CHAPTER 5

Threat to Civilization

That evening Peter was eager to tell the family of his first flight, but Mr. Pepperell did not seem in a receptive mood. For two or three evenings now he had not gone near the workshop, but had sat staring gloomily into the fireplace.

“Peter,” Mrs. Pepperell finally said, “whatever’s wrong with you? You’ve sat around like a bear with a toothache for three evenings now.”

“I am worried,” Mr. Pepperell said, “more worried than I’ve ever been in my life.” He got up and closed the hall door, then drew his chair close to his wife and Barbara.

“I probably shouldn’t mention this,” he said in a low voice, “but I’ll go mad if I don’t talk to someone. Remember, this is all strictly hush-hush, State secret of the highest importance and all that. You must never breathe a word of it to anyone.” Peter climbed up in Barbara’s lap and all three listened attentively.

“Our department,” Mr. Pepperell went on, “has recently learned, through channels which I cannot reveal, of the existence of a most frightful instrument of destruction.”

“Atom bomb?” Barbara and Mrs. Pepperell both burst out.

“Infinitely worse. Compared to this the atomic bomb is a mere firecracker. The facts of the case are unbelievably peculiar. Our secret sources reveal that a certain scientist, whose name I must not mention, in a foreign country, which must remain unidentified, has developed this terrible explosive entirely on his own. He is a most erratic genius, many people believe him quite mad. He works in solitude, has no assistants and makes no notes; so this whole diabolical secret is hidden in this one warped brain.

“It has placed the government of his country in a strange quandary, for possession of this weapon would make them the most feared and powerful nation on earth. Yet they do not actually possess it. Moreover this scientist has threatened that, if interfered with in any way, he will merely drop the small capsule which contains his entire supply of this deadly substance. This would not only destroy him and his secret, but would wipe out his entire country, as well as most of Europe and a good part of Asia.”

“Gee!” Peter murmured. Mrs. Pepperell and Barbara merely shuddered.

“Should his government by any chance manage to gain possession of this secret they could, no doubt, subjugate the entire world. On the other hand they are in hourly danger of complete extinction. They are, as the common expression has it, in a tough spot.”

“Couldn’t someone swipe it?” Peter asked, “while he was asleep or something?”

Mr. Pepperell smiled wryly. “He is probably the most elaborately guarded individual in the history of mankind. We are informed that he lives and works in an ancient castle, attended only by a few trusted old retainers. This castle is on an island in the center of a large lake, which I am not free to name. His government has circled every inch of the lake shore with heavily manned trenches, with tanks, flame throwers and machine guns, with antiaircraft batteries and every known form of radar and detection device. An umbrella of fighter planes patrols the skies day and night. His government is determined, naturally, that if they cannot have this secret, certainly no other country is going to have a chance at it. And of course they are determined that this madman shall not be disturbed lest, in a fit of irritation, he blow half a continent to bits.”

“How do they know it’s all that powerful?” Barbara asked. “Perhaps it’s just a great hoax.”

“Do you remember the great earthquake which rocked Europe and Asia last autumn?” Mr. Pepperell asked. “Well, it was not an earthquake at all. It was two grains of this substance, exploded in the exact center of the Gobi Desert. It was quite a convincing demonstration. As I remember, it dislodged several statues from the Cathedral of Notre Dame, stopped Big Ben, caused landslides in Switzerland and demolished a few miles of the Great Wall of China. No, I’m afraid it is no hoax, I only wish it were.”

They all sat in stunned silence trying to take in the magnitude of this terrible threat. Finally Mrs. Pepperell gathered up her knitting and announced her intention of going to bed. “I just hope that horrible creature doesn’t stub his toe or anything tonight,” she said, “I really need a good sleep after this.” Barbara also went up, leaving Peter and his father alone, both staring into the black fireplace.

“Father,” Peter said thoughtfully. “Do you know, I think Gus and I could do something about this.”

“About what – and who is Gus?” Mr. Pepperell asked absently.

Peter explained about his friendship with Gus and described the afternoon’s flying experience. “I tried to tell you about it before,” he said, “but you didn’t pay much attention.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Pepperell agreed, “must have been lots of fun, very interesting I’m sure, quite a sensation. But what possible connection has all this with the subject we were discussing?”

“Well, just this,” Peter said, “you say that scientist and his castle are so carefully guarded. But what are they guarded against? They’re just guarded against airplanes and men, soldiers and spies and that sort of thing; just the regular things they expect. They’re not guarded against an ordinary seagull or a little boy the size of me. Why look, if that island is in a big lake there must be lots of gulls there. No one would ever pay any attention to Gus and no one would ever notice me. All Gus would have to do would be to land me on a window sill or on the roof and I’ll bet I could go all over that old castle as much as I pleased. I’ll bet I could swipe that little old capsule of stuff and bring it right back here just as easy as not.”

The reason that Mr. Pepperell was one of the highest figures in the State Department was that he had an imagination and an open mind. He almost never said “Tut, tut,” or “Nonsense, nonsense,” or “Quite impossible, quite impossible,” when a new or unusual idea was proposed. Now he sucked on his pipe for a long time before answering.

“Son,” he finally said, “your plan seems so simple and practical that there must be something wrong with it. But think as I can, I see no reason why it might not work. The chief difficulty will be in persuading the Department to consider it seriously. It has three great disadvantages; first it is simple, second, it is practical, and third it won’t cost a cent. If it called for an appropriation of a few million or, better still, a billion or so, it would be easy. As it is, I shall have to work hard. However I will attack the Secretary himself tomorrow. He is a man of real vision, if I can convince him all may be well. It might work – yes by George – it might work.”

“Gus has always wanted to go abroad,” Peter said, “this would be a great chance. I’m sure he would co-operate. May I tell him all about it?”

“I think he can be trusted,” Mr. Pepperell smiled. “Now let’s go to bed.” He left Peter in his room and as he went down the hall Peter could hear him still murmuring, "It might work, yes, it might just be the answer!”

The next afternoon Peter could hardly wait for Gus’s arrival. When he did come Peter poured out the whole tale of the mad scientist and of his own plan for frustrating him. Gus listened attentively, occasionally exclaiming, “Well now, ain’t that something.”

“Man, oh man,” he shouted as Peter finished, “looks like we’re goin’ to get that trip to Europe sooner’n we figured on. No reason why we can’t pull this off, none at all. First thing, though, we got to convince these here Washington bigwigs. Now who’s this here Secatary you spoke about?”

“The Secretary of State,” Peter explained. “He’s head of the whole State Department.”

“Your old man’s boss, hey? Know where his office is at?”

“Yes,” Peter answered, “It’s a big one on the southeast corner of the State Department Building, fourth floor. Father’s is on the same floor, but on the southwest corner.”

“Good,” Gus said. “Let’s us do some convincin’ right now. Come on, hop aboard.”

As they soared rapidly toward Washington Gus revealed what he had in mind. “Now look,” he said, “here’s what I figgered we’d do. We just sail around quiet like and look things over. We find a office that’s sort of empty lookin’; it’s hot and all the windows will likely be open. I light on the window sill, you hop off and go in. Then it’s up to you. With your handy little size you’d ought to be able to sneak around most anywheres you please. You’ll swipe some little thing, maybe out of this Secatary’s office. Then you come out on the window sill, wave your handkerchief and I swoop down and pick you up. That ought to prove to ’em how easy it’d be for a couple of smart fellers like us to pull off this little capsull swiping job over there in Europe.”

It seemed an excellent plan and it worked out even more perfectly than they had dared hope. Soaring slowly past his father’s window Peter saw the Secretary himself, standing in earnest conversation with Mr. Pepperell.

“He’s in father’s office, the Secretary is,” Peter said excitedly. “Hurry up Gus, his office is probably empty.”

A swoop past the window revealed that the Secretary’s office was vacant, moreover that his desk stood close beside the window – and the window was open. “Duck soup,” Gus chuckled and landed lightly on the sill. Peter hopped off, grasped the heavy curtain and swung over to the Secretary’s desk.

“O.K.” Gus called softly, “wave your handkerchief when you want me. I’ll just cruise around.”

One upper drawer of the desk was open, so Peter dropped in. He landed on a small box which, he was overjoyed to discover, contained a number of capsules. On the cover was written One after each meal, Dr. Pulsifer. Peter extracted one capsule, then giggling slightly, dumped the box containing the rest into the wastebasket. At this moment he heard a rattling of the doorknob and had just time to duck down behind the desk clock when the Secretary of State entered.

The Secretary, looking very handsome but very worried, sat down at his desk and hiccupped slightly. His hand went to the drawer and rummaged around for a moment. Then he snatched the drawer open and searched it thoroughly.

“Miss Putty,” he shouted irritably, “who’s been messing in my desk? Where is my medicine?”

As Miss Putty rushed in and fluttered about, Peter stepped from behind the clock, holding the capsule.

“Here, Mr. Secretary,” he said quietly, “is the mysteriously missing capsule.”

“Good Lord,” the Secretary stuttered. “you aren’t – you must be Pepperell’s young boy – ”

“Exactly,” Peter said. “Peter Peabody Pepperell III. It’s quite a long name for anyone my size. I had the honor of meeting you at home – when I was larger. Now what I wanted to prove to you sir,” he went on as the Secretary slowly lowered himself into his chair, “was just this. Suppose that you were a certain foreign scientist, whose name can’t be mentioned, and that this capsule contained a certain deadly secret. Do you see how easily it could be swiped?”

He tucked the capsule under his arm, swung to the window sill and waved his handkerchief. Almost at once Gus lighted beside him.

“Sir, you will find the rest of your medicine in the wastebasket,” Peter called as he mounted. He waved pleasantly to the Secretary who still sat, openmouthed, in his chair and Gus dove off in a long soaring glide.

They returned home in high glee and sat for an hour or two on the dock, eagerly discussing plans for the European trip, which they now felt was assured. “If that deemonstration didn’t convince that there Mr. Secatary,” Gus chortled, “nothin’ will.”

The sun was low and Gus was about to take off for Baltimore when Mr. Pepperell came rushing down the path to the lake.

“Great news, Peter,” he called excitedly before he even reached them. “Your trip is on. The Chief has suddenly decided that your plan is entirely feasible. I worked on him all morning, but didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Then after lunch he rushed in and said he was convinced it would work. Don’t know what got into him, but he’s all for it now. I’m taking a two weeks’ leave to make preparations.”

Peter slapped Gus on the back and Gus gave out a long Graw-w-w-a-k of pleasure. “Father,” Peter said, “I’d like you to meet my friend Gus. He’s really made all this possible.”

“It is a pleasure and a great honor,” Mr. Pepperell said solemnly.

“Pleased to meetcha, as they say,” Gus responded. “Be seein’ you tomorrow.”