The Secret Galactics Page 14

  The picture in Marie’s mind had grown absolutely horrifying. The house! Those two men! She had a mental visualization of a white hellfire breaking through the computer’s steel walls and burning up the men in a single burst of unendurable heat blast. And then—and then—burning up the house with equal irresistible, ravaging power. Nothing could withstand the intense energy that she had glimpsed in that one backward look.

  Oh, God! she thought, Carl is in there somewhere, helpless. What have I done? …

  The tears were spurting, almost blinding her, as Silver opened the door in the closet of the guest cabin. They emerged moments later into a neatly furnished bed-sitting room. At once Marie was at the window, gazing avidly toward the house. She pressed her face against the glass.

  The scene which her eyes, figuratively, devoured was peaceful. From the cottage window she could see a garden, a swimming pool, and then the long rear of the residence. The entire place was brightly lighted inside and out, all the windows shining forth, and strings of other shiningnesses outside. Not exactly like day; but a reasonable facsimile.

  Marie’s eyes flicked toward what—she guessed—were the basement windows. Cringed in anticipation. But—nothing. Not a sign of the hideous fire that she had started.

  She thought, relieved:—The destruct fuel must have burned itself out … And that would simply leave the over-heated metal sitting there on that concrete floor under a shielded ceiling. The whole beginning its long cooling process.

  The whispered words of Silver touched her ear. ‘I’m awfully glad you’re the one that has the plint.’

  Marie was astonished. ‘Whatever for?’ In her amazement, she spoke in her normal voice.

  ‘Be sure,’ admonished Silver, ‘to have it ready when we go outside.’

  The implication that they would be in danger out there brought a chill to Marie. Involuntarily, her grip tightened on the weapon.

  Silver spoke again, also in a normal voice, ‘I’m a woman who is willing for a man to do whatever fighting has to be done. I don’t want to do any of it myself. So if there’s trouble, I wouldn’t be able to shoot anyway. But you can. Your training as a physicist proves that you’re more willing to be involved in a man’s world.’

  Nothing, thought Marie, wryly, like being told that you’re a masculine woman and not a feminine one … A fleeting wonder came, about the fantastic risks that Silver had taken all these years. But, true, it was men she had tried to motivate. Men like Carl and—who else had she said?—the Sleele leader on earth. And, since she had also offered herself to the … Luind … leader, presumably that same offer had been made to still other men, who, presumably, had not turned her down. And who had—also presumably—gone out to act and do in return for the use of that slinky body afterwards.

  Marie was shocked.

  But there was a thought-feeling inside her, a numbness over what had already happened … I should be at home, Marie thought tearfully, and in bed with a man letting him make love to me, if that’s what he wants—and, of course, that’s what he would want … And when he’s satisfied, he’ll have a natural impulse to charge out here into this dangerous area, and do deeds of derring-do—

  Somehow, she could not help but feel that men did this kind of madness with more sense than women. They hid better. They knew when to dive for the floor. And they could crawl along on their stomachs while under fire.

  Whereas Silver and she hadn’t dived even once. Nor did it seem to have occurred to them that crawling was safer.

  These numerous skittering thoughts ended, as Silver whispered, ‘I’ve got to take into account that we could be stopped when we go outside. So I’d better make a~ certain phone call right now. You get on that bedroom extension, will you, and listen in.’

  ‘Who are you going to call?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  DEATH FROM THE PLINT

  Silver sank down in the chair beside the phone, dialed operator, and asked for Paris.

  A strange feeling was in Marie’s head as she settled on the bed, and picked up the phone. She was glad for the chance to slump, with the extension instrument in her lap.

  The connection went through with surprising speed. Marie’s educated ear heard altogether three relays close in rapid order. Then a man’s vibrant voice came on. ‘Metnov,’ it said; and Marie actually jumped. There was a male quality in that voice that seemed to go right through her body.

  ‘Silver here,’

  If the person behind that electrifying male voice was taken aback, it didn’t show. ‘What’s on your mind, Beautiful Silver?’

  ‘Anton,’ said Silver, ‘this Deean takeover plan is driving me out of my mind. And I want you to do something about it.’

  ‘Such as what?’ Utterly relaxed tone.

  ‘I want you to stop it.’

  ‘Now, darling, it would take me a year to get a ship here that could handle the monster machine that’s up there.’

  ‘I don’t believe it. Now, listen—’ Firmly—‘I want a promise from you right now. Or else.’

  ‘Else what?’

  ‘I’ll tell Paul everything.’

  ‘Well, we couldn’t have that,’ smiled the voice. ‘So, all right, I promise.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ Suddenly, the singing voice sounded uncertain.

  ‘You wanted my promise. I’ve made it.’

  ‘Well defensively—‘you don’t sound sincere.’

  ‘Sleeles never do same smiling tone—‘You’ve said so, yourself.’

  ‘True.’ Silver seemed to be bracing against her sudden qualms. ‘Well, you’d better mean it. Because I am just about out of my mind. And so I’m capable of what I said—’

  ‘You’ve convinced me.’ Casually.

  ‘I wish I could believe you,’ said Silver, plaintively.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘Goodbye, Anton. Come and see me when the job is done.’

  ‘Goodbye, Beautiful Silver.’

  There was a click. Then another click. Then a third. Judging by the time lapse between clicks, Marie found herself automatically estimating that the total distance of the call was at least fourteen thousand miles. From somewhere thousands of miles to Paris, and from Paris to west coast United States.

  A faint thud of footsteps interrupted. Marie looked up. Silver had paused in the connecting doorway. ‘What an S.O.B.,’ the woman said.

  Marie lifted the phone back onto the night table. ‘He sounded very male,’ she ventured.

  ‘He was unfortunate. Whatever was in the human embryo his Sleele genes were melded into, looks good physically. But the grown male body has a compulsion for young girls. Fourteen to sixteen drives him up a wall. He’s been arrested three times for molesting teenagers. But Paul has promised him an unending supply of young girls for his help. So you see what a dilemma I’ve put our Metnov in.’

  She paused, and suddenly there was a troubled expression on that perfect face. ‘My dilemma is, Paul once told me that you must never threaten or insult a Sleele. And I’ve just threatened one. And you’ll notice when I made my usual offer of payment in kind, he didn’t say he would come. That makes me nervous.’

  Marie had stood up from the bed, as these words were spoken. She shifted her purse over to her left hand; and she was standing there with the plint in her right hand, when Silver half-turned and said, ‘We’d better get out of here before that remorseless husband of mine has time to—’

  ‘I’m afraid,’ said a man’s baritone voice from behind them, ‘that it’s a little late for that.’

  Even as she spun around, Marie realized it was the voice of the M.D. type who had been so antagonistic to her—and to Silver—earlier.

  In what followed she had only the most fleeting look at him, where he stood in the other doorway. ‘And I’m also afraid,’ the man said grimly, ‘that I’m going to do what Paul can’t seem to bring himself to.’

  Whereupon, he raised the glinting object in his hand—and
Marie buttoned the plint with her thumb …

  The man fell. What else happened to him—they didn’t look. Silver was tugging at Marie; and she allowed herself to be drawn past the demolished thing on the floor. They went out by some darkened back way; and there was the feel of fresh, cool air in Marie’s face and lungs. The night here at the remote rear of the property was soothingly dark.

  In the shelter of that almost blackness, they slipped along beside a metal fence, and then—keeping the fence between them and the house—over to a clump of trees, and to a pathway over a field of weeds and shrubbery. Silver led the way, Marie followed with heart pounding, and mind horrified. Every moment she was desperately trying to forget the impossible, deadly thing she had done in the guest house.

  The car they climbed into was one of two in a garage behind a little house about two blocks from the Gannott estate. In the darkness it had the lines and interior design of a medium-sized Detroit creation—impossible to see its name, or guess what make it was.

  Silver drove. As they debouched onto the street, the blonde woman said, ‘I pay them rent a year in advance for the garage. They never ask any questions.’

  Marie glanced back, nervously, and saw that a black sedan had come from somewhere and was following them closely. There were two men in the front seat. She began an immediate argument with herself, pointing out that it was perfectly all right for other people to be driving along a street in this area. And that she really oughtn’t to say anything to Silver; simply let her concentrate on driving.

  At that point, Silver said, ‘Get your plint ready. I think we’re being followed.’

  A series of images flickered through Marie’s mind. One was of herself at home in bed with Mac. And then, when she had convinced him that she would not cut him off again, he would come down here in the way that men could do, and somehow get into the Gannott place and reconnect Carl. Whereupon, Carl would charge out from wherever he was and do all that masculine activity—the kind of thing that won wars and fist fights and conquered mountain tops.

  When the images had flashed by, there they still were driving along a dark, tree-lined street. And the black sedan was close behind them.

  Silver said, ‘I’m going to turn up this next side street. And see if they follow.’

  Marie said, ‘The one beside the driver seems to be doing the talking. The other one doesn’t answer.’

  ‘… Brother Metnov That was the beginning of the talking.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Those two women seem to have gotten out of the Gannott place.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure it’s them.’

  ‘Let them go,’ commanded Metnov. ‘The blonde bitch called me a little while ago, and gave me a blackmail threat. It would be foolish to turn her back to Gannott until I’ve decided what to do about that.’

  ‘Very well, Brother.’

  Metnov continued, ‘They’ll probably go back to the Hazzard Laboratories, and block the secret entrance. So I’ll have somebody hide inside, and open it in case we decide to take further action against either or both. Goodbye, brothers.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  Tiny moments after that conversation concluded, Silver made her turn … And the black sedan did not follow.

  Marie sank back against the seat. And tried to squeeze away the tears that were threatening to pour out of some well in her head.

  As she sat there, Silver turned onto another street. And there in the distance ahead were the bright lights of a freeway on-ramp. The sight of safety reminded Marie. ‘I can see,’ she said, ‘a confession to your husband about an affair putting him into a state of jealousy and grief. But why would that disturb Mr. Metnov?’

  ‘Metnov,’ explained Silver as earnestly as a singing voice could be earnest, ‘has been making overtures to Paul for two years. He probably has a reason. So with satisfaction—‘he can either have that wrecked, or do as I ask.’ Marie relaxed even more. She opened her misted eyes, and surreptitiously wiped them. Then she thought:—I’m listening to the way a woman should be. Not that madness back there …

  She shuddered, as she visualized the silent madness that must still be lying on the floor of the guest house. Then made a supreme effort, and blotted the memory again. And said, ‘What can Metnov possibly do at this late hour?’

  ‘I don’t know—’ A shrug—‘But Sleeles are an advanced race. As a superior male type, let him figure out what he can do.’ She concluded casually, ‘Men know about things like that.’

  True, thought Marie.

  ‘The question in my mind,’ continued Silver, ‘is how could we put some kind of pressure on Philip Nicer?’

  Marie sat bolt upright. ‘Who?’

  ‘The Luind leader.’

  After many, many seconds of almost blank silence, Marie ventured in a small voice, ‘But I recently met Colonel Nicer. And it’s hard to imagine him as an alienoid. Besides—’ It was a sudden new thought, peculiarly convincing in its own way—‘he’s a member of the board of the Non-Pareil Corporation. And so was his father.’

  ‘All these people are rich,’ said Silver. ‘They came here and took what they needed.’ She added, ‘To be on the board, you probably have to represent several million dollars in stock.’

  Marie, who represented Carl’s twenty million dollars’ worth, nodded. She was thinking another odd thought:—A man of a superior race desires me … She realized she felt elevated. At once, she was critical of herself. But the feeling did not go away.

  A great being is attracted to me …

  The cozy security and enhancement of that thought never quite left her the rest of the way home.

  Once inside the house, the two women headed straight for Carl’s apartment, and bolted the door of the secret entrance. When that was done, Silver weaved over to the bed, and sank down on it. ‘You don’t mind if I sleep here tonight?’ It was a sigh; an almost husky voice. There was exhaustion here.

  ‘Can I loan you a pair of pajamas?’ said Marie.

  ‘No, no. Never use the stuff. I sleep raw; the way men prefer. Good night. And I’m sorry about Carl and me.’

  ‘Don’t give it a thought,’ said Marie, sincerely.

  Chapter Nineteen

  DICTATOR OF EARTH

  For Paul Gannott, the initial bad moment came when Silver Was suddenly missing from her bedroom.

  He thought about that for a while, feeling wan and unhappy. Then he ordered—and in a sense that was Step Two—Carl and MacKerrie transported up to the spaceship. Thus, they were out of the way, safe.

  Next came a grim suspicion: Was it possible that one of the superior races was interfering? Had Silver, in fact, been spirited away?

  With that, Gannott got on the Deean phone he had in his study, and called Metnov’s Paris relay. After a small delay, the Sleele leader came on the viewplate. He was hard to see. He apologized: ‘You caught me on a dark street. Pm talking to you by way of a relay in my car, which in turn is being picked up by a central system, and thereafter transmitted, of course, by the usual earth satellite relays.’

  He listened carefully to Gannott’s account of what had happened. And then denied Sleele interference.

  ‘But wait!’ continued Metnov, ‘don’t go off the line. I’m thinking.’

  The result of his thought was that he explained that ‘one of my brothers’ had, while in a game-playing mood, incapacitated the Luind leader for three or four days. Metnov advised, ‘Better phone Nicer’s chief aide and ask him if they retaliated by inconveniencing you.’

  It was a confidence on a rare level of the kind of communication that existed between the two men. Or rather, between the two races. It motivated Gannott to tell of the finding of the dead body of one of his aides in a remote guest cottage. ‘Some kind of energy weapon killed him; so what you say may be relevant.’ He added, ‘I have no idea what Creg was doing out in that cottage. I have to tell you that he was very antagonistic to Silver. But none of that seems connected. The fact is, we
don’t know how the women got away.’

  The sudden understanding which Metnov experienced as he was given that additional information, he did not share with Gannott. Suddenly, the pieces were falling into place … I’ll be damned, he thought, I’ll bet the plint I gave Silver killed that man—

  Naturally, that was not something he could tell Silver’s husband. Because a jealous Paul Gannott would immediately wonder what had prompted a Sleele to hand over a Sleele energy output unit to a beautiful woman.

  ‘I’m thinking,’ said Metnov, ‘that the presence of Dr. Marie, a doctor of physics here on earth, is a sufficient clue as to what happened to your computer. And that, therefore, you need have no further puzzlement about that. And, by the way, leave Dr. Marie to me. After I’ve questioned her, I’ll deliver her for the next trip of your lifeboat. When will that be? And where do they bring her—since you’re going to be leaving that house?’

  ‘The lift-module will come down once more, this time at 3 a.m. tonight. At Station S—that will be your Code 31.’

  ‘Will you be there?’

  ‘No.’ Gannott was suddenly hesitant. ‘I see the problem. You know only Henry and me.’ He spoke reluctantly. He was still not happy with Henry. ‘Unfortunately, I have to go to our Texas computer site, and operate from there.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll deal with Henry! Right?’

  Gannott’s hesitation ended. ‘Right.’

  He felt distinctly relieved by Metnov’s offer to capture Marie. The job could not be in more capable hands. And as for Henry, he was not really unreliable. He had not … really … resisted.

  ‘Thanks, Anton,’ he said aloud.

  ‘No problem,’ was the cool reply. ‘But now—how do you explain your wife’s action in this matter?’

  The big man hesitated. ‘Well, of course, she’s human—’ Metnov waited.

  Gannott continued unhappily, ‘I made the mistake of telling her years ago what and who I was. It disturbed her.’

  ‘So …’

  ‘I kept the coming of this ship from her as long as I could. But of course like everybody else in the know she can add fifty to fifty; and so I presume when the astronaut sighted the ship this morning, she knew right away. So I’m guessing that she’s in an emotionally unsettled state, and not really responsible for her actions. As you can see I’m taking no chances on what those actions might be. I’m evacuating all personnel.’