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anything!"
"What was that?"
"I said, I'm Robert Hanson."
The voice sounded annoyed and impatient. "I see. A joke.
You're Robert Wayne Hanson. And I'm Margaret Chase Smith.
Good afternoon."
* * * *
"Mr. Marquand?"
"Yes, sir?"
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"I'm Dr. Waters. I hope your trip out from New York was
pleasant."
"Yes, sir. Very much so. I caught up on some thin-film
abstracts that I've been wanting to get to. I'd like to thank
you for taking time out to see me. You have no idea how
serious my problem is."
The physicist, surprisingly young and athletic for one of his
intellectual attainments, smiled. "I'm always glad to help
along a struggling scholar. Are you planning to apply to old
Ivy?"
"Oh, I've already been accepted by Yale, Harvard, and
Princeton," said Rod shyly, "but I think that I'm going to turn
them all down and go to Cambridge. I'll get to do some
travelling that way, too."
"Very interesting. Now, as to your problem..."
Rod nodded, rising and coming closer to Dr. Waters' desk.
"I must be sure, first of all," he said, "it is vital that we are
completely alone. Is there any way for anyone to overhear
our conversation?"
Dr. Waters looked amused. "This is somewhat more
melodramatic than the usual confrontation with
undergraduates. But, all right, just a moment." He pressed a
button on the intercom on his desk. "Miss Clement, please
see that we're not interrupted for any reason. Thank you."
"Fine," said Rod. "Now you will understand my need for
secrecy. First, I must reveal to you that I am, in actuality,
The Iguana."
"What!" exclaimed Dr. Waters. "You! A mere lad! If what
you say is true, I'm utterly amazed. From the motion pictures
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Dirty Tricks
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I had estimated that The Iguana must be a marvelously
trained adult with years of academic and athletic experience
behind him."
Rod opened his suitcase, removing his brightly colored
costume. "I anticipated your doubts; they're quite reasonable,
actually. Watch." He uncoiled his electromagnetic webrope;
then he pointed at a bird flying past Dr. Waters' open window.
Rod threw the weighted end of the webrope expertly,
catching the helpless bird within the coils. He pulled the bird
into the room, disconnected the webrope, and freed the bird
once more.
"Yes," said Dr. Waters, "I can see that you are, indeed, the
famous Iguana. You have my respect, young man, although I
don't understand why you insist on tackling such dangerous
assignments instead of contenting yourself with more normal
pursuits."
Rod just smiled, folding the webrope compactly into its
place in his costume's belt.
"And I don't understand why you decided to reveal your
identity to me. That could have been a dangerous move."
"I looked into your background first," Rod said. "You are
the pre-eminent and most respected man in your field, and I
need someone of your caliber to advise me."
"I see," said Dr. Waters, sitting back and making a steeple
of his two forefingers. "I am, of course, flattered. But do go
on with your story."
"Yes, sir. I must explain to you how my webrope works. A
few months ago I stumbled onto the basic principles of
magnetism, the subatomic binding force which holds all things
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Dirty Tricks
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together. Of course, as you know, magnetism is an
oversimplified term to use to describe the actual mysterious
play of electrical forces within the atom. But, in any event, I
have learned how it is possible to align the electrons of the
surface shells of any group of atoms, so that the molecule will
be irresistibly and permanently attracted to the magnetic
center. This center is, of course, my webrope. It is activated
by a certain frequency of radio waves transmitted by this
sending device on my belt. When it is operating, the webrope
will adhere with all the strength of the limitless power of the
atom to whatever it touches. When I shut off the transmitter,
the webrope drops off, and the object falls loose, totally
unharmed."
"That's utterly fantastic!" cried Dr. Waters. "What a boon
to mankind that discovery will be when you decide to publish
it."
"Yes," said Rod somberly. "Since the initial breakthrough, I
have refined the mechanism even further. These controls over
here permit me to throw the webrope as a thin but incredibly
strong line, or as an inescapable net, as I choose. I have
employed the same principles in these patches on my gloves
and boots, so that I may, with some difficulty, climb vertical
walls and stand upon ceilings."
"And, with all this, you need me? That seems unlikely."
"You are being modest," said Rod. "I am faced with a
desperate battle, the most dangerous since the beginning of
my career as a defender of Freedom. I must face The
Polarizer, who, since our last encounter, has developed a
weapon that I am powerless to analyze, much less defeat.
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Your resources here, in the Department of Plasmonics, and
your own superior knowledge, may be all that stands between
civilization as we know it and abject slavery under that
maniacal monster, The Polarizer."
The professor rose from his desk, his face flushed and his
voice shaking with rage. "`Maniac'?! `Monster,' am I? Because
I recognize my manifest destiny, my fate, my right to rule the
world? I, Dr. Bertram Waters, The Polarizer, I will rule, for the
simple reason that no one can stop me!" He laughed, pushing
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