Search for Strangers
The good weather turned bad, and dark clouds hung low over the New
Jersey coast. It was appropriate weather for the state of mind at
Spindrift. With Marks a victim of the mysterious "dagger of the mind,"
only Dr. Morrison remained of the original team.
The question, of course, was "Who next?"
At Hartson Brant's urgent request, Steve Ames visited the island and a
meeting of all staff was called in the big library.
Rick and Scotty sat on a library table, while the scientists occupied
the few library chairs. Steve Ames sat on Hartson Brant's desk and
acted as chairman for the informal session.
By mutual agreement, the girls had been excluded. Jan was nearly in a
state of shock over what had happened to Marks. Not only was she fond
of the crusty scientist, but she was fearful that the mysterious
ailment would strike her father next. And Barby was rapidly catching
the same fear. After all, new team members probably were not immune,
and Hartson Brant, Julius Weiss, and Parnell Winston were deeply
involved in the project.
Steve called the meeting to order. "Hartson, you suggested that I
come, which I was glad to do. Suppose you start by telling us what you
had in mind."
"Very well, Steve." The scientist's glance embraced his colleagues and
the boys.
"We have a problem that must be solved before we can continue with
calm and objective minds on the project that faces us. The problem is
simply, what is the ailment that has stricken three of us, and what is
its cause?"
Hartson Brant tamped tobacco into his pipe thoughtfully. "Let us see
what we know. First of all, two team members were stricken in
Washington, within a short time of each other. They were examined by
competent specialists who arrived at no conclusion. They admitted they
were unable to diagnose the ailment. The possibility of an unknown
disease was considered briefly, but not seriously. The possibility of
a chemical agent--a drug, if you like--also was considered. This
possibility has not been entirely rejected. However, a detailed
laboratory investigation disclosed no trace of chemicals in the
patients, apart from chemicals that were expected, of course."
"Could there be chemicals that left no trace?" Scotty asked.
Hartson Brant shook his head. "No one can claim total knowledge of
body chemistry, obviously. Just the same, the elements to be found in
the body, and the proportions in which they occur, are well known. I
said the possibility has not been entirely eliminated, but it seems
unlikely that chemical interference caused the disruption."
"What does that leave?" Steve inquired.
The scientist shrugged. "I can't even guess. Physical interference,
perhaps. There is also a possibility, which is very difficult to
explore, that the ailment was caused within the minds of the
scientists by some catalytic agent, or by some psychic trauma that we
can't even imagine."
Rick and Scotty exchanged glances. They had seen the ailment at work,
and even its effects were almost beyond description. Its cause was
hard to imagine.
"But, to continue. Steve recognized the possibility that the ailment
was caused by some outside source. Call it an enemy source, if you
prefer. He acted to get the remaining team members beyond reach of the
enemy by smuggling them to Spindrift. He succeeded with Dr.
Miller--excuse me, Dr. Morrison. He did not succeed with Dr. Marks.
What does this suggest?"
"That hiding Dr. Morrison was an effective preventative," Steve Ames
concluded.
"If he is hidden." Rick said the words before he even thought.
"What do you mean, Rick? No one outside the family or the project
knows of his presence!" Julius Weiss exclaimed.
Steve held up his hand. "Hold it a minute. We'll get to that point in
its proper turn."
Hartson Brant picked up the threads again. "We will assume for the
moment that Steve's statement is correct, and that hiding Dr. Morrison
was a preventative. I know Steve doesn't accept this fully, but we
must use assumptions since we have no facts of consequence. If the
assumption is correct, then we have to accept the fact that enemy
agents are interested in the project. And we must also accept that
they have some means of creating a mental block by remote control."
Rick stole a glance at Parnell Winston. The cyberneticist was sitting
quietly, his bushy eyebrows knitted thoughtfully. Winston hadn't said
a word.
Hartson Brant paced the floor as he went on. "We now have one slight
bit of additional information that supports the theory of enemy
interference. You are all aware of what happened to Dr. Marks this
morning. He is in the hands of Constantine Chavez, who is in touch
with the physicians in charge of the other team members. Dr. Chavez is
of the opinion that Dr. Marks' mental injury was caused by physical
means, although he cannot say how. He also states, although there
seems to be no connection with the mental injury, that Marks was
drugged."
Parnell Winston spoke for the first time. "Steve, if Chavez says Marks
was drugged, we can accept it. How could it have happened?"
Steve spread his hands in a gesture that seemed to Rick to indicate
embarrassment. "I have gone over every step of the journey with Tom
Dodd. The answer is yes. Thanks to Marks' bullheadedness, and a
clerical error, there was an opportunity for an enemy to get at him on
the train."
The scientists waited, obviously wanting to know more. Steve
elaborated. "Marks was covered by one of our men at every moment, even
while he was working at the Bureau of Standards, and while he was at
his apartment. The agents ate and drank the same things. Nothing has
happened to them. However, when the reservations were made for the
train trip, Marks specified that he wanted a bedroom. He got one, and
Tom Dodd got the one next door."
"Why did Marks want to travel by train overnight, anyway?" Scotty
demanded. "That's getting from Washington to Newark the hard way."
"I told you he was stubborn," Steve reminded. "Tom tried to talk him
out of it but failed. After all, the project team members aren't
prisoners. We can't use force, and we can't order them to do anything.
Marks wanted to go overnight by train because he always traveled that
way, he said. He insisted."
Dr. Morrison said sadly, "I assure you that he is not an easy man to
get along with sometimes. But we must remember that he is--or was--an
extremely competent scientist. Competence like his can be forgiven
many eccentricities."
"Thanks to his eccentricities, we've also lost his competence," Julius
Weiss pointed out. "Go on, Steve."
"Right. Well, Tom specified bedrooms A and B, and by the time he got
the reservations and found that he had actually received bedrooms B
and C, it was too late to change because the train was sold out."
"I can't see what difference that made," Rick objected.
"You will. People often buy connecting bedrooms on a train, and that's
what Tom had done. He planned to keep the connecting door open and
remain awake all night with an eye on Marks. However, while A and B
connect, B and C do not. Do I make myself clear?"
"I think so," Rick agreed. "The connecting bedrooms come in pairs,
A-B, C-D, and so on."
"That's it. Well, Tom ran a fast check on the person who had received
bedroom D, and found it was a Baltimore businessman who often traveled
on the same train, going overnight to New York. So Tom didn't worry
about it. Instead, he kept his bedroom door open so he could watch the
corridor. He says he didn't sleep at all, and I believe him. He's one
of my best agents. The occupant of Bedroom D came on the train at
Baltimore and went right to bed. The night passed quietly, until it
was time to get Marks up. Tom had great trouble waking him up, and he
was groggy until this strange effect hit him. Rick and Scotty know.
They were there."
The boys shuddered, remembering Marks' condition.
"But where did the opportunity to drug him come in?" Weiss asked.
"We've done some fast checking on every possible angle," Steve said
quietly, "and we've found a couple of interesting things. First of
all, the man who reserved Bedroom D is in a Baltimore hospital. He was
struck by a hit-and-run car as he walked from his office to the
railroad station. Obviously, he was struck deliberately. He's in
critical condition."
"Then the man on the train..." Rick gasped.
"Yes. Who was the man on the train? We don't know. We've had our
Boston office go over the room, and they've turned up no fingerprints
except those of the porter who cleaned up after the train left New
York. The room was wiped clean. But our Boston men also found an
interesting spot on the rug. They had a sample analyzed, and so far as
we can determine, it's a kind of water-soluble salt paste often used
by doctors when they take electrocardiograms."
The group leaned forward, interested. Rick knew the kind of stuff
Steve meant, because he had once watched Zircon getting an
electrocardiogram. The big scientist had fainted from sheer overwork,
and possible heart complications were suspected. The technician
squeezed the paste from a tube and applied it to wrists, ankles, and
chest, under the metal terminals of the machine. Its purpose was to
allow a better electrical contact.
Julius Weiss demanded excitedly, "Steve, do you imply that this
unknown person took an electrocardiogram of Marks' heart responses?"
The JANIG agent shrugged. "I imply nothing. I'm merely reporting."
Again Parnell Winston spoke. "Perhaps I can shed some light on this.
It's true that such an electropaste is used to make better connections
for electrocardiograms. But perhaps of greater importance for this
discussion, it is also used in making electroencephalograms."
Rick and Scotty spoke in unison. "What?"
Winston turned to them. "It's a long word, but not a difficult one.
_Electro_ for electrical. _Encephalo_ is simply a Greek form meaning
'the brain.' _Gram_, also from the Greek, means something drawn or
written. A record, if you like. So an electroencephalogram is simply
an electrical recording of the brain."
"That may be significant," Hartson Brant said thoughtfully. "But,
assuming an enemy could get an EEG--which is the handy way of saying
electroencephalogram, Rick and Scotty--what would he do with it?"
Parnell Winston rose. "Hartson, I think you can conduct the rest of
this without me. I have an extraordinary notion whirling around in my
head that I'd like to discuss with Chavez. I'll pick up the car at the
pier and drive over, if you don't mind. And by the way, Steve, can
JANIG get some information for me?"
"We can try."
"Good. I want to know if the two team scientists who were stricken
first had EEG's made after the attack. I would also like to check
their medical history, as completely as possible, to find out if EEG's
were ever taken while they were normal."
"I'll give the orders right away," Steve agreed. "I don't know what we
can turn up on their early medical history, but we can try."
Parnell Winston departed. Rick almost wished he had asked permission
to accompany Winston, but there was more to be said here, too.
"The evidence is not conclusive," Hartson Brant summed up, "but it is
certainly strong enough to warrant a clear assumption: we have an
enemy who, by unknown means, can inflict brain damage."
"All right. Now for some loose ends." Steve looked at the boys. "Rick
and Scotty turned up a barber in Whiteside. It happened they had first
seen him in the project office building in Washington, so they got his
name and called. We were already checking on the barber, and knew he
was in Whiteside. We'll dig deeper until we know more about him than
he does. But for now, our information indicates he is just what he
claims to be. He got the job in Whiteside legitimately. He had planned
to take a new job for a long time. So far as we can tell, he's as
innocent as a woolly little lamb."
"Just the same," Rick said stoutly, "I'm not satisfied. I'd like to
get some more dope on that massage machine of his. Especially after
what Dr. Winston said."
Steve grinned. "Why don't you?"
Rick and Scotty looked at each other, and rose to the challenge. "We
will," they stated flatly.
Steve nodded. "All right. You're known in Whiteside and my men are
not. An influx of strangers, or even one inquisitive stranger, would
attract attention. But that's not all. I have another job for you,
too."
They waited eagerly.
"I want a survey of the area. My Boy Scout team can help somewhat, but
they're strangers, too, even though they have an explanation for their
presence. Scan the area for anything suspicious. Get your newspaper
pals on the job and have them sniff around for evidence of any strange
folks in the area. They can do it easily."
"We'll do it," Rick agreed. There was nothing hard about looking for
strangers in their own territory. He knew exactly how to go about it.
"All right. Search for strangers. Get your pals on the job, but do it
without tipping anything off. That State Police captain you've worked
with will be a big help, too. You can tell him national security is
involved, but that's all."
"At least we're not working entirely in the dark any more," Dr.
Morrison said wearily. "Even if the assumption of an enemy is wrong,
it's something to go on."
Rick stood up. The conference apparently was at an end.
"Tonight we'll plan," he announced. "And tomorrow we'll start. If
there are any strangers in the area, you'll have full particulars by
tomorrow night."
"That," said Steve Ames, "is a promise I'll hold you to."