Читать книгу Account Settled - John Russell Fearn - Страница 5

CHAPTER ONE

“I never heard of him,” Emerson Drew said briefly, tossing the visiting card down on the shiny-topped desk. “What does he want? Anyway, I thought I told you to keep strangers away from me, Miss Kayne. What’s the good of me giving orders if you’re going to do just as you like?”

“It’s not exactly that, sir,” Janet Kayne interrupted, quite calmly. “This is different. At least, I think it is.… I believe you should see him.”

“Hmmm.…” Emerson Drew picked up the card again in a podgy, well-scrubbed hand and meditated. Janet Kayne waited, noting how the fat rolled on her employer’s neck as he moved his head. Then his sharp gray eyes fixed on her.

“What’s he got?”

“An invention of some kind—”

“Invention!” Drew jumped to his feet—short, broad and strong as a bull, his heavy jowls vibrating as he thumped the top of the desk. “How many times a day do we get inventors in this damned building, hey? Did you ever stop to add it up? All of them no good! In all London, why do they have to pick on me? Kick him out—or at any rate tell the commissionaire to do it. I won’t have anything to do with it!”

Janet Kayne sighed and picked up the card pensively.

“Then that’s a pity, Mr. Drew. You know, it’s his name that counts, far more than his invention—whatever it is. See what it says here? Rajek Quinton. That means something! He’s a Swiss, and at one time he was the head of a famous firm of watchmakers.”

“Oh? How do you know that?”

“I saw an announcement about it when he came to England.”

Emerson Drew raised his eyebrows. “So? Well, you’re a better-informed secretary than I realized, Miss Kayne. I still say I never heard of him, and I don’t suppose he’s got anything any better than the rest of these crazy inventors who think the Drew Combine is the gateway to El Dorado. But, anyway, show him in. Never know until you try.”

Janet Kayne nodded and went to the door. She was a thin, bony girl with high cheekbones and untroubled blue eyes. There were times when Emerson Drew wondered if anything would ever make her show emotion.

“Quinton,” he muttered, rubbing his flabby jaw. “Of all the damned silly names!” He heaved back into his chair and sat down heavily to wait. It was not long before the door opened and Janet Kayne announced the visitor. Then she retired.

Drew sat with his brows down contemplating the man. He was middle-aged, short, well but quietly dressed, his white hair brushed back firmly from a broad forehead. In one hand he carried his soft black hat and in the other a briefcase.

“Mr. Quinton.…” Drew rose, hand extended. “Glad to know you. Take a seat. Have a cigar?”

“Thank you, no. I’m a non-smoker.” Rajek Quinton had a well-modulated voice and spoke English perfectly. “And I’m glad you could see me.”

“See you? But of course!” Drew beamed genially, selected a cigar for himself, lit it, and then returned to his chair. “Nobody has any trouble seeing me! Now, sir, what’s on your mind?”

“First, I think I had better make it clear to you that I am a Swiss.” Quinton laid the briefcase on the desk and Drew noted the remarkably slender hand. “Until recently I carried on business as a watchmaker in my native country, and during this occupation I had the opportunity—the exact details of which I shall not divulge—to come into possession of certain plans. They were crude, undeveloped, at that time. I—er—made a point of developing them thoroughly.”

“So?” Drew was nodding sideways in his big chair, the cigar smoldering between his fingers.

“Despite my perfecting of the plans, I found that in my own country there was little use for them. I had reason to come to England, chiefly for the sake of my daughter, who needs milder air than our home country. I’ve been in London now for about a month, and I came to hear of you as a financier, and interested in matters capable of—of, shall I say, producing a good monetary return?”

Drew puffed at his cigar for a while.

“Certainly this is the Drew Financial Trust,” he assented finally, “and we are definitely interested in worthwhile inven­tions, finance, international barters, and so on. But it all depends on what you have to offer.”

“I have the Quinton self-sinking atomic bomb,” the Swiss said, without so much as a blink of his mild blue eyes.

“The…what?” Drew tried, with difficulty, to sound politely interested.

“In these days of science, Mr. Drew, any invention ahead of the general run—like electronics, rocket propulsion, atomic power, and so on—should be welcome.” Quinton unzipped his briefcase as he talked. “I don’t have to tell you that, though the world is at peace, there are deadly factions waiting for a con­venient moment to start trouble again.”

“No,” Drew admitted heavily. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Therefore we must be one jump ahead of everybody else, as our American friends would phrase it. I have asked the War Office here to interest themselves, but there were such delays, so much difficulty in getting to the fountain head, I decided to see if I could get some action out of you. Here, sir, is the plan—or rather the blueprint.”

Drew took it and flattened its curling ends with the palms of his hands. Wheezing, he spread it out on the desk and gazed at it. Quinton got to his feet and came over to him, began tracing out important details with a long, immaculate finger.

“You may or may not be scientist enough to grasp the idea, sir,” he said presently. “Stated briefly, it is this: an atom, as all scientists agree and as many laymen know, is analogous—at least in the matter of scale—to a kind of miniature solar system, a nucleus like a sun, with a greater or lesser number of electrons moving round it like planets. You understand?”

“Go on, anyway,” Drew suggested.

“In ordinary iron, for instance, the molecules have north and south poles like all other molecules, but they point in every possible direction, indiscriminately. The molecules have magnetism in them, but it isn’t organized. Pointing haphazardly though each is a small magnet; they tend in the mass to cancel each other out. It is when the whole mass is magnetized that all the poles point in one particular direction.…”

Drew shifted uncomfortably and considered the end of his cigar.

“This explanation, sir, is essential,” Quinton said, noting the ill-concealed irritability. “Not only atoms possess poles, but molecules as well—and they are just as indiscriminate. But, if all the poles point in one direction only, it means that they become parallel, blocking so small a portion of the space they normally occupy that they can pass right through ordinary matter. Matter becomes penetrable and, to the bomb, has about the same resistance as very thick oil. If the bomb is placed on the floor, say, with its magnetic apparatus working, it will sink into that floor, drawn by the force of gravity. Wherever it may settle—and it vanishes from sight immediately it sinks below surface—it remains as a deadly hidden danger until the time-fuse fires it. You must see the advantages! The bombs can go anywhere, through anything, and remain hidden!”

Drew sat back in his chair again and considered.

“Have you a working model, Mr. Quinton?”

“Er—yes, but—well, naturally, I don’t want to put all my cards on the table at once.”

“Quite! Wise man!” Drew nodded vigorously. “I’ll tell you frankly, you seem to have an idea here which is years ahead of present scientific progress, as far as military armament is concerned anyway.”

“You can be sure of one thing, Mr. Drew, and that is that I have spoken the truth. I have been a master-watchmaker since the age of twenty, and the making of this intricate bomb with its small magnet controls and scientific devices is one of the finest things I ever did. Of course it took me a long time to work out the model. Now it has been done, the duplicating will be easy. I’m quite certain it will do all that I claim for it.”

“I’m not doubting it—but I don’t pretend to be a scientist. I am the financial head of this organization, not the man with the brains.…” Drew grinned widely and showed his strong white teeth for a moment. “I’m interested—definitely interested—but you’ll have to leave this plan with me for study by my experts before I can go any further. If they are satisfied, that’s good enough for me. We’ll soon come to terms.”

Quinton returned to his chair thoughtfully, and seemed to reflect for a moment or two.

“Your experts can, of course, arrive at only one conclusion,” he said finally. “And that being so, you might as well know my terms now. I shall want a million pounds in advance royalties, and the balance of terms to be arranged.”

Some of the cordiality left Drew’s face, and it became much more like that of a bulldog.

“A million pounds! After all, Mr. Quinton, that’s a colossal sum!”

“It’s a colossal invention, and it’s not a big sum compared to the international value—and danger—of the thing! It might even be worth a million to keep me quiet!” Quinton shrugged. “However, I merely tell you my figure beforehand so that you will know how to plan accordingly. I certainly will not take less. As for the blueprint.…”

He stopped, frowning hard.

“You shall have an undertaking and receipt for it,” Drew said. “I can understand your reluctance, but if you won’t leave it, we can’t do business—and there it is. After all, the Drew Financial Trust is not a firm that is here today and gone tomorrow, you know.”

“True, but— You couldn’t have your scientists examine it here and now, while I wait?”

Drew shook his head. His gray hair was cropped so closely it resembled plush.

“Afraid not. It’s the work of many hours to be sure of every detail. We may even have to make a working model before we can be certain.”

Quinton still meditated, then at last he nodded.

“Very well, then. Let me have your receipt.”

Drew pressed a button on his desk, and Janet Kayne entered silently. Drew looked across at her.

“Oh, Miss Kayne, make out an undertaking for Mr. Quinton—in consideration of him allowing us to have—er—Blueprint Number 7670/K, we undertake—and so on. You know. Right away please.”

“Very good, Mr. Drew.”

The door closed again and Quinton aimed questioning blue eyes.

“How long do you think it will be before you know some­thing definite?”

Drew reflected briefly. “It’s important enough to get on with right away. We ought to know something by this time to­morrow at the latest.”

Rajek Quinton nodded quietly, and for a moment or two Drew studied him.

“Business apart, Mr. Quinton,” he said at length, “how do you like being in England?”

A faint smile crossed the inventor’s lean, pale features

“I don’t, really—but as I told you, my daughter’s health comes first. Unfortunately, she has heart disease, and it’s a very big worry for me.”

“Hmm. I’m sorry to hear that. Is she—young?”

“Twenty-five—and most capable. You see—” Quinton moved as though his words had suddenly become distasteful to him— “I’m staking pretty well everything on this invention, Mr. Drew. I sold out my watchmaker business, but it didn’t realize a very great deal, certainly not enough money to live in the style my daughter and I would like. I want, if I can, to get into a high social niche in this country, and my daughter too, of course. We undoubtedly will if you and I come to terms. At the moment you can reach me at the Grand Hotel in Fennis Street.”

Drew jotted down the address on his scratchpad. He was looking quite amiable again now.

“And if we come to terms, do you propose to stay in London?”

“I think not. We prefer the country. We have ideas about a quiet place up in the northeast.”

“And yet I believe you mentioned milder air?

“The northeast of England is far milder than Switzerland, Mr. Drew, and there’s a lot of quiet countryside up there.”

“Mmm, true—”

Drew broke off as Janet Kayne returned, a quarto sheet em­bossed with the Trust seals in her hand. Drew took it, added his signature, then handed it across to Quinton. “There you are, sir—everything in order.”

Quinton looked at it and put it in his briefcase. The only sound for a moment was of the zipper closing, then the inventor got to his feet.

“I’ll be here this time tomorrow, Mr. Drew,” he said. “And thank you.”

The financier rose and shook hands, went with Quinton as far as the office door; then, when he had shown him out, he stood for a moment and pondered, his hand on the knob. Janet Kayne straightened up from the desk, glanced briefly at the blueprint, and set it on one side.

“Miss Kayne—”

“Sir?” She glanced up expectantly as Drew came over to her ponderously.

“Have Mr. Valant come in here from the research depart­ment right away, will you?”

The girl nodded and went out. Still pensive, pulling at his cigar, Drew unrolled the blueprint again and contemplated it. He was still doing so when Bruce Valant, the lanky chief of the scientific research department, came in. He had light-colored eyes and his wiry hair bushed up around his head.

“Want me, Mr. Drew?”

“Yes. Take a look at this and tell me how good or bad it is. A good deal depends on it.”

The scientist flattened the blueprint out and brooded over it. Drew stood watching, the fragrance from his cigar drifting into his eyes.

“Offhand,” Valant said at length, straightening up, “I’d say this is some new-fangled sort of bomb. From the look of this blueprint—crazy though it sounds—it looks as though the bomb would pass through the interstices of matter to any desired depth, drawn by the pull of earth’s own gravity.”

Drew nodded his shaven head approvingly.

“Good! I can see I don’t pay for nothing in having you, Valant. That’s exactly what the thing is. I want you to rush through a model of it and see just how efficient it is—say, by eight o’clock tonight.”

The scientist shook his wild-haired head dubiously.

“That won’t be too easy, sir. There’s some pretty intricate workmanship here—”

“Quinton told me that a copy model from these designs would not take long, and I want it done!” Drew set his jaw. “Drop everything else, commandeer all the labor and money you need, but get this model ready for eight tonight.”

Valant rolled the print up and nodded. He knew it was impossible to argue with Emerson Drew when he got hold of pet idea.

“I’ll do it, sir,” he promised, and headed for the door.

“And another thing, Valant—”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t let anybody else see the print. Put your workers on separate sections and never let the entire setup get out of your hands. I’m holding you responsible.”

The scientist nodded and went out. Drew sat down at the desk again and pulled a telephone to him, dialed on the private wire.

“That you, J.K.?” he asked presently.

The heavy, chesty voice of Joseph K. Darnhome, head of the Darnhome Metals Corporation, answered.

“Who’d you think it was, man? Couldn’t be anybody else on this line, could it?”

“All right, all right, don’t get touchy—or is it your liver again? Anyway, I rang to tell you that I think we’re on to something, and if I’m any judge, it’s worth a fortune several times over.”

“Well, your judgment has been pretty accurate all the time I’ve known you, so I don’t see any reason why it should fail now. What is it?”

“I don’t even trust the private wire to tell you that. Enough for me to say that it’s worth your while to be over here in my office this evening at eight sharp. You’ll get the surprise of your life!”

“Well, I—” J.K. hesitated, then he seemed to make up his mind. “All right, Drew, I’ll be there. I’m afraid the wife will play hell. I was going to take her out.”

“Eight it is,” Drew said briefly, and put the phone back on its cradle. He waited a second or two and then dialed another number. This time the high, acrimonious voice of Marvin de Brock floated to him. De Brock, head of Independent Atomics, had no time for anybody outside of himself. He was only civil with Emerson Drew because he had to be. Drew was the mastermind—finance.

“Eight o’clock, eh?” de Brock repeated querulously, when Drew had uttered practically the same words as to Darnhome.

“You choose a damned awkward time, don’t you?”

“If you can’t take time out to put yourself in line with more money, you’re more self-centered than I thought,” Drew snapped. “Of course, I can always get—”

“No, no,” de Brock interrupted. “I’ll be there.’

“Good!”

Drew put the telephone down and rubbed his hands gently together.