Saint and the Fiction Makers (18 page)

‘Wonderful!’ Simon said.

‘What?’ she inquired blankly.

‘Wonderful. See them. You’ve got it. With the right equipment we could see the beams. Something as simple as a pair of Polaroid glasses with a coating of … what would it be?’

‘Something sensitive to infra-red light, you mean?’ exclaimed Amity. ‘Exactly. But what?’

Simon looked up towards the ceiling and pressed his palms together in a prayerful attitude.

‘Oh mighty Warlock,’ he intoned. ‘Hast thou some elixir sensitive to infra-red light lying about the place?’

With an answering buzz the panel which covered the television screen was already drawing back. The screen flickered to life with the image of Warlock’s eager round face.

‘It might really work!’ came his excited voice from the loudspeaker.

Simon stood and salaamed.

‘Thou hast heard, oh All Knowing!’

‘I’ll get to work on it immediately,’ Warlock said. ‘I’ll have you brought down as soon as we’re ready for a test.’

Warlock was on his way out of the picture even before the screen had become completely blank. There was a knock at the door of Simon’s room.

‘So soon?’ Amity said.

‘It is time for my walk,’ Simon said. ‘Why don’t you get some rest?’

‘I’d much rather join the fun and games out on the greensward,’ Amity said as Galaxy walked in.

‘You can’t both go out at the same time,’ Galaxy said promptly. ‘Anyway, three’s a crowd.’

‘Better a crowd than your company,’ Amity retorted. She had gone to the open door of her room. ‘Well, Amos darling, bring ‘em back alive … the cliches, I mean.’

‘What is she talking about?’ Galaxy asked.

The Saint walked with her down the corridor.

‘Don’t worry about it. Amity has a very intricate mind.’

‘And I’m stupid, I suppose?’

‘If you sometimes give that impression— which you don’t, of course—I’m sure it’s because nobody can believe anybody with your beauty could also have a brilliant mind—which you do, of course.’

‘Well, I never had the chances she did. That’s obvious.’

‘It’s a good excuse, anyway.’

Galaxy looked at him with sudden irritation. They had just come out on to the front steps of S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. Simon continued walking until he and Galaxy were out of range of the microphones which were hidden all over the building. He didn’t doubt that there were other means of monitoring his conversation even out in the garden, but he knew that in moving about constantly in the open he was at least interfering with the clarity of reception.

‘What do you mean—excuse?’ Galaxy asked him.

‘I mean that saying you never had a chance is just a way of evading responsibility for yourself. When you can blame everything on bad luck or whatever you want to call it, you’ve got a perfect excuse for just floating with the tide. There’s nothing Amity can do that you can’t do. I’m sure of that.’

She slipped her arm under his and walked close beside him as he strolled towards the relative privacy of a few beeches near the wall that surrounded Warlock’s property. The sun was low, reddening as it descended towards the horizon through a cloudless sky, and shadows were long on the carefully tended grass. In such pleasant circumstances, the Saint felt almost guilty for lying to Galaxy about her limited intellectual potential.

‘I haven’t done so bad,’ she said cosily. ‘I’ve got lots of nice things, and I’ll have lots more after tomorrow night. And look who I’m with.’

‘And look where we are,’ Simon said wryly.

He made a sweeping gesture to indicate the wall. Galaxy pressed against him reassuringly as they stopped beneath the beech trees.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Everything will be all right after tomorrow night.’

‘At least I won’t have to worry,’ the Saint said grimly. ‘I’ll be dead.’

‘Dead?’ she exclaimed.

‘You don’t think Warlock will let me or Amity stay alive to tell the world what he’s done, do you?’

‘I don’t care about Amity. I wish he would kill her. But he won’t hurt you. I’m sure he won’t.’

She sounded more hopeful than convinced, and Simon seized the opportunity.

‘You know as well as I do that he’ll have to kill me,’ he said urgently.

‘No! He’s … he’s not the type.’

He took her in his arms and whispered in her ear.

‘I’m sure they can hear what we’re saying even now, so don’t talk out loud. Pretend I’m kissing you.’

She shivered and clung to him.

‘Why pretend?’ she whispered.

Her lips were suddenly against his, and it was several minutes before either of them spoke again.

‘Galaxy,’ he said in ardent tones which would have quickened the pulse of a Hollywood film director, ‘if we ever get out of this thing, I’m going to take you away someplace and spend about six months making sure we both forget it.’

‘Oh, Amos, I’m so glad … You can write your books, and I’ll … I’ll …”

‘Do what you’re best at,’ he suggested.

She giggled against his shoulder.

‘Yes.’

Simon straightened and assumed a tragic expression.

‘But there’s no use talking about it. I won’t be alive, and Warlock would never let you go.’

‘I could go,’ she said indignantly. ‘I’m not his slave.’

The Saint looked her in the eye.

‘Are you sure? I have a feeling none of you are here just out of sheer love and loyalty to dear old Warlock. And I don’t think it’s just the profit motive, either. What’s he got on you?’

‘Got on me?’ she asked nervously.

‘Yes, got on you. What’s the hook he’s holding you with? I’ve got to know that before I can risk too much. Were you in prison?’

‘No! There wasn’t enough evidence.’

‘But there would be enough evidence to convict you if Warlock spoke up to the police? Is that the idea?’

‘Something like that,’ she said coldly. ‘Does it matter? Lots of people get killed in wars all the time, and nobody thinks a thing about it, but just let one person get rid of somebody’s nagging bitch of a wife in a way that doesn’t even hurt at all and you’d think the world was coming to an end!’

Simon’s aplomb was put to the test which, of course, it passed nobly.

‘You performed this good deed, I take it, with the husband’s permission?’

‘I …’ Galaxy caught herself and looked at him wisely. ‘I never said I performed anything,’ she went on. ‘But this husband—the way he acted when she was dead—you never would have known the whole idea was his.’ Galaxy disgustedly broke a twig from a bush next to her. ‘Men are such cowards.’

‘What happened to him?’ Simon asked.

‘He died too. Not long after.’ Galaxy smirked. ‘Of a broken heart.’

‘More likely of a highly spiced steak and kidney pie,’ said the Saint. ‘And Warlock is going to share your old family recipe with the police if you don’t co-operate?’

‘Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter,’ Galaxy insisted. ‘I’m glad I’m here anyway. Who wouldn’t be, for the money I’m going to get?’

Any romance Simon had been able to instill into the moment had been pretty thoroughly dissipated, but he tried to restore a little of it as he drew Galaxy closer to him again.

‘Listen,’ he whispered. ‘I have plenty of money of my own. If we can get out of here alive, you can have anything you’ve dreamed of … and the money’s in my bank account, not in Hermetico.’

‘I couldn’t. Not if you mean before Warlock gets back tomorrow night.’

‘That’s what I mean,’ Simon said urgently. ‘We’ll have to escape tomorrow night while they’re at Hermetico.’

Galaxy was shaking her head and trying to draw back.

‘Who’s we? she asked sceptically. ‘I suppose she’s supposed to go with us.’

‘She’s going as far as the other side of the wall anyway. We can’t leave her here. But then…’

‘But then nothing!’ Galaxy said. ‘Men are all liars.’ Her expression changed suddenly. ‘Unless … we got rid of her. Then I’d know you were serious.’

Simon was quickly calculating the possible advantage of pretending to agree to Amity’s liquidation until Galaxy had given him the means of escape, and then turning the tables.

‘Then you’d help me get out of here tomorrow night?’ he asked.

‘Oh, no. I’m waiting for my share of the money. I’ll be sure you get out after that, and tommorrow night we’ll get rid of her. Right?’

Simon shook his head, abandoning the whole project.

‘No. We’re not getting rid of Amity. If you do get rid of her Warlock will be upset and …’

‘We could make it look like she was trying to escape. Or she was sick. That’s the way I … it was done to that woman before. Warlock has all kinds of chemicals. He lived in the flat next door to me at the time …’

‘And you borrowed some of his potions.’

‘Something like that,’ Galaxy said proudly. ‘I’ve watched him. I could get something that would make it look like Amity just suddenly …’

‘No,’ Simon said firmly. ‘If you killed her, I … I’d feel too guilty to go away with you anywhere.’

Galaxy stepped back and gave her whole body a jerk like an enraged child.

‘You’re just like the others!’ she said. ‘Men are all talk! I know what you’d do. You’d let me get you and her out of here and then you’d throw me over so fast I wouldn’t know what hit me!’

The Saint was grateful to see Bishop appear by the corner of the house at that point and call to him.

‘Mr. Klein! Warlock would like you to come to the laboratory!’

‘Right away,’ Simon replied. ‘Sorry, Galaxy. We’ll have to continue this pleasant chat later.’

She hurried along close beside him as he strode across the lawn to the front door.

‘If you let me get rid of her I still might believe you,’ she said. ‘Then I’d know you were serious.’

‘No,’ said Simon. ‘That’s absolutely out.’

The details of Galaxy’s subsequent remarks would be of interest only to a serious specialist in colourful English colloquialisms.

‘Come along quickly, please,’ Bishop said at the door, and led Simon and Galaxy to the cellar.

Warlock was standing beside one of his lab tables painting a small square of glass with a greenish metallic liquid. On the table was something like a sun lamp with a focussing lens in front of it. Frug stood nearby watching.

‘Ah, Klein!’ Warlock said. ‘Just in time. Frug, plug that cord in, would you?’

Frug plugged the lamp-like device into a wall outlet. Warlock flicked a switch.

‘There,’ he said with satisfaction.

‘Is it on?’ Bishop asked. ‘I can’t see anything.’

‘Of course you can’t,’ Warlock said impatiently. ‘Infra-red radiation is like light, except that it’s beyond the range the human eye is designed to pick up. If we could see it, do you think we’d be going to all this trouble?’

Bishop looked uncomfortable, and his head seemed to sink lower than usual between his shoulders. Simon raised the piece of coated glass to his eye and turned to the table on which the infra-red device sat. Where a second before he had seen nothing, he now saw a distinct beam of pale light. He nodded, and Warlock took the glass with such excitement that he almost dropped it on the floor.

‘It works!’ he exulted. ‘We’ve done it. Klein, you’re a genius.’

‘I know,’ Simon said humbly.

‘Now we can get in Hermetico?’ Frug asked.

‘Not necessarily,’ Simon told him. ‘But you’ll at least be able to see the beams that may blow you to bits.’

Warlock compressed his lips and gave Simon a stern look.

‘I’ve asked you to stop your discouraging talk,’ he said. ‘Tell us the rest of your plan.’

‘There isn’t any rest yet,’ the Saint said. ‘I’d suggest you send somebody over to Hermetico right away with a piece of this glass—or better still with several pairs of glasses coated with this stuff—and give it a test.’

‘But we already know it works,’ Frug interrupted.

Warlock turned to him in nervous exasperation.

‘Will you go back to your ridiculous magazines?’ he snapped. ‘It’s better than having you interfering at every turn!’

T have another reason for sending somebody over there,’ Simon put in. ‘We need to know how thickly those beams are interlaced. It won’t do you any good to see them if there’s not enough space between them anywhere for you to work your way through.’

‘Is that clear to you, Bishop?’ Warlock asked. ‘As soon as I’ve coated some glasses, you and Nero get over there and do as Mr. Klein said. I’ll give you some ideas on estimating the distance between beams. There’s a wooded patch that comes near the fence at the back of the Hermetico building. It’s the only place where you can get quite near without being seen. For heaven’s sake don’t let anyone spot you.’

‘Just one other thing,’ Simon said. ‘If it’s possible to make a circuit of the whole fence without getting caught, try to see if there’s a channel through the beams.’

‘Right,’ Warlock agreed. ‘But since the pattern of beams will probably be the same all the way around, don’t take any risks. Now go get Nero and explain everything to him. I’ll give you the glasses on your way out.’

‘And shall I go back to my palatial cell?’ Simon asked.

Frug was still hovering near the door as Bishop left.

‘You’re not gone yet!’ Warlock snapped at him. ‘Take Mr. Klein to his room.’ The next words were directed to Simon. ‘You’re doing a fine job. If there’s space among the beams, we can either walk through or make an aluminium extension bridge to put through any channel. Have you worked out the details of getting to the vault through the ventilation system?’

‘Not completely. I won’t have it finished before tomorrow sometime.’

‘Good. We’ll plan to enter Hermetico after midnight tomorrow. Shall I tell you what Bishop and Nero have found out when they come back tonight?’

‘I’d rather get some sleep,’ Simon said. ‘I think I can control my excitement.’

‘Understandable. You were a busy fellow last night. Which reminds me, Mr. Klein …’

Simon had started to walk out into the corridor. He turned in the doorway.

‘What?’

‘If you have any intention of building some trap for us into your Hermetico scheme—don’t be foolish enough to think I won’t detect it. After all, I’ve plenty of time to study the plans too, and I’m as familiar with the place as you are—probably more so.’