"Pedro says men come up the ledge," Rozeno said. "They must be from the boat. We must go to meet them. It will be a great pleasure to them. Come, Ulnar. Come, Bill." He moved toward the door.
Parker was across the room inquick strides, catching Rozeno's arm. "You can't do it, Father Rozeno. Those men who are coming up the ledge mean to kill."
"My son!" Hurt showed on the priest's face. "Surely you do not know what you are talking about!"
"But I do know!" Parker almost shouted the words. Quickly, desperately he tried to explain the situation to Rozeno. To his growing horror, he saw no comprehension in the old priest's eyes. Slowly Parker began to realize that this old man was so gentle and so kind himself that he could not comprehend even the thought of anyone else being—evil!
"You may stay here, if you wish, my son, but Ulnar and I will go speak to these people who are coming up the ledge. Come, Ulnar."
His face glowing at the thought of meeting new people, the priest moved from the room. Ulnar grunted once, a hot, savage sound, then followed Rozeno like a dog following its master.
Effra started to follow them.
Parker caught her arm. "Please, at least you stay here. Understand me now if you never understood me before. Is there a window slot from which the ledge can be seen?"
"Yes."
"Then take me to it. Quickly!"
From the slot, Parker could see a section of the ledge. Two men were crawling along it, advancing as cautiously as scouts trying to surprise an outpost. Parker had never seen either of them before but their faces confirmed everything Mercedes had said—they were thugs, killers. Thrusting the pistol through the slot, the pilot took careful aim, pulled the trigger.
The thunder of the gun rang through the room, echoed across the island. The bullet knocked rock chips into the face of the lead man. He recoiled as if he had been stung. The Tommy-gun in his hand spouted lead blindly at the face of the cliff. The second man spun around—began shooting blindly.
Parker moved away from the slot, listened to the rattle of the guns outside. He could distinguish the heavy thud of the Tommy-gun, the sharper crack of the carbine, but other weapons were also firing. "They've got men with high-powered rifles posted in the tree down below."
He glanced from the slot. The men had disappeared from the ledge. As he moved back, a slug whined into the room. Mercedes cowered against the wall. Effra remained cool and poised. She was looking at Parker. "Haven't I met you somewhere before?" She seemed completely unaware of the rifle bullet that had just screamed through the slot.
"I—" Parker caught himself. There was agony in him. What good would it do if she did, finally, remember who he was, who she was? What they had once been to each other? He had three old men, and two women, and himself, with which to defend Montezuma's treasure against Johnny Retch, who had a small army of trained killers at his back.
What chance did they have? Johnny Retch, even if given Montezuma's gold, would not leave anyone alive except possibly Mercedes and Effra.
"Do—do you know anything we can do to stop those men?" Parker said.
Light seemed to come into Effra's eyes.
"We might—we might use the Jezbro!"
From the shelter of the trees, Johnny Retch operated like a general in charge of a force of Commandos engaged in attacking a miniature Gibralter. He was a very deliberate general. When the first shot from a slot in the cliff had driven the two men downward, he met them at the bottom of the ledge, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a sub-machine gun in his hands. "Okay, boys, go back on up."
"There's a guy in there with a gun," one of the two protested. "He's inside and we're outside. We're sittin' ducks for him."
"We're covering the slots with rifles in the trees."
"But—" Neither of the men wanted to go up that ledge again. They might be hardened killers but they did not like the idea of facing a gun they could not see.
"Go on back up, boys," Retch said. He lifted the muzzle of the gun he held.
"But—"
"Either go back up or you'll stay down here a long time!"
They went back up the ledge. Retch retired to the shelter of the trees and watched.
No shots came until they reached the mouth of the tunnel leading into the cliff. There, one of the men was killed. He fell backward from the ledge, screaming as he turned over and over.
The falling man broke his way through the top of a tree and sprawled thudding on the ground. He did not move after he hit. Retch did not waste a second glance on him.
Muffled but clearly audible, the blasting roar of the machine gun came from the tunnel.
"He got in," Retch said. "Okay. Two more of you go up."
Two more men went up the ledge.
The entire population of the village had gathered to watch this storming of the cliff. They regarded Retch with wonder and with awe. Some of these men had been pirates in their day, they had known how to loot a tall ship, to kill its crew, to take over any wealth and any women it happened to carry.
Watching Retch, they discovered they had been amateurs in the fine art of attacking and killing. They had needed a man from the modern world to show them how the job ought to be done. They were greatly impressed, Gotch most of all.
Waving his sword, Gotch explained what he would do to that black priest, Rozeno, and to that cowardly Indian, Ulnar. Of all the listening group, only Peg-leg protested.
"Yeah, you'll get them all right—if the Jezbro don't get you first!" Peg-leg said.
Retch overheard the words. "Come here, Peg-leg, I want to talk to you."
The old sailor stumped his wayto where Retch stood.
"Aye, Cap'n." He saluted. A look of surprise appeared on the old sailor's face as the first heavy slug hit him. As the second, third, and fourth slugs hit him, the expression of surprise became one of agony. He fell without a sound.
Retch stood looking down at him.
The group was silent. Gotch hastily lowered his sword.
"I don't want to hear any more superstitious talk," Retch said. "There are a lot of funny things here on this island but there is nothing to be afraid of—exceptthis!" He patted the stock of the stumpy little gun he held. "And there's enough stuff up there to make all of us rich; we'll have everything we can ever want." A glow crept into Retch's eyes as he spoke. They glowed with a yellow color and the yellow seemed to come out of his eyes and spread over his face. He glanced down at Peg-leg.
"Dump him into the sea," he said, walking away.
The two men climbing the ledge reached the opening. They stopped there and apparently held a conference with the man who was already inside. They went inside. A few minutes later, one appeared at the opening.
"You can come on up now," he yelled, waving his gun. "All secure here."
"Gotch!"
"Yes, Cap'n."
"Come on."
Gotch went up the ledge with Retch. He went in shivering fear which he tried desperately to conceal.
"What the hell are you scared of?" Retch snarled at him.
"Nuthin', nuthin', Cap'n. Nuthin'."
"You yellow-livered—" Retch stopped in midsentence. A sound was in the air, the cheeping of a sleepy bird. It was a tiny sound, fragile, distant, far-away, almost too weak to register on the ears. Hearing it, Retch jerked his eyes to the sky, seeking the source.
Gotch threw himself flat on the ledge.
"The Jezbro!" Gotch gasped. "God—God—"
Looking at the sky, Retch caught a glimpse of something moving there. It looked like a bird, but it was like no bird he had ever seen in his life. It was more like shadow—a darkness that had a darting elusive silver color about it.
Like a swooping hawk, it was diving toward the ground, aiming at the group clustered in the trees at the spot where the ledge began to rise up the face of the cliff. As it dived, the cheeping sound of a sleeping bird was becoming a flooding blast of wild harp notes.
"The Jezbro!" Gotch wailed.
The Jezbro dived at the men on the ground. They heard it, saw it; they scattered through the trees like frightened chickens fleeing from a hawk.
The Jezbro selected a victim. Retch caught a glimpse of long, cruel talons extended; saw the man grasped in them. The man screamed as the talons touched him, tried to throw himself flat, tried to jerk away from them. Huge wings fluttered, beating the air. The man did not escape. The talons held. The beating wings lifted him.
Wild notes flooded outward. There was triumph in the music now. Huge wings beat the air. The Jezbro climbed up above the trees. Held firmly in the extended talons was a fully grown man.
Watching, Johnny Retch felt panic tumble through him, panic that was like a sudden touch of an ice cold hand. They had warned him about the Jezbro. Old Peg-leg had tried to tell him. Gotch had trembled in fear. They had all insisted that there wassomethinghere that did not belong in the world as he knew it.
He had laughed at them, he had called them superstitious fools. To him, there was nothing that was not of this world.
Nor was there now, when the moment of wild panic had passed. As the Jezbro swept upward through the air, rising along the face of the cliff, Retch jerked up the Tommy gun.
Smoke and lead blasted from the muzzle. The Jezbro was unharmed. Taking careful aim this time, Retch fired again, a furious blast of rattling sound.
The Jezbro swerved, the harp notes missed a beat.
From the suddenly loosened talons a figure plummeted downward, screamed as it fell, stopped screaming as it crunched against the ground.
The Jezbro circled in the air. It rose upward, swooped. Huge wings flapped, a tail structure was extended. From the gaping, extended mouth, a scream arose. The Jezbro seemed to leap toward the summit of the sky.
A flash of light as brilliant as the explosion of a miniature atom bomb flared for a brief second. Thunder clapped, rolled around the horizon; echoed back. In the distance the veil that circled the island shimmered and twisted as if it was about to collapse. It righted itself.
Except for a puff of swiftly dissipating white vapor, the air was clear. Where wild harp notes had once flooded now was silence. Where a creature that had once looked like a giant bird had flapped through the air now there was nothing.
On the ledge, Johnny Retch wiped sweat from his face. From his pockets, he methodically refilled the almost empty clip of the gun. He looked down at Gotch, who was sitting up.
"You killed the Jezbro!" Gotch was whispering. His eyes were searching the sky as if he still did not believe what he had seen happen.
"Sure," Retch answered. "I don't know what the hell it was, but it could be killed. Anything can be killed, Gotch. Remember that." The sting of acid crept into his voice. "Get up. We're going on up the ledge."
"By God, Johnny, you can do anything!" Gotch spoke. He rose with suddenly renewed confidence. "Wait'll we get to them—" He looked up the ledge toward the mouth of the tunnel.
Effra was seated in the operator'schair in front of the complex control panel that resembled the key board of a strange organ. She had been watching an image move in the screen directly in front of her eyes.
This image—it had been that of a great bird—had suddenly vanished.
"The Jezbro was destroyed!" she whispered. "The core of it was struck. When that happens, the complete projection is torn to pieces!" Her face was white with strain.
Parker took his eyes off the screen where he had been watching something that he did not pretend to understand.
"Sometimes they are very difficult to control," Effra continued, her voice a whisper. "Once set in motion, they seem almost to achieve life of their own. I did not send the Jezbro against the men on the ground, I sent it against the man on the ledge, against this Retch. But—" her voice faltered.
"I saw it get away," Parker said. There was turmoil in his mind, confusion. He was in a place where miracles came to life. The secret of the ability to walk on the water lay here in this room. Effra, in swift sentences had explained to him that the men who walked on the water carried little pieces of metal in their pockets; pieces of metal which increased tremendously the surface tension of the water where they stepped on it. She had also told him that Ulnar, working this equipment, hadvondeledhis helicopter, had sent out a tiny Jezbro that had struck at the ship, wrecking it. The Jezbro, the secret of the men walking on the water, had come from this room. The striking of the Jezbro was to Ulnar the act ofvondel. Even the veil that surrounded the island was generated here; in the power being generated in the slowly circling pool of mercury; power that was changed and modified by the other equipment.
Here was the heart and the secret of the magic of this island; here even time was set aside.
Ulnar poked at Effra, grunted harshly. "I know," the girl said quickly. "In just a minute."
Ulnar grunted again. He hovered over her like some massive brooding spirit. He was eager to get his hands on the control board but his old fingers were no longer sufficiently flexible to play on that key board the tune that had to be played.
"Pater noster—Our Father—" In the silence came Rozeno's voice as he knelt in prayer. Bewildered and hurt and horrified, Rozeno and Ulnar had come back into the room to find Parker and Effra and Mercedes already there. Mercedes knelt beside him.
Pedro thrust his head through the opening behind them. "Him two more men, him man that kill Jezbro, him still coming up ledge."
"That's Johnny Retch," Parker said. "He's still coming. And there are probably others already inside here, looking for us in the rooms and corridors. We've got to move, Effra."
"I know, Bill." Her fingers started toward the control board, drew back. "I called you Bill. Is that your name?"
"Yes."
"It's a nice name."
"But now we must hurry," Parker said. As he spoke, Ulnar grunted a single sound that set the girl into motion.
Her fingers went to one of the little statuettes, an eagle, a perfect thing in its way, a marvelous representation of the bird of prey. Effra had told Parker, in hasty sentences, how these images were made, deep down in the mountain, of a particular kind of metal that was almost weightless. He watched her slip the eagle into a slot, held his breath as her fingers darted across the key board.
A soft hum sounded—currents moving—a glow sprang into existence surrounding the little image. Slowly, the statuette began to glow with a silver light. The glow played over it, it shifted, changed, was one thing this instant, was something else the next instant. It looked like a moth emerging from a cocoon and becoming a butterfly. The tiny wings came free, the head moved.
The cheeping of a sleepy bird was in the room.
At the sound, a wave of cold from the deepest depths of space seemed to sweep over Parker. Here was magic beyond the comprehension of the mind. Only it wasn't magic, it was a scientific achievement of the highest caliber.
At the cheeping sound, Effra's fingers moved swiftly on the control board, playing a symphony that only she understood. The little eagle moved out of the slot, it spread its wings, they fluttered, it moved upward into the air of the room.
With each circling of the room, it grew larger. The cheeping sound became louder, there was a touch of harp music in it now. Effra's fingers moved like lightning over the control panel. The growing eagle seemed to pick up its controls, it swirled, circled, went through the open slot, went out of the room, and into the air outside. It was now the Jezbro.
Its image appeared on the screen. It shot high into the air, still growing. The scene on the screen revealed in miniature the whole island, the sea lapping its shores, the boat lying at anchor. Effra's fingers moved frantically over the controls. "This is one of the hardest things to do. They seem to be attracted to the sun, when first released. They struggle desperately to escape into space—There! I've got it under control."
The scene changed, became a group of men climbing the ledge. Parker saw these men suddenly jerk their heads toward the sky as they became aware of the Jezbro. He could imagine the fear that was shooting through them. They had seen Johnny Retch destroy the Jezbro, only here the Jezbro was again.
From their viewpoint, it had miraculously come back to life and was diving again upon them from the sky. Guns were fired upward. But these men did not have the cool, hard nerves of Johnny Retch, did not have his shooting eye. They missed. The Jezbro dived among them.
They scattered, screaming. Two went off the ledge, three raceddown it. One mounted to the sky to the triumphant harping of the Jezbro.
Parker felt a wave of relief flow through him. Here in the Jezbro was actually a most potent weapon, the means of stopping an attack. "Girl! You've done it!"
A second later he caught himself. "But Johnny Retch wasn't in that bunch. He must already be inside the cliff."
A gun roared three times inside the mountain. Footsteps faltered in the corridor outside. Pedro stumbled into the room. His face was a bloody mask.
"Him men inside." As he coughed out the words, he coughed out blood—and his life. He stumbled, caught himself, stumbled again, went down the way a dead man goes down, never to rise again.
"Qui est in Coelis—who are in Heaven—" Rozeno's voice whispered through the room. The only sound.
Ulnar moved slowly, stood beside Pedro. They had been master and servant but in the old days they had come up out of Mexico together, guarding a treasure. Ulnar moved to the wall, took down a heavy battle axe that hung there. "Time come for me," he said. "Me go meet men as my chief went to meet Cortez!" His eyes glinted.
"Wait!" Rozeno called. The priest was on his feet. "I have resolved the conflict in my soul. There comes a time when men, even good men, must fight against the forces of evil." From the wall he took a spear.
"I'll go with you two," Parker said. "In just a moment." From his jacket, he took one of the two pistols. Silently he passed it to Effra. "As a last resort, use it."
"But, Bill, there is still time—"
Parker didn't hear her. He was moving with Rozeno and Ulnar through another opening. "At least," Rozeno was saying. "We have this advantage. We know our way around here."
They moved silently, by side passages, through the rooms. "Find Retch," Parker whispered over and over again. "He's the heart and the core of this business. With him out of the way, we can handle the others."
"Do you see anybody, Pfluger?" Retch's voice came from somewhere.
"Naw. I think I got the old gink but he ducked out of sight somewhere."
"Retch is on the other side of the corridor," Rozeno whispered. "The man who spoke last is in the next room."
They slipped to the opening, peering into the next room. A man in there was crouching against the wall and watching the opening into the corridor. At the sight of the man, Ulnar went berserk. This was the man who had killed Pedro.
A shrill battle cry pealing from his lips, massive axe uplifted, Ulnar charged through the door.
The crouching man whirled. Smoke and thunder rolled from the gun in his hand. Ulnar had taken death wounds before he was halfway across the room. But death wounds or not, he kept going.
The heavy axe came down on the head of the man who was desperately trying to fend it off. The manwent down. For an instant, Ulnar's battle cry of triumph, wild and savage and fierce, roared through the honeycomb of passages, then went into silence with Ulnar, forever.
"Hey, Pfluger, what the hell happened?" Retch's startled voice came.
"We've got to cross the corridor to get at him," Parker whispered. "And there are other men in here somewhere."
"Listen!" Rozeno whispered.
Voices, a babble of sound, were coming from behind them.
"The men from the village," Rozeno whispered. "When they ceased fearing the Jezbro, they found the courage to come up here."
The babble grew stronger. Running feet moved along the corridor. Retch shouted somewhere, but the words were lost.
Rising above the other sounds was the cry of a woman—Effra.
Parker cursed beneath his breath as he ran. At the side entrance to the big room where the pool of mercury turned, he stopped, appalled.
The room seemed full of men. Some of them he recognized as coming from the village, others he had never seen before. From their appearance he judged they had come in the boat. Retch was coming through the door that led into the main corridor. The gun in his hands was centered on Effra, who crouched at the key board of the vast machine. There was a smile on Retch's face.
"Parker!" Retch's voice lifted in a yell. "Parker! I've got your girl. Come on out and give yourself up or I'll let her have it."
This was his moment of triumph, this was the moment when he won his victory. Parker, peering around the edge of the doorway, knew now that he had no way to go. If he moved into the room, and tried to shoot Retch, the man would certainly kill Effra in one wild burst of slugs as he turned the gun on the pilot.
"Parker!" Retch yelled again. A smile on his face, he waited for an answer.
Effra's fingers moved on the control panel. Mercedes got slowly to her feet. The men in the room were silent, waiting for an answer to Retch's command. Parker stood just outside the door, hesitant. No matter what he did, it seemed to him that there was only one answer.
Behind Retch, coming from the corridor, something moved. At the sight of it, Parker felt a flood of biting cold surge through him.
It was a puma—a gigantic puma. In its jaws, as it swung its head from side to side, dangled the body of a man it had killed in the corridor.
It was a Jezbro puma.
Once it had been a little image in a niche beside the machine from the old time. Then life had flowed into it, its own kind of life, now it walked as a huge ravening beast through the room where once it had been a tiny image.
The first man who saw it went dead white and slumped downward in a faint. The others saw it in almost the same instant. Pandemonium swept through the room. No man's nerves were proof against such a sight as this. Screaming menwere suddenly trying to fight their way out of a place that had suddenly become haunted.
The puma flowed into the room. Like Retch, it had yellow eyes. They glared now, with a burning light. There was a vague mistiness about this puma but there was also about it the appearance of solid reality.
Retch spun to face the menace coming from behind him. The gun in his hands spat flame and fury.
He had destroyed the Jezbro hawk. He would also destroy this Jezbro puma.
The puma dropped the man from its jaws. It crouched. It leaped straight at the gun spouting lead. Retch slid to one side. The puma missed. It hit the floor, slid, tried to turn as a frantic girl moved buttons on the key board.
The floor was slick, the padded feet did not grip. The tail of the sliding puma touched the pool of mercury. The tail smoked as if it was suddenly on fire.
The puma screamed. It seemed to be drawn into the pool. It was as if something in the pool caught the puma, held it, pulled it into the mercury.
It went out of sight, vanished. No puff of flame followed. The life that had animated it had come from this pool. Now the life had returned to its source.
The dazed Retch lowered his smoking gun.
Parker moved silently forward.
"Lay down the gun, Johnny Retch!" he said.
Retch seemed to stiffen. His back was to Parker. He did not attempt to turn.
"You called for me," Parker said. "Here I am. Drop the gun!"
Retch snarled, spun, dropping flat as he turned. His eyes were narrowed. They glared at Parker like twin flames of yellow hate. He tried to bring up the gun.
Something came through the air, something that he did not see. It grabbed his arms, clutched them with a fierce grip, screamed at him. Mercedes!
Retch, with one savage thrust, flung her aside. Again the two yellow eyes glared at Parker as Retch brought up the weapon that he held.
"You haven't licked me yet!" Retch screamed.
The gun in Parker's hand exploded.
Suddenly Retch had three eyes. One of them was in the middle of his forehead. It was round and blue.
He stood for a second, transfixed. Something had happened to him. He did not know exactly what it was. He had come here seeking Montezuma's treasure. He had it in the reach of his hand. But something had happened to him. What it was he did not quite know. Something—
He tried to lift the gun he held. His hands would not obey him. Or perhaps the gun had suddenly grown too heavy for him to lift. He could not raise it.
The yellow light in his eyes did not change. But suddenly he collapsed, went down, did not move.
Even after he was on the floor, his eyes remained fixed on Parker, glaring, yellow. Then, little bylittle, the yellow flames began to go out.
In the silence were two sounds. The first, Mercedes, whispering. "'Ave I paid my debt, Beel? I tried."
"You have paid it," Parker said.
The other sound was that of the old priest beginning the prayers for the dying. He had laid aside his spear. Now he was kneeling again, his voice lifting as he prayed even for those who had mis-used him.
Then there was another sound, voices shouting in the distance. The men who had run from this room were trying to regain their courage, trying to find the will to come back again.
Parker moved to the girl who sat at the key board.
"Effra, my dear, if you would—"
Catching his idea, she nodded. Her fingers lifted the image of an alligator from its niche.
Parker saw the 'gator waddle from this room of mystery and of magic, from this room of lost science, from this forgotten laboratory of a vanished race.
After the alligator, went a jungle cat, full of spit and scratch and the sounds of fury. After the cat went a jaguar, black, fanged, also with yellow eyes.
In the corridors the screaming stopped. Parker, listening, shuddered. He was glad he was not out in one of those corridors; one of the men who had tried to steal the treasure of Montezuma, one of the men who had followed Johnny Retch. Hell was walking through those tunnels—hell in the form of an alligator; hell in the form of a jungle cat; hell in the form of a jaguar with yellow eyes.
From the window slot, Parker watched men swarm out of the cliff. Some found the small boats, pushed out in them to the PT boat. Others swam. A jaguar went along the shoreline screeching at them. A jungle cat spat at them from the edge of the water.
On the boat, the anchors were hastily cast off. Powerful motors growled. Gathering speed, leaving a growing wake behind it, the boat drove itself into the veil, went out of sight.
Parker went back to the girl at the key board.
Her eyes came up to him. "Hello, Bill," she said.
"Effra?" he whispered.
"As I was sitting here, I remembered who you were—and who I am—Bill—Bill—" She came into his arms.
Hours later, on a balcony in front of one of the window slots, they still stood very close together. Rozeno and Mercedes were with them. Rozeno was speaking.
"Do you think, my son, that you can go out into the world, and contact the great men of this time, and bring them here one by one, so that we may build in this secure spot a group from which the lines of progress can flow out to all men in all the corners of the earth?"
"I can, Father," Parker answered.
"Unto all men—" Rozeno's lips moved in prayer. "Unto all men—"
THE END