“STRATOSPHERE EXPRESS”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 21 March 1940, Page 10

“STRATOSPHERE EXPRESS”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

BY

ALROY WEST.

(Author of "Messengers of Death,” etc.)

CHAPTER VIII (Continued)

“He's in a bad temper this morning.” she confided. "You can tell by the way his mouth is twisted up in one corner. That’s a sure sign that squalls are on the way.”

Storm laughed. “I don’t find him hard to get on with,” he said. “I don’t take any notice of him—and he realises it." “You wait. You don’t know him yet." There was a telegraph boy at the door. Manda stepped closer to her companion.

“I wonder what that is. Do you think Lovac would give me away?”

Stojrn shook his head. “Not until there is a chance of striking a bargain with you. He’ll delay exposure as long as possible. It’s the only hold he has on you. remember.” “I suppose'that is so. Bessiter seems to realise that it is serious about Rush. I’m thankful about that.” “Trust Bessiter,” said Storm with a grin. “He suspects nearly everything. Hello! Here he comes. Looks more put out than ever.”

“Storm!” Bessiter called. “Yes.”

“There’s another hitch, confound it! I had a man named Macready coming along. We were to meet at Larkin's place. Macready was going to pilot the stratoplane for me. He’d have been useful in one or two things at the works today. Now there’s a wire saying that he can’t get here until tonight. That means that I shall have to bring those infernal plans to the house. I don’t like doing that—especially at a time when those boys are out of action. I'll break Dickin’s neck when I get hold of him.” "That hardly solves the problem of safeguarding the plans," Storm pointed out.

“Smart this morning, aren’t we?" growled Bessiter. "You’ll have to be. because I'm giving them to you.” “To me?” asked Storm in dismay. “Yes. I’ll hand them to you and you can bring them back. I’m sure that they’ll never expect me to let the plans leave my own hands. The unexpected always fools people.” “I don’t like the responsibility,” Storm protested. “I didn’t ask you whether you did. You’re having it —that’s all.” Storm, shrugged his shoulders. “Very well. Don’t blame me if they get lost.” 1 “I shall,” said Bessiter grimly. "Now get inside that car.” Storm took his place beside Bessiter, and Manda sat at the back. The journey was made in absolute silence. In fact, it was not until they were standing in the room which contained the gleaming model of the stratoplane that Bessiter made any comment. “You asked about my special diagram of the upper stratosphere. You know, the crazy whim.” “I remember,” said Storm. “Good. Now I’ll show you something about it.” He crossed to the wall and pressed down the switch which operated the sliding panel. Then he moved the second switch which illuminated the wuvy lines. “Now look at that stone,” he commanded.

Storm glanced at the massive square. He had only given it a casual glance on his last visit, but now he noticed that it had a metal base. Bessiter was right against the panel so that it was impossible to see just what he was doing. But after a second or so he forgot about Bessiter. The stone started to move. At first it wasn’t like a movement, but more like a sudden fault cracking the stone. This crack widened and bechme a definite slit. Slowly the two halves- moved apart.

Bessiter hurried over to them and Storm followed him.

Looking down, he could see that there was a shallow cavity, normally covered by the great square of stone. Bessiter took some papers from this cavity. “The plans for constructing the stratoplane. ’’ he announced.

Storm whistled. “And how does this opening stunt take place?" he asked incautiously. “Don’t ask fool questions! Do you want to take my place, or something?" "No. I was just interested.” “All you need be interested in is keeping a close watch over these papers and seeing that they are ready for me tonight. I’m holding you responsible for them.” Storm shrugged his shoulders. ‘l’ve told you. I’m not keen." he said. ‘All the same, I’ll do it. ’ Bessiter snorted. “You’ve been told to do it.” he said curtly. Storm watched his employer go back to the panel. The two portions of stone slid together again. On examining them closely Storm found it practically impossible to discover the irregular dividing line. There were several marks upon the surface, and it was exceedingly difficult to select the lines which indicated the actual split. - “You can come out this way, said Bessiter. ■ He tookSfetorm along another passage leaving Manda behind. This passage led to a large hall. Doors led out at intervals and the hall was nearly as long as it was broad. In the centre, appearing to fill practically all the space, was the fuselage of a monoplane. Placed along the floor were the two metal wings. “This isn’t the stratoplane? Storm asked. "Use your eyes!" snapped Lcssifei. "Docs it look like it? I’m having this assembled in order to test the new design of wing. I shall have to use something similar in the st ratop lane and wanted to have a try-out. 1 think I told you that it isn’t always safe to depend on models.”

“I see.” , , . Two or three men were dodging about, evidently making certain adjustments. Storm would have liked, to have remained, but Bessitcr hurried him on. . “I want you to take these straight back,” he announced. "I left instructions for one of the men to drive the car to Larkin's place afterwards. I shall meet it there. 1 have rather a lot to talk over with Larkin. I don t suppose Macready will be on the scene very early. He was supposed to bo flying down, but his wire said that the

plane had developed engine trouble and that he was coming by rail. Anyway, you can entertain him.” So Storm returned to Bessiter’s home, taking with him the plans. He spent an uncomfortable day wandering from room to room, fearing every time the door-bell rang that somebody would be making an attempt to take the precious papers from him. He didn’t feel like leaving them concealed anywhere for fear anybody should see him and note the hiding place. Yet he didn’t feel comfortable about having them in full view. Eventually he compromised by concealing them under the cushions of a lounge chair, placing a table at the back of the chair so that nobody could creep upon him from behind, locking the door and settling down for a smoke. He tried to read but that was an impossibility. | He unlocked the door when he want- ! ed food and had it given to him on a I tray. The servants seemed very puz- | zled, but were well trained, for they 1 asked no questions. J Towards evening Storm’s restlessness I increased. He wondered what would ' happen should Bessiter meet with an accident. Or if Lovac made a raid on the house. Just after six o’clock he was wanted on the telephone. He obtained the plans from the chair, and took them with him, instructing the manservant to stay within call. It was Bessiter on the line. He was speaking from the ordinary factory in Essex Street. "Everything all right," he asked. “Yes,” Storm told him. “But I’ll be glad when you turn up. He heard Bessiter chuckle. “You'll be all right, Storm. And I'm coming back right away. 1 suppose our guest hasn’t turned up yet?" “No.” “Keep the fort a bit longer.” “Right.” Bessiter hung up. Storm, still holding the papers, returned to the room, and once more locked the door. He didn’t turn the key again until Bessiter arrived. His employed glanced at the arranged furniture and grinned. “You didn’t mean to be taken by surprise then,” were his first words. Storm dived for the plans and handed them over. “Here they are,” he said eagerly. Bessiter made a motion with his hands. “I don’t want ’em. You hang on to them for the time.” “I’ve been hanging on to them all day." Storm complained. “Then you've just about had time to get nicely used to them. I’ve a good mind to entrust them to you always." “I should walk out” Storm declared. “I hate the job. Why don’t you give me something easy?” “I don't know anything easier than sitting down watching a few papers,” said Bessiter. He hadn’t been in the house very long before the telephone rang furiously. "What the blazes is the matter now?" Bessiter snapped. “I don’t get a moment’s peace.” He hurried to the instrument. Storm heard him speaking quickly and in an urgent tone. Then the instrument was replaced with a slam. Bessiter came rushing back. “The Essex Street works are on fire!" he cried. “I’ve got to get there at once. Hang on to the plans for me, and keep Macready when he turns up.” “Can't I come with you?” Storm appealed. “No!” And Bessiter darted away. Storm groaned and flopped down into the nearest chair. More of the hateful waiting and watching. He destested it. He wondered how the fire had started. Was Lovac at the bottom of it? It seemed a senseless move, because the stratoplane was not being assembled there, and the Essex Street works were not all that important. Perhaps, though, he was demonstrating his power. He wondered what Bessiter would be doing. Probably insulting the fire brigade and darting into the burningbuilding to salvage something or other. Trust Bessiter to be well in the picture! Storm wished he could have been there also. Burning factories didn’t seem so nerve-wracking as keeping watch over valuable and secret plans. Why couldn't the wretched things have been tucked away in a safe, or left at the other works. Perhaps, though, Bessiter didn’t want Macready to see the secret factory until the preliminary conversations had taken place. Then he started to think of Manda, wondering how she had got on. He suddenly remembered that she had been told to be outside the Central Station! There hadn't been any opportunity to speak to her about' it. He wondered what she would be doing. If only he could get away from the house. He lit another cigarette. The next time Bessiter gave him things to mind he'd refuse point-blank—even though it meant dismissal. There came a tapping on the door. “What is it?” Storm demanded. "1 have something important to say, sir." “Oh! It's you, Andrews.” “Yes, sir." Well, Andrews was to be trusted. He had been in Bessiter’s service for a ■lengthy period. Storm crossed to the door and unlocked it. Andrews looked very worried. 11 is pale forehead was creased with lines. "1 hope you won't think I am being unduly inquisitive, sir," he began. "Of course not. Carry on! What’s wrong?" "I understand that a Mr. Macready was coming here tonight, sir." "That’s so.” “There has just been a police message over the wireless sir. A privatelyowned monoplane has crashed, sir. It was practically burnt out, and they were unable to identify the pilot, except for the initials on a leather ease, which, somehow, managed to escape the flames. The initials were A.E.M., sir. I think Mr. Macready’s names were Andrew Erskine, sir." Storm gave a whistle of sin prise. J "He wasn’t coming by plane,” he I said slowly. "So I thought, sir. But he may have changed his mind.” "Quite." "The police wanted anybody who) knew the initials to communicate with 1 them, sir." | "Bother lhe police! Let me think!"