Clive Bedford - Mistress of torment

"It's not suicide I'm afraid of," said Dodds grimly. Outside the door of the office where Johnson was waiting, Dodds stopped to regain his breath and his composure.

"Now, listen carefully. You go ahead, Glasner. If it's our man, yell out. Then stand back and leave him to me."

The uniformed inspector knocked on the door and spoke in a low tone to the man who answered it. The door opened further and Gerry walked in. Sitting in an armchair, his legs crossed and looking as cool as a cucumber was the Doctor Johnson.

"It's him!" shouted Gerry over his shoulder, and he stood back quickly as his boss pushed past him.

"Doctor Johnson?"

"Yes." The voice was still urbane, poised, controlled, although the man must have known he was lost.

"You do not have to say anything at this time; but it is my duty to warn you that anything you do say may be taken down in writing and used as evidence against you at your trial!" Dodds went through the routine, cursing, not for the first time, the judge's rules that gave first advantage to the criminal. "Do you understand?"

"I understand perfectly."

"Very well. I am taking you into custody on a charge of conspiracy to murder two police officers on Hampstead Heath last night, of conspiring to murder one of your associates unknown at a place unknown, in the early hours of the morning, and of conspiring to cause grievous bodily harm to one Sonia Evans, an American citizen, together with other persons as yet unknown… And now I want to talk to you. You four, get out and stay by the door and don't let anyone interrupt me until I am ready."

He sat down heavily opposite the doctor. For a couple of minutes he stared at him, noting his elegant clothes and manner, and the evident weakness of his face. Doctor Johnson sat perfectly still as though he were not in the least concerned at the terrible charges that had been leveled at him, but Dodds noticed that whenever the man relaxed for an instant, his fingers began to wander and fidget.

"Where did you live when you were alive?" asked Dodds.

Johnson raised an eyebrow? "I beg your pardon? I don't think I understand…"

"We can't hang you these days," said Dodds, "more's the pity! But if what I suspect is true, we shall have martial law and military government in this country inside a month – and if and when we do, I shall make it my personal business to have you shot! Do you understand that?"

For an instant, Johnson's face crumpled, as though he were going to cry. With an effort he pulled himself together.

"You are talking rubbish, and you know it. You will never bring me to trial!"

"I know," said Dodds, surprisingly. "That's what I am afraid of. I'm afraid you'll slip through our fingers first!"

This time Johnson did look troubled. "I don't understand," he said again.

"I'll spell it out in simple words. You are under the control of the Andromedans… Don't start to argue. We know that! And when you become an embarrassment to them, they'll kill you – just as they killed your accomplice last night!"

"Nobody killed him. He dropped dead! He suffered a coronary stroke."

"Balls! He was killed. When we find his body, we shall also find, between the vertebrae of his neck, inserted into his spinal column, a fine wire which gives the Andromedans control over their victims. You have one of those transmitter wires in your body, Doctor Johnson. Any moment now, your masters… or mistresses… I don't know which, will check up on you. And when they find you in custody, with the risk that you'll talk, they'll snuff your life out like a candle! And there's nothing we can do to save you… much as I'd like to see you rotting in a cell for the rest of your life, you treacherous bastard! We cannot get that transmitter out of you while you're still alive. So, you're a dead man, as far as makes no difference!"

Johnson stood up suddenly, his face white, eyes wide with terror, mouth working. "No! They wouldn't do that! They've promised me. I am to have control of the whole country. I am to be president under the new order!"

Dodds pushed him, hard, so that he fell back into the chair, almost overturning it.

"You poor, miserable fool! You stupid arrogant, weak idiot! To fall for that line! These space people won't want you, nor any of us! If they come, mankind is as good as dead. They're not going to share Earth with us! You are a tool, son. You've been used… And now you're dead!" He stood up. "We'll give you a decent funeral if we have time before the world ends. Do you prefer to be cremated?"

Doctor Johnson buried his face in his hands for a few moments. Then he looked up. "Are you telling me the truth?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes."

Johnson sighed. "I'd better tell you, I think. You couldn't convict me, Chief Inspector, because I have not been responsible for my actions. I can demonstrate clearly that I have been under outside control when I have done… these things. The law does not condemn a man who is not responsible for his actions, does it?"

"No," agreed Dodds, "but you'd have to prove it."

"Oh, I could prove it! But if I'm dead, I shan't have the chance, shall I? So, I'd better tell you what I know, right now, while I am my own man."

"Go on. And be as quick as you can. Time is running out."

"About six months ago, I had been to dinner with some friends living in Wimbledon. I was driving back across Wimbledon Common at about 1:30 a.m. when, on the right, on the grass I saw this thing. It was like… like an airship… like one of those First World War German Zeppelins in shape – cigar-shaped. It was all in darkness, but the moon was behind it. It was glowing with a faint phosphorescence, which outlined it."

Dodds exchanged a quick glance with Gerry. This sounded like the truth!

Johnson resumed talking, very fast as though he knew every second was precious.

"I stopped my car and parked in a lay-by to watch. I had never imagined there was anything on Earth like this… It was huge maybe a quarter mile long. For some reason, I felt a bit afraid, although I guessed it was some kind of exhibition or something like that. At last I got out of the car. I wanted to take a closer look. The thing was about four-hundred yards away, and as I came closer it towered up above me like a forty-story building."

"Then I saw a shaft of light. A square door opened and a ladder was let down. I dodged behind a tree, where I could watch without being seen. About twenty… people… they looked all like women, Inspector, very tall, dressed in black suits, with their heads hooded… they ran down the steps and disappeared into the darkness. I didn't know what to think. There's been a lot of talk in recent years about all kinds of perversions on Wimbledon Common, of men running around with rubber hoods on, of homosexual attacks and goodness knows what. But somehow this didn't look anything like that. These… people seemed so purposeful, somehow."

"I'm not a brave man. In fact I'm timid; I admit it. I wanted to get back to my car and drive off. Whatever it was, it could wait until daylight for all I cared. I started to dodge from one tree to another in the dark, and after a minute or so I ran straight into a group of these people. They grabbed me and practically carried me back to the thing, up the steps. I was shouting at them, but no one took any notice of me. A few moments later the steps retracted and the door shut. They stripped me naked and shoved me into a small room, not more than four feet square. Jets of water sprayed all over me, mixed with some other pungent fluid… I've guessed since they were fumigating me to prevent me carrying any infection aboard."

"Warm air blasts dried me, and at last everything stopped happening. The door opened, and some of these… creatures… maybe the same ones… I don't know… but they were dressed in black but with a different material. I noticed that. Maybe they had changed too… Anyway, they grabbed me again and led me, stark naked, along corridors and up in an elevator and finally took me into a room… about the size of this one. There was a couch in it, and they put me on it, face down and strapped my ankles and wrists so I couldn't move."