Chapter 10

Dirt spat out into the air as the motorcycle wheels tore it from the French roads. Tom Swift was the rider; he traveled down the Gallic highway with all the high exubrance of any bike trip. This splendid feeling was generated by the thrill of riding through the verdant French countrside on this metallic steed augmented by his own tweaking of the engine to make it faster and quieter.

This exubrance was so great that it offset the ominous downers that he was going to the Western Front and a creepy somnambulist had predicted his death. Tom had faced danger many times in his adventurous life and was confident he could handle it. This confidence coupled with his exubrance was the reason he had so recklessly left his security escort behind; that and the high speed of his motorcycle. Clayton Andrews and the rest of the crew would be desperately trying to catch up in their cars and trucks while cursing the rash young inventor.

Doctor Caligari and Cesare were never found despite a city wide manhunt. An autopsy revealed that the courtesan who died in convulsions was poisoned with a tiny tainted needle pressed into her bare shoulder. Tom did recall seeing the hooded woman behind her after she nudged his arm. Inspector Maigret had advised Tom to stay with his escort, but when the souped up bike rockets him across the vast French vista there was no way he would slow himself down for the sake of his bodyguards.

Along the highway Tom would pass troop carriers, supply trucks, ambulances, horse drawn wagons and the occasional French made car. The farmers he had noticed were either woman, children or aged: virtually all the young men were away fighting the war.

A wide area opened up before the rider as the trees that lined the highway ended. Vast paddocks and green hills were now the view, along with the silent cloudy sky.

A bright light on the apex of the highest hill caught Tom's attention. It was as if someone was manipulating mirrors to concentrate the daylight. After stopping the bike, Tom turned a set of binoculars to the hilltop. The figure appearing through the lenses was of a honey blonde woman standing with her arms stretched out and in pain; tears could be made out on her face.

The young inventor realised this image was an enlargement generated by projectors and mirrored screens. There may or may not be an actual woman there. No tormentors or causes of her distress could be seen; continued observation did not provide any further detail to this disturbing vision.

Cesare's prediction of Tom's death began to resonate in the motorcyclist's mind.

"You will die on the morrow unless you go to the blonde woman on the hilltop."

Tom revved up his bike then drove along the road through the hills; he didn't want to end up like the unfortunate patrons in the music hall, nor did he care to follow the advice of that creepy somnambulist. That which turned the bike up the road to the high hilltop was mainly a desire to observe the science that produced the image and to see what is going on.

This road spiraled upwards to the apex, Tom's course took him around the hill several times. It was when he was near the end that he stopped his bike to observe a car beginning its own ascent of the same hill. He could not determine its country of origin; only that it was a four seater with only the front seats occupied. He began to fear a trap: he readied all resources at his disposal for use if necessary.

How the complex system of projectors and mirrored screens worked was not to be known; they were all shut off once Tom reached the hilltop. The honey blonde woman was there, she ceased her act and wiped the tears from her eyes as they met those of Tom Swift, who stayed on his active motorcycle.

It was when the woman placed a hood over her head that the inventor recognised the hooded figure in the Paris music hall. She moved her hand to direct the young American's attention to an upright cabinet nearby; it had enough room for a person and would be more comfortable than Caligari's morbid enclosure. A large ring was fixed to the cabinet's top: Tom realised this was so a cable could attach itself to coffin like container and winch it onto an overhead structure, like an airship.

"You." Yelled the woman to Tom. "Get off that bike and into the cabinet."

Fraulein Doktor was the woman's handle and she was close to another mission success; another scientist will be acquired and brought to her bosses. Those tears she wept were real, all she had to do was regress to sad moment when she observed a horrific gas attack that she had in part facilitated.

An expected response to her demand ensued, The target gave a negative wave of his hand then starting turning his bike around to flee. Two agents came out of their hiding place, after a quick signal from the hooded woman then began to rush the motorcyclist. One stopped in his tracks as electricity suddenly surged through his body: a scream of shock was all he managed as he dropped unconscious. Stunned by his partner's scream, the other agent saw the motorcyclist holding a strange rifle drawn from a holster next to the vehicle's rear fork.

The weapon was called a TASER (Thomas A Swift's Electric Rifle) and a second shot sent the bemused agent's nervous system into paralytic shock, reducing the target's active status to that of a blob of jelly.

A lead bullet passed through the Taser's transistors and wiring just as the second agent was dealt with. Tom had to discard the short circuiting weapon when sparks spat from its battery case. Fraulien Doktor had fired the bullet from her newly drawn Luger pistol. Rage came over the female spy's face, her hood had come off; she directed the gun at Tom and demanded he get off his bike and enter the cabinet.

The all American guy turned his motorcycle to face the determined German spy; she repeated the demand. Tom made a move that gave every indication of switching the engine off: he had augmented this engine himself, and he sneakily set it for a dangerous overdrive.

With the motorcycle turned back towards the armed woman, Tom flipped a switch on the handlebars sending the metal steed charging, without a rider ,at Fraulein Doktor. She could have shot Tom there but her orders were to capture him alive and this evasive strategy stunned her for a second before black smoke flooded out of the oncoming engine and blurred the scene. The missile on wheels did a wheelie like rearing horse about to trample its victim; a swift jump aside by the woman almost cleared its path. A handlebar edge dug into her shoulder knocking Fraulein Doktor to the edge of a precipice behind; the bike collapsed near her feet. It did not stop the engine; as the rear wheel rotated hard when it hit the ground, turning the bike in a sweeping motion towards the fallen spy.

Though she could not resist a scream of terror, a quick recovery and agile jump allowed her to get clear of the sweeping wheel, which sent the downed motorbike over the cliff to a fall onto the road below.

Dust was spat out of her mouth, when the disturbed dirt settled she realised her Luger pistol was lost and so was Tom Swift; he had taken advantage of the smoke and dust to hide amongst the rocks. Her shoulder hurt but she could still use a knife; that brash young inventor would be in the cabinet soon.

Car engine sounds revealed new arrivals soon to be on the scene, but these were drowned out by explosions in the area around the base of the hill. They were bombs dropped from the clouds above. Soon the sky thundered with artillery punctuated by mounted machine gun fire.

The firmament above was a battlefield.