Алексей Николаевич Толстой - The Garin Death Ray

Zoe sat amidst numerous cushions on a wide divan, her feet tucked up under her. She was smoking and staring at the fire in the grate. Rolling, in evening dress, occupied a deep armchair, his feet on a footstool; like Zoe he was also smoking and studying the coals.

The firelight gave a fiery-red hue to the fleshy nose, bearded cheeks, half-closed eyelids and the slightly inflamed eyes of the master of the universe. He had abandoned himself to that period of inactivity so essential once a week to rest his brain and nerves.

Zoe stretched her beautiful bare arms out in front of her.

"Rolling," she said, "it is two hours since we lunched."

"Yes," he answered, "I also presume that the process of digestion is over."

Her limpid, almost dreamy eyes ran over his face. Softly and in serious tones she called him by his Christian name. He answered without stirring in his warm armchair:

"Yes, I'm listening to you, baby."

Permission to talk had been given. Zoe moved to the edge of the divan and clasped her knee.

"Tell me, Rolling, is there a very great danger of an explosion at a chemical works?"

"There is. The fourth derivative from coal, trotyl, is a very powerful explosive. The eighth derivate from coal, picric acid, is used to fill the armour-piercing shells of naval guns. There is a still more powerful explosive, tetryl."

"What is tetryl, Rolling?"

"The same coal. Benzene (C 6H 6) mixed with nitric acid (HNO 2) at a temperature of 80° C. gives uanitrobenzene which has the formula of C 6H 5N0 2. If we substitute 2 parts of hydrogen (H2) for two parts of oxygen (02), that is if we begin slowly mixing iron filings with nitrobenzene at 80° C. and add a small amount of hydrochloric acid we get aniline (C 6H 5NH 2). Aniline, mixed with wood alcohol under a pressure of fifty atmospheres, will give dimethyl-aniline. Then we will dig a big hole, build an earth rampart round it, put a shed in the middle and there treat dimethyl-aniline with nitric acid. During the reaction we shall watch the thermometers through a telescope. The reaction of nitric acid with dimethylaniliiie will give us tetryl. That tetryl is the very devil himself: for some unknown reason it sometimes explodes during the reaction and reduces huge buildings to dust. Unfortunately we have to deal with this stuff; when it is treated with phosgene it gives a blue dyestuff—crystal violet. That stuff brings in good money. You asked me an amusing question... Hm-m... I thought you were better acquainted with chemistry. Hm-m... In order to make, say, a tablet of pyramidon from coal tar so as to cure your headache we have to go through a number of stages... On the way from coal to pyramidon or a bottle of perfume or some ordinary photographic chemical there are such devilish substances as trotyl and picric acid, such wonderful little things as brombenzylcyanide, chlorpicrin, diphenylchlorarsine and so on, that is, those very war gases that make men sneeze, weep, tear off their gas-masks, choke, vomit blood, break out in sores all over the body, rot away alive..."

Rolling was bored on that rainy Sunday evening and gladly plunged into a contemplation of the great future of chemistry.

"I believe (he waved his half-smoked cigar near his nose), I believe that the Lord God of Sabaoth created heaven and earth and all that therein is using only coal tar and kitchen salt. The Bible doesn't exactly say so but it is to be deduced. Whoever owns coal and salt is master of the world. The Germans started the war in 1914 only because nine-tenths of the chemical plants in the world belonged to Germany. The Germans understood the secret of coal and salt: they were the only enlightened nation of the day. They did not, however, foresee that we Americans could build Edgewood Arsenal in nine months. The Germans opened our eyes and we realized where we had to invest our money and now we, and not they, are going to dominate the world, because since the war we have the money and we have the chemicals. We'll turn Germany and other countries that know how to work (those who don't will die a natural death and we'll help them die) into a single gigantic factory... The American flag will encircle the world round the equator and from pole to. pole like the ribbon on a chocolate box..."

"Rolling, you're just asking for trouble," Zoe interrupted him, "they'll all turn communist... The day will come when they'll say that they don't need you any longer, that they prefer to work for themselves... Oh, I've already been through that horror... They won't give you your millions back..."

"In that case I'll drown Europe in mustard gas, baby."

"It'll be too late, Rolling!" Zoe hugged her knees and leant forward. "Rolling, believe me, I've never given you bad advice... I asked you whether there was a danger of explosion at a chemical works... In the hands of the workers, revolutionaries, communists, in the hands of our enemies, there will be a weapon of tremendous power... The workers will be able to blow up chemical plants, powder magazines, set fire to squadrons of aircraft, destroy supplies of gas—they will be able to destroy from a great distance everything that will explode or burn."

Rolling took his feet off the footstool, his reddish eyelids flickered and for a while he looked at the young woman.

"As far as I can understand you're again referring to..."

"Yes, Rolling, yes, to Garin's apparatus... Everything that has been said about it has escaped your attention. But I know how serious it is... Semyonov has brought me a strange thing. He got it from Russia."

Zoe rang the bell. A footman entered. She ordered him to bring in a little pinewood box; in it lay a strip of steel about half an inch thick. Zoe took it out of the box and held it in the firelight. Slots, whorls, and holes were cut through the whole thickness of the steel with some very fine instrument and across it the words "Trial of strength... trial.. . Garin" were scribbled as though with a fine pen. Pieces of metal that formed the interior of some of the letters had fallen out. Rolling looked long at that strip of steel.

"It looks like a 'trial of the pen,' " he said softly, "it might have been written in soft dough with a needle."

"This was done during the test of a model of Garin's apparatus at a distance of thirty paces," said Zoe. "Semyonov maintains that Garin expects to build an apparatus that can easily cut through a dreadnought at a distance of twenty cable's lengths... Excuse me, Rolling, but I insist, you must get hold of this terrible apparatus."

Not for nothing had Rolling passed through the school of life in America. To the last ounce he was trained for the fight.

Training, as everybody knows, evenly distributes work amongst the muscles and permits of the greatest possible strain. It was the same with Rolling when he started a fight; his fantasy began working first—it plunged into a dense thicket of enterprise and discovered there something worthy of attention. Stop. The work of his fantasy ceased and the brain took over. Common-sense came into its own, evaluated, compared, weighed, and reported: useful. Stop. The practical mind came into its own, calculated, considered, and struck a balance: credit balance. Stop. Will power came into its own, that terrific Rolling's will power, as strong as high-grade steel, and he, like a buffalo, with bloodshot eyes, smashed his way to the goal and attained it whatever it may have cost him and others.

This is approximately what was happening today. Rolling cast a glance into the unknown jungle and common-sense told him: Zoe is right. His practical mind told him the most profitable way would be to steal the drawings and the apparatus and liquidate Garin. And that would end it. Garin's fate was determined, credit was opened and will power took over. Rolling rose from his chair, stood with his back to the fire, and thrust out his chin.