Terrors by Richard A. Lupoff Page A

speak.
    Moments later the male aide and the female secretary rushedinto the Mayor’s office. The Mayor and the Chief of Police leaped to their feet and followed the Mayor’s employees to the outer office in time to hear the concluding ultimatum.
    Again, there was a clicking. Again there was a screech. Then the crooning of Wally Carson resumed as if nothing untoward had taken place. The musical program had been from a remote hookup at the Treble Clef, Seacoast City’sfavorite supper club. The city’s upper crust and its daring youth were heeding the advice of the city’s leaders andkeeping up their usual way of life. The well-dressed young men and attractive young women sharing the victuals and the music at the Treble Clef never realized what had happened.
    But Mayor Howard Harkness and Chief Alf O’Brien knew.
    “I suspected as much, Chief. This isn’t just freakishweather. I should have known that somebody was behind it.”
    The chief of police reached into a uniform pocket and extracted a roll of multicolored disks. He popped a couple into his mouth and chewed. “Sorry, Mr. Mayor. Ulcer’s acting up.”
    “No surprise there, Chief. I haven’t been sleeping too well, myself. To each man his ailments, eh?”
    Chief O’Brien grunted his agreement.
    “I’ve never heardof these two, Mr. Mayor. Lord Gorgon, The Scorpion Queen—sounds like a couple of kids playing make-believe, playing dress-up for a Halloween party.”
    The mayor nodded. His iron-gray hair was rumpled, his usually handsome features blotchy and his eyes red from lack of sleep.
    “I’ve heard of them, Chief. I know them all too well.”
    “Well, don’t you think I ought to know, then?” Chief O’Brien pushedhimself up from the leather chair opposite the mayor’s desk. “If these scoundrels have the power to change the weather—if they can turn summer into winter—they’re a menace to society. We’ve got to act against them, Mr. Mayor!”
    Mayor Harkness rubbed his temples wearily.
    “No question about that, Chief.”
    “I think you’d better tell me what’s going on, Mr. Mayor. It’s unconscionable that the chiefof police of Seacoast City has never heard of these people, and that the mayor knows all about them and hasn’t told the chief. In fact, if I don’t have your confidence, sir, enough to be told about such a threat to the city, I wonder why you haven’t asked for my resignation. If you want it, Mr. Mayor, it will be on your desk just as fast as I can scratch pen across paper!”
    If Lord Gorgon’s message,broadcast over each of Seacoast City’s radio stations, had not been enough, the threat to that metropolis was made manifest the next morning.
    The Seacoast City Superbas had been scheduled to play host to the Green Valley Hawks, but in view of Seacoast City’s abnormal weather, the game had been moved to the warmer confines of Green Valley. The entire Superba team, plus its trainer, batboys, coaches,and Manager MackHoulihan, had piled onto a chartered bus. The bus, its feeble heaters strained to the limit and its heavy tires fitted with chains, had set out through the city’s streets, headed for the Vespucci Bridge and the highway to Green Valley.
    Only one member of the organization had missed the bus. This was backup catcher Barney Shea, a onetime big leaguer who continued to play the gamein the forlorn hope of making it back to the bigs despite his weak throwing arm and his total inability to hit a curve-ball. Barney’s wife had given birth to their fifth daughter at half-past three that morning. Barney had stayed at her side as long as he could, then set out to join his teammates.
    When he realized that he had missed the team bus by the narrowest of margins, he commandeered ataxicab and had the driver pursue the bus. They had nearly caught the bigger vehicle when the bus veered off the roadway just before reaching the Vespucci Bridge and plunged, nose-first, to the ice-covered Saturn River.
    The taxi driver