Read Online E.E. 'Doc' Smith SF Gateway Omnibus: The Skylark of Space, Skylark Three, Skylark of Valeron, Skylark DuQuesne by E. E. (Doc) Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: E. E. (Doc) Smith
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reporting that both had continued to register only background radiation throughout the test. Seaton made observations and used his slide rule.
‘Can’t do much from here, right under it, but the probable minimum is ninety-seven thousand feetand it’s still boiling upward. I … will … be … tee … totally … jiggered.’
Both men stood for minutes awed into silence by the incredible forces they had loosed. Then Seaton made the understatement of his long life.
‘I don’t think I’ll shoot a Mark Ten around here.’
‘Haven’t you done anything yet?’ Brookings demanded.
‘I can’t help it, Mr Brookings,’ Perkins replied. ‘Prescott’s men are hard to do business with.’
‘I know that, but surely
one
of them can be reached.’
‘Not at ten, and that was your limit. Twenty-five or no dice.’
Brookings drummed fingers on desk. ‘Well … if we have to …’ and wrote out an order on the cashier for twenty-five thousand dollars in small-to-medium bills. ‘I’ll see you at the cafe, tomorrow at four o’clock.’
The place referred to was the Perkins Café, a restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue. It was the favorite eating-place of the diplomatic, political, financial, and social élite of Washington, none of whom even suspected that it had been designed and was being maintained by the world-girdling World Steel Corporation as the hub and center of its world-girdling nefarious activities.
At four o’clock on the following day Brookings was ushered into Perkins’ private office.
‘Blast it, Perkins, can’t you do
anything
?’ he demanded.
‘It just couldn’t be helped,’ Perkins replied doggedly. ‘Everything was figured to the second, but the Jap smelled a rat or something and jumped us. I managed to get away, but he laid Tony out cold. But don’t worry – I sent Silk Humphrey and a couple of the boys out to get him. Told him to report at four oh eight. Any second now.’
In less than a minute Perkins’ communicator buzzed.
‘This is the dick, not Silk,’ it said, in its tiny, tinny voice. ‘He’s dead. So are the two goons. That Jap, he’s chain lightning on greased wheels, got all three of them. Anything else I can do for you?’
‘No. Your job’s done.’ Perkins closed the switch, fusing the spy’s communicator into a blob of metal; and Brookings called DuQuesne.
‘Can you come to my office, or are you bugged?’
‘Yes, to both. Bugged from stem to gudgeon, Prescott men in front, back, on the sides, and up in the trees. I’ll be right over.’
‘But wait …!’
‘Relax. D’you think they can outsmart
me?
I know more about bugging – and de-bugging – than Prescott and his dicks ever will learn.’
In Brookings’ office DuQuesne told, with saturnine amusement, of the devices he had rigged to misinform the private eyes. He listened to Brookings’ recital of failure.
Then he said, ‘I knew you’d louse it up, so I’ve been making some plans of my own. One thing, though, I want limpidly clear. From nowon I give the orders. Right?
‘Get me a helicopter just like Crane’s. Get a hophead six feet tall that weighs about a hundred and sixty pounds. Give him a three-hour jolt. Have them at the field two hours from now.’
‘Can do.’
DuQuesne was at the field on time. So were the flying machine and the unconscious man. Both were exactly what he had ordered. He took off, climbed swiftly, made a wide circle to the west and north.
Shiro and the two guards, hearing the roar of engines, looked up and saw what they supposed to be Crane’s helicopter coming down in a vertical drop. Slowing at the last possible second, it taxied up the field toward them. A man, recognizable as Seaton by his suit and physique, stood up, shouted hoarsely, pointed to the lean, still form beside him, beckoned frantically with both arms, then slumped down, completely inert.
All three rushed up to help.
There were three silenced reports and three men dropped.
DuQuesne leaped
‘Can’t do much from here, right under it, but the probable minimum is ninety-seven thousand feetand it’s still boiling upward. I … will … be … tee … totally … jiggered.’
Both men stood for minutes awed into silence by the incredible forces they had loosed. Then Seaton made the understatement of his long life.
‘I don’t think I’ll shoot a Mark Ten around here.’
‘Haven’t you done anything yet?’ Brookings demanded.
‘I can’t help it, Mr Brookings,’ Perkins replied. ‘Prescott’s men are hard to do business with.’
‘I know that, but surely
one
of them can be reached.’
‘Not at ten, and that was your limit. Twenty-five or no dice.’
Brookings drummed fingers on desk. ‘Well … if we have to …’ and wrote out an order on the cashier for twenty-five thousand dollars in small-to-medium bills. ‘I’ll see you at the cafe, tomorrow at four o’clock.’
The place referred to was the Perkins Café, a restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue. It was the favorite eating-place of the diplomatic, political, financial, and social élite of Washington, none of whom even suspected that it had been designed and was being maintained by the world-girdling World Steel Corporation as the hub and center of its world-girdling nefarious activities.
At four o’clock on the following day Brookings was ushered into Perkins’ private office.
‘Blast it, Perkins, can’t you do
anything
?’ he demanded.
‘It just couldn’t be helped,’ Perkins replied doggedly. ‘Everything was figured to the second, but the Jap smelled a rat or something and jumped us. I managed to get away, but he laid Tony out cold. But don’t worry – I sent Silk Humphrey and a couple of the boys out to get him. Told him to report at four oh eight. Any second now.’
In less than a minute Perkins’ communicator buzzed.
‘This is the dick, not Silk,’ it said, in its tiny, tinny voice. ‘He’s dead. So are the two goons. That Jap, he’s chain lightning on greased wheels, got all three of them. Anything else I can do for you?’
‘No. Your job’s done.’ Perkins closed the switch, fusing the spy’s communicator into a blob of metal; and Brookings called DuQuesne.
‘Can you come to my office, or are you bugged?’
‘Yes, to both. Bugged from stem to gudgeon, Prescott men in front, back, on the sides, and up in the trees. I’ll be right over.’
‘But wait …!’
‘Relax. D’you think they can outsmart
me?
I know more about bugging – and de-bugging – than Prescott and his dicks ever will learn.’
In Brookings’ office DuQuesne told, with saturnine amusement, of the devices he had rigged to misinform the private eyes. He listened to Brookings’ recital of failure.
Then he said, ‘I knew you’d louse it up, so I’ve been making some plans of my own. One thing, though, I want limpidly clear. From nowon I give the orders. Right?
‘Get me a helicopter just like Crane’s. Get a hophead six feet tall that weighs about a hundred and sixty pounds. Give him a three-hour jolt. Have them at the field two hours from now.’
‘Can do.’
DuQuesne was at the field on time. So were the flying machine and the unconscious man. Both were exactly what he had ordered. He took off, climbed swiftly, made a wide circle to the west and north.
Shiro and the two guards, hearing the roar of engines, looked up and saw what they supposed to be Crane’s helicopter coming down in a vertical drop. Slowing at the last possible second, it taxied up the field toward them. A man, recognizable as Seaton by his suit and physique, stood up, shouted hoarsely, pointed to the lean, still form beside him, beckoned frantically with both arms, then slumped down, completely inert.
All three rushed up to help.
There were three silenced reports and three men dropped.
DuQuesne leaped
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