The Shadow Men, page 9
With each day that passed he convinced himself more completely that with his automatic knowledge he could be of enormous value to the people of this age. It stiffened his will power
He walked straighter, and with a firmer stride. He felt an alertness within himself, a will to action that yet had behind it an enormous instinctive caution. He used words as if they were tools and he was always aware of the possible danger that might come the very next instant.
And bo, one evening, he entered Ann Reece’s house, walked along the carpeted hallway toward the living-room —and heard a man’s emotional voice say, “I intend to kill you both the moment he comes.”
Cargill stopped as Ann said in a shaky voice. “You’re mad. You’ll hang for this.”
“Shut up!“ The tone was not normal. “I know you. You started all this. You’re the one that’s associated with the Shadow Grannis. I heard all about how he came to you a year ago and you’ve been his echo ever since.”
“I did not start it.” Her answer was in a firmer tone. “The volors were already built, the plan made, when Grannis got in touch with me. I reported it to the government and I’ve been the contact with him ever since.”
“That’s what I said.” The man sounded tremendously satisfied. “You’re the contact. With you and this new fellow dead, that’ll stop the whole rotten business.”
Cargill heard no more. He was racing back toward the front door. He guessed that the assassin had come in through the garden and would be facing into the living room, watching the other entrances.
Out of the door Cargill slipped, around the house, through the gate and— stealthily now, though still swiftly— across the terrace. One of the French windows was open. He moved up beside it, partly sheltered by the wooden frames. And there he paused to size up the situation inside.
The intruder was saying in a high pitched tone, "My folks were Planiacs. They took the Shadow training, and failed. But they came here and I was born into a good home. I had civilized upbringing, a decent education. I married a wonderful girl and I’ve got two fine kids. The Shadows made that possible.”
His voice lifted even higher. “You and those murderous scoundrels who planned the attack hate the Shadow’s because you all failed. Now you’re trying to force the rest of us to your rotten notions. You want to destroy what you aren’t smart enough to win.”
Cargill saw the man, a powerful-looking individual. His back was to the terrace, and a spitter was barely visible in his fingers. It pointed in the general direction of the girl.
Ann Reece said scathingly, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a big man like you acting like a cowardly child. Have you thought of what’s going to happen to your wife and children if you do anything foolish now?” Her voice was calm and forceful. She sounded as if she had got all her courage back. She said, “I’m going to give you one chance. Leave now and I won’t report this. Quick, make up your mind.” “I’ll show you what mind I’m going to make up,” the man said violently. He waved the spitter menacingly. “In just about one second—”
He must have heard a sound or noticed a change of expression on Ann Reece’s face. He started to turn.
In that unbalanced position Cargill’s tackle caught him. The big man went down heavily but firmly. Swiftly, brutally, Cargill plunged on top of him. He was aware of Ann Reece snatching the spitter.
“Get away from him,” she yelled at Cargill, “and I’ll spit him.”
The stranger was doing some yelling of his own. “Help!” he called. “Manot, Gregory.”
There was a sound. "All right,” said a cold voice from the door. “Ann, put down that gun. Cargill, get up.”
Cargill hesitated and then, tense with the new danger, climbed to his feet. He was puzzled. The situation seemed wrong somehow. He turned slowly and saw the two men in the uniforms of vo-lor pilots. The man returned his gaze steadily.
“Just testing. Captain, just testing,” he said. “We’ve had reports about some kind of underground scheme and so we decided to try to get a reaction.”
As the man talked Cargill’s mind darted over the events and found nothing out of the way. Ann had acted in • character—why not? It was her character—and he himself had done only what could have been expected.
He said slowly, “I hope you learned what you wanted.”
The pilot said with apparent frankness. “Exactly what we wanted.” He bowed to Ann Reece, who was unusually pale. “I want to congratulate you, Miss Reece, on your courage. And don’t blame us. Grannis suggested this test."
To the big man, who was just getting up from the floor, he said curtly, “You put on a good act. But now come along.” When they had gone Cargill walked over to the young woman and said, “That was very unkind of them. Here, you’d better sit down. They don’t seem to realize what a shock a thing like this can be to the system.”
He was thinking, “Grannis again— what could the Shadow be up to?”
Ann Reece allowed herself to be led to a chair. She looked up at him, her face still very white. She said in a low voice, “Thank you for saving my life, Captain.”
“I didn't actually save it,” said Cargill. “After all it was a fake menace."
She said stiffly, “You didn’t know that when you made the attack. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“Forget it. I thought I was saving my own as well.”
She seemed not to hear. “They were testing me,” she said. “Me!" She seemed overwhelmed.
Cargill started to say something but stopped himself. For the first time he realized that this girl was undergoing a profound emotional experience. He watched her narrowly for a few moments, then reached down and took her hand.
“I think you’d better go to your room and lie down,” he said.
She let him lead her. At the door of her bedroom, she stopped. A touch of color came into her cheeks. She didn’t look at him.
“Captain,” she said, “tonight I realized what you meant about war being different from any picture that I had of it. And I’m very sorry for my share in bringing you into this desperate danger. Can you ever forgive me?”
Cargill thought of the imminent rebellion and said coolly, “I’m in. I've accepted the idea. I'll fight with everything I’ve got to make sure that I survive.” He added, “You’d better lie down.”
He opened the door for her. She stepped through and there was more color in her face as she gave him a quick glance.
She said breathlessly, “Captain, you said something once about a reward for a soldier.. . . Tonight, when you try the knob of this door, you'll find that it— turns.”
She slipped all the way in. The door closed gently. The faint perfume of her presence lingered.
From that moment Ann Reece was his girl.
CHAPTER XIV Shadow City
SHE didn’t realize that at first. She had no idea how much emotion went along with a physical commitment. If she had been experienced it might have been different. She might have been able to divide herself figuratively into two individuals, on the one hand the patriot, on the other the mistress of the prisoner.
The patriot, in spite of the rude shock of tiie test, remained fairly intact for five days. At that point she had her first breakdown. Thereafter she cried easily in Cargill's presence. On the eighth day she came out openly with the suggestion that they find some method of escape.
Her plans were vague, curiously impractical for someone who had been so hard-headed. She had a fine contempt for Cargill’s objections. Half a dozen times within the space of a few days she lost her temper with him.
It put a pressure on him in addition to his own anxiety. On the twelfth day he visited the airport and drew Withrow aside angrily.
“I have a feeling,” he said, "that your group is stalling. There’s a weakness here somewhere, an unwillingness to burn your bridges.”
Withrow looked unhappy. “There’s something to that,” he admitted. "All I hear is excuses.”
Cargill could understand that. Only too well he pictured these leaders who had never before seen action. It reminded him of the eve of D-Day. As the stormy dawn broke he had thought and hoped that surely the invasion would be called off. And, curiously, he had thought simultaneously," Thank heaven, the issue is being forced at last.”
This issue also had to be forced. And there was only one man who had the motivation, the will and the experience to force it.
He said in measured tone, “Withrow, the attack must be made not later than tomorrow morning. If it isn’t made I will inform Commander Greer who the ringleaders are.”
Withrow turned pale. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Cargill said quietly, “Perhaps you’d better let the others think that I would dare.”
He returned the pilot’s gaze steadily. At last Withrow sighed. He held out his hand.
“You’ve named the day,” he said. “Thank you.”
They shook hands silently and separated.
Cargill had his first premonition of disaster as he entered the house shortly after dark. Ann, her face gray, met him at the door.
“They’ve posted guards around the house,” she whispered. “They’re sending you to Shadow City tonight.”
Cargill stood stock still, dimly aware of her fluttering hands stroking his arm.
“Oh, darling,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
He patted her hand absently. He was thinking, “Is this timed ? Do they know or suspect?”
Aloud he said, “Why did they select tonight?’
“Grannis—” she began.
The shock of the name pierced him like a fire. He cut her off in astounded fury, gripped her shoulders cruelly. “But I thought you were his contact?”
“I used to be,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s happened. Please, you’re hurting me.”
He let her go with a mumbled apology. The sense of imminent catastrophe was greater. The incredible fantastic mysterious Grannis had taken one more step in his inexplicable scheme. But this time he had moved in a direct and deadly fashion.
Whatever else Grannis had in mind it was clear that he intended Captain Morton Cargill to experience the terrible risk of going to Shadow City.
With an effort Cargill caught hold of himself. He said, “Better go and see about dinner. I’ll investigate the situation.”
He headed for the terrace, crossed the garden in the dark, climbed over the fence—and was stopped by a guard.
“Get back!” The command was curtly spoken. A spitter glinted in the man’s hand.
Cargill obeyed readily and headed immediately for the gate that led to the front of the house. It was unlocked. But as he stepped through a soldier came from behind a tree, and angrily motioned him to return.
Altogether in the course of a few minutes he counted nine guards, all armed, all aware of his identity. When he re-entered the house Commander Greer was there with Ann. “Sorry, Captain,” he said, “but we just couldn’t take any chances. Gran-nis advised us that there was going to be a rebellion and so we’ve ordered all officers to report to their units. Just in case there is a disturbance you leave right after dinner for Shadow City."
Greer remained for dinner. As Cargill and Ann followed him to the outer hall when the meal was over she whispered, “Find some way of kissing me good-by. I’ll pretend to resist.”
A volor-powered floaterlike craft waited for them on the lawn. Cargill turned to Ann and, mustering all his sardonicism said, “Miss Reece, once it amused you to say that you would kiss me good-by when I left like this. I demand that kiss.”
He didn’t wait for assent. Firmly he stepped up to her, put his finger under her chin, lifted her head and bent his own. The kiss he gave her was outrageously bold and the only trouble was that she didn’t resist very hard. Fortunately the guards thought it wras an attack and pulled him violently away from her.
“Good-by, darling,” said Cargill cheerfully. “I'll be back.”
He meant it. He liked Ann Reece. And, besides, this was war. “I love them all," he told himself with an almost drunken blurriness. “Ann, Lela and—” He thought of some of the wonderfully personable girls who had been the milestones in his life up until 1946.
He realized he was indulging in self-Pity.
The metal door clanged shut behind him. The ship lifted violently. As he sank into a seat the black reality of his position crushed down upon his spirits.
* * * * *
“You can see Shadow City,” said the pilot, “if you look straight ahead through the mist.” He broke off. “Ed, give Captain Cargill your seat.”
They had invited him into the control room voluntarily. The pilot’s voice was friendly. Cargill had recognized none of the five volormen aboard, but undoubtedly they were among those to whom he had lectured.
The co-pilot promptly yielded his seat. Cargill settled into it and looked. Fog and haze blurred the horizon ahead. Mountain peaks seemed to waver in the uncertain light. It was hard to distinguish one shape from another.
Suddenly then he saw the pyramid. It was uneven to his vision and very small, as the peak of a stupendous mountain seems toylike from afar. He estimated that it must be at least a hundred miles ahead.
The floater continued to move toward it at normal floater speed. This was natural enough—Cargill had gathered that they didn't want the Shadows to suspect anything unusual about this particular machine. Besides, the ship was not built to attain volor velocity. They had evidently installed a volor-type motor so that it could travel at night. Actually the night speed had been very sedate.
Half an hour went by and all that time the fantastic city ahead grew larger. The towering pyramid shape came into sharper and sharper focus. At ten miles, it was a tremendously high pointed structure, set on a vast base. It straddled a nest of mountains.
At five miles the pyramid resembled a slope of glass through which Cargill could see the buildings inside, mostly residences, hard to see because of the foliage of towering trees. There were commercial buildings concentrated in the central area.
Seen close-up it was hard to believe that the pyramid was a powerful energy screen. It was even harder to grasp that he was here to disconnect the energy of the screen so that the Tweeners could dive down in their marvelous volors upon the unprotected metal and concrete of Shadow City—shadow no more.
“We land below there at the terminal.” The pilot pointed at a building that stood at the edge of a forest.
No other words were spoken. The floater came gently down on the greensward a hundred and fifty feet from the low long building. Cargill stepped out without being asked. The door clicked shut behind him. He watched as the machine rose into the sky and headed off toward the east.
Cargill turned and automatically started toward the terminal. Abruptly he stopped short.
“Just a moment,” he thought, “I’m free. They didn’t wait to make sure that I would go in. Why shouldn’t I just head downhill and lose myself in the wilderness?”
It looked immeasurably desolate— peaks and crags and valleys and ravines and everywhere the primitive forest. It would probably take several days to reach the foothills.
But it was a way out. Cargill made as if to turn. Nothing happened. He stood very still, startled. He remembered the tube that had “trained” him. Carefully he walked forward, then abruptly tried to twist on his heels. The muscles wouldn’t respond.
Pale but determined he thought, “I'll just stay here. I’ll act so queerly that the Shadows will become suspicious.”
His legs began to move, easily, naturally, without any sense of strain. He tried to stop them but it was as if he had forgotten how. Involuntarily, but without any of the appearance or feeling of being an automaton, he walked across the lawn toward the terminal building.
He was able to pause at the door, but only long enough to peer briefly through the thick glass into a marble alcove. A young woman inside smiled at him and pressed a button. The door opened.
A moment later Cargill was inside.
CHAPTER XV Unexpected Welcome
CARGILL paused again just inside the door. In spite of his tenseness, he was curious. He stared with interest and some excitement at the young woman behind the alcove desk. A Shadow? he wondered.
She had something of the intellectual look that he’d half expected. But there was an intensity about her also—it was hard to define.
The young receptionist smiled and said in a rich, emotional voice, “We’re so very glad to see you here of your own free will. We welcome you with all our hearts. We wish you luck. We want you to be one of us.”
Cargill studied her warily. He recognized an emotional appeal when he heard one and he was impressed by the psychology of it. He was not so prepared to accept it for himself. He had too many walls erected against chance breakthroughs of an emotional nature.
The young woman was speaking again. “You go through this door,” she said. She pressed a button.
Cargill had already glanced through the door. It was wonderfully transparent and led into a corridor that slanted off to the right. He could only see a portion of it and that was a marble wall.
He smiled at the receptionist, said. “Thank you!” and walked through the door she had opened for him. Two nice-looking older women—Cargill guessed about forty years each—sat at a records section to the right.
One of them said, “You’re a fine-looking young man. We wish you luck.”
The other came out from behind the counter. “Come with me.”
She led the way along a corridor that was lined with glass-fronted cubbyholes. They reminded Cargill of the way some department stores arranged their credit sections. In each office was a desk and two chairs. Cargill’s guide paused at one of the entrances.
“Here’s your prize of the day, Moira.” She touched Cargill’s arm lightly. “Good luck, young man.”
