Читать книгу Other Eyes Watching - John Russell Fearn - Страница 3

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There were only three people waiting in the reception room as the girl in the expensive powder-glass frock entered. She was a blonde, strikingly so, exquisitely made up, tall, and her figure streamlined into all the grace the beauticians of 1970 could achieve.

She carried herself regally, betrayed her high social caste in every gesture. And with reason. Vera Brooks was worth seven million dollars in her own right. It could buy anything she needed, except breed—and that Mother Nature had conferred upon her for nothing.

“Good morning, Miss Brooks,” the receptionist greeted her pleasantly, smiling. “Dr. Ashfield won’t be very long.”

“Important cases?” Vera asked, her bright gray eyes glancing towards the adamantly closed plastic door of the famous oculist’s surgery.

“I’m afraid so.”

Vera nodded, reflected, then retired to one of the armchairs by the far wall. She had practically gone through four illustrated magazines before the last patient departed. Then she got decisively to her feet, crossed to the surgery door and tapped upon it. Without giving time for a reply, she moved inside. Gliding gracefully past a massive super-modern ophthalmoscope, she confronted a tall, dark-haired man with a sharply hooked nose.

“Good morning, Doctor!” she said, and Dr. Douglas Ashfield looked up in surprise to meet her impish smile.

“Why, Vera!” He clasped her slender, hands earnestly. “I am glad to see you again! Last I heard from you you were jet-planing somewhere in the Pacific.”

“I wasn’t intending to come back to New York so quickly,” she answered. “I only got in an hour ago, and came straight here. It’s Mace’s fault, really. He sent for me, and you know Mace! Anyway, I’m glad to be back, if only to see you again.” The girl paused and glanced round thoughtfully at the optical instruments. “Can you tear yourself away long enough to take me to lunch?”

“Can I!” Douglas Ashfield pulled off his white coat and hung it decisively on the walnut stand. Then, as he buttoned up his cuff-studs his face became thoughtful. The girl had seen that look many a time before, when the firm lines of his still young face tightened and his keen dark eyes took on a meditative light.

“I’ll listen,” she offered, smiling. “What is the great experiment this time?”

“Oh, just a dabble in mitonex lenses.” He shrugged. “That is the new plastic Brassington found a couple of years ago. First class stuff for lenses, but I think it has other possibilities. It’s the sclerotic coat which is worrying me now.”

“The only coats I know about are fur or glass,” the girl laughed. “Incidentally, this frock is made of glass-powder. I bought it in Florida. How do you like it?”

She turned in a lovely pirouette. Douglas Ashfield looked at the frock absently, his mind on other matters.

“Nice,” he decided finally. “Very nice.”

Then he jerked himself back to the everyday and hurried into his suit coat. On the way out he told the receptionist that his surgery would be closed until evening. Then with Vera on his arm, he took her out to her sleek dream of a car parked against the sidewalk.

“The Golden Comet,” Douglas told the chauffeur. Then he settled beside the girl in the air-sprung cushions.

“I suppose your brother is as peremptory as usual with his orders?” he said, as the car sighed away from the curb.

“I’m afraid so,” Vera admitted, sighing. “I don’t think he realizes just how much he does rule my life. It may be because I’m eight years his junior. That flatters his paternal instincts since Mother and Dad are both dead. Or else it may be that he just loves power and the chance to order people around.”

Douglas smiled to himself, deciding that a desire to exert authority was probably the case. He only liked Mason Brooks because he was Vera’s brother, and for no other reason. Brooks was the chief physicist in the organization known as the City Scientists.

Impersonal, cold, he was about as friendly as the inhuman work he studied. And Vera, never very iron-willed anyway, was more or less in his hands. She had money, yes, but so had he. In fact he was two million dollars ahead of her. Old Man Brooks had revealed himself as something of throwback in believing man was still the dominant sex, and therefore entitled to the lion’s share of his huge fortune.

“Just why did Mason send for you?” Douglas asked, when they were seated before the Golden Comet’s most exclusive offering in lunches. “Anything private?”

“I don’t know whether it is or not. He’s engaged oh an experiment which he says involves the subat—sub—” Vera hesitated vaguely.

“Subatomic?” Douglas suggested.

“That’s it! Something involving the subatomic waves of matter. He believes his idea will mean a great advance in science, and if that is so, he is prepared to sink all his money into it—and he may need some of mine too. So he sent for me. I am to witness this experiment. If it succeeds, you’ll see me writing a check before you can bat an eyelash.”

Something wraith-like came curling out of the depths of space. (CHAP. XIV)

Douglas ate for a while, in silence, rather wishing that he too had a wealthy sister on whom he could draw for money so freely when he needed it. Of course the girl would soon be his wife, but he had the idea that a man in the real sense of the word does not progress on the strength of his wife’s bankroll.

Douglas had money too, of course—he was a most successful ophthalmic surgeon and consultant—but it certainly did not amount to seven million dollars.

“I suppose this experiment is exclusively for you and Mason to witness?” he asked presently.

“He didn’t say,” the girl answered, eating daintily. “You know how offhand he is. But since it is at home in his private laboratory and not in the city physical research department, I imagine it is private. Why?”

“I was just wondering if I could see it too—and decide if it is worth you putting your name to a check. I’m not much good at physics, I admit, but I’m not a bad business man. I don’t want to see my future wife depleted of her bankroll because of what may turn out to be a harebrained scheme. I know what a dabbler Mason is—he’s always at it! And so far he’s never done anything particularly outstanding.”

“If you like to tell him that, you’re welcome,” the girl said seriously. “Personally I’d hesitate.”

Douglas considered for a moment or two. Then excusing himself, he went over to the visiphone booth across the room. In a moment he had switched through to the Brooks’ residence on Fifth Avenue and the manservant’s face appeared on the viewing-plate.

“Mr. Brooks, sir?” he repeated, in response to Douglas’ inquiry. “Just a moment.”

After a while the physicist himself appeared, and Douglas decided he did not like the full-color image any more than he liked the original. Mason Brooks was lean-faced, with a droop in the corners of his thin lipped mouth.

He had the very long nose, which often goes with the inquisitive mind, and sharp gray eyes the same color as Vera’s, but with none of their carefree brightness. Intelligent beyond the average—this was clear from the remarkably high forehead and the dead black hair oiled down away from it.

“Hallo, Douglas,” he greeted briefly. “You’re lucky to catch me at home. I’m just having lunch. Something I can do for you?”

“Vera’s back in town and we’re having lunch at the Golden Comet,” Douglas explained. “She’s been telling me about your experiment.”

“Oh?” A vague surprise seemed to pass over Brooks’ face. “Well, it’s right, of course,” he said. “What about it?”

“Is it exclusive, or can I come, too?”

“By all means, if you wish.” Brooks was none too cordial about it. “I shouldn’t have thought myself, that a dabbler in mitonex lenses would have much interest in deep physics. Still, if you want to improve your knowledge, it’s okay with me. I don’t expect that dizzy sister of mine to understand my work, but for certain legal reasons she has to be present.”

Douglas guessed that the legal reasons were connected with the possible need for her money but he refrained from saying so.

“I’ll come then,” he promised. “And thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Brooks said indifferently. “In case Vera has forgotten it, the time is three o’clock. I’ll be out until then.”

Douglas switched off and returned across the restaurant to rejoin the girl. She looked at him curiously.

“Been bearding the lion?” she questioned.

“Yes, and I’m coming with you. Three o’clock.”

“That will be a real prop for me to lean on,” she said, relieved. “I hate these stuffy scientific experiments! Give me the open air where I can tear through the sky in a jet-plane, or else shoot in a V-Sixteen across the Atlantic. Anything like that.”

“I know.” Douglas looked at her with his serious dark eyes. “You’re a girl to whom life and movement mean everything. I’ve always realized that. I hope you’re not going to find me an old sobersides when we’re married. I shall have to stick to my work and my experiments, no matter what happens.”

“What men you and Mace are for experiments,” she exclaimed. “But I promised I’d listen to you, didn’t I? Tell me just what you are doing with this—this mitonex.”

“Well, you’ll hardly credit it, but I think that with mitonex I can make something of everlasting service to humanity—create an artificial eye!”

The girl did not look impressed. She went on with her meal with youthful energy.

“That isn’t so wonderful, Doug.” She shook her blond head. “An artificial eye has been going for ages.”

“Not a glass eye, dearest. An artificial eye which can see!”

She looked up at that, her pretty face startled.

“But that hasn’t ever been done! In fact science says it just can’t be done!”

“Douglas Ashfield says it can,” he replied. “It’s just the problem of the sclerotic coat which is bothering me a little. That’s the white of the eye, you know, surrounding pupil and iris.”

“You think you can do this—give sight to the blind?” the girl asked breathlessly. Then as he nodded, her hand stole across the table and clasped his encouragingly. “Now that is worth doing. It really is! So much more useful than Mace’s crazy experiments which will be bound to blow him up one day.”

They both laughed, and thereafter—to the girl at least—the subject seemed to be forgotten. Douglas, knowing her somewhat wild spirit, knew that she had meant it when she had approved his idea.

But she had not the temperament or maturity for sustained enthusiasm over a subject she did not understand. By the time lunch was over, experiments in artificial eyes and her brother’s dabblings seemed to be furthest from her mind.

She insisted on an hour in the local news telehall and Douglas agreed just to please her. When they emerged into the sunshine again it was two forty-five, and the car was waiting for them. Punctual to the minute they were outside the door of the great Brook residence at three o’clock.

The manservant let them in and did not look at all surprised at Vera’s quick entrance. He was accustomed to her spasmodic comings and goings.

“My bags are in the car, Jefferson,” she said briefly, taking off the conical absurdity which passed for a hat. “Where is my brother?”

Jefferson did not need to answer for the tall figure of Mason Brooks appeared at that moment from the opposite end of the great hall. He stooped and gave the girl a dutiful kiss on the left cheek, then seized Douglas’ hand in a bony clutch.

“Decided to risk it, eh, Doug?” he asked dryly. “Well, I can’t guarantee that you’ll be interested, but I can hope. You’ve had lunch, I think you said?”

“We’re all ready for action,” Vera announced.

“Good! That saves any delay. Come along to the lab.”

Brooks preceded them to a door leading off the hall and flung it open. To Vera the place was familiar, even though it was sacrosanct territory which she had never entered except at her brother’s request.

To Douglas Ashfield, though not a scientist in the accepted sense, it was a fascinating vision. Mason Brooks’ money had succeeded in making the place as fully equipped with every modern scientific device as the city physical laboratories themselves.

Brooks shut the door and came forward, standing with his hands in the pockets of his white overall. Then he nodded to a machine which was obviously electrical in nature.

“I don’t know whether either of you know anything about the constitution of matter,” he said presently, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

“I know a little,” Douglas answered, as Vera shook her fair head in bewilderment. “I know matter is composed of atoms and molecules—that nothing solid is really solid.”

“That, of course, is high school knowledge,” Brooks observed dryly. “We shall need to go much deeper here. It is assumed by most leading scientists today that all kinds of matter can be penetrated, if one has the right apparatus for doing it.

“I do not mean that a six-inch armor plate can be pierced by a high velocity shell—but that, say, a six-foot cube of cast steel can be made to pass through another six-foot cube of cast steel without damage to either.”

“That sounds rather like a conjuring trick,” Vera remarked.

Brooks glanced at her coldly.

“I did not assemble all this apparatus and work myself nearly into brain fever in order to perform a conjuring trick, sis, believe me! This conception is highly scientific, and I believe it is now perfect. If I can pass a solid through a solid without damage to either, the scientific and commercial possibilities will be endless.

“Man will be able to probe deep into the earth without any resistance. Military equipment like the five-hundred-ton tank will be able to go right through the thickest defense wall. The developments will be legion!”

“I can see that,” Douglas agreed thoughtfully. “But how is it done?”

“Ah!” The physicist grinned cynically. “Now we come to the deep part. Solids, as you remarked, Doug, are composed of atoms, and atoms of course are miniature solar systems. In other words, if you can picture them from a sideways angle they are flat.

“But this flatness points in all directions or, more concisely, it is not organized. Because of the disorganization no solid can fall through another. No two solids can be said to occupy the same space at the same time.”

“Clear so far,” Douglas agreed, thinking. Then he smiled as he saw Vera wofully holding her forehead.

“Now, atoms have poles,” Brooks went on deliberately. “But these poles point in all directions: I have devized a system whereby magnetism can make them all point in one direction. By this means I can make the atoms all flat—parallel—so that they only block about fifteen percent of the space they occupied in their disordered forms. Under this influence one solid can go right through another. But the moment the transition is complete and the magnetism removed, the atoms swing back into their former disordered state and solidity returns.”

There was silence for a moment. Douglas nodded slowly.

“Yes—yes, I see what you mean. If you can do it, it will certainly be the biggest scientific achievement in many years.”

A faint flush of pleasure crept into the physicist’s pale cheeks. Praise for his work was the one thing he loved.

“It will take plenty of money to demonstrate the principle on a big scale,” he said. “I have made so many bad experiments that the City Scientists haven’t a great deal of faith in me. That may mean floating a company of my own. Anyway, we’ll see first how I go on. I know it will work because mathematics have proved it. Now, watch carefully.”

He switched on his peculiarly designed apparatus and tubes began to glow. Bar magnets too took on a faint haze of energy. The dynamos crept up the scale and whined.

Fascinated, Vera and Douglas stood watching together as two automatic arms shifted two heavy cubes of cast steel along a specially made cradle. As they came into the area of the bar magnets they hazed visibly and the other side of the laboratory became faintly visible through them. Then, gradually, they began to approach each other. They touched. There was a faint surge of added power in the equipment.

Then the impossible began to happen!

Each block began to melt into the other, both of them narrowing their sizes as they came near to an identical fit. It was like a movie wherein a shadow image steps into itself.

“I think that proves it,” Brooks said, when one block was dead inside the other. “Now we can—”

He broke off suddenly, his startled eyes on the power-gauges.

“Hang it!” he shouted. “I forgot! The extra energy means an increased-load on the magnets, and I don’t think they’ll stand it. I’ve got to tear these confounded things apart before the fuses break!”

He swung around fiddling with the switches which controlled the block cradles. The two blocks began to come out of one another again, but they had only progressed about six inches before the dreaded thing happened. The overload blew the main fuses with a decisive snap. Other things occurred simultaneously.

Two blocks of steel were suddenly both in the same space at the same time. The colossal energy produced by such a condition liberated itself in the form of a resistless expansion.

Douglas had just time to behold the whole apparatus apparently, hurtling straight for him. He heard Vera scream as she reeled back with her hands clapped to her face. Somewhere behind a machine Mason Brooks was cowering.

Then the laboratory attached to the Brooks mansion went sailing into midair and gave New York its most spectacular explosion for many a long day.