Eric Russell: Three to Conquer

“He is dead?”

“Yes. Same as Langley and for the same reason. It was impossible to take him alive.”

“How about Gould?”

Norris rocked back. “What d’you mean, how about Gould?”

“He was there at Riley’s house.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“I’m positive.”

Accepting that without argument, Norris affirmed, “There was no sign of him. But he’ll be found.” He mused a bit, went on, “We’re now tracing all contacts of the entire bunch, and pulling them in as fast as we find them. The total number may come to hundreds. Anyone known to have stood within a yard of any one of them is liable to be taken for questioning. You’d better hold yourself in readiness to look them over as we line them up.”

“All right.”

“It may go on for weeks, perhaps months.”

“I’ll suffer it.” Harper eyed him speculatively. “You say that Riley’s house was deserted when your men arrived?”

“Yes.”

“Who tipped them to leave in a hurry?”

“Nobody,” said Norris. “When Riley didn’t return on time, they took alarm and fled.”

“It was more positive than that,” Harper declared. “They were tipped.”

“By whom?”

“By Riley himself. He couldn’t help it. He lost consciousness and that was enough for them. They got, out fast the moment one of your boys clouted Riley on the head. They knew he’d been caught.”

“I don’t see how,” Norris protested.

“Never mind how. I’m telling you that each one of them knows when another has been put out of action.”

“What of it, anyway?”

“At the Bio Lab they’re holding an afflicted dog. I’ve a feeling that sooner or later that- animal may be able to summon help. It’s a guess and nothing more. How about persuading Jameson to put a guard on the place?”

“It’s already protected. You ought to know that; you’ve been there.”

“The guard is a military one. It isn’t prepared for the sort of trouble we’re having here.”

“You’re doing the identification for us at this end,” said Norris. “Who’ll do it for them down there?”

“Me.”

“What, over such a distance?”

“I’m going there. I’m a constant center of interest to the foe, no matter where I may be. That dog is a focal point for them; so is each and every live victim we hold. Get them all in one place and we thereby create a cumulative attraction that may prove irresistible. Desire for revenge, rescue and continued concealment should be more than enough to draw the enemy’s full strength to the one spot. Their best bet lies in making a concerted effort. It would be about the only chance we’d get of settling them with a single blow.”

“I’ll put it to Jameson and ask him to consult General Conway,” said Norris. “The plan is worth considering.”

“While you’re at it, you can tell Jameson that I’m on my way no matter what is decided.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can. Try giving me contrary orders and see where it gets you.” He grinned at Norris. “I’m a free individual and intend to remain one, with or without the kind permission of Conway or any other character.”

“But Rausch and I have to stay with you,” Norris objected. “And we’re supposed to work this trap. It’s operating all right; look at today’s catch.”

“The bait is transferring itself to a bigger and better rat-run,” Harper gave back. “Please yourself whether you come along.”

He tramped into his office, found his week-end case, checked its contents, said to Moira, “Hold the fort, rush out” the products, make excuses for me and bank the profits. Papa’s taking another trip.”

Norris and Rausch piled into his car as he was about to start, and the former said, “We’ve got to hang onto your coattails no matter what you do. Your plant remains under guard, but if someone cockeyed walks into it there’ll be nobody to give warning.”

“Same applies at the Bio Lab, which is now a more enticing target.” Harper pulled out from the curb and took the center of the street. “And I cannot be in two places at once.”

He drove fast, with another burdened car following close behind. His mind reached out and felt around as he went through the town. This time, he decided, a faint threnody of alien thoughts would not be ignored. He was at the wheel and he’d go after it.

But it did not come.

The car swung into its fenced and patrolled destination an hour after darkness had fallen. Norris immediately put through a call to Jameson, briefed him on latest events. Sometime later, Jameson called back.

“You’re getting your own way,” Norris informed Harper. “Conway has ordered special measures to protect this place.”

The attack came four days afterward, by which time the delay had given some the secret belief that nothing would ever happen.

At midday a large, official-looking car slid. Up to the gates barring the main entrance. Its driver was attired as a sergeant of military police, and its sole passenger was a grey-haired, autocratic man in the uniform of a four-star general. The sergeant showed the sentry an imposing pass, stamped, signed and ornamented with a large seal. The sentry scanned it slowly, making no attempt to open the gates. He smelled eucalyptus.

“Hurry up!” urged the sergeant authoritatively, while the general gazed forth with an air of stern reproof.

Though made nervous by the presence of high rank, the sentry took his time. He had been well-trained these last few days and understood that the gates were barred to God himself, unless a bell in a nearby hut clanged permission to enter.

The bell did not sound. In the hut, back of the fence, a watching agent pressed a stud. And in a building a quarter of a mile away a buzzer drew Harper’s attention to the gate. He heard the whirr, ceased conversation with Rausch, listened, pressed another stud. A shrill peep sounded from the hut and an alarm siren started wailing over the main building.

Startled, the sentry dropped the pass, levelled his gun at the sergeant. Four agents leaped from the hut, weapons in hands. A dozen more appeared in the roadway behind the car.

Once more, the possessed displayed their inhuman contempt for bullets and sudden death. Without the slightest change of expression, the sergeant let the car charge forward. The sentry fired two seconds before the hood struck his chest. The car hit the gate squarely in the middle and exploded.

The gate, the entire front of the hut, the car, its occupants, the sentry and six agents flew to pieces. Four more agents lay mauled and dead. Six groaned by the fence, injured but alive.

Two heavily loaded cars screamed along the road and rocked through the gap. The wounded agents fired into them as they passed, without visible result.

Neither vehicle got more than twenty yards beyond the wrecked gateway, despite the lunatic speed with which they had arrived. The alarm has sounded too promptly, the preparations for it were too good, the drill too well-organized.

The leading car found its route blocked by an eighty-ton tank which lumbered forward spewing fire from three loopholes, riddling the target at the rate of two thousand bullets per minute. Shedding glass, metal splinters and blood, it slewed onto grass and overturned. Nothing stirred within it.

Its follower halted just inside the fence, disgorged eight men who spread fanwise and raced inward at an angle outside the arc of fire. Ignoring them, the tank busily wrecked their machine.

Something farther back gave a low, dull whoomp-whoomp and spurts of heavy vapor sprang from the ground one jump ahead of the invading eight. It did not halt them or give them pause. They pelted headlong through the curtain of mist, made another twenty yards, collapsed one by one.