The Daleth Effect

“Langsam… langsam…” he muttered, and crouched behind the desk. The building was silent. There was a small outlet that he had built into the case of the flashlight. The two-pronged plug on the end of the wire fitted neatly into it. Schmidt bent lower and jammed in the plug.

The explosion was a muffled blow that shook the floor. The pile of books began to topple, and he ran to catch them. He stopped most of them, but Annual Fisheries Report 1948— 1949 landed with a resounding thud. Smoke curled up and the lock mechanism was a twisted ruin. With careful speed he began moving the books so the safe door could be opened—then froze as heavy footsteps sounded in the outer office. They came closer, right up to the door, and the handle turned.

“Who is in there? Why is this door locked?”

Schmidt put down the books he was holding and turned off the flashlight, then moved to the door. The tape pulled away soundlessly and the plastic sheet rustled as it fell to the floor. He waited until the knob turned again— then reached out and pulled the locking wedge free.

The door burst open with dramatic suddenness and the large form of the night watchman stumbled through, gun in hand. Before he could bring it up there were two coughing reports and he kept on going, forward, down to sprawl full length on the floor.

Schmidt put the muzzle of the silenced revolver against the back of the man’s coat, over his heart, and pulled the trigger a third time. The figure jerked convulsively and was still.

After checking the outer office and hall to make sure the watchman had been alone, Schmidt closed the doors and went back to work. He hummed happily as the safe door swung open and he searched through it, ignoring completely the dead man on the floor beside him.

13

Elsinore

“Look at that!” Nils said. “Just look at it.” He had the early edition of Berlingske Tidende propped up against the coffeepot while he sawed away angrily at his breakfast bacon. “I’m just not used to seeing headlines like that in a Danish paper. Shocking. Night watchman killed… foreign minister’s office burglarized… documents missing. It’s like reading the American papers.”

“I don’t see why you mention the States,” Martha said. “These things happened right here, not in America. There’s no connection.” She took the pot to pour herself some coffee, and his newspaper fell down.

“I would appreciate it if you would keep my paper out of the preserves, it makes it hard to read.” He picked it up and brushed at the red smears with his napkin. “There is a connection, and you know it. The U.S. papers are always filled with murders, rapes, and beatings because that sort of thing always happens there. What was the figure? There are more murders in the city of Dallas in one year than in all of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales combined. And I’ll bet you could throw in Denmark too.”

“If you hate Americans so much—why did you ever marry me?” Martha asked, biting into her toast.

He opened his mouth to answer, found that there was absolutely nothing he could say to this fine bit of female logic, so he growled instead and opened to the soccer scores. Martha nodded as if this was just the kind of answer that she expected.

“Shouldn’t we get going?” she asked.

Nils glanced up at the clock over the kitchen door. “A few minutes more. We don’t want to get there before the post office opens at nine.” He put the paper down and reached for his coffee. He was wearing a dark brown suit instead of his uniform.

“Won’t you be flying any more?” Martha asked.

“I don’t know. I would like to, but Skou keeps talking about security. I suppose we had all better start listening a little closer to Skou. You better get your coat now. I’ll wait for you in the car.”

A door led from the utility room into the garage, which made this bit of deception easier. Skou had agreed that the chances were slim that Nils’s home was under surveillance, but one could never be sure. The way Skou talked, he made it seem as though every flight into Denmark had more secret agents than tourists aboard. He might be right at that; there wasn’t a country in the world that didn’t want the Daleth drive. He opened the back door of the big Jaguar and slid in. His knees crunched up, and he realized that he had never sat in the back seat before. Martha came in, looking chic and attractive in the brown suede coat, a bright silk band on her hair—and a lot younger than her twenty-six years. He rolled the window down.

“Child-bride,” he called out. “You never kissed me goodbye.”

“I’d cover you with lipstick.” She blew him a kiss. “Now close the window and hunker down before I open the garage door.”

“Hunker down,” he grunted, forcing his massive frame down on the floor. “American. You learn new words every day. Can you hunker up too?”

“Be quiet,” she said, getting into the car. “The street looks empty.”

They pulled out, and all he could see were the treetops along Strandvejen while she closed the door again. When they started up there was just sky and an occasional cloud.

“Very dull back here.”

“We’ll be there soon. The train is at nine-twelve, is that right?”

“On the button. Don’t get there too early, because I don’t feel like standing around the platform.”

“I’ll go slow through the forest. Will you be home for dinner?”

“No way to say. I’ll call you as soon as I know.”

“Not before noon. I’ll do some shopping while I’m in Birkerod. There’s that new little dress shop.”

“There’s some new little bills.” He sighed dramatically and unsuccessfully tried to shift position.

, It was nine minutes past nine when she pulled into the parking space next to the railroad station, just across the street from the post office.

“Is there anyone around?” he asked.

“Somebody going into the post office. And a man locking up his bike. He’s going into the station, now—no one is looking this way.”

Nils pushed up gratefully and dropped into the seat.

“A big relief.”

“You will be all right, won’t you?” she asked, turning about to face him. She had that little worried pucker between her eyes that she used to have when they were first married, before the routine of his flying pushed the concern below the surface.

“I’ll be just fine,” he assured her, reaching out and rubbing the spot on her forehead with his finger. She smiled, not very successfully.

“I never thought that I would wish you were back at flying those planes all over the world. But I do.”

“Don’t worry. Little Nils can take care of himself. And watchdog Skou will be with me.”

He watched the graceful swing of her figure as she crossed the road—then looked at his watch. One more minute. The street was empty now. He climbed out of the car and went to buy a ticket. When he stepped out on the wooden platform the train was just rounding the bend on the outskirts of town, moaning deeply. There were a few other people waiting for the train from Copenhagen, none of theim looking at him. When the coaches squealed to a stop he boarded the first one. Ove Rasmussen looked up from his newspaper and waved. They shook hands and Nils sat down in the empty seat next to him.

“I thought Arnie would be with you,” Nils said. “He’s going up with Skou in some other complicated and secret manner.”

“It’s stopped being a game, hasn’t it?”

“You’re right about that. I wonder if they’ll be able to find the swine who did it?”

“Highly unlikely, Skou told me. Very professional, no clues of any kind. The murdering bastards. Did them no good either. There was nothing about the Daleth drive in the office.”

They were silent after that, all the way to Hillerod where they had to change trains. The Helsingor train was ready to leave, a spur line, one track, and just three cars. It rattled off through the beech and birch forests,