Undersea Quest

11 My Partner, My Enemy

Hallam Sperry himself admitted me to his cabin.

It was a far cry from the small stateroom I occupied on the deck below. It was more than a cabin, it was a suite; and properly so, I suppose. After all, Isle of Spain was only one of a dozen giant subsea liners on the Sperry Line! There were giant photomurals on the walls, pressure-tanks of curious deep-sea flower-animals and darting, tiny fish, tinted Troyon tubes to warm the rooms and give them the semblance of upper-air sunshine.

Hallam Sperry clasped my hand in a grip as sturdy and as cold as steel. He was a giant of a man, as big as my uncle had been but dark where Uncle Stewart had been fair, black-bearded where my uncle was ruddy. His eyes were a curious piercing blue; there was the coldness of the chill sea Deeps in those eyes as they looked into my mind. But there was a smile on his lips and his words were more than merely polite.

“Jim Eden,” he rumbled. “Know a great deal about you, young man. Knew your father and his brother well—too bad about Stewart, but he was always a daredevil. Heard about your bad break at the Academy from my boy.”

He offered me a spider-legged chair. What could I say to the man? That the “bad break” at the Academy had been his son’s own doing? That the struggle between him and the Edens was a public scandal?

I said nothing. We learned much at the Academy, but one of the first things we learned was not to speak until we knew what we had to say. It was possible that Hallam Sperry was not as black as he had been painted; it was not fair to attack him on the basis of rumor and old memories.

He offered me a crystal glass with a pale-green, stinging liquid in it; I tasted it and set it down—some strange liqueur from the Deeps. He said:

“An old friend of mine, Stewart Eden. Oh, we had our differences. But I always admired your uncle. Great man. Too bad he had to go like that.”

I made some answer; but what I had to say made no difference.

He rumbled right on, in his bass chiming voice. “Worked with Stewart for many years. Your father too. You’ll hear stories about our fights—probably heard lots of them already. No matter, boy. He’s gone now. Our differences are gone too. Question is, what next?”

I said, “I beg your pardon?”

“What next for you,” he rumbled impatiently. “What are you going to do now? You’re going to Thetis—why?”

I said stiffly, “I am my uncle’s heir, Mr. Sperry. He left all of his interests to me.”

“Interests!” Sperry snorted. “Guff! A bankrupt corporation and a sunk ship—I know what his ‘interests’ were.” He looked at me piercingly. “You may not know this,” he said. “Your uncle owed me money. Quite a lot. More than the value of his estate, boy.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I—I know nothing of that,” I said. “Mr. Faulkner—Uncle Stewart’s lawyer—didn’t say anything about it.”

“Course not. Faulkner didn’t know. Gentlemen’s agreement between your uncle and me; I loaned him the money, no note, nothing in writing. Question is, are you going to honor it.”

I started to say something but he stopped me. “Belay that,” he ordered. “Put it aside for a moment; business can come later. Tell me first something about yourself.” He paused, and before I could speak the iron face broadened into a smile. “And drink your drink,” he commanded. “That’s an order, boy!”

I felt myself warming to the man; he had charm and a hard-bitten strength that, to me, was greatly appealing. Perhaps he was telling the truth; perhaps his bitter struggles with my father and uncle were purely business transactions, only the rough-and-tumble bouts of strong men engaged in rivalry with each other.

Certainly Hallam Sperry had a warm smile and a strong handclasp…

Still—I could not help but notice it: His lips smiled, but his eyes were still sea-cold.

I told him about the Academy, my relations with his son, Brand Sperry, the trouble in Italy and my forced resignation. He was a receptive audience. I even found myself telling him about the radiograms from Wallace Faulkner and my answers; even about the man in the red hat and the little gray man and the lethine that had murdered the steward, instead of me.

Careless of me…

Still, I wonder. Hallam Sperry owned the Isle of Spain and everything in it. Certainly he would know everything that went on aboard it, in any case.

And I found out that he knew much, much more.

When I had finished my story he said, sipping his sea-liqueur,

“Bad breaks, boy. Question is, what do you do now?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know exactly, sir. I’m going to Thetis. Then I’ll look around and see what’s what. I—I don’t know too much about Marinia, actually.”

He gave a rumbling laugh. “Never thought I’d hear an Eden admit that! Boy, Eden Dome is named after your family!”

I said stiffly, “I know, sir. But after all, I’ve never been here before. I don’t even know what my uncle was doing these last few years, as a matter of fact.”

He looked surprised. “Oh, I can tell you that,” he offered.

“Know everything that goes on in Marinia, I don’t mind admitting. Particularly about your Uncle Stewart, boy.” He ticked off on his fingers. “First, platinum prospect in the Mountains of Darkness. Worked it for a year; then it petered out. Next, petroleum. Looked like a good bet; but your uncle sold out. Needed capital for something. For what? For Marine Mines Ltd. Sunk every nickel he had or could get his hands on into it. Finally sunk himself.” He started to grin at his joke, but the expression on my face must have stopped him. “No offense, boy,” he apologized. “Stewart was always a daredevil; you know.”

“So you said,” I answered.

He rolled on, “Come back to the main question. I staked your uncle last couple of years. Owes me money—more than half a million dollars. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know, sir,” I admitted miserably. “This is the first I heard of it. I—I’ll have to talk to Mr. Faulkner about that.”

Hallam Sperry’s expression changed curiously. For the first time, his face was in repose, but it was his eyes that were grinning at me—a faint, somehow alarming sardonic smile. All he said was, “Take your time, boy.” He rang for a steward and ordered coffee.

“Pretty near bed-time,” he said. “Let you go in a couple of minutes. Anything else you want to know from me?”

I said slowly, “Well, I guess not, sir. Not unless you can think of something I should know.”

He shrugged those giant shoulders expressively. “Did I tell you about Marine Mines?” he demanded.

“Well, I know a little bit about it, from Mr. Faulkner.”

“Not much, probably. Well, not much to tell. Typical fat-headed scheme of your uncle’s, of course. Mine Eden Deep! Couldn’t get within a thousand fathoms of the bottom—not even with his own Edenite. Tried to tell him that—but it never was any use trying to talk sense to your Uncle Stewart.”

I said, as bitingly as I could, “So the mathematicians found out.” When Uncle Stewart first announced his Edenite process, the mathematicians were quick to call it impossible. They proved conclusively with facts and figures that it was ridiculous to imagine that any force- field armor could be so constructed as to make the water work against itself, turn its own pressure against it to keep the surging tides out of whatever the armor enclosed. It wasn’t until Uncle Stewart managed to get the first Edenite armor in operation that the mathematicians hastily changed the subject.

Sperry grinned. “Good point, boy,” he admitted. “Well, I guess I had something like that in mind. Anyway, he went ahead. Opened an office out at Seven Dome, way out of the normal mining territory, right near the Deep. Had a man in there with him—fellow named Westervelt, some such name. Don’t know where he is now.

Dropped out of sight when your uncle died; last I heard he was hiding out in Kelly’s Kingdom, in some kind of trouble with the law. That’s all there is to tell, boy. Can’t tell you anything that Marine Mines ever actually accomplished, because it never accomplished anything. Just a paper corporation. With paper assets.”

I said, trying to keep my temper under control, “Those assets were worth a hundred and sixty thousand dollars to somebody, paper or not.”

“Who?”

“Well—I don’t know who,” I admitted. “Some client of Mr. Faulkner’s.”

“Course you don’t know who,” he rumbled. “Tell you, if you like. Me. I offered a hundred-sixty; you turned it down. Well, maybe you did me a favor. Wasn’t worth it, of course.”

I stared at him. “Why—how—”

He roared with bull-like laughter. “Why—how?” he mimicked. “Boy, you’re a little wet behind the ears for Marinia! No offense, of course. Tell you why: You’ve got a partner in the Mines, you know.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“But nothing. That partner’s me. I put up money; I took twenty per cent of the stock. Was supposed to get back the rest out of profits. What profits? None, of course. But I could afford the gamble, so I took it. I lost. If I can get complete ownership of the Mines, maybe I can do something with it—I have a little influence in Marinia, you know. Might be able to get the claim time extended a couple more years; maybe something will come of it eventually. Still a gamble—and not even a gamble while I’m a minority holder. See?”

I didn’t see. But I was too stubborn—too young!—to admit it I said uncomfortably, “I—I’d better talk to Mr. Faulkner, sir. Not that I doubt anything you say, of course. But—”

“But—but,” he mimicked again. He was still grinning that cold, somehow worrisome grin.

Abruptly his mood changed. He set down his coffee cup with a sharp slapping sound. “Enough,” he growled. “Time for bed. Go to your room, boy; get some sleep.”

He rang for the steward, who appeared in his white coat, rubbing his eyes, to open the door for me. Hallam Sperry didn’t get up. As I was going out he said:

“Sleep on it, boy. Just make up your mind. Do you want to pay your uncle’s debts—or pay as much as you can; take my offer for your shares and I’ll forget the rest—or not? Can’t make you do it; it’s a gentlemen’s agreement. Make up your mind.”

I turned uncomfortably at the door, but Sperry had dismissed me. Without haste he stood and walked lumberingly through the far door into one of his other rooms. The steward, politely but firmly, closed the outer door in my face.