Looking puzzled and excited, everybody went back to his place as the metal ball was swung up again to the ceiling. Dr. Jurgonsen shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
“Exhibits A and B I have shown you,” Dr. Hessian carried on his guttural monotone—due, perhaps to the fact that he was reading his English transcription. “Exhibit C, just above me, represents a sneak raid” (he had difficulty with the words) “on the Bronx.”
The metal ball nearly above his head was lowered. He opened it himself, and displayed a Service revolver!
“I shall detach the weapon from its container.” He did so. “Because, in this case, it remains there throughout the experiment. It is set at safety. But, before I return it, the revolver will be ready to fire. I shall request General Rawlins to confirm the fact that the cartridges are live.”
It was passed to that officer, who took out several shells and nodded, replaced them and handed the weapon back to the doctor. He adjusted it and the metal ball was raised to its place.
“This exhibit is so adjusted,” Dr. Hessian explained, “that whenever the trigger of the receiver is brought in contact with the ceiling the revolver fires a shot at the Bronx. And now, my final exhibit: the small box which you see suspended roughly above the centre of Manhattan. Time prohibited the preparation of a model of an aeroplane resembling the one I have described. Therefore, if you please, imagine that this is such a plane. Its height above the city is out of proportion with the scale. An altitude of three miles would be enough. But I have set it much higher purely in the interest of your safety. I beg, from the moment contact is made—watch for the red light— that you will all remain seated. On no account stand up.”
Brian experienced a wave of almost uncontrollable excitement. He noted that Nayland Smith’s hands were clenched below the table. Every face he looked at registered high nervous tension.
The Japanese moved to a small side table and opened a cabinet which stood there.
“A very ordinary transmitter, gentlemen,” came the guttural tones. “Such as any amateur can make. But a mechanism is attached which no one but myself could make. It transmits the lethal note which can throw a protective umbrella over the whole of the New York City! Proceed . . .”
Brian held his breath, and looking upward saw a speck of red light glow in the suspended “receiver”. There was no sound.
“Contact is established,” Dr. Hessian declared. “The enemy approaches.”
The unemotional Japanese returned to the centre table.
“Hold out your hands, Senator Merrick,” the new commanding voice ordered. “Prepare to catch the debris of the dive bomber.”
Brian saw his father’s colour change slightly; but he stretched out his hands, looking up.
The metal ball opened. The big coconut fell. . .
But well above the heads of the seated committee it was shattered to bits!
Fragments of shell and pulp shot miraculously across space to be piled against the walls!
An almost hysterical, concerted gasp told of the reactions of the committee.
“And now, if you please, the guided missile.” Dr. Hessian looked up from his notes. “You will note, Dr. Jurgonsen, that any hollow object it is burst instantly on contact with my sound belt. Had you so indiscreet been as to stand up, imagine what happens to your head!”
Before Dr. Jurgonsen could think of a suitable reply, the second metal ball was opened.
The miniature projectile fell swiftly. Several heads were ducked, protective arms raised.
There was a shattering explosion. Fragments of metal spurted across the room as the shell of the coconut had done. Plaster fell from walls as they became spattered with this shrapnel. But not one particle fell on the table or on the surrounding carpet:
“The guided missile is dispersed.” Dr. Hessian spoke calmly. “In practice the inaudible sound would be greatly amplified. There would be a thunderstorm far above New York of a violence which no man has ever heard. But nothing more. The protective belt would also be relayed to outlying points. I could throw up a ceiling of sound over the whole of New York City at a cost below that of maintaining a fighter squadron for a month. And now, gentlemen, the sneak raid on the Bronx.”
As Dr. Hessian laid his hand on that section of the plan, the Japanese, standing beside him, head carefully lowered, stretched forward and grasped the suspended ring.
“Proceed.”
The ring was jerked sharply. A spurt of flame spat down out of the opening in the container. A dull impact ... a cloud of grey matter spread like smoke across the air, and a flattened bullet rebounded nearly to the ceiling in a ricochet and finally came to rest against a gap in the wall made by shrapnel from the “guided missile.”
Two more shots were fired, with similar results. The spectacle was bewildering, for the effect, looking upward, was as though a sheet of miraculously impenetrable glass extended across the room.
But there was nothing—nothing visible . . .
“Let no one stir,” Dr. Hessian warned. “Cover everything up.”
The Japanese went out and returned with several large sheets. One he spread over the table. Others were laid on the surrounding carpet.
“Disconnect.”
A switch was moved in the near-by cabinet . . . and as if a palpable obstacle had been drawn aside, down showered debris of all the experiments!
Chapter
13
At the conclusion of that amazing demonstration in the penthouse, Dr. Hessian had excused himself and retired. He had been at work day and night, he explained, ever since his arrival, and was far too weary for debate. He referred members of the committee to his assistant, Dr. Yukio Yono, who was qualified to answer all their questions.
Dr. Jurgonsen had tried to detain him, but Hessian had merely nodded and gone out.
Then the imperturbable Japanese scientist had been made the target of a verbal bombardment. But he had never faltered, never changed the tone of his voice, even when others were shouting. Nayland Smith had tapped Brian on the shoulder and nodded towards the door. Back again in their own quarters:
“We’re out of our depth, Merrick,” he told Brian, “up there. But words can’t alter facts.” He poured out two liberal shots of whisky. “Otto Hessian had solved the problem of protection from all form of aerial attack. You agree?”
“I can’t doubt it. The thing’s a miracle. It’s magic.”
“There’s no difficulty whatever in throwing up this sound ceiling over a wide area. Strong feature is the low cost. Everybody’s convinced, of course. But old Jurgonsen is boiling with professional jealousy. Your father has tried to persuade the Japanese to get Hessian to set up his apparatus in Washington for the President’s okay. But Hessian blankly declines. Genius has its privileges. It’s a case of Mohammed and the mountain. The President will come.”
“Here?” Brian jerked, startled by such a proposal.
“Here, Merrick, and soon. You saw the vacant chair at the table? That’s for your father. The place occupied by Senator Merrick tonight will be reserved for the President.”
When presently the members of the committee re-assembled it was clear that their opinion was unanimous. Even Dr. Jurgonsen was forced to admit that Otto Hessian had broken new ground in the aerial defence problem, opening up a prospect of entire immunity on a remarkably low budget.
“Secrecy and speed are vital,” he declared. “Dr. Hessian, whom I knew only by name, had vilely bad manners but clearly knows his subject.”