Rick Brant - The Electronic Mind Reader Part 27

Rick had it. "How do I make sure we're not followed?"

Steve paused. "That's a tough one. Air travel would be surest. Do you have any landing lights on Spindrift?"

"No. Besides, it's a short runway, and only a pilot who knew the island could possibly land at night."

"I've got a pilot who knows it, so forget going to New York. Rig lights of some kind. You can put lights on the roof of the lab building, I'm sure. Then put a pair of lights at each side of the runway's end, so he'll know how far he can go. If you have nothing else, soak newspapers in gasoline. He'll buzz the island. That will be your signal to light up."

"Is Mike Malone the pilot?" Malone had landed there before.

"Yes. He'll take over. Just deliver your father intact."

"If we can," Rick said slowly. "Steve, suppose the enemy activates their machine when they hear the plane? Suppose they suspect he's getting away and turn on the mind reader?"

"We'll have to chance it. Best thing is to move fast. Get your father in with Mike, and let them clear out. I'll tell Mike to put distance between him and you as fast as he can."

"All right, Steve." There seemed to be no other way.

Rick turned to his father and Winston, and repeated the conversation.

"He's right, Hartson," Winston said. "You're in good enough shape to travel. Better get packed." The cyberneticist looked at Rick. "What did you call the enemy gadget? A mind reader? That's an odd name."

"I didn't think about it," Rick told him. "The name just popped into my mind. But doesn't the enemy machine read the patterns in peoples'

minds, then erase them?"

"As good a name as any, I guess," Winston agreed. "Well, let's tell the others. Then you have work to do getting ready for the plane, Rick."

Mrs. Brant, after making sure that her husband was no more than slightly dazed, had been forced to turn her attention to Barby and Jan. The two girls were on the verge of sheer hysteria with fear for their fathers. Scotty had joined Mrs. Brant, in an effort to soothe the girls' frayed nerves. Now, as Rick opened the library door, he could see that the two pretty young faces were tear-streaked, but as calm as could be expected under the circ.u.mstances. Scotty looked worn out. Rick could only marvel at his mother. She could always be relied upon in a crisis.

Mrs. Brant listened to her son's report, then nodded firmly. "Steve is wise to insist, Rick. I'll help your father pack."

Rick beckoned to Scotty. "We have work to do. Let's start with the lab."

On the way, he filled Scotty in on the details of what had happened in the library. Then he asked, "How did you get the girls calmed down?"

Scotty shook his head wearily. "It wasn't fun. The poor kids are scared stiff. Remember they haven't been exposed to stuff as we have.

To them, our stories are just exciting fun, because we leave out the rough parts. Now they're getting a taste of this business the way it really is."

"Did you say that?"

"That, and a thousand other things. Nothing did much good, and Mom couldn't make any headway, either. Another ten minutes of tears and the island would have been under water, honest. Finally I got rough. I told them we were all in this, and they were only creating a nuisance that complicated things and didn't help at all. Then Mom chimed in.

You know how she does. Never raises her voice. She said real courage consisted of being terribly frightened, but trying to remain calm in spite of it. Then she said she was rapidly becoming ashamed of both of them. That did it. They stuck their chins in the air, wiped off the tears, and actually managed a smile."

"Good for them!" Rick exclaimed.

Inside the laboratory they went at once to the stockroom. Floodlights were stored there, among other items. Extension cords were plentiful, and there were electric outlets on the roof. In a few moments the boys had strung the lights and Rick had readjusted the board downstairs, so that all the lights were on a single circuit. That way, they could all be switched on or off at once.

Joe Blake came to watch. Rick explained what he was doing, and told Joe of Steve's conversation.

"I know," Joe said. "Steve called me on the radio. He didn't want us shooting Mike down for trying to land without warning. But how come you can cut circuits in and out like this?"

"We never know when an experiment will call for electric power in some unexpected place," Rick explained. "The main board is set up so we can do just about anything we need to. We can feed normal current in, or 440 volts, and we can cross-link the circuits any way we like."

Scotty checked Rick's work, then took the switch handle. He touched the contacts briefly, and there was a quick pulse of light as the roof lighted up and went dark again.

"I'll stand by here," Scotty said. "You stand by at the end of the runway. Are we going to use gasoline?"

"We'll have to. It would take a while to run power from the house and hook up lighting units. Gasoline will be quicker and easier. Let's go."

There was a supply of gasoline for the boats. Rick got a five-gallon can while Scotty collected newspapers. Two trash cans served as containers. The cans were filled with newspapers, then drenched in gasoline and placed at the last possible point of runway that could be used. If Mike overshot the containers he would land in the sea.

Rick worried about the problem of lighting the containers without getting burned, then went to the workshop and selected rags. He twisted the rags loosely and tied them together, poured gasoline into a bucket and soaked his rag fuse. The last step was to insert one end of the fuse in each can. When the time came, he would be between the cans, and he would light the center of the rag string. The fire would travel rapidly, because of the gasoline.

In case Mike was delayed for any great period, Rick kept the gasoline handy. He might have to wet down the cans and fuse again. He had forgotten to ask where Mike would come from, and Steve hadn't volunteered. Probably he would come from Was.h.i.+ngton, which meant about an hour's flying time in the plane Mike would use, a fast little four-place job that Rick had long coveted. But Mike wouldn't be ready for take-off instantly. Time had to be allowed for Steve to give him instructions, to get from wherever he was to the airport, and then get the plane ga.s.sed and ready. Allow another hour. That meant two hours in all.

Inside, Rick was still scared. How did they know the electronic mind reader wouldn't be activated at any moment? He hurried into the house and went upstairs to where his father was packing. He couldn't do anything, and he knew it. But it helped, just being near the scientist. Apparently Scotty felt the same. He had joined Hartson Brant, too. But Barby, Jan, and Mrs. Brant had preceded him.

The scientist smiled. "Never had so much help packing before."

The smile was strained, and Rick thought he knew why. He had seen his father face great physical danger without losing a bit of his composure. But the insidious weapon that could read all reason out of minds was far more horrible to a man like Hartson Brant than any physical danger could be. Bullets, knives, and clubs may leave bad wounds, or they may kill. But what chance is there for anyone with a damaged brain?

Scotty looked at his watch and held it up for Rick to see. Nearly an hour and three-quarters had pa.s.sed since the call to Steve. Rick gestured to Scotty and urged, "Hurry, Dad."

"I'm ready." The scientist closed his bag. Barby got to it first and lugged it down the stairs, refusing Scotty's offer of help.

The boys went to their stations while the others waited on the porch.

Rick checked to be sure he had matches, then worried because a wind had sprung up. Suppose it blew his match out? He was about to go borrow his father's lighter when he heard the far-off drone of a plane. There wasn't time now! He held the matches in his hand, ready.

The drone grew nearer, rising to a high whine. The plane was diving!

Suddenly it was overhead and gone with a crash of sound. Rick saw its lights head out to sea. Mike was making a tight turn to come in for a landing.

Rick's lips formed the words. "Now, Scotty! Now!"

And, as though he had heard, Scotty threw the switch. Lights flared on the lab roof, outlining it clearly. Rick struck a match and held it to the saturated cord of rags. Flaming gasoline ran along the cord in both directions, ran up the sides of the cans. There was a loud whoosh of exploding gasoline, and both cans were ablaze. Rick ran away from the heat.

Mike came in low and fast over the lab roof and slapped the plane down on the turf. In a moment he applied the brakes and the wheels whined their protest as they dug up gra.s.s. Then the plane was rolling to a stop directly in front of the house.

The pilot jumped out and called, "h.e.l.lo, gang! Come on, sir. No time to waste!"

Hartson Brant kissed Mrs. Brant and the girls, found time to pat Rick's shoulder, and climbed in. Rick took the suitcase from Barby and handed it to the scientist. The door closed and the plane was whirling, catching them in its prop blast. Mike taxied back fast to the laboratory, turned the plane and revved up, holding on the brakes.

Rick saw Scotty emerge from the lab building and go right back in again as the prop wash caught him. Then the plane was rolling ... and lifting. Mike skimmed low over the burning trash cans, banked out to sea, and was gone.

Rick felt a sob rising in his throat and resolutely squelched it. He walked to the burning cans and dropped covers on them. Scotty cut the lights on the lab building.

Had they made it? They wouldn't know. Not until Steve reported that the scientist was safe.

On the porch, Barby asked, "How soon will we know?"

Rick was proud of her. Her voice had trembled only slightly. "Probably not until tomorrow, Sis. Come on. Let's all hike off to bed. It's been a rough evening."