Harry Harrison - A Transatlantic Tunnel, Hurrah!

“Quite the contrary; everything is going according to plan. I informed you that there were enemy watchers here and if we had left right after the others it would have been noticed and there would have been trouble. As it is we can now pay for the slops we drank,” he threw some coins on the table as he said this, “and leave now that the excitement is over. We will not be followed.” He glanced at his watch again before putting it away and climbing to his feet.

Gus came after, amazed at the other’s calmness in the face of obvious disaster, following him down the dank passage and out into the street once again. They gained the main avenue and Tracy turned in the direction of the waterfront.

“I will keep you in the darkness no longer, Washington,” said he. “As you have technical secrets in your trade so do we in mine. And Pinkerton has the best. The agent, Billygoat, has a certain device concealed in his right boot, in reality built within the sole of the boot itself and indetectable by any normal search. When contact was made with him he stamped his heel down hard in a precise manner. This ruptured a thin membrane within a cell that permitted acid in one half to flow into the other half, thereby transforming the inactive cell into an operating battery of great strength. The current thus generated goes to a powerful but compact radio generator also in the boot sole, the signal of which is sent up a wire that has been woven into the seam of his trousers. This connects to an aerial within his belt which broadcasts the powerful shortwave signal. You have seen me glancing at my watch?”

“I have indeed, and wondered at your sudden interest in the hour.”

“Not the time at all, for this watch contains a compact receiver, a direction finder that is tuned to the radio signal from Billygoat. See for yourself.”

He extracted the watch and held it flat in his hand, there being enough light from the nearest street gas lamp to make out the face. When he pressed the crown the hour hand glowed softly and spun about to point down the street towards the sea; then it returned to its proper position indicating the correct time when he released his grip.

“Ingenious, wouldn’t you agree? They are ahead of us, so let us proceed. We cannot see them which is perfect, for that means they cannot see us and will be unalarmed. The radio will point the way.”

As long as the street was well lit and occupied they strolled along casually, just part of the throng. But when the avenue they were on ended at the unlighted docks they turned around, as though completing a stroll there, and went back the way they had come. At the first turning they stopped for a moment and talked, still the casual strollers, while Tracy made sure they were not being observed. When they were clear he stepped into the shadows of the crossway and drew Gus after him.

“They are on the waterfront somewhere, the finder pointed in that direction. We shall make our way parallel to the harbor until we have a better indication of their destination.”

They did this, stumbling over rubbish and litter and disturbing cats and rats in their nocturnal rounds, until Tracy halted once again at a crossing and studied the pointing hand.

“Most interesting, for it now points slightly back in the direction from whence we came. Washington, you are the engineer and the surveyor and have an eye for this sort of thing. Take a bearing here down the street and we shall go back a bit to the next street for another cross bearing. Can you do that, determine where they are?”

“That is my trade,” he said with some assurance, squinting along the tiny arrow.

When he had repeated this ritual he thought for a moment then led the Pinkerton agent forward to a spot where they could see the dark wharves and the ships beyond. Unhesitatingly he pointed his finger.

“They are there.”

“Aboard that ship? You are sure?”

“You said earlier that you could not be distracted from your job. I might say the same for mine.”

“Then I unhesitatingly accept your information. We are ready for the final act to begin.”

Tracy then moved back a few yards in the direction they had come from and raised a whistle to his lips and blew lustily into it. Gus was slightly startled when no sound, other than the slight hiss of escaping air, emerged from it. Tracy saw his expression of puzzlement and smiled.

“Supersonic sound, that is sound waves that are too high-pitched for the human ear to hear, but these sounds were not meant for the human ear as you can see.”

Two men appeared, the first of them leading a small dog on a leash. Tracy bent to pet the beast and explained. “Trained to come to that sound. These are my men who have been keeping watch over us waiting for my signal.”

“I had no idea they were there.”

“They are professionals.”

Tracy issued swift orders, then he and Gus went forward once again. “My operators will surround the area and close in, but I must lead the attack. You need not come with me—”

“I am your man.”

“Good. I was hoping you would. I want you there when the curtain falls on the last act of this little drama.”

Tracy went first, silent as a cat, with Gus a few yards behind. They stayed close to the walls, in the darkness, and worked their way to the spot nearest the ship, where a single tiny lamp on deck cast a weak glow on the battered gangway. Tracy halted for a moment, looking at the ship, and when he did a shadow detached itself from the wall behind him and lurched forward.

Gus had only a split second to act in, and he did not want to call out a warning, so he jumped forward as well. His fist came up in a short, wicked arc that ended on the mysterious assailant’s jaw with a sharp crack that caused Tracy to spin about. There was a small thud as the club the man had been wielding fell to the cobbles, then Tracy was helping Gus lower the unconscious man to the ground as well.

“I am glad you are here, Washington,” said he, and from a man of his professional caliber this was reward enough. “That was a blow well struck and my men will have him before he regains consciousness. They will be closing in now to cut off all means of escape by the criminals, while fast launches will prevent flight by sea. The final act of this drama is about to be played. You were correct in your deductions, for I have checked my direction finder. Billygoat is aboard that ship. Now here we go.”

Silent as a wraith he drifted forward, with Gus a few paces behind. They passed under the counter of the ship and her name could now be seen, picked out in rusty letters across the stern. Der Liebestodt, Lucerne. Swiss registry, a flag of convenience obviously, with the real names and nationality of the true owners well concealed. But not much longer. All was silent on the deck above, the ship darkened except for that single bulb at the entranceway. Tracy walked forward steadily as though he belonged here and mounted the gangway, with Gus not too far behind. Yet, quiet as he was, he was not unobserved, for when he reached the deck a man stepped out of the shadows and mumbled something inaudible to Gus who was still on his way up. Tracy answered and pointed down and, as soon as the man had turned, the operative’s hands struck and did something to the other’s neck that kept him rigid for long moments before he folded and fell to the deck.

There was still no alarm, and Gus could not believe it. They had boarded the ship, rendered two men unconscious, and their presence was still unknown. Their luck seemed too good to last and he hoped that would not prove the case. Tracy waited in the open doorway until he came up, then whispered into his ear.

“The deckhouse is quiet and there is no one on the bridge—so the miscreants must be below. Follow me as silently as you are able.”