Air Trust

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  OMINOUS DEVELOPMENTS.

  The first intimation that Flint and Waldron had of any opposition totheir plans, of any revolt, of any danger, was at quarter past three onthe afternoon of October 8th, 1925. All that afternoon, busy with theirfinal plans for the immediate extension of their system, they had beengoing over certain data with Herzog, receiving reports from branchmanagers and conferring with the Congressional committee that--togetherwith Dillon Slade, their secret-service tool, now also PresidentSupple's private secretary--they had peremptorily summoned fromWashington to receive instructions.

  In the more than four years that had passed since they had put Gabrielbehind bars--years fruitful in strikes and lockouts, in prostitutions ofjustice, in sluggings and crude massacres--both men had altered notably.

  Though the National Censorship now no longer permitted any cartooning ofa "seditious" nature, i.e., representing any of the Air Trust notables,old Flint's features tempted the artist's pencil more than ever. Savefor a little white fringe of hair at the back of his head, he had becomealmost bald, thus adding greatly to his strong suggestion of a vulture.His face was now more yellow and shrunken than ever, due to a ratherheavier consumption of his favorite drug, morphine; his nose had hookedmore strongly, and his one gold tooth of other days now had two more tobear it company. His eyes, too, behind his thick pince-nez, had grownmore shifty, cold and cruelly calculating. If it be possible to conceivea fox, a buzzard and a jackal merged in one, old Isaac Flint todayrepresented that unnatural and hideous hybrid.

  Now, as he stood facing "Tiger" Waldron, in the inner and sancrosanctoffice of the Air Trust plant at Niagara--the office that even thePresident of these United States approached with deference and duehumility--the snarl on his face revealed the beast-soul of the man.

  "Damnation!" he was saying, as he shook a newly-received aerogram at hispartner. "What's this, I'd like to know? What does this mean? Alltelegraphic communication west of Chicago has suddenly stopped, and fromhalf a dozen points in the Southern States news is coming in thatrailway service is being interrupted! See here, Waldron, this won't do!Your part of the business has always been to carry on the publicity end,the newspaper end, the moulding of public opinion and political thought,_and_ the maintenance of free, clear rail and aero communicationeverywhere, all over the world. But now, all at once, see here?"

  Waldron raised red, bleared eyes at his irate partner. He, too, was morethe beast than four years ago. No less the tiger, now, but more the pig.High, evil living had done its work on him. An unhealthy purple suffusedhis heavily-jowled face. Beneath his eyes, sodden bags of flesh hungpendant. His lips, loose and lascivious, now sucked indolently at thecostly cigar he was smoking as he sat leaning far back in hisdesk-chair. And so those two, angry accuser and indifferent accused,faced each other for a moment; while, incessant, dull, mighty, thethunders of the giant cataract mingled with the trembling diapason ofthe stupendous turbines in the rock-hewn caverns where old Niagara nowtoiled in fetters, to swell their power and fling gold into theirbottomless coffers.

  "See here!" Flint repeated angrily, once more shaking the dispatches athis mate. "Even our wireless system, all over the west and southwest,has quit working! And you sit there staring at me like--like--"

  "That'll do, Flint!" the younger man retorted in a rough, hoarse voice."If there's any trouble, I'll find it and repair it. Very well. But I'llnot be talked to in any such way. Damn it, you can't speak to me Flint,as if I were one of the people! If you own half the earth, I'll have youunderstand I own the other half. So go easy, Flint--go damned easy!"

  Malevolently he eyed the old man's beast-like face. The scorn anddislike he had conceived for Flint, years ago, when Flint had failed towin back Catherine to him, had long grown keener and more bitter.Waldron took it as a personal affront that Flint, apparently so worn andfeeble, could still hang on to life and brains enough to dominate theenterprise. A thousand times, if once, he had wished Flint well dead andburied and out of the way, so that he, Waldron, could grasp the wholecircle of the stupendous Air Trust. This, his supreme ambition, had beenconstantly curbed by Flint's survival; and as the months and years hadpassed, his hate had grown more deep, more ugly, more venomous.

  "Why, curse it," Waldron often thought, "the old dope has taken enoughmorphine in his lifetime to have killed a hundred ordinary men! And yethe still clings on, and withers, and grows yellow like an old dead leafthat will not drop from the tree! When _will_ he drop? When _will_Father Time pick the despicable antique? My God, is the man immortal?"

  Such being the usual tenor of his thoughts, concerning Flint, smallwonder that he took the old man's chiding with an ill grace, and warnedhim pointedly not to continue it. Now, facing the Billionaire, he fairlystared him out of countenance. An awkward silence followed. Both heard,with relief, a rapping at the office door.

  "Come!" snapped Flint.

  A clerk appeared, with a yellow envelope in hand.

  "Another wireless, sir," said he.

  Flint snatched it from him.

  "Send Herzog and Slade, at once," he commanded, as he ripped theenvelope.

  "Well, more trouble?" insolently drawled "Tiger" happy in the paling ofthe old man's face and the sudden look of apprehension there.

  For all answer, Flint handed him the message. Waldron read:

  Southern and Gulf States all seemingly cut off from every kind of communication this P.M. Can get no news. Is this according to your orders? If not, can you inform me probable cause? I ask instructions. "K."

  Silence, a minute, then Waldron whistled, and began pulling at his thicklower lip, a sure sign of perturbation.

  "By the Almighty, Flint" said he. "I--maybe I was wrong just now, to beso confoundedly touchy about--about what you said. This--certainly looksodd, doesn't it? It _can't_ be a series of coincidences! There must besomething back of it, all. But--but _what_? Rebellion is out of thequestion, now, and has been for a long time. Revolution? The way we'reorganized, the very idea's an absurdity! But, if not these, what?"

  Flint stared at him with drug-contracted eyes.

  "Yes, that's the question," he rapped out. "What can it mean? Ah,perhaps Slade can tell us," he added, as the secret-service man quietlyentered through a private door at the rear of the office.

  "Tell you what, gentlemen?" asked Slade, smirking and rubbing his hands.

  "The meaning of that, and that, and _that_!" snapped old Flint,thrusting the telegrams at the newcomer.

  "Hm!" grunted the secret-service man, as he glanced them over. "That'sdamned odd! But it's of no real moment. If--if there's really anytrouble, any outbreak or what not, of course it can't amount toanything. All you have to do is order the President to call out thetroops, and--"

  "Yes, I can order him, all right," snarled Flint, "but in case all ourwires are down and all our wireless plants put out of commission, to saynothing of our transport service interrupted, what then? There's nodoubt in _my_ mind, Slade, that another upheaval is upon us. The factthat we stamped out the 1918 and 1922 uprisings, and that rivers ran redand city streets were flushed with blood, apparently hasn't made anyimpression on the cattle! Damn it all, I say, _can't_ you keep thingsquiet? _Can't_ you?"

  In a very frenzy he paced the office, his face twitching, his bonyfingers snapping with the extremity of his agitation. Suddenly he facedSlade.

  "See here, you!" he exclaimed. "This certainly means another uprising.It can't mean anything else! And you've allowed it, you hear? No, no,don't deny the fact!" he cried, as the detective tried to oppose a wordof self-defense. "It's your fault, at last analysis; and if anythinghappens, you and the President, Supple, have got to answer to me,personally, do you hear? You've got to pay!"

  "Pay, and with devilish big interest, too!" growled "Tiger," fixing hisbleared, savage eyes on Slade.

  "What did I make that man President for, anyhow?" snarled Flint, "if notto do my bidding and keep things still? Why did I put you in as hisprivat
e secretary, if not to have you watch him and see that he _did_ domy bidding? Why did I have Congress pass all those bills and things,except to give you the weapons and tools to hold the lid on?

  "You've had a huge army and a conscripted militia given you; andhundreds of wireless plants, and military roads and war-equipment beyondall calculating. You've had thousands of spies organized and put underyour control. At your suggestion I've had all political power taken awayfrom the dogs--and everything done that you've asked for--and this,_this_ is the kind of work you do!"

  Livid with rage, the old Billionaire stood there shaking by his desk,his face a fearful mask of passions and evil lusts for vengeance andpower. Slade, recognizing his master, even as President Supple on morethan one occasion had been forced in terrible personal interviews torecognize him, said no word; but in the secret-service man's eyes abrutal gleam flashed its message of hate and loathing. Foul as Sladewas, he balked at times, in face of this man's cruel and naked savagery.

  "I tell you," continued Flint, now having recovered his breath, "I tellyou, you're worse than useless, you and your President, ha!ha!--President Puppet, indeed! Take that great Smoky Mountain clue, forinstance! On the rumor that the ring-leaders of the swine were up there,somewhere, in the North Carolina mountains, you sent your two best men.And what's the latest news? What have you to tell me? _You_ know! Otherairmen of yours have just reported that nothing can be found but ruinsof the Socialist refuge, there--nothing but those, and the half-meltedvanadium steel identification-tags of your best scouts! _And_ theirmachine is gone--and with it, the birds we wanted! Then, close on theheels of this, all wires go flat, all wireless breaks down, all railsare interrupted, and--and Hell's to pay!" Fair in Slade's face he shookhis trembling first.

  "Urrh! You devilish, impotent faker! You four-flusher! You toydetective! You and your President, too, aren't worth the liquid oxygento blow you to Hades! See here, Slade, you get out on this job, now, anddo it damned quick, you understand, or there'll be _some_ shake-up inyour office and in the White House, too. When I buy and pay for tools, Iinsist that the tools work. If they don't--!"

  He snatched up a pencil from the desk, broke it in half and threw thepieces on the floor.

  "Like that!" said he, and stamped on them.

  Waldron nodded approval.

  "Just like that," he echoed, "and then some!"

  "Go, now!" Flint commanded, pointing at the door. "Inside an hour, Iwant some reports, and I want them to be satisfactory. If you and Supplecan't get things open again, and start the troops and machine-gunsbefore then, look out! That's all I've got to say. Now, _go_!"