Chapter 8 Needed: A Counter Weapon

Chapter VIII

Needed: A Counterweapon

 

On the day following the first appearance of the whispering box, Rick, Scotty, Hartson Brant, and Dr. Keppner were seated in Keppner's office.

          Rick's nose and forehead were still very tender, but the swelling had subsided and he looked almost normal.  Aside from the wounds caused by sudden contact with the macadam road, he had not suffered from the whispering weapon.

          "The effects are easy to analyze,” Dr. Keppner said.  "The first impact of the sound waves causes a paralysis of the inner ear, which is the seat of balance.  The person attacked loses entire control over his balance.  That is the reason for the complete lack of bodily coordination.  What was the term you used, Scotty?”

          Scotty grinned.  "Just flopping around.  Like a hooked trout.”

          "A good simile.  The first effect is immediately followed by a more complete paralysis of the nervous system, which I think is caused by the sheer volume of sound.”

          "It seems funny to talk about sound when we couldn't even hear it,” Rick said.  "What do you think caused the whispering?”

          "Leakage,” Hartson Brant explained.  "I'm sure some of the compressed air leaked out, possibly through the valve or trigger that operates the weapon.  Such a leak would cause a whispering or hissing sound.”

          "That reminds me,” Rick said.  "Maybe the reason those men didn't use the box on the hotel clerk was because there was no time to recharge it.  Wouldn't they have to build up air pressure again?”

          Dr. Keppner shook his head.  "The first time they used the box, at the hospital lab, they used it twice in succession.  I'm sure it needs recharging frequently, but they are probably able to build up enough pressure to last for two of three shots.  They may even have two or three separate pressure tanks built into the box.”

          Rick had tried to think of some way that a counter weapon might be created, but with no success.  How could they combat a sound wave?

          "In order to understand what we are trying to do,” Hartson Brant said, "you boys must have a clear idea of the forces we're working with.  You've seen one effect of ultrasonic sound.  There are many others that have been observed in experiments.  There is a definite effect on the nervous system of humans when certain frequencies are used.  People become irritable and nervous, without even knowing why.  The, there are certain mechanical effects.  Ultrasonic sounds have been used to set paper afire.  In England, experiments have been conducted in washing clothes ultrasonically.  The waves actually vibrate dirt right out of things.”

          Dr. Keppner added, "The field has been badly neglected.  Only now are we realizing the potentialities of silent sound.  We may soon be using it to kill bacteria, or using it in industry to shake tiny particles around so that more uniform compounds may be formed.  There are unlimited possibilities.  For the present, however, we must create an ultrasonic defense.  Until we do, we are vulnerable to such attacks as you have experienced.”

          "But how can we defend ourselves against a sound?”  Rick demanded.  "We can't soundproof buildings well enough, and we can't get people to wear ear muffs.”

          Hartson Brant and Dr. Keppner chuckled.

          "We won't go at it in quite that way,” Mr. Brant said.  "We have learned that the whispering box operates at a very high frequency.  We think the wave length of their sound may be high enough so that we could use what in radio is something termed a heterodyne.  In other words, we can create a beat frequency.”

          "That's nice,” Scotty remarked blankly.

          Rick had a glimmer of understanding.  Sometimes, when two radio waves were close together in frequency, they produced a squeal. That happened often on old-fashion radios.

          Hartson Brant was watching his son's face.  Rick felt his father's glance and smiled.  "I'm working on it, dad.”

          "Take you time, Rick.  You can figure it out.”

          "I'm not sure, but I think I know what you mean.  Suppose the whispering box operates at a frequency of 50,000 cycles per second, which is just another way of saying 50,000 vibrations.  You create a sound of 49,500 cycles a second and they beat against each other.  The result, which would be the difference between the two frequencies, would be a tone we could hear.  It would be a 500-cycle note, which is just about middle ‘A' on the piano.”

          "Very well put,” Keppner said.

          Scotty had an objection.  "Suppose they change frequency on you?  Your counterweapon would be useless until you analyzed the new wave length.”

          "Very true.  And that is what makes the creation of our own defense such a problem.”  Dr. Keppner rose and paced the room.  "We must make our counterweapon flexible, and automatic.  It must analyze the frequency of the whispering box, adjust its own mechanism to emit a counterfrequency, and do it so rapidly that people near by will not be affected by the attackers' weapon.”

          "There is only one means of getting such speed,” Hartson Brant added.

          "Exactly.  That means is electronics.  Only electrons move rapidly enough.  That is why we had to call on Spindrift Island.  We were depending on Weiss and Zircon to work with us here, while you, Hartson, and John Gordon continued research at home.  Now, with Weiss and Zircon missing, we have had to call you down to join us.”

          "How about Professor Gordon?” Scotty asked.

          "We've asked him to stay at Spindrift to continue his work on the long-range aspects.  He is engaged in making artificial crystals.  You know, of course, that most frequencies in electronics are crystal controlled?”

          Rick said, "That's what he was doing with the annealing furnace!”

          "Correct, Rick.”  Hartson Brant smiled.  "But, Keppner, surely you and I can't do this job alone!  Think of the scope of the task.  We need more help.”

          "Help is on its way,” Dr. Keppner assured him.  "You've heard of Dr. Ralph Bertona?”

          "Of Western University?  I certainly have!  I've never had the pleasure of meeting him, but I know his work very well.  He's a man I'd like to have on my staff.”

          "Which is certainly the highest compliment you could pay,” Dr. Keppner chuckled.  "Well, Bertona is flying from the West Coast.  He should be here late tonight.”  He stood up.  "Suppose we get to work.  We have the broad outline of what we need.  I'm sure we can produce.”

          He took them into the laboratory where two men were already at work.  One, an older man who looked like the traditional figure of a nearsighted bookkeeper, was bent over a drawing board.

          "This is Mr. Terhune,” Dr. Keppner said.  "A wonderful craftsman with a drawing pen.  He'll draft the blueprints from which we will work.”  He indicated the other man who was busy with a broom.  "Mr. Fanning is my assistant.  If you need any equipment, he will supple it.”

          Fanning, a younger man with rimless glasses and a luxuriant brown mustache, looked up from his floor sweeping and nodded.  "Glad to know you.  Are any of you experts with a broom?”

          "We don't employ a janitor for security reason,” Keppner explained, smiling.  "Fanning makes an excellent assistant but a poor sweeper.”

          Rick and Scotty were assigned to a workbench equipped for shaping and drilling metal.  Dr. Keppner put them to work on the blueprint of the chassis, or aluminum base, on which a part of the electronic circuit would be mounted.

          "Where does the compressed-air tank go?” Scotty asked, looking at the design.

          "There won't be one.”  Dr. Keppner indicated a cone-shaped device.  "This is a little development of my own.  It's what might be called an ultrasonic loud-speaker.  A speaker, that is, capable of reproducing ultrasonic sounds.  The sound themselves will be created electronically.”

          "How can you make sounds with electronics?” Scotty objected.

          Rick knew the answer to that one.  "Ever hear of a Hammond electric organ or a Navachord?  They play music created by electronic tubes.”

          "Quite right,” Dr. Keppner agreed.

          The boys found sheet aluminum and went to work as Dr. Keppner and Hartson Brant joined the draftsman and began a long discussion over the drawing board.

          It was an easy job.  Rick's hands worked mechanically while his thoughts were busy on other things.  None of them had talked much about Weiss and Zircon, but the mystery of their disappearance was on every mind.  The thought that they might have been harmed made the job of tracking down the enemy and creating a counterweapon a personal thing.  If anything had happened to the scientists, the other Spindrifters would see that they were amply revenged.

          But revenge was useless, Rick thought.  What he wanted was to see Weiss and Zircon alive and well.

          "I wonder if Steve Ames is making any progress?” he inquired aloud.

          Scotty shrugged.  "Probably not much.  He'll have to have a whole lot of luck.  When people just vanish like that, it isn't easy to find them again.”

          "I wish we could do something,” Rick said grimly.

          "So do I.”  Scotty was bending a strip of aluminum into shape.  He gave it a vicious twist.  "But if Steve Ames and all of JANIG can't find them, what could we do?”

          "Nothing,” Rick answered morosely.  He concentrated on the work before him.

          When Hartson Brant came to the bench, Rick and Scotty had completed the chassis, except for the drilling of the tube socket holes, and that couldn't be done until the circuit-wiring diagrams were completed.

          "Good work,” Hartson Brant said.  "Well, the afternoon is over, so far as you two are concerned.”

          Rick glanced at his wrist watch.  It was only half past four.  "Isn't there anything else we can do?”

          "Not until tomorrow, I'm afraid.  Keppner and I are working on the circuits, but there is still a great deal of calculating to do.  We'll keep on this evening.  Besides, Dr. Bertona may arrive and we'll have to brief him on the problem.  Can you two amuse yourselves?”

          "I guess so.”  Rick tidied up the bench with Scotty's aid and saw that all the tools were put away.

          Fanning, the helper, came over to give them a hand.  He examined the chassis they had been working on.  "Neat job,” he complimented them.

          Rick and Scotty thanked Fanning, then walked with him to the front of the lab where Dr. Keppner, Hartson Brant, and Terhune were bent over the drawing board.

          Fanning looked at the intricate lines on the board.  "Looks like the wiring diagram for a Christmas tree.  Does it make sense?”

          "We hope it makes some kind of sense.”  Hartson Brant smiled.  He addressed Rick and Scotty.  "I'll get a bit to eat at the drugstore next door.  Don't plan on my coming home early.  We may be here until late.”

          "We'll get some exercise,” Scotty said.  "We need it.”

          "Good idea,” Dr. Keppner approved.  "Why not walk around and see the sights?  If you haven't seen the Lincoln Memorial, I'd recommend that.  To my mind, it's the most impressive thing in Washington.”

          "I'd like to see it,” Rick said.  "I've seen it before, but so long ago that I can't remember.”

          "It's one thing people don't get tired of looking at,” Scotty agreed.  "We'll get something to eat, then hike down that way.  So long, everybody.”

          He and Rick went down the stairs and out into the late afternoon sun.  Rick clapped a hand to his head.  "I forgot my hat again.”

          Scotty grinned.  "Never mind it.  I can't get used to seeing you with it on, anyway.  I keep thinking I'm with a stranger.”

          "Speaking of strangers!”  Rick pointed across the street.  The second stranger, the one who had been at Spindrift with Steve Ames, was smiling at them from a doorway.

          "I wondered when he'd show up,” Scotty remarked.

          The stranger came across the street and shook hands, smiling.  "Pete Davis is my name,” he said.  "Don't tell me your; I know all about you.”

          "What are you doing here?” Rick asked before he remembered that he wasn't to ask questions.

          Davis had no hesitation about answering.  "I'm head of the guard detail.”

          Scotty looked around.  "What guard detail?”

          "You can't see the boys, but they're around.  One is on the roof of the building opposite—no, don't look up.  If anyone is watching, we don't want them tipped off.  Another is on the third floor of this building.  Both of them have riffles.  And we have a couple of carloads of men spotted around.”

          "I don't know what good guards will do if the whispering box is turned on,” Rick objected.

          "Plenty,” Davis assured him.  "Far as we can figure, the box is pretty directional, and it won't work at any great distance.  That's what Dr. Keppner told us.  So I spotted my men in all directions.  If the gang shows up with the box, they may get a couple of my boys, but while they're doing it, one of my sharpshooters will pick them off like ducks from another direction.  No matter which way they turn, they'll be covered.”

          "If it's as easy as that, why not just post guards at all the government buildings?” Rick asked.

          "We do have extra men on,” Davis said.  "But it's not the answer.  To do it properly, you need men at every point of the compass.  That takes more guards than the government has.  What's more, it's human nature to get careless.  My own men won't, but regular guards are apt to.  And with this box gadget, one second of looking in the wrong direction at the wrong time is plenty.”

          "I see what you mean,” Scotty agreed.  "Have you heard anything from Steve?”

          "He tracked the car that got you kids.  It's at headquarters now, being checked over.  It won't tell us anything, though.  It was stolen, naturally.  They wouldn't use one of their own.”

          "No sign of Weiss or Zircon?” Rick queried.

          Davis shook his head.  "Sorry.”

          "I didn't really hope for any news,” Rick said.  "Well, we'll be going.  See you later, Mr. Davis.”

          "Right.  And don't worry about Mr. Brant.  We're keeping him so well covered that a mosquito couldn't get to him without our knowledge.”

          "That's a relief,” Scotty said.  "How about us?”

          "You're on your own.  We're not worried about you.  The gang isn't interested in anyone but the scientists.”

          Rick rubbed his sore nose ruefully.  "Wish you'd tell the guy with the whispering box that.”

          Davis chuckled.  "Doesn't it make sense?  I'm surprised at you.  I thought sure you'd figured out why they went after you yesterday.”

          "They wanted us for souvenirs,” Scotty said.

          "Don't flatter yourself, sarge,” Davis said, grinning.  "They were after Hartson Brant.  It just happened that they didn't know his son was a ringer for him.”

          Rick's jaw dropped.  "So that was it!  Sure!  Scotty, remember how you said I looked like Dad with that hat on?”

          "That's right,” Scotty agreed.  "But why were they waiting at our hotel?”

          "It's Mr. Brant's hotel, too,” Davis reminded them.  "They must have thought he'd check in before going to the lab.  He crossed them up by coming directly to Dr. Keppner.  Meanwhile, you two came out of the hotel and walked right into their arms.”

          "Then they know about the hotel,” Rick said soberly.  "And about the lab, too.”

          "They know plenty.”  Davis sounded grim.  "I'd like to know their source of information.  We're keeping an eye on every man connected with this job.  I'm getting so I don't even trust myself.”  Suddenly he smiled again.  "But that's not your worry.  Go along and have a good time.  There's plenty to see in Washington.”

          The boys said good-by and walked down the street toward Lafayette Square.

          "So they thought they were getting Dad,” Rick said.  "I couldn't figure out what they wanted with us.”

          "It makes sense.  Anyway, I'm glad the hotel clerk was on the ball.  Otherwise we'd be with Weiss and Zircon, wherever they are.”

          "I wish I knew where that was.”

          "So do I,” Scotty said gruffly.  "But wishing isn't going to help.  We can't do anything except hope.”