Free Fiendish Schemes by K. W. Jeter Page B

mechanisms described by Stonebrake. Their creaking and groaning blasphemies still had the power to evoke nightmares.
    “Such devices created by my father have, with any luck, been dismantled. Even if any were still intact, I don’t see what value one could be to you and your fellow conspirators.”
    “Use your imagination, man. If human voices could be so simulated, then why not whale voices? The pipe organ that Father Jonah modified to communicate with the whales doesn’t do a good job of it, quite frankly. This has no doubt led to the erratic and undependable nature of the information that we have received from them. What hope would we have then of plying the whales to negotiate with the oceans on our behalf?”
    “You’re right,” I said. “Best to give up this whole mad scheme.”
    “And lose the fortunes that are almost within our grasp? Never!” Stonebrake’s previous steely resolve displayed itself again. “We have reason to believe that your father created a larger and more versatile device for simulating voices, capable of infinite degrees of adjustment. This Vox Universalis machine would be exactly what is required for the successful furtherance of our plans.”
    “ Would be, you say?” I peered more closely at him. “The implication is that you don’t actually have the device in your possession.”
    “We soon shall. You may rest assured on that point. A matter of days, at most. And when we have it, we shall then need the assistance of the creator’s son— you, to be precise—to adjust it as needed for our purposes.”
    I could feel the blood draining from my face. “I rather think . . . you overestimate my facility in that regard.”
    “How so? Who more fitted than the living progeny of that great inventor? Surely you inherited at least a modicum of his skills.”
    “You would probably be better off taking a bash at it yourself.”
    “Nonsense,” insisted Stonebrake. “Gather your courage, man. An hour or so before, you were about to put a bullet through your brain. I offer not only wealth to you, but your life itself. Would you refuse it?”
    “If I were as intelligent as you believe me to be, I probably would. This is madness.”
    “Again the admirable skeptic.” He gave an approving nod. “I did not anticipate that I would be able to cozen you into acceptance with mere words. But perhaps I can purchase—or at least rent—your interest.”
    As I watched, he reached into the pouch fastened to the belt of his diving garment and extracted a leather packet. As soon as I received it in my hand, I knew from its weight and muffled clinking noises that it contained a sizable sum of money.
    “There is more than enough,” said Stonebrake, “to settle your bill at the inn. And provide for comfortable transportation to London. You will find as well a card with an address inscribed upon it.”
    I had managed to undo the packet’s watertight fastenings, and discovered all those things inside it, though the sliver of moonlight was too dim to read the exact words.
    “Of course,” he continued, “you are free to make what use of the funds you will. You might, for instance, pay out your landlord here . . . then use the remainder to scurry off to some other cheap and wretched hiding-place, scraping out a few more weeks of cheese- paring existence.”
    The thought had already occurred to me.
    “And when those days have inevitably wound down to their end, you would be exactly where you were before. In a shabby room, with a gun pressed to your brow.”
    To that bleak observation, I could make no reply.
    “Decide as you see fit, Mr. Dower.” Reaching behind himself, Stonebrake pulled the hood of his diving garment onto his head. He then uncoiled the rubber tube of the breathing apparatus. “I hope to see you again.”
    I heard but did not observe him splashing through the oncoming waves, then disappearing beneath the roiling water. I stood in silent contemplation of the small but weighty packet