“How’s he going to explain away the fact that all the station staff are locked up — they couldn’t have operated—”
Hartog raised a hand. “Patience, patience! For his own purposes in the field of propaganda later, he does in fact intend to put around a story that the whole station staff were acting under orders from London and Washington to bring the load down on Africa, just to teach the blacks a lesson—”
“Which no one would ever believe—”
“Oh, yes? Just try contradicting it after the event — that’s all! Just let me finish, Shaw. Because of this, as soon as he’s done speaking, the staff will be released — so that they can be killed by the mob, who won’t stop to ask ’em any questions. So that they can’t talk and deny Edo’s story. Now d’you see? Dead men tell no tales. And denials from London and Washington… well, they’ll just be a waste of breath.”
“What about you? Are you going to be killed too?” Hartog laughed. “According to what I’ve been told, of course not. I’m to be smuggled to Russia and glory. But I do happen to have found out that the double-crossing bastard does in fact mean to throw me to the mob. Then I can never talk either. But you’ll notice that I’m not unduly worried-about that…. However, to get back to the theory behind Edo’s stunt: once that thing’s hit Africa, and the news breaks in the Press all over the world, the idea is that the Cult goes into action at once and on the crest of a wave, see? There will be wholesale risings in every part of the world, backed by an enormous propaganda machine from the East. India, the West Indies, Malaya, the southern states of the U.S. — they’ll all go the same way as Africa’s gone already, only much more so. And then the Eastern Bloc will step into the power-vacuum that’ll have been created, and all advanced Western defence outposts will cease to exist immediately. That’s Edo’s plan. Like it?”
“Do you?”
“No.” Hartog tapped ash off his cigarette and glanced at the moving dot of green. “That’s why it’s not going to come off. Because I don’t like it, I mean.”
“I don’t get you.”
“You will. Unfortunately for Edo, I haven’t finished the transmission yet, and when I said the automatic tracker was set, well — it wasn’t. And that bit of metal I gave him doesn’t mean a thing. And I’ll tell you something else. The target-settings I’ve put on aren’t for Africa at all. In a few minutes I shall transmit again — when the dot reaches Cape Farewell at the southern tip of Greenland, and then the missile will come down somewhere much more interesting than Africa. That’s why I had to wait the full time after the flop this morning. It’s what I planned all along, Shaw, or almost all along, and I’m going to do it within the next few minutes.” His eyes blazed, and Shaw noticed the shake of his fingers now as the man jabbed a hand towards him in emphasis — or was it entreaty? Hartog went on, “One day you’ll live to thank me for what I’m going to do___yes,
Shaw, you’ll live, and so will millions of other men and women and children, which I truly believe wouldn’t be the case if I didn’t do this thing. I believe, you see, that the West is wasting time, has already wasted almost too much time, and my way is the only way to bring this home to the people, to force the governments into action, to settle the world for all time, to finish for ever with uncertainties and fears, and surrenders to the East. It is an action for peace—you must believe that!” His face shone with sweat, the eyes stared madly at Shaw.
He ran his tongue over his lips and went on, “You will believe what I say, when to-night is over. I shall never have the opportunity of saying it to the world, and you must say it for me and explain my reasons… that was why I wanted you to be here in the tower, you see.” His eyes blazed redly. “I told you I’d gone along with the Cult just to find out what was going on. That was true. But after a time I began to see what I had to do, what I must do if I was to be true to myself and my beliefs, and so my mind started to work along — other lines. I decided to take action myself. I’d been conscious for a very, very long time of the immense power which had been put into our hands, Steve’s and mine. I told him that once, if I remember.” Hartog was shaking badly now. “I was also conscious that it would never be used by the namby-pamby leaders of the West, that Bluebolt was to all intents and purposes — useless! I decided that such a tremendous weapon should be useless no longer. Ours was the power — and I had to use it, in the name of all humanity.” Hartog paused. Shaw, as he began to see just what the man was working up to, felt the hairs rise at the back of his neck and he was about to speak when Hartog went on again.
“I decided, you see, to use these people as they’d meant to use me. I couldn’t do what I wanted without their help, for I couldn’t capture the station single-handed, and I needed at least an hour’s full and uninterrupted control in order to do it—”
“Hartog, you—”
“Wait one moment. I shan’t keep you much longer.” Hartog glanced over at the dot again and then swivelled quickly round in his chair. Over his shoulder he said, “No more time now. I hope I’ve made things quite clear.”
Shaw took a deep breath, eyes seeking the dot again. He saw that brilliant green speck coming up to Cape Farewell — so aptly named, he thought bitterly. And then, within the next few seconds, everything seemed to happen at once.
Hartog said quite calmly, “I’m going to bring it down now. On Moscow.”
He reached out slowly for the main transmission key. Shaw had a profile view of him; his face was strangely moved and yet oddly peaceful, filled with a kind of radiance. His hand came down on the key, pressed it. There was a super-brilliant flash of blinding white light from above, a flash which laid everything starkly bare in the control-room; at once Gillian Ross gave a high, sobbing scream, and every one looked upward, gasped; Wiley seemed literally to be on fire… a keening sound came from the policemen; their attention was entirely distracted and in that split-second, Shaw took his chance.
Flinging his body sideways he turned and smashed a fist into the face of the man who was holding the gun in his spine. He heard the sudden shattering roar of the revolver, smelt the gunsmoke, felt the sharp agony in his lower ribs as the bullet glanced across them, saw another of the policemen twist and fall as the bullet caught him in the chest, and then his left fist took the first man in the stomach and he doubled up, gasping. Instantly the place was in confusion, the rest of the Africans running in terror for the steps. As Hartog swung round, livid, a gun in his hand now, Shaw got hold of the
policeman’s revolver and fired blind, four shots in swift succession. They took Hartog in the stomach and he slumped back, across the transmission key. Shaw heard the continuous blast of the signal whining out and up into space as Hartog’s body kept the key pressed down. The whole instrument-panel was splashed with blood, and Hartog’s stomach seemed to be hanging out… and then, as Shaw raced over to grab the body and free the key, his eye was caught by something which bobbed and gyrated, held on the lower webbing of the mast above his head.