Rick Brant 9 Stairway to Danger Read online

  STAIRWAY TO DANGER

  A RICK BRANT

  SCIENCE-ADVENTURE

  STORY, No. 9

  BY JOHN BLAINE

  CHAPTER I

  The Thoughtful Robot

  “It’s weird,” Rick Brant said. “It’s uncanny.” He perched on the edge of his father’s desk and stared at the famous scientist. “It sounds like science-fiction, Dad. Will it really work?”

  Hartson Brant smiled. “It isn’t like you to doubt a scientific probability, Rick. If we weren’t sure it would work, we wouldn’t be putting so much time and money into the project.”

  Except for the gray in the scientist’s hair, he might have been Rick’s elder brother. Both were lean and long-legged. Both had brown eyes and light-brown hair. Their mannerisms were the same and they even dressed somewhat alike, preferring slacks and open shirts to more formal attire.

  Don Scott, called Scotty, shook his head at the elder Brant’s amused grin. “I’m like Rick,” he said. “I don’t doubt the scientific probability of this project, but the idea of a thinking robot is kind of hard to swallow. All I hope is that this robot doesn’t have a wrong sense of humor. Imagine a machine pulling Page 1

  practical jokes!”

  Hartson Brant chuckled. “Even that isn’t too farfetched, Scotty. Wait until you get better acquainted with Parnell Winston. His sense of humor runs to practical jokes, and there’s no telling what he might build into the machine.”

  “He must be good,” Rick said.

  “He’s very good indeed, Son. He’s as close to a genius as we have on the staff.”

  Rick’s eyebrows went up. That was high tribute, because the Spindrift Scientific Foundation staff, which his father headed, had more than its share of brains. Leading scientists from all over the world wrote or came to the little island off theNew Jersey coast for aid or advice. More than once, the United States Government had looked to Spindrift for help.

  In fact, Rick, Scotty, and Professor Hobart Zircon had just returned from theFar East where they aided the government in locating the source of an Asiatic supply of heavy water. They had almost lost their lives in the fabulous Caves of Fear, near the Chinese-Tibetan border, in tracking down what might have been a menace to the security of theUnited States .

  During their absence, three new members had been added to the Spindrift staff, including Dr. Parnell Winston, a cyberneticist. Cybernetics, Rick knew, had something to do with the relationship between the human mind and machines. The “giant brains,” the electronic computers, were the results of the new science. Dr. Winston, however, had immediately started on a different kind of problem. He had undertaken to build a machine capable of thinking.

  “I’m a little confused,” Rick admitted. “Barby told us; something about the project, but I can’t believe she had it straight.” Barbara Brant, his pretty sister, had been more excited about the new project than about the trip from which they had returned only the day before.

  “That’s right,” Scotty said. “She told us the machine would be eight feet tall, have six arms, and sense enough to make cakes, give permanent waves, and repair television sets, all at once.”

  Hartson Brant chuckled. “That’s Parnell Winston for you. He teases Barby almost as much as you do.

  Seriously, this robot will have limited use. If you can visualize an armor-plated bulldozer-that will give you a good idea.”

  Rick tried to picture it. “You mean a regular bulldozer?A tractor with a big blade for pushing things?”

  “Regular in two ways,” the scientist said. “It will have a bulldozer blade, and caterpillar treads like a tank. But it will look more like a huge turtle than a bulldozer.”

  “Why a bulldozer?”Rick asked. “Couldn’t you think of something more human for our first real robot?”

  “We didn’t select the design,” Hartson Brant explained. “It was selected for us by the Atomic Energy Commission and the Department of Defense. That’s secret, by the way. Our connection with them is not to be discussed. AEC wants the machine to help dispose of radioactive wastes. The Department of Defense wants it for obvious reasons. You can see how valuable an armored machine capable of thinking for itself could be to the Army or Marines.”

  Scotty sat forward on the edge of his chair. “It’s terrific!” he exclaimed. “You could tell the bulldozer to Page 2

  go cover up an enemy pillbox with dirt, and never risk a man!”

  “Yes,” Rick said. “But I still don’t get this part about how it thinks. Unless you mean that it will have a memory, and learn from experience.”

  Hartson Brant nodded. “That’s exactly right, Rick. It will not be capable of really creative thought. But it will be able to remember, and to interpret its memories.”

  Rick kept abreast of new developments by reading all the scientific journals to which the staff subscribed, and he knew that an English scientist, named Walter, had created machines that could go almost that far. Dr. Walter had named his latest one machina docilis , because it was capable of learning.

  This Spindrift machine evidently was another step along the same line.

  Scotty scratched his head.“How about an example, Dad?”

  The scientist tamped tobacco into his pipe. “All right, Scotty. Take an enemy pillbox as an example.

  Imagine it with concrete tank pillars in front of it. You know the kind I mean. They’re like huge concrete teeth. We would merely instruct the tank buster-our robot-to destroy the pillbox, and we would give it compass directions. The machine would advance until it struck the concrete pillars. It would try to knock them down. If it failed, it probably would go completely around the pillbox looking for a weak point. If it found no weak point, it probably would back off and start shoving dirt until it buried the concrete pillars and then it would roll right over them. It would then try to crush the pillbox. If it failed, it probably would just bury the thing by shoving dirt.”

  “You keep saying ‘probably,’” Rick pointed out. “Don’t you know?”

  “Not exactly.The machine would try everything within its capabilities, remembering each failure and each weakness. It would keep trying until it succeeded, or failed altogether.”

  Scotty stood up. “I quit,” he said. “This is too much. I’m a simple soul, and such things are not for the likes of me. Next thing you know we’ll have pixies or leprechauns running around the lab.”

  Rick grinned in sympathy. He knew how Scotty felt, because he had the same feeling himself. It was uncanny. “Where do we fit in, Dad?” he asked.

  “Dr. Winston has assignments for you,” Hartson Brant said. “Plan to start in the morning, as early as possible. We’re rushing to meet a deadline the Department of Defense has given us, and you may find yourselves working nights. You can fly to work, Rick. I checked the field bordering the amusement park.

  There’s room enough, although the grass is a little long.”

  The robot project was not onSpindriftIsland , but at a place down the coast. When finished, the machine would weigh several tons, and the scientists had decided it would be easier to travel to work than to face the engineering problem of getting it to the mainland. Dr. Winston had found a place below the town ofSeaford , a building owned by a small college. The building was next to Seaside Playland , an amusement park that had gone out of business about two years before.

  Hartson Brant himself was not taking part in the project. He was working with Shannon and Briotti, two of the new scientists, on a forthcoming expedition. Zircon was starting work on the same expedition.

  Julius Weiss, Spindrift’s brilliant mathematician, was working with Dr. Winston.

  “Come on
, Rick,” Scotty said. “Let’s get back down to earth. I’m in need of something simple but Page 3

  sustaining. Like doughnuts.With milk.”

  The boys left the scientist to his work and walked to the kitchen where Mrs. Brant was seated at the kitchen table, going over her accounts.

  Rick gave her a bear hug. “How’s the doughnut situation?”

  “Good,” Mrs. Brant replied, smiling.“Unless Barby has had more than her share.”

  Scotty was already investigating the doughnut jar. “Where is she, Mom?”

  “In Whiteside.Jerry Webster is covering a swimming meet at the Scout camp and she went along with him.”

  Jerry Webster, reporter for the Whiteside Morning Record, was an old friend.

  “Hope she took a bathing suit along,” Rick said, pouring a tall glass of cold milk. “Some of the Scouts are good, but I’ll put my money on Barby. She could be a champion, if she’d only practice.”

  Barby was a year younger than Rick, and although they had their minor battles as brother and sister often do, he was very proud of her-even though it was a pride he didn’t often express.

  In the same way, he was proud of Scotty. The ex-Marine, an orphan, had been a member of the Spindrift family since the moon rocket experiment. The two boys had become closer than brothers, and they had shared danger and fun in equal proportions. Both of them were on the pay roll of the Spindrift Foundation as junior technicians.

  They finished their milk and doughnuts and wandered from the kitchen door to the orchard. Beyond the orchard, on the seaward side of the island was a grassy stretch which Rick used as an airfield. His small plane was moored under the trees. On the inland edge of the orchard were new cottages, built to house the new staff members and their families. Rick had had some misgivings when his father decided to enlarge the staff, but after meeting the new people, he was satisfied that the increase was a good thing.

  They were all very congenial.

  On the southeast tip of the island were the low, gray-stone laboratory buildings. Rick led the way toward them, curious about the work in progress. He stopped and examined the Cub. He hadn’t flown it since leaving forHong Kong .

  “Let’s go for a hop,” Scotty suggested.

  Rick shook his head. “I’d rather see what’s happening in the lab. But we might turn the engine over and see if it still runs.”

  “Okay,” Scotty agreed. He checked the gas gauge.“Plenty of fuel. Get in. I’ll crank the prop.”

  Rick slid into the pilot’s seat and moved the wheel-type control column. The controls responded. He checked the switch and called, “Switch off.”

  “Switch off,” Scotty repeated. He pulled the propeller through a few times to prime the cylinders,then called, “Switch on.”

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  “Switch on,” Rick repeated. He advanced the throttle and snapped on the switch. Scotty pulled the propeller back on compression. The engine coughed. Scotty tried again, and this time the engine caught.

  Rick let it warm, watching his instrument panel carefully and holding fast on the brakes. When he was satisfied that everything was in perfect order, he cut the engine and got out.

  “Runs like a watch,” he said with satisfaction. “Now let’s see what’s happening at the lab.”

  The laboratory buildings had been built originally by the government,then purchased by the Spindrift Foundation with the cash prize resulting from the moon rocket. Since then the Spindrift group had added equipment until the laboratories compared favorably with any in the country. The Spindrift portion of a treasure found while exploring the bottom of the Pacific had permitted the purchase of new equipment and the salaries of three new staff members.

  As the boys walked into the main room, two men looked up.

  Dr. Howard Shannon was very tall and very thin. He wore glasses so thick they magnified his eyes-but they were eyes with a twinkle in them and their color was a brilliant blue. His thinning hair was almost white. Rick’s first impression had been that of a bookworm, but then he had noticed Dr. Shannon’s big, powerful hands. He had noticed also that the scientist’s face was weathered from years in the sun and wind, and he suspected that

  Howard Shannon probably was as good a trail companion as Weiss or Zircon.

  Dr. Anthony Briotti was surprisingly young to be a famous archeologist. He was of medium height, well-knit, with black hair and a deeply tanned complexion. He had a pleasant grin that showed white, even teeth. Both boys had liked him at once. He was more like someone of their own age than a senior scientist. He was the only bachelor among the new staff members. It had never occurred to either Rick or Scotty to call the other scientists anything but “Doctor” or “Professor.” But within a few moments after meeting, they had, quite naturally, started calling Dr. Briotti “Tony.”

  Dr. Shannon greeted them. “Good afternoon. Both rested from your trip, I hope?”

  “Sure they are,” Tony Briotti said. “I can tell by looking at ‘em. And you can bet curiosity brought them in here. I’m surprised they haven’t shown up sooner, especially when we’re planning a new trip.”

  “We had to get a little sleep,” Rick protested. “But you’re right. We’re curious. What’s going on?”

  “A joint project,”Shannon said. “Usually, as a naturalist, I have rather special interests, but Dr. Briotti has come up with a plan that, as he says, is right down my alley.”

  Tony smiled. “In other words, he thinks some very interesting new bugs are located near a place where I hope to find some fine artifacts. Seriously, I’m in hopes of tracking down the race of people that built thetempleofAlta-Yuan , which you so kindly dug up for me.”

  The search for the lost temple, drowned ages ago in the Pacific, had taken the Spindrift group to KwangaraIsland a short time before.

  “It will be a good trick if you can do it,” Scotty said. “They vanished centuries ago.”

  “Consider me a kind of detective,” Tony replied. “I’m a Bureau of Missing Persons that works only on cases a thousand years old. I’ve got a good clue. Hope it works out.”

  Page 5

  “What do you hope to find, Dr. Shannon?” Rick asked.

  The tall scientist polished his thick glasses. “I really have little hope, but there is a possibility that I may succeed in finding the rarest of all beetles, scarabaeus planderus , an ancient relative of the Egyptian scarab. If I find the beetle in the same area where Briotti uncovers his lost people, it may also show that they came originally from theNear East .”

  Rick hid a grin. The Spindrift scientists had gone on expeditions for many things, but going after anything so unromantic as a beetle was a new twist.

  “Isn’t there something else you’ll be hunting?” he asked.

  “Indeed there is!” Dr. Shannon exclaimed. “The beetle would be the prize, but I also hope to find a few varieties of the sensitive mimosa. There may possibly be a chance to collect a few cloud rats, and if there is time for side trips I should like very much to pick up a slow loris .”

  Scotty looked incredulous. “You’re making up those names,” he accused.

  Shannonpeered at him over the tops of his glasses. “Eh? Making them up?No, indeed!”

  Tony Briotti laughed heartily. “There really are such critters,” he assured them. “Only a naturalist like Howard would know about them, or get excited about them, but they do exist.”

  Dr. Shannon smiled. “Thank you, Anthony. I acknowledge your support.” To the boys, he added, “We will make a first-class team, Dr. Briotti and I. We have interests in common.Beetles, for example. We both like beetles. But where I prefer to take them alive, as specimens, Anthony prefers them mummified and at least ten centuries old.”

  Rick didn’t quite know what to make of the conversation for a moment,then he saw that this was Dr.

  Shannon’s dry way of making a joke. He started to ask the location of the new expedition when the phone rang.

  There was a streak of clairvoyance in Rick. He e
xplained it by saying he had hunches, but it was there.

  He knew the moment the phone rang that it was for him, and that it meant disaster. He was leaping for the phone even as Briotti answered, then handed the instrument to him.

  Rick took it, his heart beating rapidly. “Yes?”

  “Better come at once, Rick,” Hartson Brant said, and his voice was shaking. “We’ve just had a call from Captain Douglas of the State Police. Jerry and Barby are in the hospital. They’ve been struck by a hit-and-run driver!”

  CHAPTER II

  The Search

  Page 6

  Rick dashed into the front door of the big house, Scotty close behind him. Hartson Brant beckoned from the library. His usually tanned face was white.

  “It’s not serious,” he said quickly. “Barby is being X-rayed right now. At worst, it will be only a broken bone, but it probably will turn out to be nothing more than a badly twisted ankle. Jerry was bruised, but he’s all right.”

  Rick’s heart went out of his throat.

  “Captain Douglas is on the phone,” the scientist continued. “He wants to speak to you.”

  Rick’s hand shook a little as he picked up the phone. “This is Rick, Captain.”

  The State Police officer said, “I need you, Rick. I want to get that hit-and-run car that almost got Barby and Jerry, but most of my men are tied up now helping theNew York police look for Soapy Strade. He escaped from prison last night. I want you to get in your plane and start searching toward the south for the hit-and-run car. Cover the area from Whiteside to the junction of theShore Road and Route 1. Gus is already in the air. He’s covering the area between Whiteside andNewark . What men I can spare from theNew York job are going to cover the roads north of Whiteside.”

  “What do I look for?” Rick asked.

  “A maroon sedan.”Captain Douglas named the make, and gave Rick the license number. “Take a sack and some weights with you, and paper and pencil. You know where the police stations are inSeaford and Jerrick’sCrossing . If you pick up the car, drop a note giving direction and road. I’m phoning the police in those towns to watch for you. Once you’ve dropped the note, pick up the car again and keep following it until you see a police car stop it. Got it?”