Tom Swift and His Polar-Ray Dynasphere (13 page)

Tom laughed and said, "What about the tests on the big dynasphere, Hank?"

"Also in great shape. Incidentally, your father’s out right now, but he mentioned wanting to talk to you about a special test for the machine, something he thought would be unusual and pretty exciting. All I know about it is, it has something to do with the Smithsonian Institution."

"The Smithsonian! Gosh, it
must
be ‘special’! Have you received any updates from the Kronus team lately, Hank?"

"Nothing major. The orbit is still deteriorating, no faster, no slower."

After signing off, Tom and Bud had a wait of several hours before a faint knock on the door announced the arrival of Prince Jahan’s aide, Kur. The man guided them through the maze of corridors to Jahan’s huge, ornate private suite.

Bud’s eyes grew wide as he entered. "Man! And this is just for the second-banana prince!—er, pardon me, Your Highness."

Jahan laughed. "Don’t worry, Bud. I’m not as stiff-necked as my cousin. I enjoy your plain-spoken ways."

The black-haired Californian maintained a smile.
Good night, enough with the charm!
he muttered silently.

Jahan asked the youths to sit down in front of a large TV screen. "Four months ago, I was handed an unopened box by a personal friend, who had received it from a source he trusts, but whom he declined to name. It contained this." Jahan held up a video cassette. "Allow me to play it for you. I’ll provide the narration and translation."

The Prince inserted the tape in the VCR, and a somewhat staticky picture popped onto the screen. In dim light a bearded man lay in a massive bed. "My father, King Gopal," said Jahan with sober intensity. "He is in what was to be, in a matter of hours, his deathbed."

Gopal began to mutter, very weakly, and the prince translated. "My dearest son, my little Jah, my hour is almost done. I have been unable to speak, they say for days; now, with some help, I have rallied a bit. Don’t pity me now, don’t mourn, for I need all your attention to what I have to say.
Murder! Foul crimes that I command you to revenge!
"

Tom gasped. "Good gosh! Is he― "

"Just listen, please." Jahan continued translating as Gopal murmured the language of Vishnapur. "They tell me I have signed a bequest-decree, signed with my own hand the decree to take the crown of
Q’Maja Nej’h
away from you, beloved son, and give it to my brother. I swear, this was not my wish! I was not in my senses. I was no more willing to alter the succession than I now am willing to die.

"To die, to die—but not a death of nature, Jahan, but by the hand of him who is to wear the crown—yes,
Glaudiunda
! For now, this moment, I remember the hunt with your uncle at my side, how he handed me the chalice, how the yorb was bitter and stung my throat. I coughed, my muscles twisted, I fell from the howdah; but even as I lay in the shadow of Chogyal, begging for help at his feet, Glaudiunda only looked down at me unmoving. And then—O, betrayal!—your mother Aju joined him and took his hand! She said, ‘
Forgive us, husband. It is for the best.
’ And then the shadow embraced me.

"Avenge me my dishonor, son! They have murdered me and have cut you off—
it must not stand!
" Then King Gopal began to cough violently, and gave a weak wave of his hand. The screen went black.

Bud’s voice was husky with shock. "Jetz! His own brother!"

"Who else knows about this, Jahan?" Tom inquired grimly. "The police?"

The Prince shook his head. "No one knows. I will not have it made a matter of law, Tom. My father commands me to make it a matter of honor. I must deal with it personally."

"Jahan, I don’t know much about Vishnapurian custom and culture," said Tom. "It’s not for me to tell you how to handle this. But listen, if Harlan Ames can provide any sort of investigative help, or if Bud and I― "

"
I
will finish it," was the blunt interruption. "But I must know, must know absolutely, if my uncle and my mother committed this crime. Father was a man of strong will. Even if he became deluded in his last hours, it isn’t surprising that he would express himself forcefully. Was it murder? Was Glaudiunda involved?"

"You know, the whole tape could be bogus," Bud declared. "The light was pretty dim, and the guy’s voice was wavery. Are you really sure it
was
your father, Jahan?"

The Prince’s shoulders drooped. "Not entirely. It’s not impossible that someone is trying to manipulate me into disgracing myself and... doing to a King what no man should do."

"You’re wise to be cautious," agreed Tom. "We already know
something’s
going on behind the scenes, aimed in some way at the royal family and the government of your country. It may involve something I haven’t mentioned yet." The young inventor now described to Jahan the bizarre matter of the space "lightning bolt" that had disabled the GenRev satellite as it passed over the Himalayas.

"Amazing! And you think this might have something to do with Vishnapur?"

"It might have come from some installation within your borders, Your Highness. As of yet we haven’t pinned it down—but it’s possible." After a moment Tom went on: "Now tell me, why exactly did you want Bud and I to watch this tape?"

"I’m hoping you can assist me in resolving my doubts," Jahan responded. "What Bud says is true—the tape may be a fake. I know you have all manner of high-tech instruments and devices aboard your Flying Lab, Tom. Perhaps you might examine the tape, enhance certain features to prove its authenticity. Isn’t that possible? I know your retroscope machine can do things like that."

Tom said apologetically, "I’m afraid I don’t have the retroscope along with me on this trip. And anyway, it wouldn’t be effective in dealing with this problem. But I’ll be glad to study the cassette with what we do have on the
Queen
."

Jahan handed Tom the tape. "Then I thank you. I don’t dare use any of my countrymen in my investigations. Who know who might be involved in this?"

"Right," Tom stated. "Who knows?"

As they left the apartment, Bud whispered: "Maybe Yamantaka does!"

BREAKFAST came with sunrise, a lazy sunrise that touching the high peaks long before the valley of Chullagar. To Tom and Bud’s surprise, the King entered the dining hall briefly to greet his guests. "Forgive me my absence upon your arrival," Glaudiunda said in cultured English. "My Vishnapur is very small in extent, but tradition demands a schedule of visits to its outlying prefectures. I was, as we say, at the left hand of Chogyal."

Tom, who had risen to his feet, gave a nod. "We’re honored, Your Majesty." He hoped, not wanting to look, that the expression on Bud’s face was sufficiently respectful.

"We a’ready said that," Chow declared. "The King here’s a real friend, now."

His Majesty nodded gravely. "As indeed I intend. I bid you explore my Vishnapur in safety. Soon, Master Swift, we shall nod heads and speak of other things. And now, good day."

By the end of the meal, Prince Vusungira had joined them, offering to escort Tom, Bud, and the other Shoptonians on a brief tour of Chullagar. "Of course, several of you have toured it already."

"Ye-aah, but that feller Jah’s jest a Number Two," said Chow, "not a blame
crown prince
." Sandy, tight-lipped and pale, moaned.

With Gen. Utrong’j supplying discreetly armed guards front and back, the group walked down the hill to the main boulevard. Here and there squatted yellow-robed Buddhist monks, holding out their required begging bowls. "There is no shame in their begging," the Crown Prince explained. "The true gift is in the reverse direction. Every offering they receive carries the giver closer to the light of Lord Buddha."

"Nice gimmick fer a panhandler," Chow observed.

Lamas, or temple priests, with drooping mustaches strolled along, spinning small cylinders, called prayer wheels, mounted atop their staffs. The cylinders, Vusungira noted, held written prayers which were believed to be wafted up to heaven by the spinning. "Chow," hissed Sandy quietly, "
please
don’t say anything!"

"Shor. Speaks fer itself, dunnit?"

Remembering that the Mocking Buddhas were crafted in Vishnapur, Tom was scanning the shop signs. Presently the party passed one which bore a name, both in English and in Vishnapuri-Hindi:

CHULLAGAR TRADING COMPANY

In the storefront window was a row of Mocking Buddhas!

Harlan Ames had noticed them even before his young employer. "Just a second, Your Highness," Ames called out.

Tom approached the display window. "This could be the outfit that Mr. Mukerji said ships him goods from Vishnapur."

"On the alert, I see," reproved Bashalli with a twinkle. "But as a kidnappee, I do see the importance of following these clues."

"I am not familiar with this company," remarked Vusungira. "But if they might be connected to these things that have happened, we must look into the matter."

"I’ve already started," Bud declared, trying the door.

To their surprise, the shop was locked.

"Mebbe it’s what passes fer Sunday over here," suggested a Texas gravel-voice.

But Prince Vusungira shook his head. "No, all shops are open today. It is odd. But there to the side, a pull-bell."

At last a woman, red-eyed from weeping, answered their clang. With the Crown Prince translating, she told the boys her husband had been arrested the night before by the King’s security police. She did not know why. "Nor do I," stated Vusungira. "But in fact, it would be quite unusual if the order actually came down from Father. The Ministry acts independently in keeping the peace. It would have been Gen. Utrong’j’s decision." He added, with some embarrassment, that it was fairly common for citizens to be hauled in for questioning by the state security apparatus. "As in Nepal, we have had some concerns about Maoist agitators producing disturbances."

Bud whispered to Tom, "Seems Vishnapur isn’t as laid-back as we’ve been told, Skipper."

"No," replied the young inventor. "And look what’s on the inside of the door." Though the pose was different, it was a picture of Yamantaka! The Prince seemed not to have noticed, and Tom chose to say nothing.

As the tour proceeded, the Americans witnessed an archery contest and visited several temples and shrines. After a luncheon at Chullagar’s one modern restaurant, Tom politely excused himself, Bud joining him. "I need to check in with Enterprises. Should have brought the PER with me." Prince Vusungira gave Tom a sharp look—it was after midnight in Shopton, half a world distant.

As they walked back toward the palace, Bud said, "Itching to get started on that cassette, pal?"

"Sure am. We need to get all our clues in order before the Kronus rescue starts taking up all our time."

In their guest suite, Tom headed toward the massive dresser of mahogany that lined one wall. The night previous, realizing that lurking intruders who knew of the visit to Jahan might search the boys’ room, Tom had decided the cassette would be too easy to find in his luggage. Instead he had taped it to the underside of a dresser drawer, which could be locked in place.

Tom unlocked the drawer and pulled it open, feeling beneath with his hand—then kneeling down and using his eyes. "Good gosh!
It’s gone!
"

Bud groaned. "Stolen! So someone broke in and― " Then he halted himself abruptly. "Now wait. It was still there when we stopped by the room after breakfast, just before we left. So the break-in happened while we were walking around in Chullagar. But― "

"I get the point, flyboy," said Tom angrily. "Since they didn’t know where we might have stashed it, they wouldn’t have risked a break-in unless they were
sure
we’d be gone long enough to turn the room inside-out if they needed to, and then put it back in shape. That means the intruder isn’t just someone in the palace, but someone likely to have access to Prince Vusungira’s daily itinerary."

"It may not be open-and-shut logic, Tom. But given what we saw in the city, I think we’re dealing with someone in the state security department, Gen. Utrong’j’s muscle guys. Those guys are stationed all over the grounds, and their boss would
have
to be kept informed of what the royals are doing."

Tom nodded but had another thought to throw in. "There’s another possibility. I’m pretty sure King Glaudiunda keeps on top of what his son is doing. And if you want to go even further down Possibility Pier—another person likely to know is
Prince Jahan!
"

"Good night, you mean Jahan just gave you the cassette in order to steal it right back?" Then Bud shrugged. "Well, I guess nothing
else
makes much sense, either."

As he had done in the matter of the eavesdropping Buddha in his laboratory, Tom decided that the best course would be to pretend, for a time, that the theft had not been discovered. "In fact," he mused with a sudden grin, "I wonder what would happen if we came to Jahan in a day or two with a report on our examination of the tape aboard the
Sky Queen
!"

Bud laughed. "Chum, the world lost an evil mastermind when you went into inventing!"

Freighted with thoughts and suspicions, Tom and Bud headed out to the
Sky Queen
to accomplish Sandy’s "mission," quickly done by the employment of scientific genius. Then, sending the hairspray containers on to the palace, they rejoined the others on their tour of the city.

Prince Vusungira led them through an archaeological museum, a newly-built factory, and a large, long stone structure called a
tem’dat
. "It’s a sort of common hall where the poorest people live," the Prince explained. "Hundreds sleep together in the central chamber, and there are cooking facilities in alcoves along the walls. The building is ancient, but Father has had electricity put in, and modern plumbing."

"Cookin’ where you sleep, hunh?" repeated Chow thoughtfully. "Mixin’ smells like that ain’t s’good fer appreciating food.—You okay, Sandy?—They all sleep on them rolled-up mats?"

"No indeed, Chow. By tradition, the stone floor is covered by colorful, elaborately woven carpet. As it wears thin, it is not replaced—new carpet is spread on top of the old one. After eleven such layers the floor is cleared and it begins again."