Operator 5 #17 Hosts of the Flaming Death by Curtis Steele

Author:Curtis Steele
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

TIM DONOVAN’S eyes lighted. He switched the radio on, made sure it was in good working condition, then twisted the volume control so that no whisper of sound emerged. He turned quickly to the box of the telephone from which Ruffolo had torn the speaking instrument. Using his thumb-nail, he unscrewed the single bolt that held the cover. Inside, the terminals of the line were fastened. Now using a letter-opener from the desk, he unfastened these, ran them out of the box, and tore the wire free of the tacks holding it to the wainscoting. This done, he slid the radio away from the wall so that the wires could reach it. He was able easily to identify the detector tube of the set. Working it partway out of its socket, he exposed the prongs. Next he detached the two leads of the voice-coil of the dynamic speaker. Now with four wires to manipulate, he located the output transformer leads of the power tube. Hopefully he connected the telephone wire to this, and the voice-coil leads to the grid and cathode prongs of the detector tube. Tim Donovan’s hope made him breathless while he made the connections. If his plan worked, his voice, actuating the loudspeaker, would send electrical impulses into the detector tube. The audio amplifying unit of the set would strengthen these impulses and send them out over the telephone line. In order to speak and hear alternatively, he knew he would be obliged to exchange the connections each time. He hooked them so that the set-up would receive and waited tensely. For a long moment, nothing happened, and Tim Donovan’s heart sank. Then, electrifying him, quiet tones came from the radio: “Operator.” With desperate swiftness Tim Donovan exchanged the connections. Leaning close, he spoke into the dynamic speaker. “Central! Can you hear me, central! Can you hear what I’m saying?” Again he switched the connections. Again, from the loudspeaker the voice from the exchange said: “Operator! What number are you calling, please?” With caught breath, with heart pounding, Tim Donovan again made the switch and whispered the secret number of WDC-13. He waited an eternity with the connections exchanged again. Then a quiet voice spoke the code salutation of the Central Intelligence headquarters switchboard. Another transfer and Tim blurted: “Connect me with Operator 5 — quick!” Again he transferred the wires, and a burst of relief came from his lungs when he heard: “Operator 5! Is that you, Tim? Are you calling, Tim?” “Jimmy!” The boy gasped the name as he made the new contacts. “Listen, Jimmy! I’m speaking through a radio instead of a telephone and I can’t hear you while I’m talking! I’ve been taken prisoner. Ambassador Greckow and some other men have come to a secret headquarters. I don’t know exactly where it is, Jimmy, but — listen!” The eager Irish lad gave directions which placed the building as accurately as possible. “I think that’s right, Jimmy! It’s higher than any building I can

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