Read Online The Land God Gave to Cain by Hammond; Innes - Free Book Online Page B

the search was called off. According to your report my father actually contacted you that evening to check Briffe’s frequency and ask whether there was any other frequency he might use in an emergency. Doesn’t that make it obvious that he was keeping watch for Briffe?”
    â€œPaule Briffe only had an old forty-eight set. It was operated by a hand generator and a British ham would be more than two thousand miles outside normal range.”
    â€œOutside of normal range, yes,” I said impatiently. “Nevertheless, my father was keeping watch. You knew that, and yet down here at the bottom of your report you give it as your opinion that G2STO couldn’t possibly have picked up a transmission from Briffe. And you list your reasons—one of them, that, granted freak reception and the transmission having actually been made, the odds against G2STO choosing that particular moment to listen in are too great . What exactly did you mean by that?”
    â€œJust what I say,” he answered sharply. “Take all those points together—Briffe transmitting when he’s known to be dead, freak reception and finally the remote chance that your father should be keeping watch at that precise moment. It just doesn’t make sense.”
    â€œWhy not? The odds are against it, I admit, but it’s not impossible.”
    â€œOh, for heaven’s sake!” he exclaimed irritably. “The plane crashed on the evening of the fourteenth. We were on constant watch until the twenty-sixth when the search was abandoned—not only us, but the Air Force, Government stations, and a whole bunch of hams. We picked up nothing. And three days after we ceased watch G2STO reports contact. Suppose Briffe did transmit on the twenty-ninth as he says. To be certain of picking up that transmission he’d have had to be listening on net frequency for three whole days, twenty-four hours out of the twenty-four.” He shook his head. “It just isn’t credible.”
    â€œMy father was paralysed,” I said. “He had nothing else to do.”
    He stared at me. “I’m sorry,” he said tonelessly. “I guess they didn’t tell us anything about him.”
    â€œThey didn’t tell you then that he died immediately after picking up the transmission?”
    â€œNo. I guess that explains it—why you’re here, I mean. I’d been wondering about that.”
    â€œThat transmission killed him.”
    His eyes widened, looking at me curiously. “How do you mean?”
    I told him then about my father calling out and how he’d somehow struggled to his feet. I told him the whole story, and when I’d finished, he said, “I didn’t know about all this.” His soft, slow voice was shocked, his tone apologetic. “They didn’t give any details, not even his name. I been thinking about that over my supper. It was those questions he asked that started me thinking he was nuts. If they’d given me his name I might have understood what he was getting at. As it was those questions just seemed so Goddamned irrelevant.” He nodded to the report in my hand. “Read ’em. They’re all there. You’ll see what I mean then. You’d have thought he was nuts if they’d come at you out of the blue, so to speak—anybody would.”
    I could see his point, for on the second occasion my father had contacted him he’d asked him if Briffe had ever mentioned Lake of the Lion. That was on September 10, and when Ledder had said No and had refused to give him the exact location of Area C1, he had requested details of the reports or at least the code so that he could follow the progress of the expedition for himself. Finally: He asked me to question Laroche about Lake of the Lion and report his reaction .
    â€œWhy did he want you to question Laroche about the lake?” I asked. “Did he say?”
    â€œNo, he didn’t say.