The miniature projectile fell swiftly. Several heads were ducked, protective arms raised.
There was a shattering explosion. Fragments of metal spurted across the room as the shell of the coconut had done. Plaster fell from walls as they became spattered with this shrapnel. But not one particle fell on the table or on the surrounding carpet:
“The guided missile is dispersed.” Dr. Hessian spoke calmly. “In practice the inaudible sound would be greatly amplified. There would be a thunderstorm far above New York of a violence which no man has ever heard. But nothing more. The protective belt would also be relayed to outlying points. I could throw up a ceiling of sound over the whole of New York City at a cost below that of maintaining a fighter squadron for a month. And now, gentlemen, the sneak raid on the Bronx.”
As Dr. Hessian laid his hand on that section of the plan, the Japanese, standing beside him, head carefully lowered, stretched forward and grasped the suspended ring.
“Proceed.”
The ring was jerked sharply. A spurt of flame spat down out of the opening in the container. A dull impact ... a cloud of grey matter spread like smoke across the air, and a flattened bullet rebounded nearly to the ceiling in a ricochet and finally came to rest against a gap in the wall made by shrapnel from the “guided missile.”
Two more shots were fired, with similar results. The spectacle was bewildering, for the effect, looking upward, was as though a sheet of miraculously impenetrable glass extended across the room.
But there was nothing—nothing visible . . .
“Let no one stir,” Dr. Hessian warned. “Cover everything up.”
The Japanese went out and returned with several large sheets. One he spread over the table. Others were laid on the surrounding carpet.
“Disconnect.”
A switch was moved in the near-by cabinet . . . and as if a palpable obstacle had been drawn aside, down showered debris of all the experiments!
Chapter
13
At the conclusion of that amazing demonstration in the penthouse, Dr. Hessian had excused himself and retired. He had been at work day and night, he explained, ever since his arrival, and was far too weary for debate. He referred members of the committee to his assistant, Dr. Yukio Yono, who was qualified to answer all their questions.
Dr. Jurgonsen had tried to detain him, but Hessian had merely nodded and gone out.
Then the imperturbable Japanese scientist had been made the target of a verbal bombardment. But he had never faltered, never changed the tone of his voice, even when others were shouting. Nayland Smith had tapped Brian on the shoulder and nodded towards the door. Back again in their own quarters:
“We’re out of our depth, Merrick,” he told Brian, “up there. But words can’t alter facts.” He poured out two liberal shots of whisky. “Otto Hessian had solved the problem of protection from all form of aerial attack. You agree?”
“I can’t doubt it. The thing’s a miracle. It’s magic.”
“There’s no difficulty whatever in throwing up this sound ceiling over a wide area. Strong feature is the low cost. Everybody’s convinced, of course. But old Jurgonsen is boiling with professional jealousy. Your father has tried to persuade the Japanese to get Hessian to set up his apparatus in Washington for the President’s okay. But Hessian blankly declines. Genius has its privileges. It’s a case of Mohammed and the mountain. The President will come.”
“Here?” Brian jerked, startled by such a proposal.
“Here, Merrick, and soon. You saw the vacant chair at the table? That’s for your father. The place occupied by Senator Merrick tonight will be reserved for the President.”
When presently the members of the committee re-assembled it was clear that their opinion was unanimous. Even Dr. Jurgonsen was forced to admit that Otto Hessian had broken new ground in the aerial defence problem, opening up a prospect of entire immunity on a remarkably low budget.
“Secrecy and speed are vital,” he declared. “Dr. Hessian, whom I knew only by name, had vilely bad manners but clearly knows his subject.”
“I’ll see the President tonight,” Senator Merrick promised. “It was arranged I should do so, however late I got back. Dr. Hessian is certainly a most irascible character, and I must persuade the President to come here, incognito, without delay, not later than tomorrow or Friday. Not a word of this must leak out. There will be no press conferences, gentlemen!”
“Every conceivable precaution has been taken,” Nayland Smith assured him. “You all entered the hotel by a door not normally in use and came up in a reserved elevator.”
“I thought the man on duty looked hard at me,” Dr. Jurgonsen complained.
“Quite likely He’s an F.B.I, operative!”
* * *
In a hotel bedroom a stockily-built Asiatic, with thick, sensual features and fierce eyes, was listening to a voice which came out of an open suit-case standing on a trestle. It was a sinister, sibilant voice, its curious quality enhanced by the language in which it spoke—Hindustani.
“You understand that this is the emergency called Project Zero?”
“I understand, Master.”
“Is Nogai with you?”
“He is downstairs, Master.”
“Order him to avoid the public rooms. He has attracted attention. Because he is registered as a Rajah’s son he must not act like one. Both remain in your apartment until further orders. Take your meals there. Now, repeat your emergency instructions.”
“Yes, Master. At the signal——”
“Repeat the signal.”
“Three raps on the door . . . .”
“Continue.”
“The door will be unlocked on the other side and I unlock it on this side. I put all lights out. I open the door enough to see in, and wait for the man to come. The first time he has his back to me, I act.”
“You must make no mistake.”
“I never make mistakes, Master. Nogai and I open the big box and drag him in. We close the door; and wait for further orders.”
“And if he is not alone?”
“Nogai goes to the front door and rings. Whichever one answers I deal with the other. Nogai deals with the man at the door.”
“Silently!”
“Nogai’s method is as silent as mine, Master . . .”
A few minutes later, a woman seated manicuring her fingernails was addressed by the same strange voice, speaking in French, from a cream leather toilet case on the table beside her. She started nervously, staring across the empty room with a haunted look in her eyes.
“I am here, Excellency,” she replied, also in French—apparently her native tongue.
“A general emergency has arisen. You have maintained your contact with personnel at the airport?”
“I have.”
“Make your own plans, provided I have no occasion to direct otherwise. You know already the information I must have. It is vital that this reaches me
“I understand, Excellency.”
“No orders, other than those preceded by the code-word Si-Fan, are to be accepted. You understand?”
“I understand perfectly.”
“I count upon unremitting vigilance. Keep in constant touch wherever you are. Report hourly from the time
