“She likes you,” Nemo said.
“That’s nice. So what’s your hideous plan?”
“We take your man aqualung diving. We take him deep. He’ll have a closed atmospheric system with a high-pressure helium-oxygen gas mixture. The helium is for the bends.”
“Yes?”
“Laura attacks. The monster from the deep.”
“And drowns him?”
“No, no, no, lad. More fiendish than that. Laura has been briefed. She cuts off the helium input while he’s struggling.”
“So? He’s getting pure oxygen.”
“That’s what makes it fiendish. Oxygen, under high pressure, produces symptoms of tetanus, strychnine poisioning, and epileptic spasms. It exaggerates the excitomotor power output of the spinal cord and creates violent convulsions. Your man will go under in slow agony.”
“It sounds ghastly enough, Nemo, but how do we save him?”
“Chloroform.”
“With what?”
“Chloroform. That’s the antidote for oxygen poisoning.”
I thought it over. “It sounds kind of complicated, Nemo.”
“What d’you want, a volcano?” he asked angrily.
“Sorry. Sorry… I just want to be sure it’ll work this time. We’ll try it, Nemo. We — Wait a minute. I hear a godawful pounding on the front door.”
I climbed out and went to the front door, forgetting I was naked. When I irised it open, there was Scented Song, looking as ever like a Ming Dynasty princess. There was an elephant behind her hammering at the door with its trunk.
“The vision of your godlike presence lends celestial light to these concave and unworthy eyes,” she said. “All right, Sabu, knock it off.”
The elephant stopped hammering. “Hi, Guig,” she said. “Long time no see. Don’t look now, but your fly’s open.”
I kissed her. “Come in, princess. It has been a long time, hasn’t it? Too long. Who’s your friend?”
“About as close as I could come to a mastodon.”
“You don’t mean—”
“What else? If it was good enough for Hic-Haec-Hoc it ought to be good enough for your prospect.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I seduce your jewel of a thousand facets. While we’re in the act we’re caught flagrante by Dumbo who, in a mad passion of insensate jealousy, sl-o-w-ly crushes us to death. I scream, but it’s no use. It’s mad, do you hear? Mad. Your guy fights heroically, but the massive forehead presses down and down and down…”
“Jeez,” I said appreciatively.
“And speaking of Sabu’s massive brain, we’d better bring him in. He’s not very bright and he may get himself into trouble. Iris a little wider for him, Guig.”
I opened the door wider and the princess motioned the road-company mastodon in. He in and I have to admit he couldn’t be very bright. In the few minutes that he’d been left alone he’d permitted himself to be covered with spray-can graffiti, all unmistakably obscene. Sabu chirped a little, touched Scented Song with his trunk to reassure himself, and then disappeared as the living room floor collapsed under him with a roar. There he was, down in the basement, trumpeting his fool head off. There were more roars from the drawing room.
“They don’t build houses like they used to,” the princess said. “What’s all that hollering?”
I didn’t have to esplain. Captain Nemo came charging out with his fly open. “Goddamn it, what the hell’s going on? Ahoy, princess. You’ve scared the living daylights out of Laura, Guig. She’s in a red panic. She’s a very sensitive girl.”
“It wasn’t me, Nemo, it was Sabu. He fell down a little.”
Nemo looked down into the basement. “What is it?”
“A Hairy Mastodon,” I said.
“I don’t see any hair.”
“I shave him every morning,” Scented Song said. She seemed a little miffed and I suspected there was going to be rivalry between Sabu and Laura. There was a scratching on the front door. When I opened it I was confronted by a coiled python ringed about seven feet high.
“No rabbits today,” I said. “Come back tomorrow.”
“He does not swallow rabbits,” a familiar voice said with meticulous diction. “He swallows men.”
Long fingers separated two coils and there was M’bantu surrounded by python, smiling at me.
“My favorite Zulu. Come in, McBee. Bring your friend, unless he’s shy.”
“He is not shy, Guig. He is asleep. He will sleep for ten days and then he will be ready for your Dr. Guess. Good afternoon, princess. Captain Nemo. What a pleasant reunion.”
Both of them sniffed and didn’t bother to conceal it. More rivalry. I was warmed by the way the Group was rallying ‘round, but oh! the competition. M’bantu unwrapped the python, which was like fifteen feet long, and draped it gently around one of the archway pillars. It went right on sleeping.
“What’s that bulge in its middle?” Nemo demanded.
“Breakfast,” McBee said courteously, not going into details.
“Does it like fish?”
“Probably prefers elephants,” Scented Song said. “It’s big enough.”
“The next meal will be Dr. Sequoya Guess. That is, with your permission, Guig,” M’b said pleasantly. “He will die most painfully, but what will be even more painful for me will be the sacrifice of my friend to save the doctor. However, che sara sara.”
The front door burst wide with a blaze of sparks and Edison marched in, carrying his toolbox. “Told you these magnetic locks can’t hold, Guig,” he snapped. “How much electric power does this Sachem have in his house? Princess. Nemo. M’bantu. Well?”
“None,” I said. “He lives in a tepee. Strictly Indian style. Thanks for coming, Ed.”
“Then we’ll have to get him here. You’ve got power?”
“I can deliver ten kilowatts.”
“Plenty. You’ve always been behind the times?”
“Conservative. Yes.”
“Conservative kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“Conservative oven?”
“The old-fashioned walk-in type. Yes.”
“Perfect. That’s how we’ll get him.” Edison opened his toolbox and yanked out a blueprint. “Look at this.”
“Just tell us, Ed.”
“We rewire it, power it, turn it into a magnetic induction furnace.”
“What’s that?”
“It melts metal; nothing else. Only conductive metals. Understand?”
“So far.”
“Put in your hand and you feel nothing. But if you’ve got a ring on your finger, the ring will melt and burn your finger off. Induction.”
“Phew. That sounds grisly.”
“Doesn’t it? Get the Indian into your oven. We start the induction slow and the torture begins.”
“You mean his fingers burn off?”
“No. The brain begins to burn. Bugged, isn’t he?”
“No.”
“Bugs are platinum.” Obviously Ed wasn’t hearing me. “Platinum is conductive. QED.”
At this point the other three, who had been listening utterly fascinated, burst out laughing. They shrieked and rocked helplessly while Edison glared at them. It looked as though this loyal rally was going to turn into a Donnybrook Fair and I’d get nowhere with the murder of Sequoya. I was wondering how to make peace when Fee-5, bless her, called and asked if she could project. I said come ahead and there she was in a starched white lab coat looking every inch the dedicated young scientist.
“He wants you to come to JPL right away,” she burst out in XX. Then she looked around. “Oh, sorry, cats. I didn’t know there was company. Am I intruding?” still in XX.