Doc Savage - The Pink Lady Part 17

"Well, a kind of a one. But Chet moved into this place like a steam roller. n.o.body had much chance."

"You got away all right?"

"Sure. They think I drowned. I was afraid this Chet Farmer would know I was one of your men. He's a slick rascal, that Farmer."

"Where are they?" Doc asked.

"A long time ago," Long Tom explained, "some crazy guy got the idea of building himself a home like a castle on this place. He only finished about half of it, and the rest is standing there, gone to pot and ruin.

That's where they are."

Doc asked, "Can three of us-four including Miss Harland-do any good?"

Long Tom hesitated. He looked at Doc Savage. He smiled slightly.

"We won't know for sure until we try it," he said.

"Have you any carrier pigeons left?"

"One was all I could sneak in," Long Tom confessed. "I was lucky to get away with that one. I had the darn cuss in a box with some clothes wrapped around it, and the bird kept cooing. I had to pretend I had hiccups and asthma, so that I made the same sounds."

HALF an hour later, Doc Savage said, "You two remain here. When I whistle a short and a long, repeated, rush in and do what you can. But if there is no whistle"-the bronze man put his hands on their arms to emphasize this-"do not try to help. Keep under cover, no matter how much excitement you hear."

Long Tom nodded.

Doc finished, "And if you hear a series of very short whistles, do more than stay under cover-get off theisland. Go for help."

"Right," Long Tom agreed.

The bronze man left them there, flat among bushes in the far-flung shadow-it was well along in the afternoon-of the one building on the island that had any size. He crawled toward the structure.

The size of the half-ruined building was deceptive; from a distance it looked huge, medieval, romantic. At closer range, however, the thing was evident as what it was, an attempt at a feudal castle which had failed.

Not even the outer walls were fully completed, or possibly a storm had knocked down the battlements at one point, which was on the east. There had been a moat, but now this was a ditch in which there was sand, weeds, brackish green water.

Doc got down into the moat, listened, heard nothing, went on. He clambered through the gap in the walls-and was discovered.

The guard's expression was completely blank. He had been standing behind a wall, and he had made no sound. He had stepped out without expecting anything. And come face to face with Doc Savage, but a little over arm length away.

Doc half turned his head, acted as if addressing someone behind him.

"Bodine," he said, "here is the guard."

The guard had his mouth open to yell an alarm, and nothing on earth-not the fastest jump Doc could have made at him-would have kept the sound inside him. But he closed his mouth. He moved his head a little, looking for Bodine. That gave Doc a chance.

They went down heavily, and loose rocks ground together under them as they struggled. It would not have been much of a fight, except for the need for silence. It is hard to overcome a man and do it silently.

Doc finally got his hands on the neck nerve centers, so that after a minute or so the fellow was still. Doc lifted and carried him outside, among the bushes.

Doc then returned to Long Tom and the girl. The bronze man picked up one of the equipment cases which they had brought, and beckoned Long Tom and the young woman. He guided them to the senseless guard.

"We oughta tie up that guy," Long Tom whispered.

"On the contrary," Doc said, "you will sit here, both of you, until he regains his senses. Then you will let him escape."

"Escape?" Long Tom stared.

"Let him get away," Doc said, "and be sure that he escapes in the direction of his friends."

Long Tom was puzzled, but he nodded. He found rocks less uncomfortable than the others for himself and the girl, and sat down. They were waiting when the bronze man left them.

Doc opened the equipment case, took out a metal container and unscrewed the top. The contents were sand-colored beads that might have been puffed-grain breakfast food, as far as appearance was concerned. Wet padding kept them moist.He spread these behind him, scattering them widely, being careful to drop none. Their dampness disappeared quickly in the sun, and they were hardly noticeable against the sand and stone.

He kept spreading the things behind him as he went. After he was in the intact part of the old building, he spread them all across the hall floors.

He came finally to a door behind which there was a musical sound like the high string of a violin vibrating steadily.

He avoided the door, found a way outside, and located a window. He had one of his periscope devices-he kept extras in the supplies-and he used that on the window. It gave him a good view.

IT was a huge room. The impractical designer of the place must have intended it to be a kind of feudal banquet room, a central chamber which would dwarf all other rooms in the place. The great chamber was in fairly good condition, which probably was why they were using it.

More than a dozen prisoners-Bodine's men-were lined up along one wall, where there was a series of supporting posts. Each man was tied to a post.

Centrally located in the room and supporting the roof were three larger columns. To one of these was tied a big man, who stood there in a bloat-cheeked rage, and Cy, who showed signs of conflict and was only partly conscious.

To a second column Johnny and Renny were lashed. Monk, very pink and very indignant, had a column to himself. There was a man on the floor near Monk's feet, with one side of his face peeled and his nose leaking a string of scarlet. Most of the hide was off Monk's left-hand set of knuckles.

The most interesting object in the place, however, was the machine they had set up to the left, near a window in which the panes were still intact.

It was a complicated gadget, and it looked doubly so because of having been transplanted from Peter Harland's laboratory and quickly a.s.sembled. There were transformers and high-frequency coils, vacuum bulbs and three generators-the latter very small considering the bulk of the rest of the equipment, and operating from storage batteries.

Suspended by a long handle-the device was so heavy and the handle so long that two men had to manage it-was a complicated thing which seemed to be mostly wire and quartz. This contraption looked impressive, because it was surrounded with a weird electric blue corona in which there was a smaller corona of changing shape and color.

All controls seemed to be centered in one spot, and the man who stood there was obviously Peter Harland.

Peter Harland was a wreck. Some of his fingernails were missing, and his face showed where it had been burned with cigarettes. Both eyes were black, lips cut, one tooth was missing. He was not pink.

He stood there manipulating the machine with a kind of frightened intensity.

They were moving the gadget of wire and quartz back and forth over a wooden table. On the table lay the pink man who had pretended to be Peter Harland.

No one was saying anything. Everyone stared at the machine, at the man on the table.There were objects scattered around on the floor that were different colors. There was a gun that was perfectly white, and a coat that was blue, weirdly blue. The wooden table itself was several colors, mostly shades of pink.

The pink man was slowly turning white. He had his legs thrust under a rope, and his hands gripped the edges of the table.

"Shut it of!" he croaked suddenly. Chet Farmer grinned.

Peter Harland moved a switch. The man sat up on the table and eyed his hands, and Chet Farmer watched him.

"Listen," he said, "a guy who gets in this thing should take gas, or something. d.a.m.n!"

He examined his hands some more, then frowned at his bare legs.

"Give us a little brown color," he said. "Make it look like I've got a sun tan."

He lay back, and the machine resumed its whine. The man turned slightly tan.

"O. K.," he said. Once more he scrutinized himself. Then he glanced at Peter Harland. "All right. You did a better job on me than you did on yourself."

His hair was the same shade of brown as his skin. And the same thing was true of Peter Harland.

The man asked, "What about my hair? Will it ever get its normal color?"

"Your natural color will probably grow back."

Chet Farmer poked the man in the chest. "All right now," Chet said. "We've done our part. You do yours, Bodine."

Bodine-the one who had pretended to be Harland was evidently Bodine-seemed uneasy. "I-well, is it a smart thing to do before we catch Savage?"

Chet Farmer cursed him. "Smart or not, you hop to it! The agreement was this: We take that pink color out of you. You knock off Doc Savage's men for us."

Bodine groaned. "All right," he said.

"And then you clear out."

"And then I clear out." Bodine seemed completely defeated.

CHET FARMER seemed to get a great deal of pleasure out of the other's abas.e.m.e.nt. He leered cheerfully. "You rat!" he said. "If you hadn't tried to hog this, we could have been partners."

Bodine said nothing, and his silence irritated Farmer.

Suddenly Farmer grinned.

"Bring that stuff they got off the truck," he ordered. While three men were obeying the command, Farmer poked Bodine in the ribs gleefully. "Know you'll want to see how your pet idea works out."It was hard for Doc Savage to tell what they dumped on the table. The objects were very small, dark.

There was a surprisingly small mound of them.

Chet Farmer picked up several of the objects.

"Black diamonds," he said. "Used to point drills and for cutting surfaces in machine tools." He eyed Bodine. "What would you say they were worth, the way they are now, Bodine?"

"I don't know," Bodine muttered.

"Make a guess, pal."

"A few thousand dollars," Bodine said gloomily.

"Worth a few thousand when they are black-but what would you say if we can turn them into blue-white gems?"

Bodine glowered.

Chet Farmer stalked over. "Answer me, you dope! What'll they be worth if we can make them blue-whites?"

Bodine said, "A few hundred thousand, probably."

Chet Farmer laughed. He laughed so long and so heartily that there was a kind of madness in his mirth.

When he sobered, it was suddenly. He whirled on Peter Harland.

"Will it work?" he demanded.

Peter Harland shrugged. "I do not know."

"Why the h.e.l.l don't you?" Farmer glared at him.

Peter Harland's gesture was weary. "You must understand that I have experimented hardly at all with this process. In fact, I discovered it by accident the same night that I was myself a victim of the thing. I was trying to work out a method of putting fast, unfadable colors in plastic materials. I was doing the research for my company. They were financing me. In fact, the process really belongs to my company."

Chet Farmer laughed harshly. "It belongs to the guy who has got it," he said. "And that guy-"

He meant himself, of course, but he never got to explain that point. Because out in the sunlight, on the other side of the ruin, the lookout-the man who had been knocked out by Doc Savage and left with Long Tom and Ham and the girl with orders that they should release him-let out a series of howls for help.

"Savage is out here!" he bellowed.

THE effect of the shout on Chet Farmer was strange. He looked incredulous. Then instinct a.s.serted itself, and he took a few hasty jumps in the opposite direction. Then he caught himself, and covered his instinctive retreat by snarling, "Gimme your gun!" at one of his men.

To the others, he bellowed, "Get out there! Everybody! If Savage is here, he came alone-he works that way."This last piece of information was probably jerked out of his mind to encourage his men.

There was a general rush, a milling melee, and the room emptied of everyone except prisoners-someone conveniently slammed Bodine on the head, dropping him unconscious, and another man slugged Peter Harland.

Chet Farmer made for the window. The same window at which Doc Savage was watching, which ordinarily would have been a good move of retreat. Doc withdrew his periscope device. Chet Farmer did not look out of the window. He put his feet out with the intention of dropping, and Doc leaped, grabbed his ankle and yanked him.

The breath went out of Farmer when he hit the ground. His knowledge of what was happening left him when Doc Savage landed a fist on his jaw in front of and below the ear.

Doc leaped, caught the window sill. He swung inside. Everyone in the big room was tied with rope, and Monk, the instant he saw Doc Savage, barked, "Doc, there's a big sharp knife under that table!"

The knife was there. Doc slashed Monk free, jammed the knife in his hand, said, "Get the others loose."

The bronze man himself dashed after the men who had answered the alarm outside. He had the case containing the stuff that looked like puffed breakfast food. He found a hall.

He spread the things over the corridor floor for some yards, retreating back toward the big room as he did so.