The Best of (13 page)

"What weapons did the Chinese carry in the counterattack?" George wanted to know.

But the General could not tell him that. Those who had been close enough to see had not been those who returned.

Another disaster, the General went on, had been the fate of the cruiserWakamatsu . TheWakamatsu had been on patrol in the Hsinghwa Sound in the province of FuKien. She was cruising at about ten knots some three miles off shore but in sheltered waters on a perfectly calm day when she suddenly began to make great leeway on the shore side.

Course was altered at once and speed increased, but the drift shoreward continued. More speed made little difference. The magnetic compass was jammed, the entire electrical system of the ship including the wireless was out of order. Before long she was pointed out to sea with her engines going full ahead, but even her whole power was not enough to break the hold of whatever was pulling, she was still going astern at a rate of something between a quarter and a half knot.

Once the hold seemed to be broken. TheWakamatsu shuddered all through and leaped forward, but the force gripped again almost immediately and continued to hold. The commander ordered a bombardment of the shore astern. This was accomplished with difficulty, for the pull on the shells was immense, making them extremely difficult to handle; but without result, The pull on the cruiser continued. As she neared the shore her propellers were smashed on submerged rocks, and immediately orders were given to scuttle her rather than surrender.

There were, the General implied, more instances that he could give, but he did not proceed with them.

Instead, he looked up at the young man sharply.

"Well, what do you make of it?" he said, watching him closely.

"Sounds to me like some directional magnetic force," George told him. "But what I should like to know is what happened to the shells theWakamatsu fired. If it is magnetic, each of them should have made a direct hit."

The General approved. "That's observant of you," he said. "We also think it is magnetic, but we fancy it is capable of being reduced to a narrow field. If that is so, the trajectory of the shells would carry them out of the field a moment after they left the muzzles—it would, in fact, have practically no effect at all on them at muzzle velocity. In any case, the observers on the ship did not notice a deflection of aim."

"I see," said George thoughtfully. "Yes, a narrow beam would explain that. It sounds," he added, "as though you are up against something pretty difficult to tackle."

The General did not seem unduly depressed. He replied with a touch of fatalism: "All new weapons are difficult to tackle—at first. But there's always a way. Moreover, this thing is clearly of limited and primarily defensive use. However, we must learn its power and its limitations before we can consider methods of defence."

"And it is my job to find out for you, I suppose?"

General Kashaihoto nodded and fixed George with his bright eyes again.

"That is so, Mr. Saltry. We want to know as much as you can find out, and as soon as possible."

"All right. You shall," said George.

George Saltry, agent for TopNotch Tinned Foods, disappeared from Shanghai on one of his periodic trips. He was generally understood to be negotiating new agencies in the Philippines or Celebes. He had been seen off on the ShanghaiHongKong boat and his name was on the passenger list of another from HongKong to Manila. In fact, there was actually a passenger who responded to that name and looked passably like the George Saltry who had left Shanghai.

Meanwhile a spectacled and earnest young medical missionary was travelling north by train through KwangTung province. His name was George White, and he was conducting a tour of personal inspection on behalf of the Charleston and Savannah Oriental Endeavour League. He was untidy, a little bewildered, a little shortsighted and he talked with the soft, pleasant speech of South Carolina. In his pocket was an American passport and he carried nothing which would connect him with Mr. Saltry of London.

George rather enjoyed the personality of Mr. White save when it led him into technical discussions of social welfare with other philanthropic exiles.

After a fivehundredmile journey, he left the train at Changsha. A few hours later he sat in a plane headed northwest, looking over the waters of the Tungtinghu which appeared more like an inland sea than a lake. A few hours more, and he was able to see the rushing yellow waters of the great Yangtze.

Shortly before night fell, they landed at the great flyingfield of Kweichow in HuPeh.

The next morning Mr. George White made application in proper form to the military governor for permission to travel in HuPeh. The Governor considered a personal interview desirable and Mr.

White presented himself. The former waited until the door had closed behind his secretary before he remarked: "How do you do, George?"

He rose, came round the desk and extended his hand. George took it. He replied in English and his voice had lost its southern accent.

"How are you, Li? You're looking well."

Pang Li was a few years older than he, but they had been contemporary at Oxford. Facing him now, George thought, not for the first time, how much better the Chinese was suited by his long silk coat than by a military uniform, or by the suits he had worn in England.

Pang Li waved his visitor to a chair with a decanter and cigarettes on a small table beside it. He himself returned to his seat behind the desk.

"We have been expecting you before this," he said. The tone was one of inquiry. George answered as to a question.

"And I expected to be here sooner, Li. To tell you the truth, I was beginning to be a bit worried at their not sending me."

The Chinese looked across the desk seriously.

"They are losing faith in you?"

"I don't know. I don't think they have a great deal to lose. But I am still very useful to them. However, I suppose it is natural for them to put it to their most reliable men first."

Pang Li nodded. "I expect you are right. You are not the first to come after it, George. There have been several in the last week or two."

"After what?" George inquired, innocently.

"My dear George"—Li smiled—"there is only one thing to bring you all this way at this time."

"They didn't get it?"

"No. They got bullets."

There was a pause. George broke it by asking: "What is this thing Li? A magnetic force?"

The Chinese nodded again.

"That is so. It is a controlled magnetic beam. An amazing discovery. WuChintan, who used to be Professor of Physics at ChangChow, worked it out, and Ho Tanghsi applied it."

"Entirely a Chinese discovery?" said George.

A faint shadow of impatience showed for a moment on Pang Li's face and then vanished.

"Unlikely as it may seem—a Chinese discovery," he said.

George flushed at the tone.

"I didn't mean that, Li."

Li looked at him.

"You implied it, my friend. Confess that to yourself. You Europeans and Americans are always surprised when a discovery of practical use is made in the East. You feel that mechanical invention is the monopoly of the West—and yet we have made many discoveries in the past, gunpowder and the compass among them. This magnetic beam is our discovery, and, at present our exclusive knowledge."

"It seems to me that it is of limited use in war," George told him, "that is, unless you can reverse it and repel to an equal extent. It will mean a greater use of nonferrous metals by an enemy, of course, but what else?"

"It cannot be used repulsively," Pang Li admitted. "Perhaps you are right in thinking it a minor and not a great weapon. If it could be made repellant it would indeed be more useful. But you take a short view in thinking of it only as a weapon. When this war is over and the Japanese barbarians are driven back to their islands the true value of the beam will be seen all over the world, WuChintan's name will be more famous than that of Edison."

"How?" George wanted to know.

Pang Li shrugged.

"Who can tell?" he replied. "But I can suggest just one application of it which will alter transport in many countries. The beam is highly efficient—that is to say it requires a small consumption of fuel for the power it produces —also, for lower power it can be made very compact. I foresee that if iron sections were set in the roads at, say, 100 yards intervals, a vehicle generating the beam would be able to pull itself along by means of them with great economy. All the power at present lost in transmission would be gained and the beam would be far cheaper to generate than the present rotary motion. I can think, too, of many ways in which it could be used to simplify haulage and handling of goods. There are applications, too, to the docking of ships, and the handling of aeroplanes on the ground. But those are matters for the technicians. I know only that where a cheap source of power is available it will in some way or other be used."

"I see." George was less interested in the future developments of the beam than in its present use. He turned the conversation back. "You know why I am here, Li. What do you want me to tell them?"

"How much did they ask you to find out?"

"Everything, naturally."

"They would like to make beam projectors for themselves if they could?"

"Of course."

Pang Li appeared to consider.

"I will show you one in action," he said, and struck a gong to summon his secretary.

The machine was not impressive. To begin with, there was little to see. The generator was enclosed in a cubical brass box some twenty inches high. This was clamped by braces, which seemed of absurdly disproportionate strength, to a wall of concrete six feet thick.

"The pull on the machine is of course equal to the pull on the object," Pang Li explained, "and the moving of heavy objects therefore necessitates a firm anchorage. The beam," he added, "passes through the wall which is thus made to serve the double purpose of holding back the machine and of protecting it."

Together they walked fifty yards or more at right angles to the beam's path. The Chinese carried a control box with wires reaching back to the generator. They stopped and he pointed to a heap of scrap iron a quarter of a mile away over the barren ground.

"Watch," he said.

He tipped over a switch and advanced a rheostat slightly. In the distance, the pile of scrap stirred slightly, and a faint squeak of rusty pieces rubbing together floated across the open ground.

"A little more power," said Pang Li, turning the knob.

The heap seemed to flatten out. The lighter pieces, old cans and rusty mudguards began to roll towards the wall. Li gave still more power, and now all the pieces were in motion, scurrying and tumbling over the ground for all the world as if they were blown by a gale. Suddenly, halfway to the generator, they were stopped.

"Now," said Li. "Full power."

He turned the control as he spoke. Instantaneously the scrap iron leapt forward. It flew as though it had been fired from a gun. It hit the wall with a shattering crash and remained glued to the concrete face.

The two walked back.

"Try to pull it away," Li suggested.

George laid hold of an old cooking pot and put his full weight behind the tug he gave. It wrenched his arm, but the pot did not move.

"Stand back," Li directed.

He did so, and as the Chinese flicked back the switch all the suspended pieces fell into a loose heap at the foot of the wall.

George contemplated the heap for a few minutes in silence, then he asked.

"What is the power of a generator this size?"

"It depends on the spread," Li told him. "At an angle of 20deg. full strength it will exert a pull of between thirty an forty tons at a range of a mile. At 10deg. the pull is increased to nearly sixty tons at the same range.

It is quite a small machine for experimental purposes. A 1,000ton, 20deg., onemile machine can be housed in a fourfoot cube, a tenthousandton machine in about six foot.' "I see," said George, thoughtfully. As they walked back to Pan Li's office, he added. "What's the point of showing me all this, Li? What is up that wide and elegant sleeve of yours?"

The Chinese smiled.

"Did you not come here to learn about it?"

"That's what the Japs sent me for, but I scarcely expected to be shown the thing straight off."

Pang Li smiled again.

"I don't think you are much wiser for having seen it at work," he remarked.

Back in the office, George sat down and lit a cigarette while Pang Li went to a large wall safe. He returned to his desk with a shallow round case, smaller than a toothpowder tin and enamelled black.

"This, George, will make you one of the most estimable spies in the Japanese service," he said.

"How nice for me," said George. "What is it?"

"The thing which at least seven spies have lost their lives trying to get. Plans of the magnetic generator."

"In that?" said George suspiciously.

"Yes. Several types, in fact, including the pattern for aerial defence. They are all beautifully photographed on a piece of 8millimetre film."

"How nice," said George again. He looked curiously at the little box and then back to Li's face. "And when they've built them, and find they won't work, what do you suppose happens to me?" he inquired.

"But they will work. These are perfectly genuineworking drawings."

There was a pause.

"All right. I'll buy it. What's the game?"

"Game, George?"

"Game. Do you mean to say you're giving them your weapon?"

"You yourself said it was of limited use."

"Yes, but—hang it, you just told me you had shot seven spies who were after it."

"It makes for verisimilitude. They might have thought it surprising and a little suspicious if the very first spy had been successful."

"Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes," murmured George. "But I don't see how—?"

"That is a language I do not know," said Li.

"Troy, the Wooden Horse and all that," George explained.

"Yes, the Wooden Horse." Li spoke reflectively.