The space craft hovered silently, effortlessly one-hundred thousand feet above London, held in space without waste of energy by the control of forces which offset gravity against centrifugal force. Indeed, all the power needed for the craft was derived at such times from the excess of gravitational pull. The Andromedans had learned, thousands of years ago, that wherever there is a force differential, it can be put to use.
Gulda sat back in her chair, seeming to be asleep. But after a few minutes her eyes opened and her hand went to a glowing metal plate. As her hand passed over it the light was extinguished. The Lady's voice spoke.
"What is it?"
"We've got them safe." The relief in Gulda's exhausted voice was evident, so that the Lady smiled evenly to herself. Gulda had not been quite so sure of herself after all!
"All the rest under control?"
"Yes. I have just tinder fifty thousand responses in the British Isles. They have all had preliminary briefing and the remainder of the program is ready for immediate transmission. We shall be able to bring the country to the brink of self destruction inside twelve hours from our final signal."
"Good. How long will it take to establish communication with the government?"
"If I had the facilities of the Torture Room down there," said Gulda, her voice harsh, "about thirty seconds! As it is, possibly three days. They are working on it now. I am in touch all the time."
"Good. Get some rest when you can." The line went dead and the light came on again showing that the Lady had broken the circuit.
"You bitch!" said Gulda. "You bitch!" She moved uneasily in her chair, and then with an effort stood up, using the edge of the desk as a handhold. A careful medical check had pronounced that she had suffered no permanent injury from the torture and punishment, but every joint in her body still ached. At times the pain grew into a tidal wave of agony, then subsided. She ought to be resting, but this was not the time for rest. Resentment against the Lady, and the desire for revenge drove heron.
She staggered across the room and through a door into her private cabin, where she fell on to the narrow bed and closed her eyes. After a while she roused herself again to lift a curious instrument from a hook and fit it onto her head. It had a band which went around her forehead, and, attached to the band were a number of simple cylindrical objects. Carefully Gulda adjusted their position. Then with sensitive fingers she began to reach for, to tune in to the mind of the one person on Earth she was seeking, miles below; just one of the teeming millions of London. It was a curious sensation, because so much of what she would experience would be strange to her, something of which she had no firsthand knowledge. She would not hear anything, nor see it; but because of the micro-miniature circuit embedded deep in the man's spinal column, she would experience with him in her own mind, so that her own brain would interpret what he saw as vision, and what he heard as sound, and, above all, what he felt as sensation. If the subject she had chosen felt fear, she would feel afraid; when he knew cruelty, she would feel cruel; when he was lustful she too would be lustful, but in an odd way because the lust that impressed itself into her mind would be the lust of a man and not of a woman. After a brief period of dialing and checking the readings, Gulda lay down again to ease her aching limbs. At first the impressions she received were muddled and confused, because they had to compete with her own more direct sense-impressions. But as she calmed down it was as if an old-fashioned TV receiver had warmed up. The picture, which was not a "picture" but an "impression" became clear and at times vivid.
Gulda became aware of the white face of the young man she had known briefly as Gerry Glasner, but a face that seemed almost grotesque because of the feminine wig and make-up. The viewpoint changed and the face of the young blond girl came to her, also starkly white with fear and pain. She was standing awkwardly because there were hands on her wrists, twisting, twisting, so that her mouth opened in a scream. In front of Gulda's range of "vision" appeared two hands at the end of arms – not her arms, but the arms of the man whose brain she was tapping. The hands reached out to grasp the front of the blond's leather shirt and, with an effort that Gulda could feel, as though she had made it herself, the hands ripped the shirt open, tearing the buttons off the leather. Another quick, rough movement tore away the flimsy brassiere, leaving the girl's metal-sheathed breasts exposed. Gulda felt the sudden surge of sadistic sexuality in the mind she was tapping, and in a curious way this was transferred to herself, so that she shared the satisfaction of seeing the girl exposed to the gaze of the four men and two women who were in the room she was vaguely aware of.
Gulda should not have been experiencing any kind of sexual pleasure. That had been deliberately abolished among the Andromedans almost four thousand years ago, when they had discovered how to renew life-cells and eliminate the killing toxins so that life could be indefinitely prolonged. People who could live at the peak of their powers for five-hundred years or more could not afford the enticements of sex, with the risk of a population explosion that would, in three generations have eaten them out of house and home. So they excoriated it, bred it out. Today, sex had no meaning to the Andromedans – with the possible exception of Gulda who, undetected, still retained all the ancient, antisocial, atavistic desires.
Population losses, chiefly due to accident, were replaced by babies born in test-tubes, the semen provided by a few anonymous donors who were kept for the purpose until they were thirty years old, and then were sterilized and put back into circulation, sworn to secrecy. Gulda knew something of the process, and she smiled to herself as she thought about it.
"I'll have him, Gerry, put into a donor's camp when we control the Earth," she said. "He's a find specimen, and they can make thousands of babies from him. They can masturbate him until he is ready to die! To die!" At the sadistic thought she writhed, as she lay, and moaned aloud. "As for her! I'll make her the handmaid of the stud! She can spend the rest of her life exciting their genitals until she hates the very sight of them – and I'll never let her remove that sheath, so she'll never know what real pleasure can be!"
With an effort she withdrew from her own sadistic reveries and attended to the weaker but important impressions she was getting from the transmitter.
Gerry and Sonia had been hurried in the dark down the narrow footpath to the main road, past the bodies of the two police officers who had been killed so ruthlessly and needlessly. They were bundled into the back of a black utility and forced to lie on the floor. Someone knelt on Gerry, his knee pressing painfully into Gerry's back. His arms were roughly pulled behind his back and he felt the cold metallic sensation of handcuffs being clipped on and then the sharp pain as the ratchet was pressed tight. He cried out in the dark, and suddenly the man with his knee on the sergeant's spine went stiff.
"This is not a woman," he said. "It's a man in drag!"
"Turn him over and let's have a look!" They rolled him over on to his back. A light shone on his face and someone tugged at the wig. In the dim light his face looked foolish as he stared at the wig. Another hand, more practical and less delicate slid up Gerry's skirt and fumbled. The hand grasped his balls and twisted savagely. The skirt was pulled up.
"Look! There's his balls! His prick must be tucked up under the corset… What's gone wrong, Don?"
A voice in the background spoke, slowly and precisely, like someone repeating a lesson.
"Nothing has gone wrong. This is the man we were instructed to find, and that is the woman. I am instructed to bring them." As though the lesson were over, the voice rose a few notes and became sharp and businesslike. "Gag them both, and put that bloody light out!"
The utility bumped over the roads for what seemed an interminable period, but in fact it cannot have been more than half an hour before it stopped, with the engine still running. One of the men got out of the back of the utility and there was the sound of a metal gate opening. The vehicle rocked through the gate and stopped again. As the engine died, Gerry heard the gate clang shut and the sound of a lock being closed.
"Get up!" He did not need the kick that accompanied the instruction. He struggled to his feet and climbed carefully out of the utility, helped by a strong hand. He turned to see Sonia following him, and he tried to give her an encouraging look, but failed because she did not raise her head. Gerry was troubled and anxious, chiefly for her sake. This was action, and in some way, he felt sure, this was the reason why he had been waiting on top of Hampstead Heath dressed like a woman!
He could not at present see any direct connection between the Andromedan woman and these four men, but he was sure there was one. Maybe they too were Andromedans. There must be males among them as well as females – always assuming that the one he had met had been a female!
Urged by strong hands, Gerry stumbled up a flight of rickety wooden steps and into a dark corridor where he was told to wait. As soon as the others were inside and the door shut, someone switched on a light and opened a door.
"In here!" Gerry half fell into the bleak, sparsely furnished room, becoming aware of the presence of two women. The four men followed into the room, propelling Sonia in front of them. The two agents stood alone, side by side, while the six other people clustered opposite them. Gerry had a few moments to study their faces, and he did not waste any time. It was vital to get to know everything he could.
The first thing that struck him was their total normality. It was difficult to put a finger on it, but Gerry had had enough experience of habitual criminals to know that there was a kind of mark on them, for anyone observant. It was not easy to define, but almost always there was a certain shiftiness of gaze, or a carelessness about personal appearance – or by contrast an excessive flashiness of dress. But above all there was the shifting gaze, the unsteady eyes, as though trying to avoid recognition, evade a question or flinch from a blow. There was nothing of that here. The four men and two women did not have the least trace of habitual criminality – yet ordinary people did not kidnap strangers in the middle of the night. For a crazy moment Gerry wondered if he had been caught by accident in some political vendetta. The kidnappers did not look like foreigners. It would he hard to connect them with Black September, for instance… They might be Irish – but not one of the men had spoken with a trace of Irish accent.
It must be something to do with the Andromedans – but what? Obviously he and Sonia were not to be killed; not yet at any rate. That could have been done much more easily in the darkness on the heath. (He still did not know about the two policemen.)
Well, while there was life there was, hope – but at the memory of the way in which one of these men had twisted his balls, Gerry was glad for the first time that Sonia was protected, no matter how unwillingly, by that metallic sheath the Andromedan had put on her. At least rape was out of the question!
Three of the men and the two women sat down sedately in a semi-circle around the two prisoners, and suddenly Gerry wanted to laugh. They looked so deadly serious, like people gathered together for some cause vitally important to them, such as stamp collecting, or trying to communicate with the "spirit world" or something equally crazy. Any minute, he felt, someone would get up and make a pot of tea!
Hands fumbled at the back of his neck and the cloth around his mouth fell away. Gerry did not intend to speak first. He was there to gain information, not to give it. He saw the gag come away from Sonia and quickly asked her, "You OK?" She nodded, bravely, but he could see her trembling.
One of the men spoke. "You'd better ask the questions, Doctor Johnson."
Another one stirred in his seat. "No names please." He was obviously "Doctor Johnson", and Gerry wondered again. The youngish man, about thirty-five, so obviously looked the part of a family doctor – and being addressed as "doctor" in Britain could only mean he was a doctor of medicine. The use of the title is very rare in other disciplines than medicine. What in hell was a family doctor doing in this galley?
"What is your name?" The voice was oddly mechanical, almost sounding like a ventriloquial dummy being operated by someone else.
Gerry remained silent. He was certainly not going to talk to this bunch of criminals, nor be interrogated by them in this way. Doctor Johnson sighed.
"Oh dear! I suppose you are going to indulge in heroics! It's all right. We know who you are. You are Sergeant Gerald Glasner of Special Branch – and that is Sonia Evans, employed by CIA of America." It seemed for a moment that curiosity overcame his desire for serious information.
"What on Earth were you doing on Hampstead Heath dressed like a woman?"
This Gerry could answer! "I find it amusing," he said. "I'm a well-known psychopath. Member of a Cross-Dressers' Club. You should consider joining. It's more fun than kidnapping – and less dangerous!"
Gerry staggered back as the man standing beside him struck him a severe blow in the face.
"Don't be annoying," said Doctor Johnson, mildly. "You'll get hurt – and so will your friend. I want to know why you were on the heath; why you have been there for the past ten nights. What were you looking for?"
Gerry did not reply. He licked his upper lip with the tips of his tongue, tasting the drop of blood that had flowed from the small cut. That bastard must have had a ring on his finger!
The doctor turned to his companions. "We're not going to get anywhere like this," he said. "Our friends are getting impatient. My instructions are to use severe measures against the girl. That ought to do the trick."
He addressed the man who had hit Gerry. "Can you make one of them talk?"
"Nothing easier," growled the man. "It'll be a pleasure." And it was then that he turned to Sonia, reached out both hands and tore her shirt down the front.
Gulda, sharing his direct experience one-hundred thousand feet above London was not prepared for his immediate reaction.
The man stood back, surprised at what he saw. "Why," he cried, "she's one of us!"
Then Gerry knew who these people were. He was sure that all of them were sheathed in metallic chastity belts – and that each one would prove to have a fine wire inserted between his upper vertebrae, into his spinal cord. In some way these folk were under the direct control of the Andromedans!
"No," said Doctor Johnson, his eyes turned upward as though he were listening to something unheard by the others. "No. She is not one of us. The operation is not complete. I am told that she is a very dangerous agent, determined to infiltrate and report on our affairs. She is not to be killed, nor is the man. But you may take any measures you think fit to persuade her to cooperate."
"It'll have to be the whip then," said the man gruffly. "With that sheath on her there's not much else I can do, is there?" He spoke direct to the two women. "You want to tie her up for me?"
"Leave her alone," cried Gerry. "It'll be the worse for you if you harm her."
The man beside him glared at Gerry, raising his fist as if to hit him again. "Shut up!" he snarled. "You bother me! We want to know what you know – and we want your cooperation, and we're damn well going to have it. I've shot two policemen tonight on the heath, so don't think I'll give a damn what I do to you – or to her!"
"We do have a great deal of power on our side," said the doctor, reasonably. "It would be much better if you accepted that fact, Sergeant. You can't fight and win, you know."
"Don't talk to them, Gerry," pleaded Sonia.
"Well, at least you asked for it," said Doctor Johnson. "Tie her up!"
The whole scene seemed far more terrifying because of the "ordinariness" of the people concerned. Gerry felt that they should all have been wearing black rubber hoods and leather suits! But they weren't. The women, for instance were dressed in simple, attractive skirt-suits with floral patterned shirt-waisters. There was not a high-heel to be seen. They looked as though they should be at a PTA meeting rather than in this sordid room in back of a warehouse, engaged in illegal and subversive activities.
But when it came to tying Sonia up, there was no pretence about it. The two women stripped the girl naked, except for the metallic sheath. The handcuffs had to come off, but one of the women held both Sonia's wrists, twisted up her back so hard that in spite of her resolve, the girl cried out with the pain. The other woman dragged a small, heavy table of rough wood to the center of the floor, and they pulled Sonia forward over it.
Quickly, using lengths of white nylon cord cut from a reel, they tied her wrists and ankles to the four legs of the table. Then, needlessly, they made a noose in one end of a length of cord – not a running noose – and passed it over Sonia's head and around her neck just below her chin. Drawing the long end of the cord down the length of the table, they tied the end to the handle of a drawer set in the far end, pulling it tight.
[bb-133 illustration 08.png]
"Hold your head up high, dear," said one of the women, reasonably, sensibly, "otherwise you'll strangle!"
Gerry felt as though he was shut up in a mad-house! If only everyone did not look, act and speak so darned reasonably! He could do nothing to help Sonia because his wrists were handcuffed behind him; and while the women had been fixing Sonia up, the man whom Gerry thought of as "The Executioner" had forced him onto a hard wood chair and had tied him firmly to it. But Gerry could still speak, and he did so, his voice as level and steady as he could make it, although it trembled just a little with suppressed anger.
"Doctor Johnson," he said. "I must warn you that you cannot expect to get away with this crime. Kidnap and assault are bad enough; conspiring to murder two police officers will get each one of you a minimum of twenty years' jail. By morning, the whole police force of the metropolitan area will be searching for you. We don't like criminals who use guns – especially against unarmed police officers! I urge you all not to compound your crime. Let the girl free, and that will be taken into account when you are sentenced."
The doctor looked at him as though he had just crept out from under a damp rock. "You are out of touch with reality, Sergeant," he said. "Within the next few weeks, you and the forces you represent will no longer have any authority. Our friends are in a position to take over the Earth, and when they do, we shall be authority – not you!"
Gerry laughed, although it was not a very convincing performance. "Hah! So the Andromedans are going to take over the Earth, are they? And you are going to be their representatives! Good God! By the look of you all, between you you couldn't upset a chamber-pot, much less a government! In the past forty years quite a lot of people have tried to take over the Earth! The Germans; the Japanese…"
"Those cases are not comparable, Sergeant," said the doctor gently. "They were second class powers throwing out a challenge to first class powers. No matter what damage they did, they could never have hoped to win on any reasonable long-term basis. But if Britain and America in alliance had tried it, the result would have been quite different! Today the Earth would be quietly dominated by white Anglo-Saxon peoples – and much better off than it is! Our friends have all the power that is required Sergeant. We shall administer that power for them."
Glasner did his best to smile contemptuously. "You're crazy! I've met one of those people – and I'll tell you this. Once you have performed whatever function you are required to perform, they won't tolerate you for five minutes! You'll be enslaved – or dead – along with the rest of us."
"You are talking seditious nonsense, Sergeant… But I don't have time to sit here discussing such matters with you. I want certain information from you – and I want your help – and I am going to have it. When you think your little co-worker has suffered enough, you may let me know!"
He nodded to the executioner. "Get on with it," he said, "or we shall be here all night. And before morning I want to be a long way off!"
This was the moment Gulda had been waiting for. It was absolutely unnecessary to torture the American girl. Glasner had no information that she did not already share – none that mattered anyway. All she required was that he should report back to his department and arrange for contacts to be made with higher authority, with the Cabinet. Then a conference could be set up to discuss the migration of the Andromedans; a conference designed to lull the governments of the world into a sense of false security so that they would not use atomic weapons against the invaders. In the meantime, the cadre of controlled Earth people, set in strategic positions all over the world would foment revolution and anarchy, immobilize armies and render it impossible for the governments to agree to take positive action – until it was too late. All the Andromedans needed was that vital four days while their forces were deployed.
But all that was in the future. Right now, Gulda, possibly the only surviving Andromedan capable of feeling sexual sensation, lay on her narrow couch with her communication probes beaming impressions direct into her brain from that of the executioner. For a while her need for sexual pleasure over-rode everything else, including the security of her people. Gulda was, in fact, the one weak link in the chain that the Andromedans had been forging steadily and stealthily for the past four thousand years. She alone, subject to emotion and desire, was capable of allowing her feelings to over-ride her intellect.
She writhed on her couch in anticipation, forgetful of the dull pain gnawing at her bone-joints…
The executioner had found his whip, a heavy black leather instrument, with a thick polished handle about two inches in diameter and a foot long. The lash was made of black, plaited leather, tapering from the handle to the tip, between three and four feet long. It was a terrible thing; used to stock-breeders in South Africa, made of strips of skived rhinoceros hide; known as a sjambok. Seventy years before, it was in use to keep the black people of South Africa in order! Its use by the Dutch settlers had been one of the precipitating causes of the Boer War which Britain had fought to end the practice. But it was reported that, in the police state of South Africa, the sjambok was still in use, secretly…
"You can't use that thing on her!" shouted Gerry, his hard-won self-control suddenly broken.
"He can," said Doctor Johnson softly, "and he will!… Of course, you can stop him any time you like!" He nodded to the executioner who moved alongside Sonia's recumbent form. Even at that desperate moment, Gerry could not help noticing what a very attractive bottom Sonia had, so round and prominent.
"I am instructed," said the doctor, "to tell you to take it easy at first. No cutting; no blood. That will come later if necessary. For now, just the maximum of pain without damage!"
The executioner's teeth gleamed white in his face as he grinned in acknowledgement. The two women had sat down again in the semi-circle, with their legs modestly together and their skirts pulled down demurely. Nobody looked to be in any way sexually excited, with the exception of the executioner – and Gerry himself who was hating himself for it. In fact, with the one exception of the executioner, all the others had been sexually desensitized when they had been equipped with chastity belts. But his desire was raging under the unyielding material, and the only way in which he could get any satisfaction was through cruelty. (He had experienced a violent orgasm when he had shot the two policemen, and was anticipating another one during the next half-hour!)
And Gulda was anticipating sharing the pleasure with him…
The executioner hefted the hand of the whip comfortably in his right hand. Then he made it crack in the air several times, experimentally, getting the feel of it. Gerry could see Sonia's eyes, the whites showing as they widened, giving her a look of utter terror.
"I… I shan't be able to talk again, Gerry darling," she said. "But don't give in to them, please… not if they kill me… it does matter, you know… far more than any one person… I love you…"
[bb-133 illustration 09.png]
And then the whip cut across her round, firm buttocks and she screamed heart-rendingly, and to Gerry the whole world seemed to go mad. He sat stiff, unyielding, counting the strokes, watching the scarlet weals spreading over that soft white flesh; but by the count of six his sell-control left him and he too began to shout. For a few minutes he screamed insults and threats to the torturers until Doctor Johnson called, "Stop! Stop!" He half-rose from his chair because for a moment it seemed that the executioner did not hear him. But at last the whip fell limp at his side and he stood waiting, panting, his chest visibly rising and falling under the stress of violent emotion. At the tenth cut of the whip, he had felt a spasm pass through his body and had known a sexual experience surpassing anything he had previously enjoyed.
Gulda too had shared it, and was now lying limp and inert on her couch, panting for breath. It was she who had passed the instruction for the whipping to stop. It was almost time to initiate some serious action – but there was time for just one more delicious sexual sensation before she moved. She could almost feel the weight of the whip in the hand that held it, and as the executioner passed his hand over Sonia's body, touching the raised weals that marred her skin, she participated in his sadistic satisfaction.
Gerry sat tense, his face dead white, sweat pouring from his face. He was helpless. There was nothing he could do, short of betraying the whole human race, to stop this terrible martyrdom which, unless he capitulated to the Andromedans, could only end in death. Sonia held her head erect still, but was obviously having the greatest difficulty with her breathing. He could hear every breath she drew, sounding like a sob. But she turned her glance to him and even tried to smile bravely. Her lips formed the words, "Hold on!" And Gerry knew he must, even though his heart was breaking.
"Carry on!" said the doctor, and the executioner prepared himself again. This time he would be slower, more deliberate, taking great care not to hit too hard, so that the torture would be extended until it was past the stage of endurance. The whipping resumed. Blow after blow fell on the girl's recumbent body, from shoulders to buttocks. She was not screaming now, only making a sharp little cry as each individual blow fell. Her head was beginning to sag against the cord and obviously she was having difficulty in breathing. Seeing her distress, the executioner began to lose control, so that the blows fell heavier, until at last a thin line of blood appeared across her shoulders. The man twisted where he stood as he felt the hot semen jet from the end of the hard tube that covered his penis and the blows began to rain down faster and faster.
"Stop it!" screamed Gerry. "Stop it, you bastard!"
Then the doctor stood up. "Stop!" he cried, but the whipping did not abate. For a moment the doctor stood, looking helpless. Then, without any warning the executioner stopped whipping the girl. He stood, looking stupid and lost for a couple of seconds. His left hand went to the back of his neck almost as if he had been stung by an insect. Then he collapsed, fell heavily and giving one final, convulsive twitch, lay dead on the floor.
He had served Gulda's purpose, so she had pressed the destruct button!
The doctor rushed to the man's side and knelt down. Opening his shirt, he rested his hand on the man's heart, then lowered his head to press an ear against the chest. He knelt up slowly.
"He's dead," he said. And again, "He's dead."
"He's been killed," said Gerry, coldly. "Just as you will be when you have served your purpose."
"Killed?" the doctor sounded dazed.
"Yes. Killed. They explode the nerves in some way. We've seen a dozen cases of it."
"You are lying. This man died of heart-failure."
"As you please… And if you don't do something for Sonia, she'll die too… and that will make four murders in three hours!"
The doctor stood up. He still looked dazed. He turned to the women. "Do what you can for her," he said. They busied themselves untying Sonia, who had fainted, while Johnson spoke again to Gerry. This time he was evidently under control, because his voice was slow and slurred, as though he was listening first to every word before he uttered it.
"We shall turn you both loose. You are to arrange a meeting with the leader of the Andromedans. You will receive your instructions later."
He seemed to wake up, and suddenly became businesslike. "Untie him. Put some clothes on the girl and take them both out to the utility. Bill, and Tom, drive them to St. James' Park and put them out. Then get rid of the utility and go home. Phone me at the usual number tonight at 6 p.m. The rest of you, get out of here. We'll leave that! But Joe, you take the whip and get rid of it, carefully. Don't leave any traces. OK everyone, get moving!"
Swiftly they removed the traces of their occupancy of the shed. Two of the men carried Sonia to the utility and pushed Gerry in the back beside her. The girl was unconscious. About fifteen minutes later the back of the utility was opened and Gerry was pushed out into the grey dawn. The two men carried Sonia out of the truck and lay her on the grass beside the road. Finally, one of them unlocked the handcuffs from Gerry's wrists, while the other covered him with an automatic. Then they ran to the utility, which roared away toward Westminster.
Gerry walked over to where Sonia lay. She was still unconscious and breathing heavily. He took off the jacket of his suit, suddenly aware for the first time in hours that he was dressed as a woman, but without the wig.
"I must look a sight for sore eyes!" he said to himself. He lay the jacket over Sonia, then turned and began to walk wearily along the road, looking for a telephone.
He had not covered two-hundred yards when he heard the braying sound of a police siren as a patrol car drew up beside him. Two young men jumped out as the car stopped and came to stand warily, one each side of him.
"Where do you think you're going?" one of them asked.
"Looking for you!" replied Gerry.
"A likely story!"
"Don't give me a lot of argument, chum," said Gerry. "I'm a Special Branch Officer. There's a young American girl back there, in a bad way. You can argue with me later. Right now, send for an ambulance, quick!"
An ambulance was something anyone could cope with, even at 4:30 in the morning, after a long, weary night. One of the officers reached into the car and picked up a microphone. The other one stood close to Gerry, and loosed his night-stick in its holster. As they all began to talk again, they heard the braying of another siren and saw a white-painted vehicle coming toward them at high speed.
Minutes later, Sonia was on her way to St. Thomas' Hospital, and Gerry, in the patrol car was on his way to Saville Row Police Station. His arrival was greeted with some hilarity, until at last he was able to establish his identity by telephone, after which everyone became much more cooperative. An hour after his arrival, as he sat drinking coffee and eating a sandwich, Chief Inspector Dodds arrived, unshaven but properly dressed and very alert.
"All right Sergeant. This is one of our men. Now get out of here. I want to talk."
He tried not to smile as he inspected Gerry Glasner. "You've been in the wars," he said, looking at the cut lip.
"We both have. Sonia's in St. Thomas."
"What happened to her?"
"They whipped her," said Gerry. Dodds saw the young man's jaw muscles tense.
"You'd better start at the beginning…"
Gerry told Dodds the whole story quickly, succinctly. When he had finished the chief inspector sat still, deep in thought. At last he looked up.
"We'll have to arrange for you to see the home secretary right away," he said. "Probably the Prime Minister will want to see you too, and others. Tell you what. I'll drive you back to your apartment, and you can get a bath and some… decent clothes. I'll leave a couple of my men with you, just in case. They'll be armed. Then I want you to go to the nearest hospital – St. Thomas will do. You can enquire about your girl while you're there. I want you to get yourself X-rayed. I'll have my secretary make the arrangements."
"X-rayed? Why?"
Dodds grinned. "Before I let you loose on His Nibs, I want to be quite sure you haven't been wired for sound!" he said. "Can't be too careful!"
Gerry grinned. "I'm safe. But there's no harm in making sure. Nothing happened to Sonia either – in that way." He was suddenly sober. "Any chance of finding those people? It shouldn't be too hard to locate 'Doctor Johnson' at least."
"If the name's genuine, we'll pull him in within an hour."
"I'd like to have his guts for garters!" said Gerry.
"So you shall. He'll get life with a minimum of thirty years, or my name isn't Horace Dodds!"
Gerry smiled grimly, even though most of the faint satisfaction he felt came from knowing his chief's quaint given name. "Horace". Now that was something to conjure with!
Gerry was hurried out of Saville Row Police Station with a coat over his head to protect him from the prurient curiosity of passers-by, who would certainly have been intrigued by the sight of a tall, good-looking young woman with short hair of evident masculinity! He sat in the back with Dodds, who asked more questions as the driver threaded through the growing early morning traffic of the West End. After a time, they heard a quiet buzz and Dodds picked up the phone. He listened gravely, spoke two words and replaced the receiver. Opening the window between him and the driver, he shouted, "Switch on the siren, Smith! St. Thomas' Hospital as fast as you can get there. If you get stuck, use the sidewalk. This is life and death!"
He fell back on the seat beside Gerry, his face white.
"We've found Doctor Johnson," he said. "He's a consultant at St. Thomas' Hospital, and he's been attending to Sonia Evans!"
The powerful car lurched and screamed its way through the crowds hurrying to work. In Regent Street there was a blockage about one-hundred yards long. Without hesitation the driver pulled off the road on to the sidewalk, scattering pedestrians left and right. At the lights he rejoined the road traffic and managed to force a way through. In five minutes, considerably shaken, Gerry and Dodds jumped out in the forecourt of the hospital. Dodds, good administrator that he was, waited just long enough to say, "Well done," to his driver, then he started to run. "Wait here for me," he shouted over his shoulder. "Monitor the phone. Pass any important calls to the matron's office!"
[bb-133 illustration 10.png]
The hospital seemed to be full of policemen. As the chief inspector ran into the foyer, a tall man in a blue uniform, covered with silver braid came forward.
"Chief Inspector Dodds? I'm Inspector Riley, Uniformed Branch, Metropolitan Police, Sir. We've got your bird in an office… this way."
"Is he still alive?"
"Yes Sir. He's been searched and there's nothing on him he could commit suicide with. There's four men watching him."
"It's not suicide I'm afraid of," said Dodds grimly. Outside the door of the office where Johnson was waiting, Dodds stopped to regain his breath and his composure.
"Now, listen carefully. You go ahead, Glasner. If it's our man, yell out. Then stand back and leave him to me."
The uniformed inspector knocked on the door and spoke in a low tone to the man who answered it. The door opened further and Gerry walked in. Sitting in an armchair, his legs crossed and looking as cool as a cucumber was the Doctor Johnson.
"It's him!" shouted Gerry over his shoulder, and he stood back quickly as his boss pushed past him.
"Doctor Johnson?"
"Yes." The voice was still urbane, poised, controlled, although the man must have known he was lost.
"You do not have to say anything at this time; but it is my duty to warn you that anything you do say may be taken down in writing and used as evidence against you at your trial!" Dodds went through the routine, cursing, not for the first time, the judge's rules that gave first advantage to the criminal. "Do you understand?"
"I understand perfectly."
"Very well. I am taking you into custody on a charge of conspiracy to murder two police officers on Hampstead Heath last night, of conspiring to murder one of your associates unknown at a place unknown, in the early hours of the morning, and of conspiring to cause grievous bodily harm to one Sonia Evans, an American citizen, together with other persons as yet unknown… And now I want to talk to you. You four, get out and stay by the door and don't let anyone interrupt me until I am ready."
He sat down heavily opposite the doctor. For a couple of minutes he stared at him, noting his elegant clothes and manner, and the evident weakness of his face. Doctor Johnson sat perfectly still as though he were not in the least concerned at the terrible charges that had been leveled at him, but Dodds noticed that whenever the man relaxed for an instant, his fingers began to wander and fidget.
"Where did you live when you were alive?" asked Dodds.
Johnson raised an eyebrow? "I beg your pardon? I don't think I understand…"
"We can't hang you these days," said Dodds, "more's the pity! But if what I suspect is true, we shall have martial law and military government in this country inside a month – and if and when we do, I shall make it my personal business to have you shot! Do you understand that?"
For an instant, Johnson's face crumpled, as though he were going to cry. With an effort he pulled himself together.
"You are talking rubbish, and you know it. You will never bring me to trial!"
"I know," said Dodds, surprisingly. "That's what I am afraid of. I'm afraid you'll slip through our fingers first!"
This time Johnson did look troubled. "I don't understand," he said again.
"I'll spell it out in simple words. You are under the control of the Andromedans… Don't start to argue. We know that! And when you become an embarrassment to them, they'll kill you – just as they killed your accomplice last night!"
"Nobody killed him. He dropped dead! He suffered a coronary stroke."
"Balls! He was killed. When we find his body, we shall also find, between the vertebrae of his neck, inserted into his spinal column, a fine wire which gives the Andromedans control over their victims. You have one of those transmitter wires in your body, Doctor Johnson. Any moment now, your masters… or mistresses… I don't know which, will check up on you. And when they find you in custody, with the risk that you'll talk, they'll snuff your life out like a candle! And there's nothing we can do to save you… much as I'd like to see you rotting in a cell for the rest of your life, you treacherous bastard! We cannot get that transmitter out of you while you're still alive. So, you're a dead man, as far as makes no difference!"
Johnson stood up suddenly, his face white, eyes wide with terror, mouth working. "No! They wouldn't do that! They've promised me. I am to have control of the whole country. I am to be president under the new order!"
Dodds pushed him, hard, so that he fell back into the chair, almost overturning it.
"You poor, miserable fool! You stupid arrogant, weak idiot! To fall for that line! These space people won't want you, nor any of us! If they come, mankind is as good as dead. They're not going to share Earth with us! You are a tool, son. You've been used… And now you're dead!" He stood up. "We'll give you a decent funeral if we have time before the world ends. Do you prefer to be cremated?"
Doctor Johnson buried his face in his hands for a few moments. Then he looked up. "Are you telling me the truth?" he asked, quietly.
"Yes."
Johnson sighed. "I'd better tell you, I think. You couldn't convict me, Chief Inspector, because I have not been responsible for my actions. I can demonstrate clearly that I have been under outside control when I have done… these things. The law does not condemn a man who is not responsible for his actions, does it?"
"No," agreed Dodds, "but you'd have to prove it."
"Oh, I could prove it! But if I'm dead, I shan't have the chance, shall I? So, I'd better tell you what I know, right now, while I am my own man."
"Go on. And be as quick as you can. Time is running out."
"About six months ago, I had been to dinner with some friends living in Wimbledon. I was driving back across Wimbledon Common at about 1:30 a.m. when, on the right, on the grass I saw this thing. It was like… like an airship… like one of those First World War German Zeppelins in shape – cigar-shaped. It was all in darkness, but the moon was behind it. It was glowing with a faint phosphorescence, which outlined it."
Dodds exchanged a quick glance with Gerry. This sounded like the truth!
Johnson resumed talking, very fast as though he knew every second was precious.
"I stopped my car and parked in a lay-by to watch. I had never imagined there was anything on Earth like this… It was huge maybe a quarter mile long. For some reason, I felt a bit afraid, although I guessed it was some kind of exhibition or something like that. At last I got out of the car. I wanted to take a closer look. The thing was about four-hundred yards away, and as I came closer it towered up above me like a forty-story building."
"Then I saw a shaft of light. A square door opened and a ladder was let down. I dodged behind a tree, where I could watch without being seen. About twenty… people… they looked all like women, Inspector, very tall, dressed in black suits, with their heads hooded… they ran down the steps and disappeared into the darkness. I didn't know what to think. There's been a lot of talk in recent years about all kinds of perversions on Wimbledon Common, of men running around with rubber hoods on, of homosexual attacks and goodness knows what. But somehow this didn't look anything like that. These… people seemed so purposeful, somehow."
"I'm not a brave man. In fact I'm timid; I admit it. I wanted to get back to my car and drive off. Whatever it was, it could wait until daylight for all I cared. I started to dodge from one tree to another in the dark, and after a minute or so I ran straight into a group of these people. They grabbed me and practically carried me back to the thing, up the steps. I was shouting at them, but no one took any notice of me. A few moments later the steps retracted and the door shut. They stripped me naked and shoved me into a small room, not more than four feet square. Jets of water sprayed all over me, mixed with some other pungent fluid… I've guessed since they were fumigating me to prevent me carrying any infection aboard."
"Warm air blasts dried me, and at last everything stopped happening. The door opened, and some of these… creatures… maybe the same ones… I don't know… but they were dressed in black but with a different material. I noticed that. Maybe they had changed too… Anyway, they grabbed me again and led me, stark naked, along corridors and up in an elevator and finally took me into a room… about the size of this one. There was a couch in it, and they put me on it, face down and strapped my ankles and wrists so I couldn't move."
"Did you struggle?" asked Dodds.
"No. What was the use? Besides, I've told you. I'm timid… In fact, I'm a damned coward! I was petrified with fear if you want to know… A bit later, some more of these people came into the room, and one of them pressed a mask against my face. I went out like a light, and I know it was some kind of anesthetic. When I came to, I was lying on my back on the couch, and I was loose… not strapped down I mean and the back of my neck was sore, as though I had been stung by an insect!"
"That was when they fitted that micro-miniature transmitter to him," Dodds said to Gerry.
"It must have been, if you say so. It was several days before the place stopped itching, but I did not attend to it because I assumed something had stung me as I walked on the common in the dark…" Johnson subsided into silence, and for one dreadful moment Dodds was afraid that the Andromedans had brought him under control.
"What happened next?"
Johnson roused himself with an effort. He had been lost in thought. "Another one of these people… I've told you they all seem to be women, haven't I… came into the room. She was very tall and beautiful, with dark hair. And she spoke English. The others had jabbered among themselves in a language like nothing I had ever heard before… but she spoke English; very good English too."
"That was probably the one you found at the Westland," muttered Dodds to Gerry. "Go on…"
"She talked to me…"
"What about?"
"She told me… that I was perverted. She made me crawl around on the floor… and… and… kiss her boots… they had the highest spike heels I have ever seen… and she whipped me… not too hard… not like that American girl got whipped tonight… You know, I'm terribly sorry about that. I'd never have…"
"Keep to your story for now," said Dodds, gently.
"Well, the upshot of all this was that I… I ejaculated if you must know. It was an experience I had always dreamed of… but it had never happened before…"
"Me to the life," thought Gerry, grimly. He was beginning to perceive that the Andromedans knew a whole lot more about human nature than he had imagined.
And then she made me lie down on the couch again and she brought this sheath thing; like a chastity belt and fitted it on me…
"How did she do that?" asked Dodds, suddenly interested.
"It was wet… it stretched to fit over me then she dried it with a gun-shaped thing, like a hair-dryer… and after that I couldn't get it off. I've worn it ever since… It's very difficult I'm totally deprived of sexual satisfactions except when she lets me have it."
"How? How does she let you have it?"
"I can't explain. Fantastic visions seem to appear in my mind, and after a bit I have an orgasm. That's all I know. It's wonderful when it happens, but I have no control over it at all. I never know when it's going to happen…"
"And then?"
"Then some of the others came back and took me back to the entrance. They shoved me into the vestibule where I found my clothes. When I was dressed, the door opened and the ladder went down. I went down to the grass and I heard the door close… I ran like hell back to my car… and when I reached it the thing had – disappeared. Just like that. Without a sound. There was only that faint phosphorescence glowing over the grass… I drove back to my apartment very slowly. I felt that I must have had some kind of brain-storm… until I got home and found that the chastity-belt was genuine enough…"
"You did not report this to the police?"
Doctor Johnson stared at Dodds, pityingly. "Chief Inspector Dodds, from your rank I assume you to be an intelligent man. Can you imagine me going to the police with a tall tale like that? Imagine trying to explain that kind of story to a station sergeant in the early hours of the morning! Imagine my position as consultant at a leading hospital if some scruffy newspaper reporter had been there with his ears flapping! No, the police have their uses, but with all deference, innocent people are best out of their company!"
"What happened after that?"
"Nothing for a couple of days. Then I began to get instructions."
"Instructions?"
"Yes. Like the ideas in my mind. No words, but ideas… that's the best I can say to describe it. I feel, 'I must do so and so', and I have to do it."
"Why do you have to do it."
"If I don't, I shall be punished."
"How?"
"I'm not sure. Once, early on, it was not convenient to obey at once, and after fifteen minutes I had a terrible, blinding headache come on. I thought I'd go mad… but since I had to stop seeing patients until I recovered, I did what I'd been told to do, made a phone call… and at once the headache stopped, just like that… I imagine, now I know, that for extreme disobedience they would kill me!"
"You may be sure of that," said Dodds, grimly. "However, I want you alive for a time because as far as I know at present you are our only possible contact with the Andromedans. Glasner, give me a sheet of your notebook and the pen." He took the paper and printed on it, in large capitals, "DO NOT KILL THIS MAN HE WILL HAVE MESSAGES FOR YOU FROM BRITAIN."
"Hold that in your hand and keep concentrated on it. It's your only hope – and it may be ours too! If you let your mind wander, you'll be dead in seconds after they make contact with you." He stood up, staring down at the doctor, who sat with his eyes wide, staring at the sheet of paper, which trembled visibly in his grasp.
"Poor devil," he said, surprisingly. "It's funny but a coward always dies twice – once when he gets the warning, and again when it happens – Oh well… we'd better go, Gerry. There's things to be done. You can spend a few minutes with Sonia Evans if you want to."
Sonia did not speak. She was heavily sedated. But she recognized Gerry, and when he took hold of her hand, she returned the pressure. He bent over her and whispered something, and she smiled wanly. Then he turned to the door where Dodds was waiting.
"Now let's get you cleared before we go," said Dodds. "By the way, what did you say to make that poor girl smile, if it's not too personal?"
"I asked her to let me know the date of our wedding next time she saw me," smiled Gerry. Dodds felt he would never cease to wonder at the sheer optimism of human nature that would make plans for marriage even though the world was about to go up in flames!
Gerry waited at his apartment as he was told, guarded by armed men inside and out. It was embarrassing for him when he had to ask one of them to unlace the back of the corset, but his grim face dared the officer to make any comment. Clothed, with his own personality restored, bathed and fed, he felt a whole lot better and more able to cope with what might happen. Around 10:30 a.m., the phone rang and one of the guards answered it.
"For you," he said, giving Gerry the phone.
"Dodds," said the voice. "I want you to meet me outside Number Ten at 11 a.m. precisely."
"Number Ten Downing Street?" asked Gerry, incredulous. "What other Number Ten is there? Don't be late."
Replacing the phone thoughtfully, Gerry called his office and asked to speak to Chief Inspector Dodds.
"Was that you who called me a minute ago and asked me to meet you in Downing Street Sir?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Just checking. Didn't want to walk into a trap."
"Good man. See you!"
To Gerry's surprise they took him to his interview in an armored limousine, usually reserved for visiting heads of state. And instead of driving to the front door, they smuggled him into the house through a mews at the back. He was shown into an anteroom where Dodds was already waiting.
"Getting the VIP treatment, Glasner," he smiled. "We shan't have to wait long."
A few minutes later a grey-faced, soft voiced young man in a morning suit took them away and showed them into a room, more like a gracious living room in a private mansion, which in a way it was, than an office which, in another way it also was. The man behind the desk had a strong face, lined and anxious-looking. But he greeted them cheerfully and invited them to sit down.
"Tell me all about this," he asked, and for the next half hour, between them Dodds and Gerry put him in the picture.
"So you are inclined to think an invasion is imminent?" he asked at last.
"I'm not sure imminent is the right word, Prime Minister," said Dodds. "I am pretty sure it will happen in the near future, but it may not be for months yet. What I look for now is signs of civil commotion, riots, threats of revolution. Their aim seems to be to paralyze the major civil governments, in Britain, America and Russia at least, and then to strike."
"Do you think they have the resources?"
Dodds shrugged, helplessly. "How can I know that, Sir? But if they have say fifty thousand well-placed slaves in this country, and we are not prepared, I think they could do it. We already have the makings of trouble, with inflation gone mad, with violent class antagonisms and the formation of private armies."
"All right, let's assume for a moment you are correct – and I may say that the home secretary and the chiefs of staff agree with you – what are we going to do about it? I'll tell you that I've called a special meeting of the Cabinet for noon, ostensibly to discuss Common Market problems, but in fact to enable me to brief members on this subject. It's going to be difficult. Most of them won't believe the evidence, at least at first."
For the first time, Gerry Glasner spoke. "If I might make a question, Sir," he said.
"Please do. I'd like to hear it. You've accounted for yourself very well up to now."
"I think immediate steps should be taken, first to X-ray all persons at the head of affairs."
"Including me?"
"Yes Sir, including you." Gerry's frank smile took the sting out, but it had to be said. No one was to be trusted at present. "And then, as quickly as possible, all Civil Service, Army, Navy and Air Force personnel, followed by trades union officials and top management of industry."
"It would be a nuisance, but it could be done. We've got that fleet of mobile X-ray trucks we use for chest X-rays. We could get someone to invent some new health scare and make it compulsory without too much trouble. But it will take time…"
"In the meantime, we'll have to take extra precautions," said Dodds. "If revolution breaks out, the police won't be able to hold it down. It's going to take the Army. I think you ought to ask for special powers from the Queen, so you can call out the military without delay if needed."
"The opposition won't like that! In fact, I doubt if they'd stand for ft at all. Using the Ulster Irish vote, they can throw us out of office any day they choose."
"I'm sorry to persist, Sir," continued Dodds, "but I believe you'll have to take the leader of the opposition and the Shadow Cabinet into your confidence on this. After all, they will all have to be X-rayed as a matter of extreme urgency, won't they?"
The Prime Minister sat for a minute or two looking out of the window, seeming to admire the plants blooming in the window boxes outside. Then he turned back to his guests, and he looked ten years older than when they had arrived.
"You really think it's that serious Dodds?" he asked.
"I do, Sir."
"You believe I've got a major constitutional crisis on my hands?"
"I'm sure of it."
"Well, I shall have to think about it. After my meeting I'll know more. Then I'll have a talk with the President of the United States. By now he'll have had all the information you and Glasner have released. I know he and his colleagues think the thing is dangerous, but I don't know how far they're prepared to go yet. If civil insurrection breaks out in the USA, it'll be much more difficult to contain than it will here. It's such a big country – and there are so many guns! And they run it under a very much slacker rein than we do, you know I wish to God I could deal equally frankly with that man in the Kremlin. They're so suspicious. It's pathological, I'm sure… Never mind, we'll muddle through somehow I expect…"
Gerry's heart fell into his boots at those ominous words, "muddle through". That was the parrot cry that had brought Britain to victory two years late in the First World War – and to the loss of the peace in 1920 at Versailles. And it was that same stupid slogan that had brought about the debacle of the Dunkirk Evacuation which had been called a victory but was in fact an utter defeat. Could a man who expected to "muddle through" to preserve his political career, possibly lead concerted action against this new and obviously ruthlessly efficient enemy?
"Thank you, gentlemen. Keep yourselves in some place where my secretary can find you without delay please. And if you get any more vital information, see that I get it at once. Good morning."
As the two men walked again through the carpeted corridors, they passed other men, carrying briefcases, obviously Cabinet members hurrying to their meeting.
"Have you ever had a sense of impending doom?" asked Dodds gloomily, as they sat in the car.
"Often, when I was at school, waiting to go to the head for a caning!"
"That's how I feel now… The Prime Minister just doesn't understand the gravity of the situation. He's holding a Cabinet now, spilling the beans in detail. How does he know that one or more of the Cabinet haven't already been 'got at', wired for sound?"
"You think that's possible?"
"Why not? What's so special about politicians? And if it's true that the Andromedans – or even the important one you met – are attracted to people who are at least potentially perverse…" Dodds fixed an enquiring eye on Gerry… "well, we all know that politicians British politicians at least… are sitting ducks for that kind of thing! Hardly a year goes by that some leading public figure isn't found out consorting with a Whipping Girl! You've only got to read the newspapers."
"What's the implication then?"
"I'll tell you Gerry." In his deep concern, for a moment the great man relaxed his usual formality enough to use Gerry's given name, some indication perhaps of how greatly he was moved! "If there's enough men in high places, in government and the armed forces have been put under control by the Andromedans, we're defeated before we start!" After a moment's dead silence, Dodds said, "I'm going to put the checking of police personnel in hand, at once, this day. At least I'll try to have the civil arm of government clean!"
He meant well, but as those of us who are left know, it was, as always in Britain, a case of "too little, too late".
Half an hour after his return to headquarters, Dodds was handed a telex message. Dodds read it through twice, then handed it to Gerry, who was still with him. "It's the beginning of the end," he said.
Gerry read the message. CHANGE OF GOVERNMENT. PRIME MINISTER RESIGNED ONE A.M. TODAY. HOME SECRETARY AND SEVEN OTHER CABINET MINISTERS UNDER ARREST. GENERAL SIR JOHN MCKENZIE APPOINTED MINISTER FOR INTERNAL SECURITY. ALL POLICE FORCES COME UNDER HIS DIRECT CONTROL EFFECTIVE THREE P.M. TODAY. MESSAGE ENDS.
Dodds lit a cigarette with steady fingers. "You'd better get out of here as quick as you can, Gerry," he said.
"There's not much time to lose. Young men like you may be able to overcome these people one day… Go now! And don't return to your apartment. You know too much."
"What about you Sir?"
"Me? I'm going to finish this cigarette. Haven't had one for three years – but I'm not going to die from lung cancer now! Good luck!"
Gerry walked through the corridors and out into the street by a side entrance. Everything seemed so normal, nothing seemed to have changed. Yet he knew, from the message he had read, that already he was in the middle of a dying civilization, among people already dead…