On the High Road to Oblivion

Chapter 18—Hammer and Chisel

When he had been a research scientist in the employ of the War Department, Findlay Newcombe had wrestled with the ethical problem of using scientific discoveries in the pursuit of military dominance. It was perhaps because he understood that knowledge about the universe and the marvelous principles which made it tick, was freely available to all residents of the planet, regardless of their moral character, provided they possessed the intelligence to unlock the mysteries and understand the applications. Because he loved science, loved making those discoveries, it was unthinkable for him to willingly leave off the search for understanding. And because he knew that foreign governments, many with openly belligerent aims, were likewise striving to use science to build a better sword, he took some comfort in the knowledge that his research would protect the government and people who, collectively speaking, were dedicated to preserving liberty for all.

Nevertheless, part of him had been secretly pleased when those ties had been cut. Writing a newspaper column with Dodge was a far cry from what he had always imagined his career would be, but in many respects it was much more satisfying.

Now however, he was facing his worst nightmare: the certain knowledge that his activities would lead to a perverse weapon that might kill or enslave thousands.

He stared at the contents of a stoppered test tube in the rack on the lab table. It contained a solution of adamantine ore and cyanide. The ore had completely dissolved and now existed only as a molecular amalgam of the two substances: adamantine cyanide. He had been staring at it for a long time, conscious of the fact that, when he finally removed the rubber stopper and added a few grains of sodium to the solution, triggering a chemical reaction that would draw the cyanide away from the adamantine, leaving that latter element in a pure, refined state, it would be like letting the genie out of the bottle.

Newcombe looked up as Barron — or rather, Baron Von Heissel — entered the lab. Two days had passed since the baron’s act of betrayal at the Avernus Crater; two days in which Majestic had left Europe behind and struck out across the Atlantic. In that time, Von Heissel had pushed for results, making veiled threats against Fiona and Rod Lafayette if Newcombe did not produce. The scientist didn’t know if the baron sensed the truth, that he had already unlocked the refining process and was intentionally delaying, but as Majestic’s final destination drew closer, Newcombe knew that the threats would become less subtle.

But this time, the baron had not come to threaten or cajole. “Good morning, Dr. Newcombe. I trust the work continues?”

“There’s not much else for me to do.”

Von Heissel smiled. “All the amenities of Majestic are at your disposal. I would hate for you to think that you are chained to this lab table.”

“Somehow it’s hard to enjoy those amenities with an armed babysitter always at my side.”

Von Heissel shrugged. “I’m sure you understand my reluctance to simply give you free run of the ship, but perhaps I can instruct your minder to be less obtrusive.”

“It’s your ship, do as you like.”

“I’ve been thinking about our arrangement — our professional relationship, if you like — and it has occurred to me that you might have reached an erroneous conclusion about my plans for the resonance wave device. I suppose it’s only natural that you would assume that I have some malign purpose for it; I am a manufacturer of armaments and I was working with the War Department, ostensibly to use this technology to create a new kind of weapon. But I want to assure you that such has never been my true intent. If it eases your conscience, I can assure you that the device will not be used to harm a single living thing.”

Newcombe studied the other man’s face for some hint of deception. “What, if I may ask, is your ‘true intent’?”

“I suppose there’s no reason not to tell you.” Von Heissel leaned casually against the table, and picked up the test tube, peering at its contents. “Do you recall our conversation about the other applications for this technology?”

“I recall you promising to build a weapon so terrible that it would end war altogether. But you’re very adept at telling people what they want to hear in order to get them to do your dirty work.”

Von Heissel smiled patiently. “I have found that most people have a tendency to hear what they want to hear, regardless of what is actually said. Everything I have told you about this device and my plans for it is the truth, but not in the way you might believe.

“The resonance wave generator does indeed have the potential to be used as a weapon, but not a very effective one. It can shake a building to its foundation; so what? A B-17 Flying Fortress can drop a two-thousand pound bomb and wipe out an entire city block. I ask you which is more efficient?”

“So if you’re not going to use it as a weapon, then why go to all the trouble?”

“My purpose is not so different from what Tesla intended for this technology; an application which you yourself used.”

“You want to use the device to see through rock? To drill tunnels in the earth?” Newcombe cast a skeptical eye at his host. “And for that, you are willing to kidnap and kill?”

“You of all people, doctor, should understand just how important the earth’s hidden resources are, from a strategic point of view. Why do you think wars are fought, if not to control such wealth?” Von Heissel’s smile broadened. “And what better way to end wars than to open up the earth’s treasure houses so that resources are no longer so scarce as to be worth fighting over?”

The argument was persuasive, seductive even, and Newcombe wanted to believe the baron. But Von Heissel had unknowingly incriminated himself. People hear what they want to hear. Newcombe was not going to make that mistake. Von Heissel hadn’t revealed anything about his true purpose; he had merely given a few plausible alternatives — straws to grasp at — that he knew would ease the scientist’s ethical uncertainty.

Newcombe focused on what Von Heissel actually had confessed to. He wouldn’t need to reinforce the device with adamantine if he only intended it as a way of probing underground. He’s going to use it to dig. But why?

Newcombe did his best to return the baron’s smile. “Thank you for putting my mind at ease. As it happens, I think I’ve isolated the formula for refining the ore. Let me show you.”

The Catalina had gone into the sea about a hundred miles north of the Aeolian Isles, a location Odysseus had likely visited in his epic journey. Although they could not see the islands from the bobbing yellow raft, Dodge had recalled spotting them from the air in the moments before the crash, and reckoned the shortest path to salvation lay to the south. Fortunately, after only a few hours of paddling, they encountered a passing freighter bound for, of all places, Naples, and their brief trial at sea came to a welcome conclusion. They did not linger in Italy; shortly after disembarking the freighter, they chartered a flight to Lisbon, where they were met by US Army Lieutenant Colonel Kerry Frey, who had traversed the Atlantic in response to their urgent summons.

“Sad news about General Vaughn,” Frey said, after the initial introduction. “He was a good soldier.”

“He went out fighting,” Hurricane said.

Frey nodded somberly, then turned to Dodge and proffered a thick leather portfolio. “Here is the information you requested.”

“I’ll read it in the air. What can you tell us about Von Heissel? Is he headed back to the States?”

“We’ve intercepted radio-navigation signals from Majestic that would seem to indicate that. But I have to be honest with you; Washington isn’t quite sure what to do about all this.”

“It’s Baron Otto Von Heissel we’re talking about,” Hurricane rumbled. “He’s got to be stopped.”

Frey pursed his lips. “We can order him to surrender once he’s back in American territory.”

“And if he refuses?”

“In theory, if we determine that he has hostile intentions, we could shoot his airship down.”

“Our friends are still aboard,” Dodge said.

“That contingency would only be used as a last resort.” Frey sighed. “Because Barron… excuse me, Von Heissel… was working with the War Department, the brass still expect him to deliver the weapon he promised. They’re having trouble accepting that he’s up to no good. If General Vaughn were here, they might be convinced—”

“Von Heissel killed him!” Hurricane exclaimed, slapping his thighs angrily.

“I believe you, but there’s no way to corroborate that. And given your own history with the general, no offense Mr. Dalton, there are some in the War Department who think you might be making all of this up.”

Hurricane appeared to be on the verge of a volcanic eruption, but Dodge forestalled him. “Thanks for giving it to us straight, Colonel. Von Heissel is planning something terrible. And he has our friends hostage aboard that airship. With or without your help, Hurricane and I have to stop him.”

“Don’t forget about me,” Nora chimed.

Dodge grimaced a little. That was a discussion he wasn’t looking forward to.

“I’ll get you back to the States,” Frey promised. “After that… well, I guess we’ll just have to see what shakes out.”

As they boarded Frey’s transport plane, Dodge pulled Hurricane aside. He held up the portfolio. “I’m going to try to figure out what Von Heissel’s really up to. Do you think you can come up with a way to get us aboard Majestic?”

The big man grinned fiercely. “I’ve got a couple crazy ideas, but we’ll need some help.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Dodge settled in next Nora. “Since you’ve proven yourself as a crackerjack researcher, are you up for a little light reading?”

“Researcher?” She raised an eyebrow. “I had hoped that by now, you’d think of me as more than just that.”

Dodge couldn’t resist grinning at the flirtatious comment. “Believe me, I do.”

She answered his grin with a dazzling smile, but the moment could not last. “All right, what have you got?”

Dodge opened the portfolio and took out thick sheaf of papers. “Doc Newcombe said that Von Heissel’s machine is based on principles developed by Nikola Tesla. I asked Colonel Frey to bring me everything that’s been written or published on Tesla’s resonance wave theories and experiments.”

“How will that help us?”

“Tesla is a genius, but a lot of his stuff has been dismissed as crackpot science. The resonance wave machine is a good example of that. The scientists of the world dismissed it, but Von Heissel obviously found a way to make it work. The question is: why? What is it about that particular machine that would prompt him to go through all this effort? I think we’ll find the answer in Tesla’s papers.”

“How will we know if we see it?”

He divided the contents of the portfolio into two roughly equal stacks, and passed one to her. “Just look for anything that seems too crazy to be true.”

Dodge’s exhortation was not as useful as he thought it would be. Tesla’s writings and correspondences were rife with exaggerated claims and reports of successes that could not be independently corroborated or repeated. Tesla was a veritable P.T. Barnum of the scientific world, a showman who used extravagant tricks to get funding from wealthy industrialists for pet projects that held great promise, but never seemed to deliver. His massive tower in Wardenclyffe on Long Island was just such an example. Built with funds from financier J.P. Morgan near the turn of the century, its purpose, according to Tesla, was to transmit electricity without wires across the Atlantic. It would, he theorized, be possible for anyone, anywhere in the world, to simply pull electrical current out of the air, without the necessity of generating plants and a network of power lines. Tesla had been able to sell the dream, but after sinking hundreds of thousands of dollars into the project with nothing to show for it, his investors lost faith and cut their losses. Yet, for all his failures, Tesla’s passion was as great as his provable genius, and Dodge could see why wealthy capitalists were so easily enticed by his vision for the future and his promises of what he could do, with just a little bit more of their money.

Then Dodge read something that sent a chill down his spine.

It was in an article published in the periodical The World To-Day in 1912, where Tesla was asked about his experiments with resonance waves. The first part recounted his experiments with a small device that delivered vibrations at variable frequencies. Tesla had found just the right frequency to cause a piece of two-inch thick steel to break apart.

“Sledge hammers could not have done it; crowbars could not have done it, but a fusillade of taps, no one of which would have harmed a baby, did it.”

Tesla had then tried his device on an unfinished ten-story steel building.

“‘In a few minutes’, he said, ‘I could feel the beam trembling. Gradually, the trembling increased in intensity and extended throughout the whole great mass of steel. Finally, the structure began to creak and weave, and the steel-workers came to the ground panic-stricken, believing that there had been an earthquake. Rumors spread that the building was about to fall, and the police reserves were called out. Before anything serious happened, I took off the vibrator, put it in my pocket and went away. But if I had kept on ten minutes more, I could have laid that building flat in the street. And, with the same vibrator, I could drop Brooklyn Bridge into the East River in less than an hour.’”

That seemed to Dodge like typical Tesla hyperbole, but then he kept reading:

“Tesla says that he can split the earth in the same way — split it as a boy would split an apple — and forever end the career of man.”

“Nora, listen to this.” He straightened in his chair, and read aloud:

“‘The vibrations of the earth have a periodicity of approximately one hour and forty-nine minutes. That is to say, if I strike the earth this instant, a wave of contraction goes through it that will come back in one hour and forty-nine minutes in the form of expansion. As a matter of fact, the earth, like everything else, is in a constant state of vibration. It is constantly contracting and expanding.

“‘Now, suppose that at the precise moment when it begins to contract, I explode a ton of dynamite. That accelerates the contraction and, in one hour and forty-nine minutes, there comes an equally accelerated wave of expansion. When the wave of expansion ebbs, suppose I explode another ton of dynamite, thus further increasing the wave of contraction. And, suppose this performance be repeated, time after time. Is there any doubt as to what would happen? There is no doubt in my mind. The earth would be split in two.

“‘I could set the earth’s crust into such a state of vibration that it would rise and fall hundreds of feet, throwing rivers out of their beds, wrecking buildings, and practically destroying civilization.’”

He lowered the clipping to find Nora gaping in disbelief. “You did say ‘too crazy to be true,’” she said. “You can’t believe he wants to destroy the world.”

Dodge recalled Von Heissel’s boast about creating a new world, but it was the voice of Captain Falcon’s ghost that echoed in his head: He will betray you. He will destroy everything. A hallucination, perhaps, but the ghost had been right on the first count.

“I think that’s exactly what he wants. Destroy civilization; create a new world in its place. When I was in that hidden valley in Pennsylvania, I saw where he had tested an earlier prototype of the device, a circle, about a hundred yards across, where the ground had broken down to dust. I think that while the device was turned on, it would have behaved almost like a liquid.”

“How does that help him destroy the earth?”

“Tesla talked about exploding a ton of dynamite in exactly the same place over the course of several hours… days even. What would happen if you tried to do that? Let’s say you did in the middle of Central Park. After the first blast, you’d have a great big crater. And with each new blast, the crater would get deeper. It would be like creating an open pit mine; you’d never be able to actually explode the dynamite in the same place twice.”

He could see the wheels turning in Nora’s head. “But if you’ve got a machine that can liquefy the ground at a constant depth, you could drop a bomb in and have it explode in exactly the same spot over and over again.”

“I think this is what Von Heissel wants to do. The resonance wave generator is just part of it; like a hammer and chisel working together.”

“Is it really possible? Crack apart the whole earth with just a few tons of dynamite?”

“Tesla seemed to think so. And I don’t think we can take the chance that he might have been wrong.” He managed a smile. “The good news is, Von Heissel’s plan won’t work without that resonance wave machine. I doubt he has enough adamantine ore to make more than one. If we can get aboard Majestic and wreck the machine, his plan is finished.”

“Easy peasy,” she replied glumly.

Dodge reached over and gave her knee a reassuring pat. Then he went up the aisle to where Hurricane was conversing with Frey. “I think I know what Von Heissel’s trying to do. How are we on getting aboard Majestic?”

Hurricane’s reply came with a grim smile. “Colonel Frey here has an idea that might work. You’re not going to like it.”

About an hour after Newcombe spotted land through the porthole in his stateroom, he received a summons to a part of Majestic he had never visited. He had no difficulty finding it; his ever-present escort knew exactly where he needed to go.

His destination was a large bay, situated on the same level as the central corridor, but just aft of the staircase leading up to the landing platform. There was little question in his mind about the purpose the bay served; the object suspended by a rotating gimbal apparatus above the center of the bay, surrounded on all sides by a metal rail, was unmistakably the larger-scale version of the resonance wave device.

His part in the construction of the device had taken place entirely in the laboratory. After perfecting a method to refine the adamantine ore, he had been given precise specifications for the shape of what Von Heissel called the “emitter,” the part of the machine where the resonance waves were created. Newcombe had created a solution of adamantine cyanide with the remaining ore, and then cast it into a mold supplied by the baron. After handing over the finished product, his role in the affair had ended. Or so he thought.

Von Heissel was there, standing beside his creation. So also were Fiona and Lafayette, along with a handful of crewmen, all armed with machine guns.

The baron greeted him expansively. “Dr. Newcombe, welcome. I thought you might like to join us for a test of the resonance device.”

“Well, you know what they say. If you’ve seen one…”

Von Heissel chuckled. “Ah, but that is like comparing a child’s toy car to a Daimler. You’ve never seen anything like this. And it’s only possible because of your contribution with the adamantine. I would have thought you’d be eager to see how it holds up.”

Newcombe shrugged. “I can’t make any promises. Science is as much about learning from failures as it is achieving successes.”

The baron’s smile took on a sinister tilt. “I do hope, for your sake, that you haven’t planned for such a failure. Or rather, should I say, for the sake of Miss Dunn and Mr. Lafayette.”

“Are you suggesting that I might have sabotaged the emitter?” Newcombe knew that was exactly what the baron was implying. “Knowing that you would take it out on them if I did? Now you’re insulting my intelligence, baron. As much as the idea of helping you disgusts me, I wouldn’t dream of putting them in danger. But you do have to realize that machines are prone to failure. You can’t hold me responsible for some other part breaking down. And like I said, I can’t make any promises about the emitter; no one’s every created anything like that before. This is unexplored territory.”

Von Heissel held his stare for an uncomfortably long time, and Newcombe could almost feel the man’s gaze peeling away the layers of his soul, searching for some hint of deception. He was grateful for the borrowed eyeglasses; the stare was much more endurable with the subject slightly out of focus.

Finally, the baron relented and clapped his hands together in satisfaction. “Let’s have our test then, shall we? Dr. Newcombe, please stand at the rail with your friends.”

Without a trace of hesitation, Newcombe took a place alongside Fiona. “How have you been?” he asked, conversationally.

“I’ve been better,” she replied, with uncharacteristic anxiety. “I hate being cooped up in my stateroom.” She paused a beat, watching as Von Heissel and his crew men moved away from the center of the room, putting a healthy distance between themselves and the device. “Did you really help Walter… or whatever he calls himself these days?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice, really.” He patted her hand and tried his best to look reassuring. “But it’s done. And now we can think about getting out here.”

“You don’t actually think he’s going to let us leave, do you? I overheard some of the crewmen talking. They said that Sorensen shot down your friends’ plane.”

“I knew he was a killer,” Lafayette intoned. “He tried to push me off the landing platform, you know.”

Newcombe remembered the incident well, and now it made a lot more sense. Lafayette’s account of being abducted and taken aboard Majestic might have shed too much daylight on Von Heissel’s plan, so the decision had been made to silence him permanently. When that hadn’t worked, the baron had tried a different approach, buying Lafayette’s cooperation with empty flattery and the promise of being involved in creating a living legend.

“I don’t think he’s going to let us leave,” Newcombe said. “But is that going to stop us?”

He thought he saw her begin to smile, but at just that moment, there was a clanking sound and the floor beneath the resonance device fell away in two halves. The three observers found themselves staring down from a height of several hundred feet, at a brown and green landscape, veiled in shadow with the approach of evening. Cool air rushed in through the gap, stealing their breath away.

Over the wind noise, Newcombe heard Von Heissel shout the order to activate the device, and almost immediately he felt vibrations travel through the metal deck plates and into the railing.

Far below, an area of terrain in a perfect circle, about a hundred yards across, began to shimmer as individual grains of dirt and sand danced to the rhythmic pulses of energy. After a few seconds, the entire circle dropped several inches — then several feet — as large rocks dissolved like clumps of flour in a sifter, and the fine sediment infiltrated tiny void spaces. And still the vibration continued. One minute passed. Five minutes. The earth in the circle rippled like the surface of a pond, and settled deeper and deeper as invisible waves of energy pulverized the rock beneath.

Despite the chill, Newcombe felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. There was so much that could go wrong….

“Enough,” Von Heissel shouted.

The vibration instantly ceased, and then the two sections of floor rose back into place, shutting off the rush of wind.

The baron moved out of his sheltered area and approached the trio. “You have wrought exceedingly well, doctor. I am very pleased. How deep would you say the effects went?”

“Without knowing the composition of the soil and the underlying bedrock, it’s hard to say, but judging by the amount of compaction, I would say at least a hundred feet, possibly more. You would certainly achieve deeper penetration from a lower altitude.”

“Lower. Yes. This was of course just a preliminary test.” Von Heissel clapped his hands together. “I should say a celebration is warranted. Won’t you join me for dinner?”

“Like you’re giving us a choice,” Fiona muttered.

Newcombe jumped in quickly, before Von Heissel could respond to her. “Dinner sounds wonderful. A good meal, and a good night’s sleep before you get to work on the next phase of… whatever it is you’ve got planned for this machine.”

The baron offered a cryptic smile. “Just dinner, I’m afraid. There’s no time to waste sleeping. The next phase, as you called it, begins in just—” He consulted his pocket watch—“One hour and forty-two minutes.”