“Hitler was not a Psychlo!” said Lars emphatically. “He was a man. He was the greatest military leader and the holiest church member man ever had!”
“Must have been a long time ago,” said Jonnie. Fifteen minutes and seventeen seconds to go! They were almost in the clear for their forty-five minutes. But it could be an hour.
Well, yes, said Lars, it was a long time ago. How'd Lars ever find out about Hitler? Well, his family was from Sweden and they were very literate. In fact his father was a minister. And they had some old books the church had kept that had been printed by the
“German War Propaganda Ministry” in the purest Swedish and it really was inspirational. It seems that to be really religious, one had to be a pure Aryan and an Aryan was really a Swede. Most people in the tribe had the colossal nerve to scoff at such holy creeds, but it had been the state religion of Sweden.
“I wish I’d heard about him sooner,” said Jonnie. Twelve minutes and seven seconds to go! “Was he really a great leader?”
Oh, indeed he was, make no mistake about that. Hitler had conquered the whole world and enforced racial purity. You should really read those books. They are truly marvelous. Oh, you can't read Swedish? Well, I could read them to you. What's some parts of them? Oh, well, it would take weeks to cover it all, but for instance there's a part of a book called "Mein Kampf!' that outlines the whole destiny of the race. You see, there are really supermen and just plain men. And to be a superman one has to study and know the religious creed of fascism.
“Did they worship god?” said Jonnie. Seven minutes and twelve seconds to go. He began to dress, taking care with the thongs.
Well, of course. God's real name was Der Fuehrer but Hitler had taken his place on Earth to make a world of peace and goodwill. Now Napoleon was also a military leader and before him was Caesar and before him was Alexander the Great and before him was Attila the Hun. But these men were not holy. One really had to know history to tell the difference. Now even though Napoleon was a great military leader, on many points he didn't favorably compare with Hitler. Even though Napoleon had conquered Russia, he did not show the finesse Hitler showed when he conquered
Russia. Now all this was very ancient and a long time ago and man had come to grief since, though not through any fault of Hitler's. So it was obvious that if man were to rise and be great again they should follow the creed of religious fascism, and who knew but what some new Hitler might arise to bring peace on Earth and goodwill toward men like Hitler had. It 's a funny thing, you know, but his mother used to say when she looked at the old pictures that he, Lars, quite closely resembled-
The distant roar of a car starting up. The snarl of its going around the ramps to exit. The unmistakable mad driving of Ker! They were gone.
Jonnie finished dressing, packed the kit, especially Stormalong's favorite coat and scarf and goggles, and bundled it all up.
“You will be sure this gets to
Stormalong," said Jonnie. But as Lars said nothing, Jonnie decided to take it along.
They had done it!
How he would get himself out of this mess he didn't know. He was a little puzzled as to why the other two had driven off when the battle plane must still be down there. But he was grateful they were out of it.
“Let's go,” he said.
Chapter 5
They exited from a different ground-level door, one that was usually locked. Jonnie glanced around for a cadet to give Stormalong's kit to and saw no one.
"I’ll see that it's taken to the Academy,” said Lars, divining his purpose. He must not see too deeply into the dispositions Lars had made, most of which prevented them from being seen by anyone lest Lars find himself with a battle on his hands from cadets or Russians, some of whom had just arrived at the underground base in the mountains and were a considerable force.
A storm was coming in from over the mountains, rolling black clouds, studded with lightning around the distant Highpeak. The wind was picking up and bending the tall brown grass. A few dead leaves fled through the air.
Autumn was here. There was a chill in the air on this mile-high plateau.
It gave Jonnie an eerie feeling, almost a premonition. He had left Africa in a storm and here was a storm again. He threw the kit in the back and got in. The windows were darkened so no one could see in. With submachine guns trained upon him, they drove toward the capital.
Lars was a bad driver and Jonnie could see how he must have gotten the cracked neck the plaster cast advertised. Jonnie despised him. Jonnie had known lots of Swedes and they were good people; he had even gathered from Lars' conversation that they despised him too.
The man tried to chatter on about the ancient military leader but Jonnie had had enough. “Shut up,” he said from the back. “You're nothing but a turncoat traitor. I don't see how you can stand yourself. So shut up.” It was unwise but he couldn't go on listening to this insanity.
Lars shut up but his eyes slitted. He suddenly enjoyed the fact that this criminal would be dead in a few hours.
The ground car squatted down at a side entrance to the capital, never used. There were no people to be seen. There were no people in the corridor either. Lars had seen to that.
They thrust him toward a door. Unseen Brigantes in the shadows kept their guns trained upon him. Two more were in the courtroom, in the corners, Thompsons cocked and ready.
And there sat Brown Limper.
He was at a high desk on a dais. He was in a black robe. Ancient law books flanked him on either side. His face had an unhealthy sheen. His eyes were too bright. He loomed like a vulture about to attack a corpse. Just himself, the Brigante guards, and this Tyler in an otherwise empty room.
It was Tyler! He had recognized that the moment the fellow strode through the door. There was an air about this Tyler one couldn't miss. He had hated it since they were children. Hated that easy confident walk, hated that set of even features, hated those light blue eyes. He had hated everything Tyler was and he could never be. But who had the power now? He, Brown Limper! How he had daydreamed of this moment.
“Tyler?” said Brown Limper. “Come stand in front of the court bench! Answer me: is your name Jonnie Goodboy Tyler?” Brown Limper had a recorder running. Such proceedings must be regular and legal.
Jonnie came to a bored stand in front of the bench. “What is this farce, Brown Limper? You know my name well enough.”
“Silence!” said Brown Limper, hoping his voice was resonant and deep. “The prisoner will answer correctly and properly or become guilty of contempt of court!”
“I see no court,” said Jonnie. “What are you doing in that funny dress?”
"Tyler, I am adding contempt of court to these charges.”
“Add what you please,” said Jonnie, bored with it.
“You will not consider this lightly when I read you what you are charged with! This at present is just a hearing. In a week or two, a World Court will be established and the trial will take place at that time. But as a felon and criminal you have the right to hear the charges so that you can organize your defense when tried!
“Now hear ye, hear ye. You are charged with a count of murder in the first degree, the victims being the Chamco brothers, loyal employees of the state, feloniously assaulted with intent to kill and later dying by their own hand due to pain of their wounds.
“Kidnapping in the first degree, the said Tyler assaulting and feloniously seizing the persons of two Coordinators going about their legal duties as agents of the Council.