The Dark Frontier (12 page)

Tweeds, he soon found, are not in warm weather the ideal clothes for mountain climbing, for that was what his progress
soon became. The track grew almost precipitous and he was still further hindered by the loose surface and his package of food and wine. He had been climbing for half an hour when he stopped, ate his lunch, drank his wine and smoked a pipe. Some forty minutes later, much refreshed and free of encumbrance, he continued the ascent in better style. By the time he reached the belt of firs it was afternoon. His footsteps on the stones sent lizards, basking on the sun-drenched rocks, scuttling away in staccato terror. There was no other sound but the soft chirping of grasshoppers and the monotonous drone of a cicada some distance away.

He rounded the trees close to a pylon, strengthened and guyed to take the double pull sideways caused by the left-hand turn of the lines. From where he stood he could see the lines where they ran horizontally for about a mile along a ridge. Thankful that he could once more take up the chase on level ground, he went forward.

His way lay for the most part through clearings which had been made through the trees, and only occasionally did he catch glimpses of the valley below. He covered the distance rapidly. At the end of the ridge the lines dipped away to the right, out of sight again from where he stood. He walked straight on a little way to a promontory from which he could take his bearings.

It was an awe-inspiring sight that met his eyes. He had climbed higher than he had supposed and the valley lay before him like a map. To the right he could see the pylons leaving the trees about half a mile away. He traced them down and up the other side of the valley where they disappeared once more into the middle distance. Then, far away before him where the valley narrowed into a gorge, he saw the dam, a wedge-shaped gash of white against the dark rock background. To the left of it, perched precariously at the foot of a mass of rock towering above it, was a cluster of buildings which, Carruthers guessed,
housed the turbines and generators that supplied Zovgorod with electricity.

So far, although he had scrutinised every yard of the overhead lines carefully, he had failed to detect any branch connection. If there was such a connection it must be made at a point on the line in the hidden part of it to the right of him or in that on the opposite side of the valley near the power station. That Kassen’s laboratory was actually at the power station or on the farthest side of the dam, he thought unlikely. At the power station, Kassen would lack the privacy necessary for his experiments; to erect special power lines for the sole purpose of carrying electricity to a laboratory on the shores of the lake beyond would be a very costly business. No! His objective was in the valley somewhere.

He retraced his steps to the point at which he had left the lines and followed them on down a gradual slope. On his right, the great firs towered against the sky. On his left, they grew from roots so far below him that his eyes were level with their foliage. A rough path, probably worn by the foresters who kept the way cleared for the lines, made it easy going for a time. Then, once again, the track ended, the lines bore to the left and he was forced to negotiate what appeared to be a disused stone quarry. To do this he had to make his way down along the edge of the quarry to where it was shallow enough for him to cross the bottom which was about a hundred yards wide. Once across, however, he had not far to climb up to where the lines, considerably lower down the hillside than before, were descending to cross the valley. There remained only a thick clump of trees between him and the end of that unexplored section of the lines. He was already resigning himself to returning on the following day to explore the last section of lines on the power station side of the valley when he saw the gleam of insulators through the trees ahead of him and knew that his search was ended.

He went forward cautiously to the foot of the tall pylon. Beside it stood a short steel gantry carrying two huge steatite insulators to take the strain of the heavy covered cables which led, almost at right angles to the power station lines, straight down the hillside through a copse.

He moved slowly in their wake. They did not go far. Almost before he noticed it he had come to the edge of a deep gully which the trees had masked. He looked over the edge. There, below him, hidden from curious eyes on every side, was a brick building into one end of which the branch power cables disappeared.

It was an oddly shaped structure. At one end rose a large square tower. This was about eighty feet high, but the size of its plan gave it a squat appearance. A single long window in the side showed that, in spite of its height, it had no floors. It was into the tower that the cables led. He guessed its purpose. He had seen such buildings before. It was a High-Tension laboratory.

From where he stood no entrance to it was visible. It was doubtless entered from the long, low, glass-roofed building that abutted upon it. One thing puzzled him. On the roof of the tower was a searchlight encased in tarpaulin. He decided to take a closer look at the laboratory.

To his left, the lip of the gully ran sharply downwards. He worked his way down carefully. Once, he dislodged a large stone which clattered down into the gully with a terrifying noise; but it drew no response from the occupants of the laboratory buildings, and after waiting for a minute or two he went on. Soon he was on a level with the laboratory. He could see the top of it over the heads of some young rowans which grew in a large clump at the foot of the gully. He gently pushed his way through them for about a dozen yards. Then he stopped. Barring his way was a wire fence.

It was not the fence that made him pause; he could have
squeezed through it easily enough; it was the sight of a dead owl suspended between two of the wires. A few feet away there was a post supporting the wires. He examined it closely. The fence was an electric one. Anyone coming into contact with it while the current was on would be instantly electrocuted.

Retreating behind the screen formed by the rowans, he considered this new obstacle. The owl had obviously been dead some hours, probably since the previous night, for owls rarely flew during the day. It was doubtful if the current was switched on unless there were experiments in progress. He would have to find out for certain.

He took off his watch chain and, attaching it to the end of a twig, went back to the fence. If the fence were alive, the metal chain held across adjacent wires would short-circuit the current and cause a tell-tale flash. It was likely, too, that it would also sound an alarm bell, but that he had anticipated and decided to risk. He brought the chain into contact with the wires, but nothing happened. The current was off. A moment later he was inside the fence and in the shelter of some bushes.

By taking a rather circuitous path, he found that he could approach the lower building without breaking cover. This he did and was soon in the shadow of the end wall. He moved slowly along to the corner and peered round. About twelve feet away was a window. Once out of the cover of the bushes he stood a fair chance of discovery. In that unhappy event, he would not improve his chances of avoiding Rovzidski’s fate by being found behaving furtively. Making as little sound as possible, he strolled, hands in pockets, round the corner of the house and glanced through the window.

Inside was a laboratory. It ran almost the entire length of the building. At the far end was a door which, he guessed, connected through another room with the High-Tension laboratory.

The room into which he was looking presented a curious
problem. At one end was a small ore crusher, such as is used in metallurgy, and a cathode ray oscillograph. One corner was decorated with all the paraphernalia of the analytical chemist and, inexplicably, a small hydraulic press with a circular ram. A small treadle lathe completed the equipment of this strange room.

He was moving on to find some way of inspecting the High-Tension building when he heard the unexpected sound of a car approaching in low gear from the valley below. Then he remembered the disused quarry. There would be a road leading up to it that could be used for approaching the laboratory. The car stopped. He returned to the end window and, flattening himself against the wall, waited.

Soon an electric bell pealed. Through the window he saw a man in dungarees come through the door at the far end and exit through another door almost opposite to him. A moment or two later the man in dungarees returned, holding the door open for a woman who swept in past him. Carruthers drew back before he had had time to see the newcomer’s face, but he had guessed that it was the Countess Schverzinski.

He heard her address a few imperious words to the man in dungarees, who went back into the room from which he had come. A few seconds later another man entered. Carruthers heard him exchange what sounded like a greeting with the Countess. His voice had a curiously vibrant tone which made even the ugly Ixanian gutturals sound liquid. Carruthers moved his head slightly and the owner of the voice came into view.

He was a short, narrow-shouldered little man, with a large brachycephalic head sparsely covered with straight black hair. His mouth was twisted as though he were perpetually on the point of ridding himself of a bad taste. He wore a white dust coat. This man, Carruthers concluded, must be Kassen.

To his great relief the Countess broke into French, obviously
to render her words unintelligible to the man in dungarees who stood at the door. The man went out leaving the door ajar.

“You must be more careful,” she was saying; “if the lights had failed during the performance it might have been really serious. As it is, there were three women injured in the panic and the President has announced that he will make inquiries.”

“That imbecile!”

“My dear Jacob,” said the Countess coldly, “if I didn’t know that, outside your work, you were a fool I should be angry with you. I could if necessary persuade the President that an investigation would be unwelcome, but it would immediately make him curious. The less mystery there is, the greater the secrecy.”

“But what can I do?” retorted the other angrily. “Between one
A.M
. and five
A.M
.! Four hours out of every twenty-four! What’s the use of that to me? Already it has lost us months.”

“It cannot be helped. We are all impatient, but you must do the best you can. Remember, Jacob, this is an order. You must not use the power before one o’clock in the morning. Last night it was a quarter to twelve. What happened?”

The Countess was very domineering. Kassen answered sulkily.

“You treat me as if I were a child, Magda. I could not help it. Things were going well. I did not think of the time. It was only when Kortner telephoned from the power station in a panic that I realised that it was early.”

The Countess seemed mollified. She said something in a low tone which Carruthers missed. Kassen laughed shortly.

“And now, my friend,” he heard her say, “tell me your news.”

“The affair marches,” answered Kassen; “the consignment of ore from the old Grad mine was much better; it has less lead in it. How many tons have they brought up?”

“About eighty. But there is more lower down the seam if you need it. I hope not. There has already been a lot of talk
about it in the village and there are rumours about that we are going to smelt lead there again.”

“Dear lady,” said Kassen blandly, “eighty tons will make enough magdanite to blow up Europe.”

“What do you mean, magdanite?”

Kassen laughed softly.

“My new name for our little secret. In honour of you. Of course, you guessed that. Your name, Magda, will go round the world linked with mine. It is so appropriate. Power and beauty go hand in hand. Magdanite shall be their envoy. It is exquisitely appropriate, Magda. My brains contribute to your beauty. Tell me, Magda, what will beauty give in return?”

His voice had grown husky. Carruthers heard a quick movement. There was a pause.

“You are foolish,” she said, but there was pity in her voice; “let me go, Jacob.”

She was silent for a moment, then she went on: “As for this name of yours, I do not like it. This stuff you have made is but the means to an end. It will be a bloody means and it disgusts me.”

There was a sneer in Kassen’s voice.

“And yet you will not hesitate to use it, Countess?”

“No.”

“And Colonel Marassin, does he share your disgust?”

“Colonel Marassin is a soldier. His enthusiasm is academic.”

“And yours, beloved Magda, is the sentimentality of the patriot.”

“No, Jacob, the impersonality of the surgeon. But I did not come here to argue with you. I want to know how soon it will be ready.”

“Nothing can be done until the mixers arrive. There is no hitch I hope.”

“None. Rovzidski did that part of his work satisfactorily. The credits were arranged this week. But I want as little experimenting
as possible. The presence of this man Barstow with the Cator & Bliss man makes me uneasy.”

“They can do harm?” Kassen spoke anxiously.

“No, I think not. They are being watched constantly. Without Rovzidski they are powerless. There is no one but you or me from whom they could get their information.”

“The man Barstow is a fool, but he has been working in his lame dog way along the same lines as myself. A glance at the manufacturing instructions for the conditioning process would be all he needed. You are sure Rovzidski’s copy has been destroyed?”

“You need have no fear. Colonel Marassin searched Rovzidski’s papers himself.”

“Then why do they remain here?”

“This Groom is very tenacious. He has many agents in Zovgorod. They report to him every day. He seems to be trying to bribe one of the President’s staff, a man named Prantza. I employed him for a time as a secretary.”

“Who is he?”

“He knows nothing. I am allowing the affair to go on. If it will keep Groom busy pursuing shadows, I am content.”

“How shall we replace Rovzidski?”

“For the moment it is unnecessary to replace him. The factory is ready. When the machinery arrives from England we will consider the question. I have been thinking that Kortner might be removed from the power station when the time comes. He is, I believe, a capable engineer.”