“No problem. I’m a professor, but I’m also something of a scientist and I’ve got ambition. I’ve been developing all this newfangled equipment and I’m very paranoid and possessive about it. Don’t want anyone to steal my ideas. I may ruffle a few feathers, but these people will surely understand that.”
“Good. That should work,” said Finn.
“Andre,” Lucas said, “you’ll be in charge of the grenades. First sign of trouble, you clock out with them.”
“What about you and Finn?”
“That’ll depend on what the situation’s going to be,” said Lucas. “A warp grenade makes one hell of a depth charge. The only chance the sub’s got of escaping complete destruction is to translocate before it goes off. One of us has to stay behind at least long enough to get a reading and make sure it’s been destroyed. Since I’ll be the one monitoring the instruments, I’m the logical candidate. Finn, once you’ve fired the grenade launcher, you clock out immediately. If for some reason that proves to be impossible, make sure you’ve fired your last grenade. Andre will be feeding them to you. No matter what, she has to clock out. I’ll be scanning the instruments, so I won’t be able to cover for her. You make sure she gets away, then if you can’t clock out yourself, make sure the last grenade is fired and dump the launcher overboard.”
“What about the instruments?” said Finn. “We can’t let them get their hands on those.”
“Better the instruments than the ordnance,” said Lucas. “We’ll take it step-by-step. I will already have established that it’s experimental gear of my own design and they’ll have no reason to tie me in with you. In all the excitement, I’ll be able to get my readings. If they’re positive, then we’re home free. I can either toss them overboard when I’m done or clock out with them or just finish out the trip as Professor Priest. On the other hand, it might all go smoothly. We sight the sub, sink same, and Andre clocks out with all the gear. We report she fell overboard in all the fuss, very tragic, then wait until the ship makes port and simply walk off like the others.”
“Sounds too damned easy,” Finn said, scowling.
“The hard part’s going to be getting lucky enough to encounter the sub,” said Lucas. “And nailing it before it trans-locates. Any way you look at it, if we manage to get that lucky, the rest is easy.”
“Yeah, famous last words,” said Finn.
“That’s okay,” said Lucas. “You just keep thinking about what can go wrong. That way we’ll be able to anticipate things better. The only-”
He broke off as the alarm pager went off.
“Shit! Someone’s broken into Andre’s cabin!”
They burst out of their cabin and ran down the companionway, covering the short distance to Andre’s cabin in a moment. The door was closed, but it was unlocked and Andre had not left it that way. Finn reached into the waistband of his trousers and pulled out a small revolver, a Colt baby Patterson. 28 caliber percussion pistol. Not as lethal as a laser, but far more suited to the time. He glanced at Lucas. Lucas nodded. He reached out, opened the door quickly, and stepped out of the way while Finn went in low, in case whoever was inside was armed.
Jules Verne was sitting on the bunk. He had opened the locks on their portmanteau and traveling chest and he had removed the ordnance cases. They were lying on the floor in front of him while he sat hunched over, in a posture similar to Rodin’s Thinker. He did not look up as they came in.
“You know,” he said, “I shall be forever grateful to that convict who taught me the trick of picking locks. I knew the skill would come in handy someday. Still, I was unable to get very far with these,” he indicated the fastenings on the ordnance cases. “Most unusual design. Quite fascinating.”
Lucas softly closed the door. “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Verne?” he said, tensely.
The writer was oblivious to the gun Finn held pointed at him. He kept staring at the ordnance cases.
“Fascinating,” he said. “Absolutely fascinating. I have never before encountered a material even remotely like this. It appears to be of a high molecular weight, containing some manner of synthetic substance as its essential ingredient, possibly derived from a natural substance by some form of chemical treatment. Shaped by flow, undoubtedly, through the application of heat and pressure? Molded or cast. Yes, a laminate of some sort, no?”
“Mr. Verne,” said Finn, “in case it has escaped your notice, I’m pointing a gun at you.”
“Yes, well, mon ami, either you are going to shoot me or you are not. The matter rests entirely in your hands. There is not much I can do about it, in either case.”
Finn glanced at Lucas helplessly. Lucas only shrugged. Andre sat down on the bunk beside Verne.
“Is it your habit to break into a lady’s room and search through her belongings, sir?” she said, putting just the right touch of indignation in her voice. “That is not the way a gentleman behaves.”
“I am not a gentleman, ma chire,” he said. “I am a novelist. Besides, no offense intended, but you are hardly what one would call a lady. One glance at your sho
ulders and your arms, to say nothing of the way you walk, and an astute observer would instantly perceive you have not had an ounce of pampering in your entire life. As for your compatriot, he looks far more like a strongman than a university professor. And I already know that he is not that. The question is, what are you?”
“Very well, Mr. Verne,” said Finn, putting the Colt away. “I see we are going to have to be forthright with you. I hope we can count on you not to give us away. The fact is, we are reporters-”
“Oh, nonsense,” Verne said, impatiently. He tapped the ordnance cases. “Then how would you explain these?”
“Those are cases containing photographic equipment,” Finn began, but Verne interrupted him.
“You are lying, sir. Perhaps you would care to open them? I would like to see this photographic equipment.”
“All right, look,” Delaney said. “We don’t have to explain anything to you. You broke in here like a common thief.”