The Last Secret Weapon E-Book

John Russell Fearn

• Herausgeber: Wildside Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 101

Beschreibung

The Last Secret Weapon

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

THE LAST SECRET WEAPON, by John Russell Fearn

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

THE LAST SECRET WEAPON, by John Russell Fearn

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 1941 by John Russell Fear.

First published in Marvel Stories, April 1941, under the pseudonym Polton Cross.

Reprinted with the permission of the Cosmos Literary Agency.

Published by Wildside Press LLC.

wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com

CHAPTER 1

The shabby old man with the shuffling walk and untidy gray hair moved slowly through the corridor of marble and gilt, carrying a small valise in his hand. His tired, wrinkled eyes seemed bewildered by the infinity of elevators and moving stairways he encountered. There were neon indicators everywhere, pointing the way. He looked his relief when a trim, uniformed girl took his arm and led him into the reception office.

“Dr. Mane? Of course!” She smiled and went through a black door marked “Private.” In less than a moment she returned. “Go right in, doctor. Mr. Kronheim is expecting you.”

“Thank you—so much.”

The old man shambled in and stood blinking round an office of extraordinary size. He started nervously as the door closed behind him. He felt and looked insignificant amidst the leather chairs, desks, and cabinets.

“Hello there, Dr. Mane—come along in!” The voice that boomed across the expanse was powerful, but its cordiality sounded artificial.

Mane went onwards to the desk and grasped the fleshy paw held out to him. For a moment or two he stood studying the man whom nearly everybody knew and whom a good many feared. Rolf Kronheim was the square-headed, immaculately dressed master of the Kronheim Investment Trust—and the Trust did not limit itself to this vast Wall Street edifice either.

“Sit down, doctor. Have a cigar.” Kronheim pushed the silver box across with fingers that sprouted diamonds.

“No—no, if you don’t mind. I don’t smoke.” Mane sat down wearily to continue his survey. He was not deceived by the effusiveness. Rolf Kronheim was no philanthropist. His glacier blue eyes and merciless mouth were proof enough of that. These, added to an intelligent head from which the gray hair had nearly entirely departed all contrived to portray a man of strength and pitiless ambition.

For his part Kronheim decided his visitor was a fool, like the rest of the crackpot scientists who took up his time. But on this occasion there was just a chance… Physically weak: mentally powerful. That was Dr. Mane.

“You mentioned…bombs,” Kronheim said suddenly.

“Yes—a new type of bomb,” Mane nodded. “I’ve tried to interest various people, even the Government, but without success.”

“Unimaginative, I suppose?”

“On the contrary. They say my invention is too barbaric to use and refer me to the Protocol of Geneva… But I need money, Mr. Kronheim—desperately! My daughter and I are nearly destitute.”

Kronheim raised his eyebrows. “Too barbaric, eh?” he murmured. “The sentiment of our defense ministers and firms is astounding… Fortunately I am not a man of foolish emotions, doctor. If you have something good I can use it. If not… Suppose you demonstrate?”

He got to his feet and led the little scientist into the adjoining laboratory. A white clad expert with sharp gray eyes and fluffy brown hair came up expectantly.

“Dr. Mane, meet my scientific advisor Professor Standish. I rely on his judgment implicitly.”

Standish shook hands and smiled unemotionally. He said briefly, “I see some hundreds of so called scientific inventions in a month, not one of which is any use. Fortunately for you there is a war on in Europe so a new type of bomb may be marketable.”

“Possibly,” Mane agreed quietly. “My bombs sink through the ground as a stone sinks through water. They explode where you want and when you want. That, perhaps, is marketable?”

Standish started to proclaim his disbelief in such a bomb until Kronheim cut him short.

“Take no notice of him, doctor. I guess he’s soured with so many scientific disappointments… Now, the place is yours. Get busy.”

He sat down, fat legs crossed, and pulled at his cigar. Standish stood watching with an eyebrow raised in doubt.

* * * *

With the methodical care of a man accustomed to handling dangerous articles Mane extracted a small metal ball from his valise. He looked around for a moment and finally saw an empty metal table supported on a single pillar bolted to the floor.

“Is that table pillar solid?” he inquired.

“Why…yes,” Kronheim admitted, gazing in wonder.

“Thank you. Now watch carefully, please. This may spoil your table but it is worth it for the demonstration…”

Mane pulled a small pin out of the metal ball and then put the ball on the table top. Immediately the metal sphere glowed slightly and began to sink rapidly out of sight. The hole it made closed up again with a slight suck of air and the tabletop was once more smooth. Three minutes or so passed, then there was a dull report. The pillar of the table exploded with moderate violence and toppled the structure to the floor.

Kronheim jumped to his feet and strode over with Standish to where Mane stood pondering.

“What the devil did you do?” Standish demanded.

“The model bomb sank through the solid metal and exploded at the predetermined point at the base of the pillar,” Mane said modestly. “Had I wished I could have sunk it right through this building.”

“A self-sinking bomb?” Standish hazarded, incredulous.

“Able to sink to any required depth by simply adjusting the mechanism.”

Kronheim took a deep breath and looked sharply at his advisor. Standish nodded quietly, but he looked puzzled. Had he not known the table pillar was solid steel he could have put the demonstration down to a clever conjuring trick.

“Just how do you explain it, doctor?” he asked, musing.

“It’s a simple idea,” Mane shrugged. “I’ll outline it to you, but of course I’m retaining the exact details until we see if we can come to terms… First of all, anything must move downwards towards to the earth’s center because of the law of gravitation. This particular idea began when I watched a stone sink in a lake one day. Suppose, I asked, something could be invented to sink through solids? Suppose a form of explosive able to blow up at any depth without previous drilling? I figured it would be immensely useful in laying foundations, opening up mines—”

“Quite, quite,” Kronheim said impatiently. “But the explanation?”

“Well, I devised a small mechanism.” Mane opened the hemispheres of an unused model bomb and pointed to the intricate internal workings. “You, Professor Standish, may follow the idea. Solids are composed of atoms, and atoms are miniature solar systems. In other words, if you picture them from a sideways angle, they are flat. But this flatness points in all directions. It is not organized. Because of this no solid can fall through another: no two solids can be said to occupy the same space at the same time…”

“Right so far,” Standish acknowledged briefly.

“Atoms have poles,” Mane resumed, “but they point in all directions. I figured that by magnetism I could make them all point in one direction! There are magnets in this bomb, as you see…”

Standish said slowly, “In which case you would make the atoms all flat—parallel—so that they would block only about fifteen percent of the space they occupied in the disordered form?”

“That’s it,” Mane nodded. “That slight resistance causes my bomb to sink slowly and not immediately. The force of gravity which of course operates under all conditions draws the bomb downwards and the bomb’s magnets straighten the atomic formations on the journey. Hence nothing can bar it and it just sinks. In short, it is a case of passing one solid through another and the moment the bomb has passed and the magnetism has gone the atoms disorder again leaving the ordinary solidity. That is why there was no bore left in the table stand where the bomb traveled: the steel atoms had reformed to cover all traces of its passage.”

“Amazing…” Kronheim whispered. “Positively amazing!”

He seemed inordinately fascinated by the idea. Suddenly seeming to make up his mind he caught Mane by the arm.

“Come into my office, doctor. There are details to talk over. Financial details,” he purred, now as friendly as a well-filled tiger.

Mane nodded his untidy gray head and scooped up his case.

“I—I thought you might like it, Mr. Kronheim—”

“Like it! Man alive, it’s colossal! Sit down, won’t you…? Now…” Kronheim flopped at his desk and pressed a button. Then he said, “I said you could name your own figure, doctor. Within reason, of course,” he added, grinning mirthlessly.

“I—I thought, perhaps—one million dollars for exclusive rights of the Mane Bomb.” Mane looked half scared at his own suggestion.

* * * *

Kronheim did not even hesitate. “A million it is—and you shall have your check before you leave this office…” He looked up as Val Turner, his young personal secretary came into the room. He looked more like a champion wrestler than a secretary. He was blond-headed, massive shouldered, hazel-eyed. There had been moments when his secretarial work had been merged into that of bodyguard.

“Turner, make out a check for a million dollars and a contract,” Kronheim said. “Usual thing—entire rights. Quick as you can and I’ll sign both.”

“Yes, sir.” Val Turner glanced at the scientist, then went back into his own adjoining room.

“I suppose,” Kronheim said, “you’ve got this bomb patented? The patent rights automatically become mine by our contract.”

“I could never afford the patent,” Mane answered quietly. “I have very little money, Mr. Kronheim. That—that won’t upset things, will it?”

“On the contrary!” Kronheim gave a grim smile.

Mane began to fumble with his valise. “I have here all the details, the scientific prints, samples of the magnetic bars, everything. You can soon work out the details.”

“Take them over, Standish…” Kronheim motioned to the scientist as he came in from the laboratory.

“You can probably see why other people thought the idea would be barbaric if used for warfare?” Mane murmured. “My bombs could be dropped anywhere and leave no trace until they blew up. I didn’t invent them for that reason, though—”

Val Turner came back with papers and check in hand. In a moment Kronheim appended his signature to both and stood watching Mane’s thin hand clutching the pen.

“It is not often I meet a real scientist, doctor,” he said at last, handing over the check. “Drop in again—whenever you please. Turner, see the doctor safely out of the building.”

Mane gathered up his empty case and hat. “Thank you, Mr. Kronheim, over again. You don’t know what this money will mean to Gloria and me. We’ve been so poor and—

“Of course—of course…” Kronheim beamed the old man and the secretary from the room, watched the door close. When he turned once more his smile had broadened into a taut line across his face.

“Well, Standish? It’s genuine, of course?”

“The real thing. The simplest and yet the most brilliant invention of its kind I have ever seen. It was worth all of that million dollars.”

Slowly Kronheim said, “Believe it or not, that old fool has no patent for the invention.…”

“No record of his ever having invented it, you mean?”

“That’s just what I mean.” Kronheim sat down and gazed at the material and plans Mane had left behind. “Like manna from heaven!” he breathed. “Bombs that leave no trace! The supreme means of finishing our campaign and tearing this blasted country wide open. We have the agents, from Maine to California: the European rings and societies are ready to go to work the moment I give the order… We can sow the country with these invisible death dealers! Thousands of them, manufactured in my own industrial works and with the infinite money supply of the Cause. We have fought hard to smash the neutrality of America, Standish—and at last an American brings the means of really doing it. I guess it’s rather ironic.”

“I’m afraid I don’t concern myself with philosophies, Kronheim,” Standish replied. “I’m a European scientist and am prepared to destroy democracy at any price. As a scientist I will work to that end: as a man I rather deplore the vicious cunning of this invention. However, we have got to see something for a million dollars.…”