The Lanson Screen - Arthur Leo Zagat - E-Book

The Lanson Screen E-Book

Arthur Leo Zagat

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Beschreibung

The Lanson Screen by Arthur Leo Zagat is a gripping tale of espionage, science, and intrigue that plunges readers into a world where technology can control minds and determine the fate of nations. Dr. Lanson has developed a revolutionary device capable of broadcasting powerful mind-altering signals, but in the wrong hands, it could be a weapon of unimaginable terror. As governments and shadowy organizations vie for control of the Lanson Screen, a small group of unlikely heroes must navigate a deadly web of deceit and danger to prevent global catastrophe. Will they succeed in stopping those who seek to wield this dangerous power, or will the world fall under its spell? This thrilling story will leave you questioning the power of technology and the cost of knowledge.

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Seitenzahl: 39

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

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Table of Contents

The Lanson Screen

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

Landmarks

Table of Contents

Cover

The Lanson Screen

Thrilling Wonder Stories
By: Arthur Leo Zagat
Edited by: Rafat Allam
Copyright © 2024 by Al-Mashreq Bookstore
First published in Thrilling Wonder Stories December 1936
No part of this publication may be reproduced whole or in part in any form without the prior written permission of the author

CHAPTER 1

Harry Osborn, First Lieutenant U. S. Army Air Corps, banked his wide-winged bombing plane in an easy, swooping curve. In the distance New York's white pinnacles caught the sun above a blue-gray billowing of twilight ground-haze. A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips as he glanced overside, saw a train crawl along shining rails and come to a halt. Brown dots appeared from the passenger car behind its locomotive and clustered in ordered confusion about the other oblong that completed the train's complement.

What appeared from his altitude to be a rather large pocket-handkerchief slid from the car and spread out on the grass. A metal tube glittered in the sun, came into motion, swivelling to the east. It looked like a cap-pistol, but Osborn knew it to be an eighteen-inch railroad gun.

He slanted down through lambent air. The terrain below was flat, lushly green. It was entirely vacant save at the very center of its five-mile sweep of marsh. Here a small hut was visible in the middle of a hundred-yard area ringed by a water-filled moat.

Two manikins stood before the structure. One was clothed in o.d., the other in black. The civilian's tiny arms gesticulated, and he went into the house. The army man moved sharply into an automobile and sped in the direction of the waiting artillery train.

"Five minutes to zero, Harry." The voice of Jim Raynes, his observer, sounded in the pilot's earphones, "What's the dope?"

"Target practice, Jim. We're to spot for the railroad gun and then we're to bomb. The target is—Good Lord!"

The plane wabbled with Osborn's sudden jerk on its stick, steadied. "Harry!" Raynes exclaimed. "What is it, Harry?"

"The target's that house down there. There's a man inside it. I saw him go in."

"The hell! What's the big idea?"

"Search me. There's no mistake though. Orders say 'absolute secrecy is to be maintained by all participants in this maneuver as to anything they may observe...'"

"Maybe it's an execution. Something special. Maybe-"

"... and this order is to be obeyed to the letter no matter what the apparent consequences," Osborn finished. "General Darius Thompson signed it personally, not 'by direction.' Tie that, will you?"

"I can't. But-it's orders."

Osborn levelled out, got his eyes focussed on the astounding target.

Suddenly there was nothing within the watery circle. Not blackness, or a deep hole, or anything similarly startling but understandable. It was as if a blind spot had suddenly developed in his own visual organs so that he could not see what there was at that particular point, although the wide green expanse of the swampy plain was elsewhere clear and distinct.

* * *

A key scraped in the door of a third-floor flat on Amsterdam Avenue. Junior's two-year-old legs betrayed him and he sprawled headlong on the threadbare rug in the little foyer.

John Sims bent to his first-born, tossed him into the air, caught him and chuckled at the chubby, dirt-grimed face. He'd been tired as the devil a moment before. But now—

June Sims was flushed from the heat of the kitchen range, but her black hair was neat and a crisply ironed house-dress outlined her young slim figure. Junior was a warm bundle against her breasts as she kissed John.

"You're early, dear. I'm glad."

"Me too. What's for supper?"

"Pot roast." June's hazel eyes danced. "Johnny, mother phoned. She's going to come over tomorrow night to take care of Junior so that we can go out and celebrate your birthday."

"That's right! Tomorrow is May ninth!"

"Yes. Listen, I have it all planned. 'Alone With Love' is playing at the Audubon. We'll see that, and then splurge with chow mein. I've saved two dollars out of the house money just for that."

"You have! Maybe you'd better get yourself a bat. I saw an ad-"

"Nothing doing. We're going to celebrate! You go downtown." And so on, and on...

"They're starting, Harry."