Crime, Insured s-129 Page 12

  "I get it," jeered Ace. "You're trying to stall things so we can't rub out your pals as soon as Kelvey gets that call from Strampf! Smart gags like that don't work with me!"

  Roughly, Ace hauled Burbank from the crate and shoved him back to his chair. As Burbank sprawled, he could see the loose wires dangling from the side of the crate. He had not even managed to hook up the connection to send an unbroken beam.

  Kelvey was at the telephone. Murderous men were ready with their machine guns. All that was needed was Strampf's call, plus Ace's order. One would bring the other; and both were due at any minute.

  Quarter past eight. As Burbank figured it, there would be fifteen minutes more before The Shadow arrived outside to stay on watch for Strampf. If The Shadow could come and did arrive, the most that he could accomplish would be revenge upon departing crooks.

  Through Burbank's brain flashed sounds of the future. He could picture the drill of machine guns; a titanic blast that would sink this prison into a ruined tomb.

  Such would be the finish of The Shadow's agents.

  CHAPTER XX. CHANGED DEATH

  IN his hopeless picture of the future, Burbank had also visualized the outside darkness that surrounded the prison house. Silent, vacant darkness as Burbank imagined it. Gloom that covered Ace Gandley's lurking lookouts, and enshrouded no one else.

  That picture was half right. The darkness was silent; but it was not vacant. Figures were creeping close to the walls, unnoticed by the thugs stationed there as pickets.

  The front door of the house offered poor approach, for there was a street lamp opposite it. There was a side door, however, that could be reached by a short passage from the street. That door was well sheltered by darkness.

  The back door, opening into a rear space behind the buildings on the next street, was completely darkened. Like the side door, it offered a possible route of entry.

  At the side door, close against the darkened barrier, a cloaked figure was at work. Black-gloved fingers were handling a tiny probe in expert, noiseless fashion. The Shadow had arrived ahead of schedule. He had been in this vicinity since eight o'clock.

  The back door was also yielding to an expert worker. The Shadow had brought along an aid to handle the second route. The man at the back was Tapper, whom The Shadow had mentioned when talking with Slade Farrow.

  When it came to getting into places that served as strongholds of crime, Tapper recognized only one superior: The Shadow.

  This task, however, involved more than the act of entry. As The Shadow's probing pick released the lock, there was a sound from the wall beside the door. One of Ace's lookouts was making his inspection.

  The fellow had approached with stealth. As The Shadow turned, a flashlight glimmered.

  For a half second, the guard saw The Shadow. Then, a gloved hand clamped over the lighted end of the flashlight. The lookout tried to spring away in the darkness, whipping out a revolver as he shifted. The Shadow's other arm was already on its way. A gloved fist sledged a heavy automatic straight to the lookout's head.

  The Shadow hoisted the thug's limp body. Carrying the lookout into the house, The Shadow silently locked the door behind him.

  TAPPER, meanwhile, was making progress with the rear door. His work was good, but Tapper was slower than The Shadow and, occasionally, he gave betraying clicks. Those sounds were heard.

  A stealthy lookout paused near a rear corner of the house. Holding a flashlight behind him, he blinked it.

  A second watcher joined him.

  Together, the pair sneaked up to the rear door. Tapper did not hear them. The crooks waited until he released the lock, a matter of only a dozen seconds. One nudged the other; their flashlights came on.

  Tapper swung about, to face a pair of gun muzzles.

  Staring, Tapper raised his arms. He was looking at his captors; as he did, he saw a mammoth figure rise above their shoulders. Two huge hands swept inward, to take the necks of the crooks. Powerful arms did the rest. Their sweep never stopped as the hamlike hands clacked two heads hard together.

  Tapper saw the two lookouts slump to the ground. Their revolvers clattered with their flashlights. One torch went out; Tapper picked up the other, to extinguish it.

  The glow showed the face of Tapper's helper, it was that of a giant African, who displayed a wide, pleased grin.

  The man was Jericho, whose gigantic strength had made him useful in the past. Like Tapper, Jericho was a reserve worker of The Shadow; his name had not been learned by Strampf. Together, Tapper and Jericho made a combination that could accomplish certain tasks that The Shadow performed alone.

  Inside the house, the pair met The Shadow. The cloaked invader chose the route he wanted.

  IN the basement, Burbank was waiting glumly for the doom that he thought was due. His eyes were upon Kelvey, the key-man who was to receive the telephone call.

  Ace was standing close by, but he was looking through the passage toward the room that held The Shadow's agents.

  Doors were open. There, beyond the muzzles of aimed machine guns, the doomed prisoners stood in line. Once Ace spoke the word, death's withering fire would begin.

  The telephone bell jangled. Ace spoke, without turning.

  "Answer it, Kelvey," he ordered. "If it's Strampf -"

  Burbank lunged from his chair. He hit Kelvey as the man reached for the telephone. Burbank was determined to delay death, if only for seconds.

  Ace heard the clatter and wheeled about with a snarl. He saw Burbank pounding Kelvey. Ace aimed.

  One bullet would settle Burbank. Strampf could get someone else to fix the ray machine. Ace's main job was murder; he wasn't going to have it delayed by a lug who thought he was too important to be killed.

  That was the way Ace figured it, as he tightened his finger on the trigger.

  Something stopped Ace's shot. It was a sound that rose strident above the loud ringing of the telephone bell. That token was a mocking laugh that Ace Gandley had never expected to hear again. Ace wheeled to the far door of the room.

  There stood The Shadow, framed against a dimly lighted stairway.

  Ace blinked as though he had seen a ghost. That, however, did not stop his move. Dead or alive, ghost or human, The Shadow was crime's greatest foe. Ace jabbed his gun muzzle toward The Shadow and yanked hard at the trigger.

  Two guns spoke together. One was Ace's swinging revolver; the other, an automatic that loomed from The Shadow's fist. Muzzles spat flame; two bullets found instant lodgment; but those resting places differed.

  Ace's shot was hasty. Its slug carved deep into the woodwork beside The Shadow's shoulder. The Shadow's bullet went straight to its mark - the heart of Ace Gandley.

  CROOKS in the passage saw Ace fall. They turned, as they heard the challenge of The Shadow's laugh.

  To others, that strident mockery was a battle-cry. From the wall of the inner room, five agents of The Shadow came forward with a surge.

  They were battling for the machine guns before killers had a chance to use those weapons. Crooks whipped out revolvers; the fighting agents grappled for them. In the midst of the instant fray, The Shadow came sweeping through to aid them. Close behind The Shadow was Jericho and Tapper.

  Tapper saw Burbank struggling with Kelvey. He jumped to Burbank's aid. Kelvey was trying to pull a revolver. Tapper settled that with one of his own. A neat crack to Kelvey's skull put the fellow out of commission.

  Coming to his feet, Burbank grabbed for the telephone. It was his turn to provide an imitation. In raspy voice, he announced:

  "This is Kelvey."

  "All is ready!" The words came in the harsh voice of Strampf. "Give the order to Ace!"

  Burbank had clamped his hand over the mouthpiece. He lifted it slightly, so Strampf could hear him rasp:

  "Let 'em take it, Ace!"

  For a few seconds more, Burbank kept the mouthpiece covered. Shots were starting in the inner room.

  As the barrage increased, Burbank lifted his hand entirel
y. Across the wire went the sounds of intermittent gunfire, followed by the sudden drill of a machine gun.

  With that came silence.

  "Hear it?" questioned Burbank across the wire. "Ace gave it! We're ready to lam!"

  AS Burbank hung up the receiver, a procession came through from the prison room. That parade showed how the battle had finished. There had been six thugs in the death squad. All had fared badly.

  One unscathed thug came first, his hands upraised. Behind him were Harry and Cliff each poking him with a gun. Next came two thugs, unable to navigate of their own accord.

  Jericho had charge of them. He had each crippled rowdy by the coat collar and was supporting them so they could stumble ahead.

  Clyde Burke came out between Rutledge Mann and Moe Shrevnitz. Clyde was grinning while he clutched a wounded shoulder. He was the only one of The Shadow's followers who had taken a chance bullet while killers were being disarmed.

  After that group came Hawkeye.

  Last was The Shadow. No others followed. Three of Ace's murderous mob were lying dead in the prison room.

  To Burbank, The Shadow gave a single-worded order:

  "Report!"

  Methodically Burbank told how he had handled Strampf's telephone call. He pointed out the switch that controlled the lights. Burbank suspected that it had a double purpose. The Shadow agreed.

  The cloaked victor sent his agents ahead with the prisoners, including Kelvey who had recovered from Tapper's slug on the head. The Shadow retained Hawkeye so that he and Burbank could carry the crate that held the portable black-ray machine.

  When they had gone, The Shadow waited in the room that had once been Ace Gandley's headquarters.

  When all had gained time to reach the outside doors, The Shadow pulled the switch. Blackness followed; using a flashlight, The Shadow went up the stairs. Through the back door, he chose the path to the rear street. He arrived there, to find the others waiting. The Shadow paused.

  From the front street came the muffled thunder of a deep-placed explosion. It was followed by a prolonged clatter, as the old house tumbled into ruins. Burbank was right; that light switch was set to touch off a timed explosion.

  Crooks had intended that blast to cover up new evidence of death. The explosion had served its purpose. Bullet-riddled bodies lay beneath the ruins; but they were not the ones that Bradthaw and Strampf had planned should be there.

  Ace Gandley and three of his thuggish crew had gone to the grave intended for The Shadow's agents.

  CHAPTER XXI. CROOKS CLAIM WEALTH

  THE explosion at the old house was the final touch of The Shadow's strategy. News of that blast traveled far and rapidly. It came to Marvin Bradthaw, in his fortieth-story office.

  There, the insurance magnate was seated at his desk, while Strampf handled the dials of a big radio set.

  They were listening to police calls. Within three minutes after the explosion, the plotters heard the orders that went to the radio patrol.

  Bradthaw gave a nod. Strampf turned off the radio and came to the desk. He listened to Bradthaw's comment.

  "Kelvey answered your telephone call," chuckled the criminal executive. "You heard the machine gun over the wire. The news of the explosion was all we needed. We are ready to deal with the Melrues when they arrive."

  "That should he very soon," concurred Strampf. "Caudrey is well on his way."

  With only a few minutes to wait, Bradthaw indulged in further comments.

  "They will suspect nothing," he declared. "Nor will anyone else. I dismissed the office staff before eight o'clock. I stayed here presumably to hear the WNX broadcast and judge its commercial merits."

  Strampf was nodding when Bradthaw paused. After a short silence Bradthaw added:

  "It is unnecessary to have watchers outside this building. That was why I told you to bring none. Of course, we require the fake elevator man that you provided. He will obligingly forget that the Melrue heirs came up here but never returned below."

  "That means," remarked Strampf, "that we shall take them down in the service elevator ourselves."

  "Certainly. It will make them trust us all the more."

  "Until they are put into the truck that is waiting for them -"

  "After that, Strampf, nothing will matter."

  The conversation ended. From somewhere outside the office came the muffled thump of an elevator door. It meant that Caudrey had arrived with the Melrues aboard the passenger elevator.

  "Remember one thing," cautioned Bradthaw, leaning toward Strampf. "We must learn all that these people know before we show our hand."

  Strampf nodded. He ended the motion abruptly when the door opened.

  Bradthaw came to his feet to greet Caudrey. He smiled when the actuary introduced George and Francine.

  BRADTHAW'S smile appeared to be one of welcome. Its real inspiration was his sight of the suitcase that George placed carefully beside the big desk.

  After shaking hands with the visitors, Bradthaw explained matters in his convincing basso. His story was direct.

  As Bradthaw put it, he had heard from The Shadow. He was to assume custody of the three million dollars, giving the heirs a receipt for the amount.

  "In a sense," purred Bradthaw, "the funds will be insured. We shall take care of them and shall also arrange for your departure."

  To Strampf and Caudrey, that smug statement had a double meaning. The funds were insured; but Caudrey was the person who held the claim. As for the departure of the Melrues, that was to have a rapid sequel. Bradthaw intended prompt doom for the swindled dupes.

  "There is just one point," remarked Bradthaw. "In undertaking custody of these funds, I must be sure that you have mentioned the money to no one."

  He looked from George to Francine as he spoke. It was the girl who answered:

  "We have spoken to no one but The Shadow."

  "Only Francine talked to him," added George. "Since you are working with him, Mr. Bradthaw we are quite willing to entrust you with our wealth."

  George picked up the suitcase to hand it to Bradthaw. Francine stopped him.

  "Wait!" Francine's tone was firm. "We trust you, Mr. Bradthaw, but there is one thing that puzzles us. We expected to meet The Shadow here."

  George started to disagree with his sister. Bradthaw smilingly stopped George's objection.

  "Of course," agreed the master-crook. "It simply happens that The Shadow was detained."

  "By whom?" insisted Francine

  "By other business," replied Bradthaw. "That is why he left the matter entirely in my hands. I know what is in your mind, Miss Melrue. You fear that some impostor represented himself as The Shadow, in order to deceive me. Am I correct?"

  "Yes," said Francine, firmly. "I feel that we should have sufficient proof of your connection with The Shadow."

  OBLIGINGLY, Bradthaw arose from his desk. He ushered the others out through the door that led to the short stairway. With George carrying the bag, they went up to the tower room.

  There, Bradthaw pressed a switch that controlled the ceiling light. Francine and George stared at the black-walled sanctum.

  "The Shadow's own headquarters," expressed Bradthaw in a hushed tone. "Something that he allows few persons to see. I felt that you - like Caudrey and Strampf - were among the privileged."

  Gawking, George Melrue asked:

  "You mean that this Shadow chap actually works from here, Mr. Bradthaw?"

  "Of course!" replied the smooth-toned crook. "That is how he happened to become interested in your case. It began with the attempted theft of Miss Melrue's gems. You see" - Bradthaw turned to Francine -

  "The Shadow foresaw that your gems might be stolen."

  "He mentioned that," admitted Francine, "but I did not know exactly why he was interested."

  "Because you had insured the jewels," smiled Bradthaw. "I shall divulge a secret. The Shadow is in the employ of the Solidarity Insurance Company."

  "But my gems were insured by an
other company -"

  "Which we control. That explains everything Miss Melrue. Here is my receipt for three million dollars. Let us have the suitcase."

  George handed over the bag when Francine took the receipt. Bradthaw told Strampf and Caudrey to stack the funds on The Shadow's table. They counted the amount. It came to more than three million.

  "That calls for a correction on the receipt," remarked Bradthaw. "Let me have the paper, Miss Melrue."

  Francine opened her purse and looked for the paper. She had trouble finding it. Bradthaw looked on indulgently. He had no suspicion of what was due. Francine's hand popped suddenly into view.

  Instead of the receipt, the girl produced a gun. She pointed the small caliber revolver straight for Bradthaw. In quick tones Francine ordered:

  "Raise your hands, Mr. Bradthaw! Don't make a move! That applies to your fellow criminals. One move from them, I shall shoot you dead!"

  FRANCINE'S threat carried real weight. Bradthaw knew how valiantly the girl had battled crooks at her apartment. His hands came upward.

  The moment that they rose, Strampf and Caudrey were left powerless. They depended entirely upon Bradthaw. Neither dared make a move while their chief was in danger.

  Despite his startlement, Bradthaw was crafty. He actually smiled as he faced the muzzle of Francine's gun.

  "You are making a terrible mistake!" reasoned the criminal insurance official as convincing as ever. "It is dangerous to draw a gun without provocation. You are nervous, Miss Melrue. If your finger should tighten on that trigger, you might kill me!"

  "Which is what you deserve," Francine told him. "Stand where you are! You are more than a thief. You are a murderer!"

  Bradthaw's cold eyes became stern.

  "The crime of murder will be yours," he declared. "This is a grave mistake, Miss Melrue. I advise you to put away that gun. I am sorry that I am not close enough to take it from you. If only I had the opportunity

  -"

  As he spoke Bradthaw looked toward George Melrue. The young man caught the significance of the statement that failed to impress Francine. George was close enough; with a quick grab, he seized his sister's gun.