Julian Hudd. And even to you, Mr. Lord.”
Lord's sleepy yellow eyes slitted dangerously.
“I'll tolerate no further insubordination,” he snapped savagely. “Tell me what you've got.”
Cameron turned to Doyle and me. Angrily, Lord hauled out his automatic,and then slowly thrust it back again. I suppose that even he could see the folly of extinguishing the source of information. Perhaps he was a little awed by Cameron.
But he still intended, I knew, to get his revenge.
Cameron ignored his sullenly boiling fury.
“Chad, you remember that little gadget we called an induction furnace? Well, we were on the right track—if I hadn't been afraid of blowing up the Great Director. And this is the thing we were looking for.”
Generously, he gave me far too much credit. I had known, of course, that the device was something more than a furnace—for it made atomic changes in the metal samples we fused, while it somehow generated power. That much I had known, and held my tongue about it. But I had really understood neither his effort nor his goal.
From me, Cameron turned impulsively to Doyle.
“Captain, may I have a word with you?”
“Of course.” Doyle raised his red brows in puzzlement. “What about?”
“This.” Cameron lifted the thing in his hands. “I've always admired you, Captain. I trust you now.” He beckoned with his head, toward the end of the dam. “Let me tell you what this things means to you—and all of us.” He glanced aside at the simmering, suspicious little Squaredealer, adding: “Listen for just ten minutes, Captain, and you'll be free of Lord and his sort.”
Confusedly, Doyle shook his head.
“Careful, Cameron.” I knew he was no friend of Lord's, yet his voice was shocked. “Watch yourself. You sound like treason.”
Cameron gave him a brief, sardonic grin.
“If there is such a thing, any longer.” His low voice turned grave again. “Though I imagine that this little device has repealed a lot of the old laws.” He glanced at the twisted wire, and regretfully back to Doyle. “I wish you'd listen, Rory. But I know how you feel. I'll save your life if I can.”
Little Lord was quivering with white-lipped fury. His hand hovered close to his gun. Yet caution or curiosity must have tempered his wrath, for he gestured sharply to halt his black-clad gunmen.
“Explain this strange behavior, Cameron,” he snapped. “Before I have to shoot you down.”
Cameron turned back to him.
“No, I don't think you'll do that, Mr. Lord,” he murmured very softly. “Because you're an anachronism, now, along with the dinosaur and the atom bomb. Technological advancement has passed you by.”
Lord's narrow, sallow face turned dark. Still, however, he seemed to want the secret of that piece of twisted wire more than he wanted Cameron's life. He nodded furtively to his gunmen, who began edging aside toCameron's right and left. “What's that gadget?” he snarled. Cameron had turned to me.
“You'll come with me, won't you, Chad?” His low voice had a tremor of anxious appeal. “There's a job we have to do, with this.” He moved the little device. “It's not too dangerous—if we're lucky. I need you, Chad.”
I wanted to go with him—wherever he was going. But I could see the two bleak-faced men moving warily to get behind him, I could see Lord's wolfish snarl and the cold menace of his yellow eyes, I could remember the SBI and all the cruel art of intensive interrogation. Somehow, that bit of wire and plastic had made Cameron seem a bolder and bigger man, but still I hadn't felt the power of it. Miserably, I shook my head.
“That's all right, Chad.” He gave me a brief, cheering grin. “Perhaps I'll have a better chance alone. I'll do my best to save you.”
“You, stand still!” Lord shouted, and sharply ordered his gunmen: “Shoot for the knees, if he tries anything.”
Cameron turned back to him, soberly. “Better call them off, Mr. Lord.” Something in his low voice
Lord's sleepy yellow eyes slitted dangerously.
“I'll tolerate no further insubordination,” he snapped savagely. “Tell me what you've got.”
Cameron turned to Doyle and me. Angrily, Lord hauled out his automatic,and then slowly thrust it back again. I suppose that even he could see the folly of extinguishing the source of information. Perhaps he was a little awed by Cameron.
But he still intended, I knew, to get his revenge.
Cameron ignored his sullenly boiling fury.
“Chad, you remember that little gadget we called an induction furnace? Well, we were on the right track—if I hadn't been afraid of blowing up the Great Director. And this is the thing we were looking for.”
Generously, he gave me far too much credit. I had known, of course, that the device was something more than a furnace—for it made atomic changes in the metal samples we fused, while it somehow generated power. That much I had known, and held my tongue about it. But I had really understood neither his effort nor his goal.
From me, Cameron turned impulsively to Doyle.
“Captain, may I have a word with you?”
“Of course.” Doyle raised his red brows in puzzlement. “What about?”
“This.” Cameron lifted the thing in his hands. “I've always admired you, Captain. I trust you now.” He beckoned with his head, toward the end of the dam. “Let me tell you what this things means to you—and all of us.” He glanced aside at the simmering, suspicious little Squaredealer, adding: “Listen for just ten minutes, Captain, and you'll be free of Lord and his sort.”
Confusedly, Doyle shook his head.
“Careful, Cameron.” I knew he was no friend of Lord's, yet his voice was shocked. “Watch yourself. You sound like treason.”
Cameron gave him a brief, sardonic grin.
“If there is such a thing, any longer.” His low voice turned grave again. “Though I imagine that this little device has repealed a lot of the old laws.” He glanced at the twisted wire, and regretfully back to Doyle. “I wish you'd listen, Rory. But I know how you feel. I'll save your life if I can.”
Little Lord was quivering with white-lipped fury. His hand hovered close to his gun. Yet caution or curiosity must have tempered his wrath, for he gestured sharply to halt his black-clad gunmen.
“Explain this strange behavior, Cameron,” he snapped. “Before I have to shoot you down.”
Cameron turned back to him.
“No, I don't think you'll do that, Mr. Lord,” he murmured very softly. “Because you're an anachronism, now, along with the dinosaur and the atom bomb. Technological advancement has passed you by.”
Lord's narrow, sallow face turned dark. Still, however, he seemed to want the secret of that piece of twisted wire more than he wanted Cameron's life. He nodded furtively to his gunmen, who began edging aside toCameron's right and left. “What's that gadget?” he snarled. Cameron had turned to me.
“You'll come with me, won't you, Chad?” His low voice had a tremor of anxious appeal. “There's a job we have to do, with this.” He moved the little device. “It's not too dangerous—if we're lucky. I need you, Chad.”
I wanted to go with him—wherever he was going. But I could see the two bleak-faced men moving warily to get behind him, I could see Lord's wolfish snarl and the cold menace of his yellow eyes, I could remember the SBI and all the cruel art of intensive interrogation. Somehow, that bit of wire and plastic had made Cameron seem a bolder and bigger man, but still I hadn't felt the power of it. Miserably, I shook my head.
“That's all right, Chad.” He gave me a brief, cheering grin. “Perhaps I'll have a better chance alone. I'll do my best to save you.”
“You, stand still!” Lord shouted, and sharply ordered his gunmen: “Shoot for the knees, if he tries anything.”
Cameron turned back to him, soberly. “Better call them off, Mr. Lord.” Something in his low voice
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