Triplanetary · Book III · Chapter 7 (3/3)

“This structure was designed by me and built under my direction. It is protected from meteorites by forces of my devising. It is indetectable and invisible⁠—ether waves are bent around it without loss or distortion. I am discussing these points at such length so that you may realize exactly your position. As I have intimated, you can be of assistance to me if you will.”

“Now just what could you offer any man to make him join your outfit?” demanded Costigan, venomously.

“Many things,” Roger’s cold tone betrayed no emotion, no recognition of Costigan’s open and bitter contempt. “I have under me many men, bound to me by many ties. Needs, wants, longings, and desires differ from man to man, and I can satisfy practically any of them. Many men take delight in the society of young and beautiful women, but there are other urges which I have found quite efficient. Greed, thirst for fame, longing for power, and so on, including many qualities usually regarded as ‘noble.’ And what I promise, I deliver. I demand only loyalty to me, and that only in certain things and for a relatively short period. In all else, my men do as they please. In conclusion, I can use you two conveniently, but I do not need you. Therefore you may choose now between my service and⁠—the alternative.”

“Exactly what is the alternative?”

“We will not go into that. Suffice it to say that it has to do with a minor research, which is not progressing satisfactorily. It will result in your extinction, and perhaps I should mention that that extinction will not be particularly pleasant.”

“I say no, you.⁠ ⁠…” Bradley roared. He intended to give an unexpurgated classification, but was rudely interrupted.

“Hold on a minute!” snapped Costigan. “How about Miss Marsden?”

“She has nothing to do with this discussion,” returned Roger, icily. “I do not bargain⁠—in fact, I believe that I shall keep her for a time. She has it in mind to destroy herself if I do not allow her to be ransomed, but she will find that door closed to her until I permit it to open.”

“In that case, I string along with the Chief⁠—take what he started to say about you and run it clear across the board for me!” barked Costigan.

“Very well. That decision was to be expected from men of your type.” The gray man touched two buttons and two of his creatures entered the room. “Put these men into two separate cells on the second level,” he ordered. “Search them; all their weapons may not have been in their armor. Seal the doors and mount special guards, tuned to me here.”

Imprisoned they were, and carefully searched; but they bore no arms, and nothing had been said concerning communicators. Even if such instruments could be concealed, Roger would detect their use instantly. At least, so ran his thought. But Roger’s men had no inkling of the possibility of Costigan’s “Service Special” phones, detectors, and spy-ray⁠—instruments of minute size and of infinitesimal power, but yet instruments which, working as they were below the level of the ether, were effective at great distances and caused no vibrations in the ether by which their use could be detected. And what could be more innocent than the regulation personal equipment of every officer of space? The heavy goggles, the wristwatch and its supplementary pocket chronometer, the flash-lamp, the automatic lighter, the sender, the money-belt?

All these items of equipment were examined with due care; but the cleverest minds of the Triplanetary Service had designed those communicators to pass any ordinary search, however careful, and when Costigan and Bradley were finally locked into the designated cells they still possessed their ultra-instruments.