[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories December 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Dr. John Bartok replaced the test tube carefully in its rack withfingers that shook a little. His pleasant, plump-cheeked face had theblank look of a man who has had too great a shock to assimilate, sothat for the moment he feels nothing.
He got to his feet. Absently he ran stained, spatulate-tipped fingersthrough his thinning blond hair and groped for a cigarette. The liquidin the test tube caught a pinpoint of light from the fluorescents andthin fumes escaped upwards from its surface. Dr. Bartok shudderedslightly and turned toward the broad plate glass window that spreadclear across the front of the chrome and enamel lab.
Behind him the swinging door squeaked. A hearty voice boomed greeting."Well, John!"
Dr. Goodwin, head of the Nelson Foundation, thought it part of hisduties to boom heartily. He was a plump man in morning coat andstriped trousers with the inevitable pince-nez on a black ribbon. Hewas a greeter, a hand-pumper, a speech-maker and a born politician.He was also a surprisingly able physicist. His work on gamma andbeta particles, publicized by his own skilled hand, had won him thedirectorship of the Nelson Foundation. He gave his men a free hand intheir research, but he thought it his right to snoop into their work atall times so that few of them had any illusion of freedom.
John Bartok did not turn. "I've got it, Dr. Goodwin," he said andcontinued to look out the window.
The manicured lawns of the Nelson Foundation were a well ordered greenin the spring sunshine. A marble wing of the building rose to hisright. Through the slits of partly-drawn blinds he could see laboratoryworkers at their jobs. Below, a girl assistant walked briskly alongone of the curving paths that wound through the flower beds, her whitestockings and shoes twinkling under the crisp blue of her cape.
"Got it? You've got it?" Goodwin repeated.
Bartok turned and placed his back to the window, releasing his grasp onthe sanity of sun and grass.
"The new weapon," he said flatly. "The final—the irresistible weapon.The thing we've been searching for ever since the stalemate of the atombomb."
Excitement flamed in Goodwin's round face. His color mounted. "Where?What is it?" he demanded. "I'll phone General McComber!"
Bartok jerked his cigarette towards the test tube, which still gave offfaint white fumes.
"This?" Goodwin stared at it fascinated. "It's—"
"It's the deadliest thing a man's imagination could ever hope toconceive," Bartok said flatly. He was not boasting. He was stating asimple fact. "Beside it the atom bomb is like a child's pea-shooter."
Goodwin edged back instinctively.
"Oh, it's harmless enough by itself," Bartok said. "It's a catalyst.Add it to something else, and—" He drew a deep breath. "Remember thescare the atom bomb threw into the world? And the menace of radioactivedust? And germ warfare? Remember people talking about the end ofthe human race as though it were just around the corner?" He noddedgloomily at the test tube. "Well, there it is, the real thing, if thatstuff ever gets loose."
The uneasiness had fled Goodwin's face. His jowls were alight withexcitement. He seized Bartok's hand, pumping it like a driveshaft.
"Congratulations," he beamed. "This puts us at the top of the heapagain. It'll mean a lot to the Nelson Foundation, John. And to you.I've got to call the War Department!"
...