Wandl the Invader | Page 6

Miss Venza. It depends on you."
Another interval passed. It seemed, as we watched, that Molo's interest
in his party was very slight. I got the impression, too, that though at
first he had seemed to be intoxicated, actually he was not. Nor was his
sister. Anxiety seemed upon her; the smile she had for jests seemed
forced; and at intervals she would cast a swift, furtive glance across the
gay restaurant scene.
More drinks arrived. The Earthpeople at the table here seemed upon the
verge of stupor; and suddenly it appeared that Molo had completely
lost interest in them. With a gesture to his sister, he abruptly rose from
his seat. She joined him. They left the table, and a red-clad floor
manager of the restaurant came at their call. Then in a moment they
were moving across the room.
Halsey called sharply into his audiphone: "Francis! Hold us to them if
you can."
They were standing now by the opened door of one of the Red Spark's
private insulated rooms. We caught a glimpse of its interior, a gaily set
table with a bank of colored lights over it.

The figure of a man was in there. He was on his feet, as though he had
just arrived to meet the Martians here, and a hooded long cloak
enveloped him. It may have been a magnetic "invisible" cloak, with the
current now off.
We caught only the fleetest of impressions before the insulated door
closed and barred our vision. The glimpse was an accident. Molo, taken
by surprise at this appearance of his visitor, could hardly have guarded
against it. The waiting figure was very tall, some ten feet, and very thin.
The hood shrouded his face and head. In his hand he held a large
circular box of black shiny leather, of the sort in which women carry
wide-brimmed hats. As Molo joined him he put the box gently on the
floor. He handled it as though it were extraordinarily heavy; and as he
took a step or two, he seemed weighted down. Just as the room door
was hastily closing, Meka sliding it from the inside, we caught a
fleeting glimpse of horror.
The lid of the hat box had lifted up. Inside was a great round thing of
gray-white, a living thing; a distended ball of membrane, with a
network of veins and blood-vessels showing beneath the transparent
skin.
For the instant we gazed, stricken. The ball was palpitating, breathing! I
saw convolutions of inner tissue under the transparent skin of
membrane; a little tentacle, like an arm with a flat-webbed hand, was
holding up the lid of the box. The lid rose a trifle higher; the colored
lights overhead gave us a brief but clear view of it.
The thing in the box was a huge living brain. I saw goggling,
protruding eyes; an orifice that could have been a nose, and a gash
upended for a vertical mouth. It was a face. And the little tentacle arm
holding up the box-lid was joined to where the ear should have been.
Was this something human? A huge distended human brain, with the
body withered to that tiny arm?
The palpitating thing sank down in the box and the lid dropped. And
upon our horrified gaze the insulated door of the room slid too.

"By the gods!" exclaimed Halsey. "One of them dares come to the Red
Spark. Here, almost in public."
So Halsey knew what this meant. His eyes were blazing now; his face
was white, with an intensity of emotion that transfigured it.
"Francis, tell Foley I'll be in the manager's office in five minutes."
He snapped off; our image connection with the Red Spark went dead.
"We're going to the Red Spark," he announced. "This changes
everything, yet I don't know. Venza, I may need you more than ever,
now."
Halsey herded us to the office door. From his desk he had snatched up a
few portable instruments, and he flung on a cloak.
It was a brief trip to the Red Spark, on foot through the sub-cellar
arcade to where, under Park Circle 29, we went up in a vertical lift to
the roof. We were in the side entrance oval of the restaurant in five
minutes.
In the dim metal room of Orentino, the Red Spark's manager, a barrage
was up and Foley was waiting for us. We could hear it faintly humming.
Now we could talk.
Halsey slammed the door down. He said swiftly, "My men caught one
of these things this morning. They have it now and I think Molo does
not yet know we captured it. A brain; we're convinced it understands
English and can talk, but no one has been able to make it talk yet. Foley,
order