Miss atomos, p.8
Miss Atomos, page 8
The G-man looked around unsteadily. “Considering the circumstances, I think that’s not the best word to use. What can we do against a disintegrator gun?”
Akamatsu unholstered his Colt Cobra. “Nothing different,” he said coldly. “You grab your weapon and try to shoot before he does. To die blasted by a machine gun or ray gun amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”
Cadogan nodded unenthusiastically. He figured his .38 was a ridiculous weapon compared to the terrifying arms that Miss Atomos used.
“Let’s get the dinghy,” Akamatsu whispered.
They dragged it over the dry ground and put it in the water. An instant later they were slowly paddling toward the nearest islet.
Chapter X
Smith Beffort began to recognize his surroundings around two hours after being knocked out by Akamatsu. He woke up in a flash, without any transition, like a diver coming up like a cork to the surface.
“Well, how do you feel?” the Boss asked.
“Good,” Beffort answered right away. “What am I doing in this hospital bed?”
The Boss lit a cigar. “This office just happens to be white… we’re in a police station. We loosened your tie and put you to bed. While you were breathing bottled oxygen, the doctor took care of your finger. In theory you should be in good shape. Are you?”
Beffort raised himself up on his elbows. His vision was clear and his pulse normal. The only problem was that his neck was sore where Akamatsu had hit him. “I am. Can you explain to me what happened at the airport?”
The Boss coughed a little. “You passed out,” he lied.
“Is this office in Palm Beach?”
“We’re in Saint George, Georgia. The Florida air has a strange gas that makes everyone who breathes it drunk. It acts pretty slowly, but inevitably compels men to drink. We don’t yet know why the women are immune. They’re talking about hormones as always in cases like this.”
“And the children?”
“They’re dazed, but they get back to normal after 30 minutes in the oxygen tent. Nevertheless, they still can’t tell us what they’ve done since last night. It’s the same with the men who are filling up the hospitals and clinics in Alabama and Georgia. As for the women, they’re finished. They’re dead, strangled in the morning.”
Beffort got up, slipped on his jacket, which was lying across the back of a chair, and put on his shoes. Because of the bandage wrapped around his left hand the Boss had to tie his laces. “I suppose that Akamatsu, Cadogan and Witter stayed in Palm Beach?” Beffort inquired.
The Boss tied the last knot and stood up. “Witter was not in good shape, so I brought him back here. But the Japanese and Cadogan are in the Everglades at this very moment. They’re crossing the swamp in an inflatable dinghy. Come next door and we can get some news.”
Beffort followed him into a room where a powerful two-way radio was set up. With the speaker to his ear, a local FBI agent was keeping in touch with the helicopter sitting in the Palm Beach airport.
“What’s new?” the Boss asked.
“Nothing. Gaylord is waiting for the 2:15 call. The last one said the dinghy was shoving off from an islet that Cadogan and Akamatsu had just checked out.”
“And the air force?”
“I intercepted some calls to the Valdosta general staff. The fighter jets have already destroyed 80 spheres scattered between the border and Gainesville. In general there’re positioned at regular intervals, but they’re bunched up around the towns.” The man took a drag on his cigarette, which was threatening to go out, and after blowing out a cloud of smoke added, “The General has sent a squadron to Palm Beach on a mission to clean out the Everglades and the areas around Palm Beach and Broward. The fighters flew over Cocoa at 2:10.”
The Boss looked at his watch, then at Beffort. Chewing on his cigar he said, “In 15 seconds Akamatsu is going to call the helicopter.”
Beffort nodded absent-mindedly. He was thinking of Mie Azusa.
The inflatable dinghy advanced slowly among the reeds and quietly approached another islet. In the jumble of plants navigating was not easy. The two men were sweating in spite of the milder temperature and their shirts stuck to their backs. Only Cadogan paddled. In the front of the dinghy the Japanese scanned the pond holding his gun. He knew through experience how Miss Atomos could detect their presence: ultra-sensitive microphones and automatic cameras were the usual spies that they had to be especially wary of.
Cadogan snapped his fingers to get the attention of his shipmate and pointed to his watch. Akamatsu motioned that he understood. He grabbed the walkie-talkie and pulled out the collapsible antenna. Pressing the talk button he whispered, “Dinghy calling.”
“Roger,” Gaylord answered. “Where are you?”
“We’re going to get on the second islet. Everything’s okay.”
“If you’re near a sphere, tell the pilot and watch out because the fighters are coming.”
“Okay. Out.”
“Next contact at 2:30. Out.”
Akamatsu put down the walkie-talkie, picked up his Colt Cobra and faced front again. With little strokes of the paddle Cadogan brought the dinghy to shore. A thick web scraped the muddy bottom and the boat stopped. All of a sudden the silence was broken by a distant hum. Then, almost at the same time, a low flying plane passed overhead with a thunderous rumble. The reeds bowed under the rush of air, the water started sloshing and a cloud of dust whirled up over the islet. The plane made another pass and the machine guns fired on a nearby but invisible target before the plane zipped away to the furious whine of its two jets.
Now the dinghy was pitching and the dust was so thick that the two men could not see 30 feet in front of them, but Akamatsu still jumped onto the sun-hardened ground and motioned for Cadogan to do the same. The latter caught up to him holding his .38 and carrying the second walkie-talkie in a shoulder strap.
Without a word, keeping the sound of their footsteps muffled, they advanced cautiously along the edge of the water. They had decided not to talk unless absolutely necessary and that was certainly the reason why they heard the faint sound coming from the summit of the islet.
They froze immediately and listened closely. The noise was like a weathervane spinning around on its axis. As the dust settled the two men could see a strange device turning in circles like a radar. From afar it looked like a sign stuck to a thin metal rod, but Akamatsu knew what it was.
He lay down, motioned Cadogan to do the same and then started crawling toward the dinghy. He could not explain it to the G-man, but he was sure that what they had just seen was a rotating camera that started moving after the plane shook it up. This could mean that Miss Atomos’ underground laboratory was nearby and dozens of similar cameras were tirelessly sweeping the swamp. Thus the micro-camera connection was proved and it was almost a miracle that the two men had not tripped the menacing mechanism earlier.
In a landscape where nothing was moving a few seconds earlier, the water stirred up by the fighter jet became a valuable ally. All sound melted in the constantly splashing water to which was added the swish of standing reeds. A man on listening duty would surely fooled by the microphones.
But then there were the televisions. For the time being the dust still covered everything in a powdery cloud. Akamatsu knew that he had to use the situation to his advantage. He let Cadogan go in front of him, waited until he was sitting in the dinghy and then pushed off with good kick before he sat down himself.
“Let’s go back to the shore,” he whispered. “Now we know where Miss Atomos’ lab is, but we still have to get out of the swamp alive if our find is to be of any use.”
They paddled furiously and passed the first row of reeds. From there the islet was no longer visible, but Akamatsu knew that microphones could have been installed as a front line. So, they chose to float silently past the first islet where they had found nothing. From that point on was a safe zone. Akamatsu called the helicopter. It was 2:35 and Gaylord was on pins and needles. “Don’t go quiet like that,” he barked. “The Boss was all ready to send in the paratroopers.”
“Don’t yell,” the Japanese demanded politely. “Your voice carries far and we’re only a little ways away from Miss Atomos’ hideout.
“Good God!” the pilot howled. “You found it!”
“We’re coming,” Akamatsu said. And he cut off contact. Gaylord really yelled too loudly.
Dr. Soblen was sleepy. The silence around him was like a tomb and even the air duct let no sound in. Under such conditions time lost all reference. Soblen could not say if he had been there for one hour or eight. His stomach was not growling, he was not thirsty and he did not feel nature’s call. He only knew that he was alive…
All of a sudden the locks clicked and the door opened on Miss Atomos’ bodyguard. He took two steps into the cell and dropped some clothes he was carrying. “Get dressed, doctor. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
“24 hours have gone by already?” Soblen could not believe it.
There was the usual mark of silence and the man said, “No, but we have to abandon our refuge. Your friends have destroyed a large number of our devices. We have to change our plans.”
“You mean that you can’t suffocate Florida anymore?”
“That’s right. A technical problem has prevented us from carrying out our operation, but we are going to use other means to paralyze the state. Get dressed.”
Soblen got out of bed and started putting on his clothes. He found a certain pleasure in it. It was a little like coming home after a long trip. In one of his coat pockets he found his glasses and hurriedly put them on.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“You know, doctor. We’re returning to the island.”
“How?”
“A submarine is waiting for us in the port of Palm Beach.”
To gain a little time Soblen got dressed slowly. He was thinking that a submarine would not escape detection and he was hoping that the police or the army would end up finding it.
“A submarine doesn’t go very fast,” he said. “When will we arrive at our destination?”
“Atomos City is a floating island, doctor. It is capable of diving to great depths and it can move faster than any of your ships. Right now it is waiting for us off the coast of Palm Beach.”
Soblen shivered. Until then he had imagined that the island was floating in the Pacific. So, now it was in the Atlantic, more precisely in the Florida Strait, and was probably never so vulnerable. Stuck between the Bahamas and the East Coast, i.e. in a place that was not very deep, the floating island was taking a heavy risk to get Miss Atomos back.
Soblen thought that if he managed to escape and warn the authorities, the island could be trapped. While tying his shoelaces he watched his guard out of the corner of his eye. The man was big, strong and mechanized. He could kill Soblen with one punch, but only on the condition that he got the order beforehand. Between strength and swift action, there was a significant difference. Soblen jumped up and dashed out between the wall and his guard. He caught the door on his way out, dragged it with him and turned the lock as it slammed shut. It all took only a fraction of a second. Every movement was perfectly performed and luck played its role. Soblen did not know how he did it, but one thing was sure: he was in the hallway.
He imagined that the Great Brain, which had automatically recorded the scene, should have given orders at that very second for all the exits to be cut off. The men and Miss Atomos herself were probably right now on their way to stop the ridiculous escape attempt. Soblen had no idea what he was going to do. He knew that he had to find a way to escape his pursuers as soon as possible because it was obviously through them that the Great Brain got its information. In a flash Soblen understood that he had just discovered the weak point of the formidable organization. It was childishly simple. A little tear gas would deal with it. Without eyes the Great Brain would turn back into a machine. Nothing but a machine…
Soblen stopped daydreaming. He was in an underground shelter that was better guarded than a fortress and he had no weapons but his hands and intelligence. So, he started running straight ahead, down the middle of the concrete tunnel that was dimly lit by a strange bluish light coming from the ground. He remembered that Beffort and Akamatsu had likewise run around in a similar hideout and they had found a room full of material.
He ended up in a bare, round room where he saw a metal staircase winding up around a central pole. He started climbing. He was careful not to make any noise while trying to move as quickly as possible. He had to make sure that he would not run around in circles and that he would not come up against something stronger than him or some insurmountable obstacle.
One floor higher up Soblen heard pounding feet. He jumped into a dark corner and flattened against the wall—his light-colored clothes might blend in with the cement. The steps got closer. Two men, wearing the famous bodysuits and short boots, passed by not far from him. They were not armed and in no hurry. Soblen watched them disappear down the stairs and then he slipped into the corridor again. Here it was darker than before and a little humid. He turned a corner and stopped short in front of a door. Should he open it or turn back?
“Keep going, doctor,” the voice of Miss Atomos said. Soblen clenched his teeth and threw himself against the wall. “Don’t be childish,” Miss Atomos resumed. “You had to come to us and we did nothing to prevent you. If you resist, it will be very unpleasant for you.”
The door slid up and disappeared into the ceiling. At the same time, three men sprung around the corner that Soblen had just turned. The doctor recognized his guardian and the two men who had passed him while he was ridiculously hiding in the shadows. The trio blocked the whole corridor and advanced like a steamroller.
Soblen gave in. He went through the hole that had been the door and entered a tunnel where a covered truck was parked.
“Come here,” Miss Atomos said. “We’re just waiting for you so we can leave.”
The young woman was already inside the truck. Soblen was lifted off the ground by his guard and then found himself sitting on a bench, surrounded by men in black who were armed with disintegrator guns and staring hard at him with dead eyes.
The others climbed in, the cover was closed and the truck started moving, grinding its gears. Soblen sagged into the wooden bench. He had done the best he could.
Chapter XI
While the truck carrying Dr. Soblen was moving off, Akamatsu and Cadogan were about to reach the airport. The De Soto was speeding down the east-west stretch of 441 as the truck was slowly making its way underground, like a mole, toward the tunnel exit.
In this unwitting race, pitting two enemies against each other who did not know that they would ultimately meet each other, the De Soto obviously had an advantage. The truck had to surface inside a park surrounding a villa and then follow Route 46 to the seashore before running up Route 1 to get to the port while the De Soto was already nearby.
Cadogan steered the car onto the off ramp and said, “The tank’s almost empty. We have to fill up the first chance we get.”
“Were you overwhelmed by the choices?” Akamatsu asked. “There’s no lack of gas stations.” Then he changed the subject. “Since the fighters have been destroying the spheres, I’ve felt like the wind’s picking up. I hope the inflatable dinghy won’t be blown into the pond.”
“That wouldn’t be such a big loss. Do you realize that we’re looters? The people of the Somota will have the right to demand some recompense when things get back to normal. Not to mention this car that Beffort borrowed under conditions we know nothing about and now it’s missing a fender.”
Akamatsu shrugged his shoulders. “There won’t be any problem concerning the car. The rental agency is on the plate. As far as the Somota…” He turned suddenly to Cadogan. “You said the Somota, right?”
“Yes. That’s the name of the yacht. Why all of a sudden do you think that’s weird?”
Akamatsu grabbed his arm excitedly. “Cadogan, your suspicions were right! The name of the yacht is our enemy backwards! Atomos is Somota!”
Cadogan slammed on the brakes and the De Soto screeched to a stop in front of the airport. “Good God!” the G-man yelled. “How did we miss that when we were on board? I had that name under my nose for 30 minutes!”
Akamatsu grabbed the walkie-talkie. “Turn around,” he said to Cadogan. “I’ll tell Gaylord that we’re going to the port.”
While the G-man was making a quick u-turn, the man from the Tokkoka worked his handset. “Dinghy calling.”
“Go!” Gaylord spit out, as if he was always there listening. Akamatsu explained why he and Cadogan were going back to the port, but the pilot exploded, “The Boss is waiting for you to tell him where the hideout is so he can send the bombers! You think this is the time to be going for a drive?”
“Get your map,” Akamatsu replied coldly. “I’ll give you the coordinates.”
“Go ahead,” the pilot grumbled. “I’ve got everything necessary right here.”
Akamatsu indicated the point in the Everglades where the underground refuge of Miss Atomos was and finished off saying, “We abandoned an inflatable dinghy down there. It’s light colored and the pilots can use it as a marker because it’s located 100 fathoms due east of the refuge.”
“Okay. Hang on for a minute…”
Cadogan sped up on the straightaway and they went through the dead city again. The heat was not so oppressive, but the light breeze coming from the sea carried with it the appalling stench of decomposing corpses.
“Let’s hope that the men and children don’t wake up in this mass grave,” Cadogan said. Akamatsu did not answer. He was waiting for Gaylord to call back. He figured that the pilot must be talking to the Boss who was going to take immediate action. In that case, the Boss would not be bandying about—he knew how dangerous Atomos was. The laboratory and the part of the Everglades around it would no doubt be crushed under a deluge of bombs.
