Collected Short Fiction, page 438
After all, she had managed things well. It would have been difficult for them to hide in America. Here, she supposed, there would be little danger. On the crown of this rugged range, one more boulder would hardly be discovered. She forgot that she was a brisk, efficient surgeon. She let herself dream. The disguised hulk of the fallen rocket was a tiny world, secure against invasion. She and the tall Outsider could find a kind of happiness here.
The dream ran on. In case some catastrophe did overtake America, in spite of Shane’s effort, she and Clayton might survive. The breaking of the Ring would make a new sea in the dry valley below them. Perhaps the deep would hold air enough so that they could breathe. In time they might emerge from the Friendship—a new Adam and another Eve.
Della bent and her lips brushed his gently.
“Thanks, beautiful.”
His faint whisper shocked her. Searching the pale mask of his face, Della bent and her lips brushed his.
“Do you really mind, Glenn?” she finished. “Do you mind so very much?”
“Don’t you worry, beautiful.” He tried to grin. “I didn’t really need to get back. Your bold American spy will be taken care of without any help from me.”
“What do you mean?” she whispered apprehensively.
“There’s a man named Barlow who wants my place in the Black Star,” his whisper explained. “I was playing him along until I could learn all about his plot.” Clayton’s pale lips smiled, as if deadly intrigue had been merely an exciting game. “Barlow, no doubt, will take care of Shane. It’ll be a good joke on both of them.”
Della Rand bit her lip.
“Oh, if I hadn’t smashed the rockets—”
“But you did, beautiful.” Clayton’s green eyes mocked her. “We’re stuck here together. Shane might be on another planet, for all the warning you can give him.” He grinned. “Do you mind—so very much?”
For answer, Della bent to kiss his pale lips lightly.
“Thanks, beautiful,” he murmured.
He closed his eyes, thinking. When the time came to leave the Friendship, he could manage it. Some rocket would pass in sight of them. He wouldn’t need the radio. A signal light would do. He smiled again, thinking how confused Barlow would be when the treacherous rat found he had murdered the wrong Clayton.
CHAPTER XIV
“Time’s up, Traitor!”
ON that busy wharf under the metal roof of New Dover, Atlantis Lee stiffened in Shane’s embracing arms. Her lips were cold to his. They drew away and the red-haired Secretary of New Britain spoke quietly.
“Let me go, Glenn.”
That was all she said, but the icy restraint of her voice seemed to cover something more than pain and anger. Her calm tone stung like a slap in the face. Shane released her and stepped back. He knew that the hard, brown features that Della Rand’s surgery had given him, the living mask of Glenn Clayton, were flushed with an unwonted color of confusion. But he forgot to wonder what Clayton would have done.
“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Please—”
“It’s a little late to be sorry now.” Her voice was painful as a whip. “I could never understand you, Glenn. Certainly I’ll never make an attempt again.”
She stepped away from him, so that heavy pig-eyed Captain Barlow stood almost between them. Her face was cold as marble and her violet eyes were dark with the shadow of some old hurt. Shane couldn’t understand Clayton, either. He was suddenly bewildered and angry at whatever Clayton had done to make this girl despise him so. But that feeling didn’t help. He had his masquerade to think about, his life and the safety of America.
“Sorry, beautiful.” He tried to grin Clayton’s hard, reckless grin. “You used to forgive me.”
It hurt him to see the wrath on her face, yet he knew that Clayton would have enjoyed it and he kept grinning. Her red head jerked angrily. The smooth column of her throat pulsed as she swallowed. She tried visibly to smooth the pain and the anger away.
“Rage is becoming to you, beautiful,” he commented lightly. “It sets a sparkle in your eyes.”
“Please, Glenn!”
Her voice was low and grave. With one little nod she seemed to dismiss everything that had happened. Her violet eyes flashed with a proud humility. A painful lump came into Shane’s throat. He wanted desperately to make peace, to get her forgiveness, to take away all her hurt. But he had to keep in character.
“Okay, beautiful.” He tossed her the thick gray envelope that held America’s offer of peace, of water in a fair exchange for oil and metals and power. It fell on the floor. He picked it up and gave it to her lazily. “This ought to make you happy.”
He stood admiring the unconscious grace of her hands as she tore open the gray envelope and anxiously unfolded the heavy stiff letterhead of the American Corporation Control Board. Her violet eyes drank in the message. It did make her happy.
“Glenn, it’s wonderful! I knew the Americans couldn’t be so bad as the Black Star claims. I knew they would be generous, if we would just give them a chance.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Glenn, I could kiss you!”
“Here I am,” he said.
AMAZINGLY she did kiss him.
She laughed and her warm lips lightly brushed his cheek. He didn’t dare take her in his arms again.
“Glenn, I could never understand you,” she repeated, her bewildered violet eyes searching his face. “You knew—you must have known—what this letter said and still you brought it to me.” Then a doubt was on her white face. “Or is this just one of your jokes?”
Shane forgot to grin.
“It isn’t a joke,” he said soberly. “The Americans are really willing to be friendly?”
“Of course they are,” he told her. “I think they would give us water to relieve our temporary distress, without any payment at all. But they do need oil and metals and power. They are anxious to open trade.” Beside him, Captain Barlow made an abrupt, angry movement. He said nothing, but his heavy, greasy face had a sullen look. Shane wished that Barlow hadn’t heard, wondered what he wanted, what he was waiting for. The girl herself looked surprised.
“Do you mean that, Glenn? You aren’t just trying to hurt me again?”
“Of course I mean it, beautiful.” Remembering that he was Clayton, he grinned. “Did you think I was a green-eyed monster?”
“Maybe I did,” she said gravely. She scanned his face again. He saw that the letter was trembling in her hands. “I can’t believe it! Will you come to the League? Will you tell them that?”
She waited anxiously for his answer. At Shane’s side, Captain Barlow cleared his throat. It was a noisy bark of warning. Shane hesitated. Didn’t Barlow have anywhere to go? Another thought made him shiver. He didn’t like the way Barlow clung to him. Now he thought he guessed the big man’s purpose.
It had seemed a little odd that Admiral Gluck had been so willing to grant Shane two weeks’ leave. His unexpected report about the decoherer must have precipitated a crisis in the plans of the Black Star, whatever they were. It was a little strange that Clayton, the one man who knew the most about America and that imaginary weapon, could be so readily spared—unless Admiral Gluck suspected something!
Looking at Barlow’s pig-eyed face, Shane tried not to shudder. Were they just giving him rope enough to hang himself? Was Barlow detailed to shadow him, to keep a record of all his slips and errors until the evidence was certain?
Slowly Shane turned back to Atlantis Lee. She was an ally. Besides, she was beautiful. It made his heart beat faster, just to look at her. He knew he loved her already. He wanted to tell her who he really was, yet he didn’t dare. Perhaps she wanted peace with America, but still she was a citizen of New Britain. He wondered if she wasn’t, unconsciously and unwillingly, still in love with Glenn Clayton. She couldn’t be expected to aid an American spy.
HE would have to tell her that it was he who had captured Clayton, that the Ring Guard had decided the prisoner must die before Shane left America. He was, in a way, responsible for Clayton’s death. He couldn’t tell her.
“Will you come, Glenn?” she asked urgently again. “Will you speak to the League?”
“Sure, beautiful.” He grinned. “I’ll tell them anything you like.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to say, but he had to keep in character. Within the limitations of his role, he was determined to do all he could to help the cause of peace. If trade were actually begun, before the only defense of America was found to be a lie, the disaster might be averted.
Atlantis bit her lips, annoyed.
“I’ll telegraph the delegates,” she said at last. “The League will meet at twelve tomorrow.” Her shoulders stiffened defiantly under the green tunic. “Perhaps the Black Star has taken the real power. Perhaps the League is just a shadow, but it still has a constitutional authority. For once I’ll take the risk of using it.” Her violet eyes were pleading. “If you will come, Glenn, really?”
“I’ll come,” Shane told her soberly.
She smiled and took his hand. Her grasp was firm and cool and it made his heart beat faster. Then she left him. Shane watched her go, with a dull ache in his throat. He was sorry she had gone.
Suddenly he was uncomfortably aware of Captain Barlow waiting beside him—waiting, he suspected, for him to make some fatal blunder. Shane didn’t know what to do next. He didn’t know where Clayton would stay in New Dover. He didn’t even know where the League would meet next day. Still Barlow waited, his piggy eyes watchful.
“Going my way?” Shane said desperately.
“All right:” The blue-jowled face was a heavy mask that betrayed no thought. “If you have anything to drink at the apartment.”
At least he knew now that Clayton had an apartment. It was cheering news, if Barlow would guide him to it. That would give him a chance to relax, if too many friends of Clayton’s didn’t unexpectedly turn up. After he got rid of Barlow, he ought to be able to learn a few things by studying Clayton’s papers and effects.
“There ought to be something.” He made a weary little gesture. “Glad to have you along, Barlow. I’m about all in today.”
“You aren’t acting yourself,” the heavy man agreed.
Again Shane tried not to shudder. He tried to hope that his apprehension had no base, but the double meaning in Barlow’s words seemed ominously clear.
Displaying a fatigue that he really felt, he let Barlow lead the way. Another elevator dropped them four levels. They stepped upon the moving floor of a corridor-street. At a corner they descended a stair, to another moving at right angles.
At last Barlow stepped off in front of a door and waited for Shane to open it. Shane had Clayton’s ring of keys. Fortunately the second one he tried happened to fit, but he thought that Barlow’s small animal eyes reflected new suspicion.
THE apartment was larger and more luxurious than he had anticipated. There were half a dozen spacious rooms. The chill of metal walls was relieved with tapestries. Deep-piled rugs, perhaps of some mineral fiber, covered the floors. Shane didn’t know where to look for a drink.
“Help yourself,” he told Barlow, “if you can find anything. I just want to rest.”
He dropped into a big chair, found he didn’t have to simulate exhaustion. Barlow went into another room. Presently he came back with two tall glasses. He cleared his throat and said:
“Don’t you think you’re going a little too far?”
Shane blinked and prevented himself from shivering. He managed to keep his hand steady as he accepted the drink.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “You’ll find out tonight.”
It sounded like a threat. Staring sullenly, Barlow drained his glass and wiped his thick lips on the back of a hairy hand. He stamped out of the room. Puzzled and worried, Shane locked the door behind him.
Shane began an anxious search for information. In the bedroom were several pictures of women, all different, all with endearing inscriptions. That was hard to understand, when there had been Atlantis Lee.
He paused in the dressing room to try on some of Clayton’s clothing. The garments didn’t fit exactly. The Outsider had been slightly larger, taller and straighten In far-off Ring City, making the plan, Shane had hardly thought of clothing. Now, when he was wondering what to wear when he spoke before the League tomorrow, the matter assumed an alarming importance.
The letters and other metal foil documents in a big desk revealed nothing new. Clayton must have hidden or destroyed every important document before he started on the adventure to America.
At last, behind a tapestry, Shane found the door of a concealed wall-safe. He caught his breath. Perhaps this held the evidence that would show Clayton’s connection with the Black Star, or something else equally revealing. But he was unable to open the combination lock. Tomorrow he would try to find a locksmith.
He settled down to study one of the odd metal foil newspaper rolls. The advertising gave him names of streets and stores and resorts, lists and prices of commodities, a thousand items that he might desperately need to know.
A heavy knock interrupted him. Tense to face a new emergency, Shane laid aside the roll and magnifier and unlocked the door. Barlow thrust himself into the room, followed by four nervous men in brown. They all wore paralysis guns. Barlow’s blue-jowled face was damp with perspiration.
“Sorry to disturb you.” His voice was hoarse and uneasy. “Just a routine matter.” His trembling hands pushed out a rolled sheet of gray metal foil. “If you’ll just put the Black Star Seal on this warrant.”
Shane blinked and gulped.
“The Seal?” He caught himself and tried to conceal his astonishment. With narrowed eyes he surveyed the sweating men again. “For a routine matter, you all look pretty excited.”
Barlow thrust the rattling sheet at him.
“It’s no secret that you are leader of the Black Star. No secret to us.” His piglike eyes glittered anxiously. “You keep the Seal here?”
Shane swallowed again and tried to stop the room from spinning. This was astounding. Clayton himself was the secret leader of the Black Star!
FOR a moment that seemed incredible. If Clayton had such power, why hadn’t he sent some subordinate on the dangerous mission to America? The answer was Clayton’s own character. He liked danger. Besides, it was possible that the prestige won by his successful preliminary Expeditions had helped earn the leadership.
Shane bit his lip. It was no wonder that Clayton had refused to talk about the Black Star. If Shane had known this, he might have been able to assume that power for himself. Now, as he faced the uneasy ominous faces of the men in brown, it seemed too late.
“Where’s the Seal?” demanded Barlow.
That was what Shane also wanted to know. In all his searches of this apartment, the Friendship and Clayton’s own person, he hadn’t found anything that could be the Seal. Of course it might be in that safe, but Clayton more likely had hidden it so cleverly, he would never find it at all in the time these men would give him. Shane’s eyes challenged Barlow.
“It seems to me you’re a little too curious about where I keep the Seal. This looks like a ruse to get your hands on it.” He glanced briefly at the metal foil document. “What is it?”
Barlow wet his lips and blinked his small animal eyes. Two of the men stepped alertly to his side. The others moved behind Shane. Their hands stayed near their guns.
“We have information that Atlantis Lee is calling a special meeting of the League.” Barlow’s voice was flat and ominous. “She is plotting to deal with our enemies in America, in defiance of the Black Star.”
“On the contrary,” Shane said, “she told me about this meeting. I am going to attend it myself. What is that document?”
Barlow glared at him.
“This is a warrant for the arrest of Atlantis Lee, on the charge of suspicion of treason.” The metal sheet rattled as he added: “The time has come for the Black Star to smash the last vestige of the League!”
Shane stepped forward.
“You knew I wouldn’t put the Seal to that!” He made his voice crack hard. “You knew I was going to speak at the League!”
Barlow flinched uneasily from his eyes.
“Let me tell you now,” Shane rapped. “The extreme policies of the Black Star are going to be changed. I have learned that the Americans are willing to be friendly. We can get far more by peaceful trade than by war. I’ll never order and never allow another attack on the Barrier!”
Barlow crumpled up the warrant and threw it on the floor.
“That’s what we wanted to know.” His voice was a tense, hurried croaking. “The aim of the Black Star, from the very beginning, has been to destroy the Barrier. It is as important to avenge ourselves on those who shut us Outside as it is to All our own seas again. Any man who opposes that purpose is a traitor to the Black Star.”
His sweaty face made an uneasy grimace.
“I’ve been planning to get you, Clayton,” he rasped, “ever since you beat me out of the leadership. But I never hoped you’d lay yourself so wide open. I used to think you were clever, but your time’s up, traitor!”
CHAPTER XV
Life Was a Dream
DELLA RAND, aboard the Friendship, had fired the bullet with a surgeon’s knowledge. After the disguised rocket fell upon that bleak volcanic summit, which once the Atlantic had covered, she had repaired Glenn Clayton’s wound with a surgeon’s careful skill. She couldn’t fail.
The tall Outsider’s hard, green-eyed grin moved her with a feeling that was as strong as her love for America. Always she had risen to emergencies. A calm confidence ruled her hands. She had no fear of blunders.
The wound healed swiftly. Sooner than she had expected, Clayton was able to leave his bunk for tiny expeditions about the disabled machine. He showed no great concern about the smashed rocket-tubes.
