Chapter 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.