"I will, but I think we'll get bumped anyway."
Morgan got into the truck and drove it slowly from the road, down through the trees, until they came to the Lancaster. Both men goggled at the ship parked there, and Farradyne, who had walked alongside with Roberts and Norma, let them look at it for a moment. Then he waved his gun. "Unload it," he said sharply.
It took them an hour to move the load from the truck to the ground, and Farradyne spent that hour in nervous watching. He could not trust them not to make a break, nor could he hope to explain. When the van was emptied, he faced Roberts against it and said, "Norma, tape Morgan's hands behind him; then Roberts'. Then we unload our cargo."
The two truckmen glowered as the conveyor belt came out of the cargo lock and the white hellflower blossoms tumbled along it to drop into the back of the van. Farradyne left them sitting there on the ground after the loading was finished. He and Norma went into the salon and he faced Brenner. "Better take this quietly," he said.
The radio made him pause:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the late news: the system-wide search for Charles Farradyne is hurrying to a close. Indications are now that the infamous love-lotus chief is hiding in the Lake Superior Region, and all forces are being hurried to that area to create the most leakproof dragnet in the history of man's man-hunts. A special session of the planning committee of the Solar Anti-Narcotic Department has been called to deal with the problem. Any information pertaining to Charles Farradyne may be delivered by picking up your telephone and calling Sand, One-thousand.
"This information is being disseminated freely. We know that Farradyne is listening to this broadcast, and the Sandmen have instructed all radio stations and networks to deliver the following announcement:
"To Charles Farradyne: A reward of fifty thousand dollars has been offered for your capture dead or alive. You cannot escape. The forces that are blanketing the Lake Superior Area are being augmented hourly by additional men andmatérielbrought in from all corners of the solar system. You will be arrested and brought to trial for your life. However, the reward of fifty thousand dollars will be turned over to you to be used in your own defense if you surrender at once."
Farradyne grunted. "Very tasty dish," he said sourly. "Very competent people you have, boys and girl. Someone really thought that one out most thoroughly. Can you picture me walking up to a patrol and saying, 'Fellers, I've come to give myself up so I can have the reward.' And then I'd go in, sure enough—on a shutter, and the patrol would divide the loot. To hell with you, we'll play it my way. Norma, go ahead."
Norma slipped off one high-heeled shoe and advanced upon Brenner. The enemy agent tried to shy away, but Farradyne went over and caught his head between the palms of the hands and held Brenner fixed. Norma swung the slipper and crashed the heel against Brenner's jaw.
Brenner slumped, and the heelprint on his jaw oozed a dribble of blood mixed with mud.
Farradyne slung Brenner over his shoulder and carried the inert man out. He propped Brenner in the helper's seat and handed Norma into the driver's seat. He stood on the running-board and watched Norma strip the tape from Brenner's wrists and replace it with fresh tape from the truck's own first-aid kit.
"The ankles too," he warned her. "You've got to cover up the tape-burns."
Norma taped Brenner's ankles. Then she looked up at Farradyne. "I'm shaky."
"I know," he said. "But you've got to hold yourself together until this gambit is played out."
She smiled wanly. "That's what's holding me together," she told him. "Charles, wish me luck?"
He leaned into the truck window and put his lips to hers. It was a very pleasant kiss, and while they both knew that this was their first kiss of real affection and mutual confidence, it lacked a compelling passion. But for the present it was satisfying, and complete.
Then Farradyne swung down from the truck with a wave of his hand and Norma put the big engine in gear with a grind that set his teeth on edge.
The truck turned onto the highway and roared off into the night.
Morgan said, "What do we do now?"
"We wait in the spacer," Farradyne replied.
XXVIII
They went up the landing ramp and into the salon; the truckmen stopped short as they saw Carolyn and the other pair.
"Quite a collection you have here," said Morgan. "Is this Carolyn Niles?"
"I am," replied Carolyn. "Aren't you going to do something about it?"
Morgan showed her his taped wrists. "Not in this garland."
Farradyne smiled and left them. He went aloft and returned the Lancaster to the lake. "Now," he said, "we'll wait it out."
Morgan shook his head. "With the net they've set up you'll never see your girl or your truck or your hellflowers again."
"Maybe I want it that way."
"Oh? Putting the finger on the bird you carted out of here?"
"Precisely."
"And how about the dame?"
Farradyne laughed. "In this cockeyed society of ours," he said, "even a streetwalker can rip her dress open, point at a man, and holler 'help!' and half of the community will start yelling 'Lynch the sonofabitch' without looking too hard at either of them. She'll get by, but it may go hard with him."
Morgan and Roberts were scornful, angry, and ready at any instant to do whatever they could to overcome him. Only the tape kept them from trying. But on Carolyn's face was an expression of mingled defeat and admiration. She knew as well as Farradyne that Brenner was in for a rough time.
Farradyne lit a cigarette and mixed himself a highball. Carolyn groaned and tried to flex the wrists that were secured to the arms of the chair. Morgan growled at the sight of her helplessness and asked if Farradyne had harmed her.
Her face took on a cynical smile. "I happen to be immune to love lotus," she said.
"Scorpions," said Farradyne, "are immune to their own poison."
Once again the radio music faded: "And here is the latest news on Charles Farradyne: within the past half hour the area of search has been narrowed down to a tiny ten-mile circle, by the interception of a moving van laden with love lotus. The arrest was made by a state highway patrol with the aid of a woman who gave her name as Norma Hannon.
"Miss Hannon was in a state of hysterical collapse after days of imprisonment at the hands of the love-lotus ring, brutal physical assault, and threats of being forced into love-lotus addiction. The driver of the truck was carrying a license made out to Walter Morgan, but information from the Bureau of Identification indicates that Morgan is also known as Lewis Hughes, a prominent teacher of Ancient History in a Des Moines school. During the struggle Miss Hannon succeeded in rendering the criminal unconscious by hitting him on the jaw with her slipper, after which she taped—"
Farradyne chuckled. "You see?"
Morgan grunted: "My license!"
Roberts cried: "Our truck!"
Carolyn said, "And what's it got you, Charles?"
"—the first-aid kit," went on the announcer. "Morgan or Hughes is being held on a John Doe warrant, charged with love-lotus possession, abduction, illegal restraint, assault and battery, and driving an interstate truck with an improper license.
"Miss Hannon collapsed after driving the truck to within sight of the dragnet set out for Farradyne. Her statement will be taken by the Sand Office as soon as she has recovered. The point of hospitalization has been kept secret by the Sandmen, who are now confident of an early arrest. Indications are that Hughes or Morgan (also known occasionally as Carl Brenner) has turned state's evidence and is willing to inform on his racket-boss Farradyne."
"Hah!" said Carolyn nastily.
"Did you a lot of good, didn't it, Farradyne?" snarled Morgan.
Farradyne ignored Morgan and spoke to Carolyn. "Unless Norma is being tended by someone of your gang, this is the end, baby."
She eyed him superciliously. "How long will they believe her after they discover she's a love-lotus addict herself?"
"She isn't. She's cured, remember?"
Carolyn laughed. "Everybody knows there is no cure."
"And how about our pal Brenner-Hughes-Morgan?"
"You leave me out of this!" snapped Morgan.
"Sorry," said Farradyne with a smile. "I didn't mean to include you, Walter."
Carolyn said in a confident voice, "Brenner is one of us. He is just as willing to die for our cause as—"
A searchlight swept across the lake and its light, refracted downward from the waves, caught Farradyne's eye. He left them in the salon and raced up the stairs to the control room. Through the astrodome, distorted by the water, Farradyne could see the headlamps of the big truck. The searchbeam crossed the water again and flashed ever so briefly on the slender rod of the antenna. The truck paused in its course, the beam swept the woody shore and stopped; then the truck turned and rumbled off through the trees.
The radio music died again. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to bring you a very unusual program. John Bundy, our special events newscaster, has joined the forces scouring the Lake Superior region for Charles Farradyne. Inasmuch as an early arrest is expected, and possibly a running gun battle, John Bundy will now take the air with an on-the-spot account. Mr. Bundy:
"Hello; this is John Bundy. Our convoy of trucks, men, guns, radar, and radio control resembles a war convoy. We have everything from trench knives to one-fifty-five rifles aboard as we scour the Northwoods for the criminal who has been so successful up to this time. We arrived at a point along Lake Superior which must be close to the point of Farradyne's operations, according to the information given us by the arrested truck driver. Sand and mud from Miss Hannon's shoes correspond to the district.
"Flying above us now are eight squadron bombers carrying heavy depth-charges, since Farradyne is believed to be hiding his spacecraft in the waters of Lake Superior. A submarine from the Great Lakes Geodetic Survey has been hastily equipped with some ranging sonar from the War Museum at Chicago and is seeking Farradyne's submerged spacecraft. It—"
There came a distant crash in the radio and seconds afterwards the Lancaster resounded with the thunder of an underwater explosion.
"One of the depth-charge patterns has been dropped," explained Bundy excitedly. "Perhaps this is—no, it is not. Sorry. The submarine has covered the explosion area and reported only an underwater mountain peak instead of a hidden spacecraft. Nothing will be left unsearched—"
A thin, pure, ping, of a pitch, so high it was at the upper limit of Farradyne's hearing, came and lasted for less than a tenth of a second. It came again in about twenty seconds, and repeated itself in twenty seconds, and again and again and again. The interval dropped; the volume of the ping increased noticeably until the singing tinkle, something like tapping a silver table knife on a fine glass goblet, was coming fast.
Ping! Ping! Ping!
Farradyne looked above and saw the sky-trails of jet bombers, making ghostly patterns in the night sky. There came another flash of the searchbeam against the antenna. Ping!Get through, wherever you are!
Along the shoreline something blossomed with an orange flash. Seconds later there was an eruption fifty yards from the Lancaster that shook the big ship hard enough to make the plates groan. A trickle of lake water oozed through the sealing of the astrodome.
The pinging came louder.
Underwater bursts racketed and flashed and hurled their gouts of force against the Lancaster, coming closer.
The radio was rambling on and on as John Bundy gave the world a blow-by-blow description of the action.
"—to those people who have stood out against the expenditure of monies for arms and training, I say they should witness this attack upon an enemy of society. They are evacuating the area, now. Farradyne is trapped and unless he surrenders within the next half hour, atomic weapons will be used. And then we will never learn the thoughts of the mind that has directed the decay of the moral fiber of our people. We will never know why a man, given the opportunities that many finer men have been denied, chose as his life's work—"
Carolyn laughed hysterically and Farradyne went below for a look.
Morgan and Roberts were waiting on either side of the door; they fell upon him and pinned him to the deck and held him there, and Carolyn stood above him gloatingly.
The Lancaster shook with the throb of depth-charges.
XXIX
Farradyne struggled against his captors. He'd been as blind a fool as he always had been, to let them sit there together. "Let me up!" he stormed. "Let me up so we can escape—"
"Shut the hell up!"
Farradyne struggled.
There was a blasting roar that stunned them all; it shook the Lancaster viciously. The trickle-sound of water through the astrodome was covered by the ear-splitting thunder, but when the tumult died the trickle had become a full stream that came running down the control room stairway in a cataract.
There came another blast, closer still. The lights flickered as the shock of the ship snapped the relays back and forth. Carolyn cried, "Hurry!"
The enemy pilot, lame and cramped from hours of being taped, struggled up the stairs. A moment later, deep in the ship, relays and circuit breakers clicked home.
Farradyne roared, "You fools! Stop that guy aloft! Why do you think I sent Norma Ha—"
Morgan cuffed him backhanded and drove his head hard against the deck. His senses reeled and the sheer physical shock of the next burst made his head roll from side to side.
An upsurge of pressure told Farradyne that the enemy pilot had started to take off from the lake bottom. Flashes of bursting explosive winked at the ports; then the blasts came less shockingly loud as the Lancaster hiked into the open air.
Farradyne fought himself awake. "Let him escape and we—"
Carolyn's shrill laugh drowned his weak voice.
The radio went on, as accursedly unanswerable as always:
"Farradyne's spacecraft has been trapped and fired upon, and now has been flushed from cover. The criminal is hoping to flee through the most thorough sky-cover that has ever been assembled. He cannot hope to win through, ladies and gentlemen. I wish we had video here in the early morning light, so that you could see this vivid spectacle of the eternal battle between the forces of good and evil!
"But we'll all be there when Farradyne goes down to the death in flame he so richly deserves. Above him now are the jet bombers and above them are squadron upon squadron of Terran Space Guard ships, and above them lie the Interplanetary Space Guard to fire the final coup de grace if Farradyne can run this gauntlet of righteous wrath that far.
"His flare trail is dimmed by the pinpoints of flashing death that seek him out. On every side of me are ships spewing torpedoes, guided missiles with target-seeking radar in their sleek noses, that will end this reign of terror once they find their mark. It—"
The radio clicked audibly and a forceful voice came on:
"Attention! Attention all listeners! Attention Spacecraft Lancaster and Charles Farradyne! This is the office of The Secretary of Solar Defense, Undersecretary Marshall White speaking. All persons, whether official or unofficial, whether citizen or military, are hereby charged with the safety of Charles Farradyne and the Lancaster model Eighty One in Farradyne's possession. This is a 'Cease Fire' order. All persons are hereby ordered to offer Charles Farradyne whatever he may request in the nature of manpower, machinery, supplies, protection, and safe-conduct; so that he may deliver his spacecraft to the Terran Arsenal at Terra Haute, Indiana."
Morgan scowled at Farradyne.
Carolyn cried, "Friends in the high places!"
The undersecretary's voice went on: "Within the hour, Miss Norma Hannon, onetime associate of Howard Clevis, undercover agent attached to this office on free duty, has presented irrevocable evidence to show that the love-lotus operations have been part and parcel of an unsuspected plot against humanity by denizens of an extra-solar culture. Since Farradyne's spacecraft contains the only known device enabling matter to exceed the velocity of light, its delivery to the Arsenal is deemed Top Priority. All persons are charged—"
Farradyne shrugged himself out of the grip of the truckmen. "Get the hell aloft and grab that bastard running the ship!" he snarled at them.
The other enemy rushed forward. Roberts caught a hard fist on the jaw and reeled back. Farradyne chopped in a wide swing with the edge of his hand and sent the enemy back against the little bar in the salon. Morgan looked stunned, but he turned and started for the stairway at a dead run.
"So I couldn't get through?" asked Farradyne bitterly. "So I'm licked?"
Carolyn looked at him, but said nothing. The stillness outside was so marked that her silence was almost painful after the noise of the bombardment.
Then she shrugged. "You poor fool! You've just bought your own doom."
"So," said Farradyne, "by digging out the rats that gnaw at our roots we've toppled our tree?"
Carolyn nodded soberly. "We'd hoped to win you by stealth, but we're prepared. The starships are loaded with mercurite right now."
"I hate to start quoting Patrick Henry," snapped Farradyne. "So I'll just suggest that you think over the reason why they want me at the Arsenal."
She looked at him.
"We've always been handy with a screwdriver," he said. "Our race. And we know we couldn't copy this drive before the mercurite starts to fall. But there is enough time to load up my Lancaster and take it out." He roared with harsh laughter. "You didn't mind dying if you could take me with you. Well, maybe Solans won't mind dying if we can rid the universe of a bunch of lice, either."
"And what alternative do you offer?" she whispered, white-faced.
"Complete surrender," he snarled. "Complete surrender!" And then he recalled the history he had been forced to learn as a schoolboy: history, a subject of dry dates and dry events, a factual symposium of war and war and war—of conflict and hatred and death. Then had come the realization of Peace, which started to turn the course of history from attack and reprisal, and war and defeat, and victor and vanquished. A just peace, started in the Twentieth Century, which ended oppression and subjection.
Farradyne looked at Carolyn with a cynical smile. "We demand unconditional surrender," he said bitterly. "Then we move in and number off your people. With a careful tally of our own losses, we choose a similar number from a fish-bowl. So many men to be cold-bloodedly murdered. So many virgins to be ravished. So many wives left without husbands, and so many husbands left without wives. Children to such-and-such a number left homeless, and a certain quantity made to stand in the street so that automobiles can run them down." His voice rose to a roar. "Damn it, woman, do you think we're vultures? You've pushed us around for fifty years, but now you know damned well that we have what it takes to kick back." His voice fell back to normal, even lower, as he said, "It's me asking you, now. What'll you have?"
She looked at him. "What am I?" she asked, just as quietly as he. "A species of louse to be pinched out, or an adversary vanquished? An un-victorious warrior?"
"You're what you want to be."
Carolyn turned and went up the stairs to the control room where Morgan was standing behind the pilot with a strong hammerlock closed tight. Farradyne was close behind her.
"I'll be the defeated warrior," she said. She uttered three words in her native sing-song and the man in the pilot's chair stopped struggling. She went to the radio and picked up the microphone and started to broadcast.
It was a long series of staccato sounds that were sometimes musical and just as often discordant, as the tones rose and fell seemingly without pattern. Then she turned to face Farradyne.
"You win. Again you win," she told him. "Somehow you always do, and maybe—maybe—I'm glad it's over!"
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she stumbled away from him.
Farradyne looked down at the face, as pale and wan as the hospital sheets. Her eyes opened slowly and saw him. Her smile was genuine, but far from robust. Farradyne squeezed her hand gently and said, "Relax, Norma. It's all over."
"You're sure?"
"As sure as any man can be. There's been a batch of meetings and conferences, and lots and lots of gold braid and striped trousers. I got strictly left behind when the top-level boys moved in. So now all you have to do is get well."
Her eyes were large and hurt-animal luminous. "I know. It's not the excitement. It's the cure. I had to hang on to my nervous system too long after being freed, they tell me. It's left me washed-out—but I'll be all right, Charles."
"Good. You've got to be."
"You talk," she said. "I'm—tell me what happened?"
"First thing, they sat on the guys that were in the Lancaster with Carolyn and among them they discovered a space engineer. They held them as hostages against my return, and several of us went to Lyra with Carolyn as interpreter. We made 'em cough up Clevis and about thirty-five other boys who'd been too smart for them to let free. It's all been concluded nicely. I have my license back for honest, and just between you and me, I have enough contracts already to make a mint of moola out of the interstellar business. I can buy more spacers soon, and then I can let someone else go a-spacing. Maybe I'd like to retire, honey—"
She looked up at him and smiled. "Is that a proposal of marriage?"
He nodded.
Norma pulled him down and gave him her lips. Then as he stood up again, he saw that her eyes were filled with tears.
"Norma—?" he said plaintively.
"Charles, it wouldn't work."
"But—"
Norma smiled gently through her tears. "Not that, Charles," she said. "You were thinking about Frank, and the years of hate. Since then I've come to know you and admire you, but I can't really love you. I—"
He saw something glow momentarily in her eyes and he waited patiently.
"Howard is a strong man," she said simply. "He used Frank, and then he used me, and finally he used you. And hellflowers took me away from Howard, and then they took Howard. And you brought me back and now you've brought Howard back to me, and—"
Farradyne interrupted her: "Be happy, baby!" He bent down and kissed her. Then he turned on his heel and left the room. He paused long enough in the corridor to shake the vacuum out of his feelings and then went down to the waiting room.
"Howard? She's awake and feeling fit, even though weak. A bit of the sight and touch of you would work wonders. She wants you."
Clevis nodded and started for the door. Farradyne caught him by the arm and turned him around. "Look," he said with a crookedly amused grin, "I want to be second-best man."
"Any damned day in the week, Charley," said Howard Clevis.
Farradyne sat down in a chair and waited. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke at his toes. Somehow he felt disappointed in himself; he should have been despondent instead of content.
And then the plume of smoke curled around a pair of slender ankles and Farradyne realized what his unfinished business was.
The waiting room resounded gently with a delicate musical chord, operatic in quality like a trio of angel, hoyden, and devil singing a bacchanal. He smiled and looked up at her. "Any damned day in the week," he promised, getting to his feet.
Against his face, softly, Carolyn laughed. "But you don't even know my name!"
"I'll find out," he promised. "Later."