway, it’s clear how Stonecrest—I mean Borzeny—obtained his supernatural abilities. Obviously, control of the planetoid gave him the idea of setting himself up as a prophet.”
Faye’s blonde head moved in assent. “He began using the set over which I talked to you, Brad. I could see we wouldn’t be able to keep in touch any more, and I tried to let you know. Maybe I was too mysterious. You kept trying to reach me, and Borzeny grew excited over it. He said something would have to be done about you. I was afraid you were in real danger, and I warned you as soon as I had a chance to use the set again. Borzeny caught me at it. I don’t know what he might have done if we both hadn’t managed to give him the idea that our talk had been harmless.
“He already was suspicious of me, you see. In fact, I was practically being kept a prisoner in the house. I was locked in my room every night. I got out to radio you only because I managed to slip a wad of paper in the door catch. The reason for all this goes back to that open safe in the library.
“I investigated it. There were the usual things a person keeps in a safe. But then I came across a small steel box containing certain papers, records and newspaper clippings. All concerned a man named Max Borzeny. At the time it didn’t seem to mean much. Later, thinking back over what I had seen, I suddenly realized that this Max Borzeny was actually Stonecrest—or was masquerading as Stonecrest. And there was an important official connection between Borzeny and the Slav-Asian Powers.”
FAY SHUDDERED, grimacing. “I didn’t know how close to death I was in those minutes. If Borzeny had caught me searching the safe—But he didn’t. Not actually. I returned things as I had found them and was working on the records I had come to look up, when Borzeny returned to the library. He looked at me, and then at the open safe—and from that moment on he took no chances with me . . . It seems incredible, though, that Borzeny could somehow have taken Stonecrest’s place.”
“Stonecrest did a lot of traveling to remote corners of the Earth,” Dunn said slowly. “Somewhere along the line he and Borzeny ran into each other. Borzeny was a hunted man, and perhaps some actual physical resemblance between Stonecrest and himself suggested the switch in identities. It’s a matter of record that Borzeny spoke excellent English, and in addition he was an enormously clever and resourceful man. He had to be, to have escaped capture as long as he did. With a few changes in
Stonecrest’s papers and identification, with a bit of careful forgery here and there, it wouldn’t have been impossible for him to pass himself off as Stonecrest . . . As for Stonecrest himself, there’s no doubt but that he’s dead—murdered by Borzeny.”
“And it looks very much as if the same thing is going to happen to us,” Faye whispered, her face gray and drawn.
Dunn placed a comforting arm about her shoulders. “Not if we play our cards right. The main thing to do is to keep Borzeny from finding out how much we know. We’ve got to convince him that neither of us has found out about his real identity and connections. Especially you, Faye. As for me, I’m just a dumb guy who thought your rich boss was keeping you incommunicado for romantic reasons. And I was just jealous enough to use a gun in trying to pry you loose.”
“It might work,” Faye said, hope struggling in her voice. “I’ve been careful to say nothing about how much I knew.”
Dun tightened his arm. “It has to work.”
They fell silent, sitting close together on the concrete floor. The girl leaned wearily against him, her eyes closed. He felt the soft pressure of her body, and part of him was content. He had come this far to find her. That much, at least, had been accomplished. The only question now was, what lay ahead?
The silence deepened. And then, from somewhere in the distance, Dunn heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He straightened tensely, felt Faye stir beside him. Her eyes stared into his, suddenly wide and alert.
They were standing side by side when the door opened. A lumpy featured man with beetling eyebrows peered warily into the room, sent a muttered word over one shoulder, then entered. Two other men followed. One was an obvious tough, like the first who had appeared, but the second was a well-dressed, military erect man with iron-gray hair and cold, sharply chiseled features. All held lev
eled revolvers.
“Mr. Stonecrest!” Faye said. “We were hoping for a chance to explain—”
“That will be enough out of you, Miss Manning,” the gray-haired man returned curtly. He gestured to the lumpy-faced underling. “Get the microphone, Otto.”
The other strode to one of the walls, reached into a crevice near the floor and drew out a small flat disk. He removed the wires connected to it, straightened, strode back.
The man Faye had called Stonecrest, but who, Dunn knew, was actually Max Borzeny, smiled thinly at the girl. He had pale blue eyes that held a flat, unwinking stare—eyes that hinted of a nature harsh and without mercy.
“I found your conversation very interesting, Miss Manning. That was my purpose in leaving you and this young man together, here. So, please, let there be no childish attempts to deceive me.”
CHAPTER V
A CHILL emptiness filled Dunn.
Borzeny’s words had verified the sudden, numbing certainty that had leaped in him at sight of the microphone. Borzeny had listened in on the talk between Faye and himself, was aware they knew of his true identity. There was no longer any hope. Borzeny’s cold face, the leveled guns, indicated as much.
Dunn felt Faye draw closer against him. Her gray eyes met his in a brief glance of despair.
“All right, we know who you are,” Dunn told Borzeny. “We know what you’ve been doing here. What do you plan to do with us?”
The imposter lifted his erect, carefully tailored shoulders in a shrug. “Dead men tell no tales, as the saying goes. Dead women, also, I might add.”
“You can’t get away with it,” Dunn said. “This is the United States. People don’t vanish here without questions being asked.”
“I’m quite sure I can avoid the questions,” Borzeny returned with faintly smiling calm. “I will produce witnesses who will insist they saw you and Miss Manning leave here in your car. A simple case of elopement. Nothing mysterious, nothing sinister. The car itself will be taken care of in accordance with my little arrangement.” Dunn found he was breathing fast. There was a stifled drumming in his chest. He forced himself to speak quietly.
“Just when do you intend to start making this little arrangement of yours?”
“Immediately,” Borzeny said. “I am, you see, vacating this house tonight. I do not intend to return, and I wish to settle all unfinished business before I leave. I regret that I cannot allow you and the charming Miss Manning a little more time together.” Borzeny raised his eyebrows in polite inquiry. “Any further questions?”
“Yes,” Dunn said. Stall, he thought. Stall. Every second was precious, now. “What are you up to, here? What do you hope to gain by your control of the Celestial Hammer?”
Borzeny’s eyes lighted with a fanatical gleam. “An excellent point to raise. I shall speak frankly. I have, after all, nothing to lose. You and Miss Manning will very soon be in no position to make use of what I shall reveal. As for these men here, I can trust them. Most of the others serve for money, but with these two it is a matter of personal loyalty.”
He leaned forward slightly. His suavely deliberate manner seemed to change, to reflect a kind of fevered enthusiasm. “You ask what I hope to gain by my control of the Celestial Hammer. The answer, my young friend, is—mastery of the entire world! The Hammer is the most potent weapon that has ever existed—a weapon more potent, even, than the atomic bomb. And my control of it is absolute. I can make it obey my every command.”
Borzeny paused, his pale eyes flashing at Dunn. “I can, for example, bring the Hammer down on any great city I choose—and smash that city into complete oblivion! Any city on the surface of the Earth. And I intend to do just that! My plans have been carefully made, and this very night I shall swing into action. Washington, the capital of your nation, will be first. Then will come the various atomic bomb manufacturing sites and certain military centers. The country will be completely disorganized, completely helpless!
“That is only the first step in my plans. Immediately afterward I shall destroy the capital of the Slav-Asian Powers. At present the Slav-Asians consider me an ally, but they are treacherous, and I shall take no chances with them. With the dominant nations paralyzed and my power clearly demonstrated, the other remaining nations will quickly obey my commands. I shall emerge as the ruler of the entire world!”
DIMLY Dunn was aware of Faye’s fingers pressing into his arm, as though in physical echo of the shocked dread that filled him. Borzeny’s scheme sounded wild—insane. But the man’s control of the Celestial Hammer already had been proved beyond any slightest doubt. And with control of the Celestial Hammer anything was possible.
Dunn’s thoughts leaped frantically. Washington, the whole United States itself, was in immediate, terrible danger. Borzeny had to be stopped before he could put his plan into effect. Dunn realized he had to do something—but any move in the face of the ready guns would bring instant death.
Borzeny made a sudden gesture. “Since your questions appear to have been answered, I will now proceed to the business at hand.”
He took a step backward, glancing at one of the two men beside him. “You take the woman, Franz. I dislike shooting women . . . Otto, ready!”
Borzeny lifted his gun. His cold features tightened, became intent.
Dunn had a nightmare feeling. His muscles bunched wildly—but he saw there would be no time to move. The fingers of Borzeny and his henchmen were already tightening on the triggers of their weapons.
A gun roared.
Franz stiffened, half turned, then sprawled in a limp huddle to the floor. Borzeny whirled to peer back into the dark depths of the basement, and Dunn realized now that the shot had come from there.
Another shot sounded. Something whined within inches of Borzeny’s head, passing Dunn and Faye to hit a wall, beyond. Dunn didn’t wait to see what happened next. He took swift advantage of his opportunity. Otto was nearest, peering through the doorway as he steadied his revolver for a shot. Dunn leaped at the man, got an arm around his neck, jerked him savagely to the floor. Before the confused Otto could put up resistance, Dunn punched him into senselessness. Then he snatched up the man’s fallen gun, swung to where he had last seen Borzeny.
The other was gone. He had braved the bullets of the hidden attacker to dart through the doorway. Dunn heard swiftly retreating footsteps. Pursuit was out of the question at the moment, since it might draw the fire of the person concealed back in the basement.
DUNN WAITED.
The retreating footsteps faded, were gone. Somewhere a door slammed. Silence fell.
“Hello, whoever you are!” Dunn called through the open door. “This is Bradley Dunn.”
“Gillis, here!” a voice came back at once. “Everything all right at your end?”
“Borzeny’s gone,” Dunn said. “The two men with him are out of action.”
“I’ll be right with you.” Gillis came trotting out of the darkness. “Miss Manning all right?”
“Yes,” Faye said. “You saved our lives, Gillis. But I don’t understand. I thought—”
Gillis shrugged. “Up to a point, I follow orders and ask no questions. But there was too much going on in this house that I didn’t like. The way you two kids were being treated made me reach my limit. I followed Stonecrest down here—or Borzeny, as his real name seems to be—and I heard plenty. I thought he was just a rich guy using that Celestial Hammer thing to get himself a lot of free publicity. I didn’t know he was a fake planning to set himself up as a dictator. I don’t like dictators. And I like the old United States just as it is. Let it go at that.”
Gillis looked questioningly at Dunn. “Want to make a run for the Law? Or should we try to clean house?”
“We clean house,” Dunn said. “And the place to start is the laboratory. Borzeny will head there first thing. He has an idea about destroying Washington, and we’ve got to stop him.”
“Let’s go,” Gillis said simply.
Dunn picked up the revolve
r that the dead Franz had been using, thrust it into his belt. Then, gripping Faye’s hand, he followed Gillis through the basement.
They reached a flight of stairs, mounted to the door at the top. The door was locked. Cautioning Dunn and Faye to move to one side, Gillis shot the lock away. Then he slid a fresh clip into his automatic and carefully inched the door open. The narrow hall beyond was empty, but from somewhere in the house shouts of alarm were rising.
“Come on!” Gillis said. “We’ve got to make a rush for it.”
The narrow hall ran past a kitchen and opened out into the main hall Dunn had already seen. As Dunn and the others hurried toward the stairway at the end, the two men appeared. Sighting. Dunn’s group, the men lifted the guns they held.
Dunn and Gillis fired almost simultaneously. One of the men clutched at his chest and dropped. The other whirled back out of sight.
“Cover me,” Gillis barked at Dunn. He crept to the end of the hall, peered around, then gestured urgently.
They reached the stairway, raced upward. As they reached the landing a gun thundered. Gillis released a gasp, clutched at his shoulder.
Dunn saw Harry at the head of the stairs. He snapped a shot at the man, missed. Harry was swinging his weapon toward Dunn, when Dunn fired again. Harry staggered, fell, rolled down the steps. He reached the landing, lay motionless.
Dunn turned to Gillis. “Can you make it?”
“Bullet went through my arm,” Gillis said. “I can still pull my weight.”
They continued up the steps, Gillis insisting on scouting the way. Several men appeared in the hall below them, began to mount upward.
“Hurry!” Gillis whispered. “There’s still another flight ahead of us.”
THEY POUNDED up the remaining stairway, Gillis maintaining his lead. The approaching men shouted their discovery of Dunn’s group, quickening their ascent like hounds that had at last sighted their quarry.
Collected Fiction (1940-1963) Page 265
