E.E. 'Doc' Smith SF Gateway Omnibus: The Skylark of Space, Skylark Three, Skylark of Valeron, Skylark DuQuesne (8 page)

‘Check. And you know what that means. The third guard, the one that escaped.’

‘Yes.’ The great detective’s face grew grim. ‘The trouble will be proving it on him.’

‘Second, he was your size and build, Seaton; close enough to fool Shiro, and that would have to be ungodly close.’

‘DuQuesne. For all the tea in China, it was DuQuesne.’

‘Third, he was an expert safecracker, and that alone lets DuQuesne out. That’s just as much of a specialty as yours is, and he did a beautiful job on that safe – really beautiful.’

‘I
still
won’t buy it,’ Seaton insisted. ‘Don’t forget that DuQuesne’s a living encyclopedia and as much smarter than any yegg as I am than that tomcat over there. He could study safe-blowing fifteen minutes and be top
man in the field; and he’s got guts enough to supply a regiment.’

‘Fourth, it
couldn’t
have been DuQuesne. Everything out there is bugged and we’ve had him under continuous observation. I know exactly where he has been, every minute.’

‘You
think
you do,’ Seaton corrected. ‘He knows more about electricity than the guy who invented it. I’m going to ask you a question. Have you ever got a man into his house?’

‘Well … no, not exactly … but that isn’t necessary, these days.’

‘It might be, in this case. But don’t try it. Unless I’m wronger than wrong, you won’t.’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Prescott agreed. ‘But you’re softening me up for something, Seaton. What is it?’

‘This.’ Seaton placed an object-compass on the table. ‘I set this on him late last night, and he didn’t leave his house all night – which may or may not mean a thing. That end of that needle will point at him from now on, wherever he goes and whatever comes between, and as far as I know – and I bashfully admit that I know all that’s known about the thing – it can’t be de-bugged. If you want to
really
know where DuQuesne is, take this and watch it. Top secret, of course.’

‘Of course. I’ll be glad to … but how on Earth can a thing like that work?’

After an explanation that left the common-sense-minded detective as much in the dark as before, Prescott left.

Late that evening, he joined his men at DuQuesne’s house. Everything was quiet. The scientist was in his study; the speakers registered the usual faint sounds of a man absorbed in work. But after a time, and while a speaker emitted the noise of rustling papers, the needle began to move slowly – downward. Simultaneously, the shadow of his unmistakable profile was thrown upon the window shade as he apparently crossed the room.

‘Can’t you hear him walk?’ Prescott demanded.

‘No. Heavy rugs – and for such a big man, he walks very lightly.’

Prescott watched the needle in amazement as it dipped deeper and deeper; straight down and then behind him; as though DuQuesne had actually walked right under him! He did not quite know whether to believe it or not, nevertheless, he followed the pointing needle. It led him beside Park Road, down the hill, straight toward the long bridge which forms one entrance to Rock Creek Park. Prescott left the road and hid behind a clump of shrubbery.

The bridge trembled under the passage of a high-speed automobile, which slowed down abruptly. DuQuesne, carrying a roll of papers, scrambled up from beneath the bridge and boarded it, whereupon it resumed speed. It was of a popular make and color; and its license plates were so smeared with dirt that not even their color could be
seen. The needle now pointed steadily at the distant car.

Prescott ran back to his men.

‘Get your car,’ he told one of them. ‘I’ll tell you where to drive as we go.’

In the automobile, Prescott issued instructions by means of surreptitious glances at the compass concealed in his hand. The destination proved to be the residence of Brookings, the general manager of World Steel. Prescott told his operative to park the car somewhere and stand by; he himself settled down on watch.

After four hours a small car bearing a license number of a distant state – which was found later to be unknown to the authorities of that state – drove up; and the hidden watchers saw DuQuesne, without the papers, step into it. Knowing now what to expect, the detectives drove at high speed to the Park Road bridge and concealed themselves.

The car came up to the bridge and stopped. DuQuesne got out of it – it was too dark to recognize him by eye, but the needle pointed straight at him – and half-walked, half-slid down the embankment. He stood, a dark outline against the gray abutment. He lifted one hand above his head; a black rectangle engulfed his outline; the abutment became again a solid gray.

With his flashlight Prescott traced the almost imperceptible crack of the hidden door, and found the concealed button which DuQuesne had pressed. He did not press the button, but, deep in thought, went home to get a few hours of sleep before reporting to Crane next morning.

Both men were waiting when he appeared. Shiro, with a heavily-bandaged head, had insisted that he was perfectly able to work, and was ceremoniously ordering out of the kitchen the man who had been hired to take his place.

‘Well, gentlemen, your compass did the trick,’ and Prescott reported in full.

‘I’d like to beat him to death with a club,’ Seaton said, savagely. ‘The chair’s too good for him.’

‘Not that he is in much danger of the chair.’ Crane’s expression was wry.

‘Why, we know he did it! Surely we can prove it?’

‘Knowing a thing and proving it to a jury are two entirely different breeds of cats. We haven’t a shred of evidence. If we asked for an indictment we’d be laughed out of court. Check, Mr Crane?’

‘Check.’

‘I’ve bucked Steel before. They account for half my business, and for ninety-nine percent of my failures. The same thing goes for all the other agencies in town. The cops have hit them time after time with everything they’ve got, and simply bounced. So has the F.B.I. All any of us has been able to get is an occasional small fish.’

‘You think it’s hopeless, then?’

‘Not exactly. I’ll keep on working, on my own.
I owe them something for killing my men, as well as for other favors they’ve done me in the past. But I don’t believe in holding out false hopes.’

‘Optimistic cuss, ain’t he?’ Seaton remarked as Prescott went out.

‘He has cause to be, Dick. Report has it that they use murder, arson, and anything else useful in getting what they want; but they have not been caught yet.’

‘Well, now that we know, we’re in the clear. They can’t possibly get a monopoly—’

‘No? You aren’t getting the point. If we should both happen to die – accidentally, of course – then what?’

‘They couldn’t get away with it, Mart; you’re too big. I’m small fry, but you are M. Reynolds Crane.’

‘No good, Dick; no good at all. Jets still crash; and so, occasionally, do egg-beaters. Worse – it does not seem to have occurred to you that World Steel is making the heavy forgings and plates for the
Skylark.’

‘Hades’– brazen – bells!’ Seaton was dumbfounded. ‘And what – if anything – can we do about
that?’

‘Very little, until after the parts get here, beyond investigating independent sources of supply.’

DuQuesne and Brookings met in the Perkins Café.

‘How did your independent engineers like the power plant?’

‘The report was very favorable, doctor. The stuff is all you said it was. But until we get the rest of the solution – by the way, how is the search for more X progressing?’

‘Just as I told you it would – flat zero. X
can’t
exist naturally on any planet having any significant amount of copper. Either the copper will go or the planet will, or both. Seaton’s X was meteoric. It was all in one lot of platinum; and probably that one X meteor was all there ever was. However, the boys are still looking, just in case.’

‘Well, we’d have to get Seaton’s, some day, anyway. Have you decided how to get it?’

‘No. That solution is in the safest safe-deposit vault in the world, probably in Crane’s name, and both keys to that box are in another one, and so on,
ad infinitum.
He’s got to get it
himself,
and
willingly.
Not that it’d be any easier to force Seaton; but can you imagine anything strong enough to make M. Reynolds cave in now?’

‘I can’t say that I can … no. But you remarked once that your forte is direct action. How about talking with Perkins … no, he flopped on three tries.’

‘Yes, call him in. It’s on execution he’s weak, not planning. I’m not.’

Perkins was called in, and studied the problem for many minutes. Finally he said, ‘There’s only one way. We’ll have to get a handle …’

‘Don’t be a fool!’ DuQuesne snapped. ‘You can’t get a thing on either of them – not even a frame!’

‘You misunderstand, doctor. You can get a handle on any
man living, if you know enough about him. Not necessarily in his past; present or future is oftentimes better. Money … power … position … fame … women – have you considered women in this case?’

‘Women, bah!’ DuQuesne snorted. ‘Crane’s been chased so long he’s woman-proof, and Seaton is worse. He’s engaged to Dorothy Vaneman, so he’s stone blind.’

‘Better and better. There’s your perfect handle, gentlemen; not only to the solution, but to everything else you want after Seaton and Crane have been taken out of circulation.’

Brookings and DuQuesne looked at each other in perplexity. Then DuQuesne said, ‘All right, Perkins, after the way I popped off I’m perfectly willing to let you have a triumph. Draw us a sketch.’

‘Build a spaceship from Seaton’s own plans and carry her off in it. Take her up out of sight – of course you’ll have to have plenty of witnesses that it was a spaceship and that it did go straight up out of sight – then hide her in one of our places – say with the Spencer girl – then tell Seaton and Crane she’s on Mars and will stay there till she rots if they don’t come across. They’ll wilt – and they wouldn’t dare take a story like that to the cops. Any holes in that?’

‘Not that I can see at the moment …’ Brookings drummed his fingers abstractedly on the desk. ‘Would it make any difference if they chased us in their ship – in the condition it will be in?’

‘Not a bit,’ DuQuesne declared. ‘All the better – they’ll be gone, and in a wreck that will be so self-explanatory that nobody would think of making a metallurgical post-mortem.’

‘That’s true. Who’s going to drive the ship?’

‘I am,’ DuQuesne said. ‘I’ll need help, though. One man from the inner circle. You or Perkins. Perkins, I’d say.’

‘Is it safe?’ Perkins asked.

‘Absolutely. It’s worked out to the queen’s taste.’

‘I’ll go along, then. Is that all?’

No,’ Brookings replied. ‘You mentioned Spencer. Haven’t you got that stuff away from her yet?’

‘No, she’s stubborn as a mule.’

‘Time’s running out. Take her along, and don’t bring her back. We’ll get the stuff back some other way.’

Perkins left the room; and after a long discussion of details, DuQuesne and Brookings left the restaurant, each by a different route.

The great steel forgings which were to form the framework
of the
Skylark
arrived and were hauled into the testing room, where ralium-capsule X-raying revealed flaws in every member. Seaton, after mapping the imperfections by orthometric projection, spent an hour with calipers and slide rule.

‘Strong enough to stand shipment and fabrication, and maybe a little to spare – perhaps one G of acceleration while we’re in the air. Any real shot of power, though, or any sudden turn, and
pop
! She collapses like a soap bubble. Want to recheck my figures?’

‘No. I told you not to bother about analysis. We want sound metal, not junk.

‘Ship ’em back, then – with an inspector?’

‘No.’ At Seaton’s look of surprise, Crane went on. ‘I’ve been thinking about this possibility for a long time. If we reject these forgings, they will – immediately – try to kill us some other way; and they may well succeed. On the other hand, if we go ahead all unsuspectingly and use them, they will let us alone until the
Skylark
is done. That will give us months of free, undisturbed time. Expensive time, I grant; but worth every dollar.’

‘Maybe so. As the money man, you’re the judge of that. But we
can’t
fly a heap of scrap, Mart!’

‘No, but while we are going ahead with this just as though we meant it, we can build another one, about four times its size, in complete secrecy.’

‘Mart! You’re talking like a man with a paper nose! How d’you figure on keeping stuff
that
size secret from Steel?’

‘It can be done. I know a chap who owns a steel mill – so insignificant, relatively speaking, that he has not been bought out or frozen out by Steel. I have helped him out from time to time, and he assures me that he will be glad to cooperate. We will not be able to oversee much of the work ourselves, which is a drawback. However, we can get MacDougall to do it for us.’

‘MacDougall? The man who built Intercontinental? He wouldn’t touch a little job like this with a pole!’

‘On the contrary, he is keen on doing it. It means building the first spaceship, you know.’

‘He’s too big to disappear, I’d think. Wouldn’t Steel follow him up?’

‘They never have, a few times when he and I have been out of touch with civilization for three months at a time.’

‘Well, it would cost more than our whole capital.’

‘No more talk of money, Dick. Your contribution to the firm is worth more than everything I have.’

‘Hokay – if that’s the way you want it, it tickles me like
I’d swallowed an ostrich feather … and I can’t think of any more objections. Four times the size – wheeeeekity-wheek! A two-hundred-pound bar – k-z-r-e-e-p-t-POWIE!

‘And why don’t we built an attractor – a thing like an object-compass except with a ten-pound bar instead of a needle, so if anything chases us in space we can reach out and shake the whey out of it – or machine guns shooting Mark Ones-to-Tens through pressure gaskets in the walls? I just bodaciously do NOT relish the prospect of fleeing from a gaggle of semi-intelligent alien monstrosities merely because I got nothing bigger than a rifle to fight back with.’