II with the secret French underground organization, the Prosper Network. As you know, most of the Prosper Network was discovered and destroyed by the Germans, and the survivors have died or disappeared. But this man claims he handled their message center. If anyone can trap him in a lie, you can.”
“It would be a negative sort of proof at best.”
“That’s all we need, on something as sensitive as the eel project.”
“Doesn’t it have some other designation?” Rand asked distastefully. “I’m not too fond of eels.”
“Suffern—or Schultz—is. In fact, he told someone that he likes eels better than people.”
“Fine,” Rand said. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
The ride through the Scottish highlands never failed to fascinate Rand. He’d come trout fishing in the lochs one summer, and returned almost annually to rest among the peaceful hills. This day; like so many in summer, was bright and cloudless, with only the wind to keep it from being a perfect afternoon.
Rand slowed down as he passed one of the flat dark pools, looking perhaps for the trout that lurked at times just beneath its surface. Then he speeded up and concentrated on his driving until at last the land flattened into a sort of moor and he saw in the distance the endless wire fencing that marked the project’s boundaries.
Fifteen minutes later he was in the company of the man he’d come to question—a short bald little German who called himself Hans Suffern. Rand had been taken to one of the vast circular pools around the back of the buildings, and there he found Suffern bent over a maze of dials. “Mr. Rand, from London?” he asked, betraying only the slightest of accents.
“Correct. And you would be Hans Suffern.”
“I would be.” The little German smiled slightly and glanced about at the other workers. Nobody was within earshot. “These security things are quite troublesome, really.”
“But necessary,” Rand observed.
Suffern shrugged. “But necessary.”
“Where could we talk?”
“This is fine with me, right here. Look down there! Did you ever see a fully grown electrophorus electricus, Mr. Rand?”
“No.” Rand stared over the high railing, catching a glimpse of something dark and long and very evil moving through the shadowed waters.
“The actual body of the electric eel—its vital organs—takes up less than twenty per cent of its length. The rest of the fish is mainly a collection of electric cells in special tissue. Its output can knock out a horse at twenty feet, and kill a healthy man on contact.”
“You know a lot about electric eels.”
“I’ve learned.”
Rand cleared his throat as they stepped back from the pool. “You told them you were with the Prosper Network during the war. Communications, you said.”
“That’s right. Though it hardly seems to make any difference at this late date. I come, I offer my services, I offer my knowledge, and instead of being welcomed I am subjected to endless security checks. I am still not allowed access to the laboratory itself.”
Rand waved a vague hand. “You know the circumstances. This is a top-secret project. Frankly, there are only a few men in the world who possess your knowledge of electric eels, and one of them is believed to be a Russian agent.”
“So you come to question me about the Prosper Network?”
“Exactly.”
The man turned and stared up at Rand’s face, which was still reasonably youthful and unlined. “You know a lot about Prosper? You were perhaps active in the war?”
“I was old enough to enlist three days after the war ended,” Rand said, feeling irrationally the old defense mechanism go to work. He’d lived most of his adult life in the midst of men who resented the non-combatant. “But my field is communications. What type of equipment did you have in Prosper?”
Hans Suffern shrugged. “Type three, Mark two. It did the job.”
“You transmitted in cipher?”
“Of course.”
“What
“It would be a negative sort of proof at best.”
“That’s all we need, on something as sensitive as the eel project.”
“Doesn’t it have some other designation?” Rand asked distastefully. “I’m not too fond of eels.”
“Suffern—or Schultz—is. In fact, he told someone that he likes eels better than people.”
“Fine,” Rand said. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
The ride through the Scottish highlands never failed to fascinate Rand. He’d come trout fishing in the lochs one summer, and returned almost annually to rest among the peaceful hills. This day; like so many in summer, was bright and cloudless, with only the wind to keep it from being a perfect afternoon.
Rand slowed down as he passed one of the flat dark pools, looking perhaps for the trout that lurked at times just beneath its surface. Then he speeded up and concentrated on his driving until at last the land flattened into a sort of moor and he saw in the distance the endless wire fencing that marked the project’s boundaries.
Fifteen minutes later he was in the company of the man he’d come to question—a short bald little German who called himself Hans Suffern. Rand had been taken to one of the vast circular pools around the back of the buildings, and there he found Suffern bent over a maze of dials. “Mr. Rand, from London?” he asked, betraying only the slightest of accents.
“Correct. And you would be Hans Suffern.”
“I would be.” The little German smiled slightly and glanced about at the other workers. Nobody was within earshot. “These security things are quite troublesome, really.”
“But necessary,” Rand observed.
Suffern shrugged. “But necessary.”
“Where could we talk?”
“This is fine with me, right here. Look down there! Did you ever see a fully grown electrophorus electricus, Mr. Rand?”
“No.” Rand stared over the high railing, catching a glimpse of something dark and long and very evil moving through the shadowed waters.
“The actual body of the electric eel—its vital organs—takes up less than twenty per cent of its length. The rest of the fish is mainly a collection of electric cells in special tissue. Its output can knock out a horse at twenty feet, and kill a healthy man on contact.”
“You know a lot about electric eels.”
“I’ve learned.”
Rand cleared his throat as they stepped back from the pool. “You told them you were with the Prosper Network during the war. Communications, you said.”
“That’s right. Though it hardly seems to make any difference at this late date. I come, I offer my services, I offer my knowledge, and instead of being welcomed I am subjected to endless security checks. I am still not allowed access to the laboratory itself.”
Rand waved a vague hand. “You know the circumstances. This is a top-secret project. Frankly, there are only a few men in the world who possess your knowledge of electric eels, and one of them is believed to be a Russian agent.”
“So you come to question me about the Prosper Network?”
“Exactly.”
The man turned and stared up at Rand’s face, which was still reasonably youthful and unlined. “You know a lot about Prosper? You were perhaps active in the war?”
“I was old enough to enlist three days after the war ended,” Rand said, feeling irrationally the old defense mechanism go to work. He’d lived most of his adult life in the midst of men who resented the non-combatant. “But my field is communications. What type of equipment did you have in Prosper?”
Hans Suffern shrugged. “Type three, Mark two. It did the job.”
“You transmitted in cipher?”
“Of course.”
“What
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