The Shadow - The Black Dragon Part 3

WHOLESALE MYSTERY THINGS looked very black for Steve Trask, blacker, even, than the jet-hued dragon that nestled deep in the pocket from which it had once vanished - something that Steve wished it would do again. For the tiny dragon was looming more and more as an incriminating factor.

According to Cardona, Lewis Pendleton had owned just such a souvenir, because hotel employees had seen it in his room. With Pendleton's death the black dragon had vanished, exactly as Steve claimed it had in Miljohn's case.

Far from clearing Steve, that link only deepened the accusations against him. Cardona shot the question: "Do you know what the black dragon represents?"

"It must stand for some organization," replied Steve. "The members carry black dragons as tokens, I suppose. Somebody is preying on them -"

As nearly as it could, Cardona's face formed an interrupting sneer. Steve stopped talking, puzzled.

"You would play innocent!" scoffed Cardona. "You'll be telling me next that the Black Dragon crowd is made up of Chinese."

"Isn't it?" Steve asked.

"Hear that?" Cardona turned to put his question to Fenmore. Then, seeing that the financier looked really puzzled, the inspector said: "Sorry, Mr.

Fenmore. Naturally, you wouldn't know. The Black Dragon Society is made up of Oriental thugs who are j.a.panese-controlled. There are mighty few Chinese who belong to it, and these are renegades."

"Then why would Miljohn and Pendleton have Dragon tokens?" demanded Fenmore. "They must have suffered at the hands of that organization."

"They were murdered by it!" expressed Cardona, "Don't you get it yet, Mr.

Fenmore? Those carved dragons aren't members.h.i.+p badges, not by a long shot, They're death certificates. Whoever gets one is marked for murder, unless he delivers whatever the Black Dragon wants!"

Steve's thoughts exploded.

So that was why Miljohn had been murdered! He'd ignored the warning from the Black Dragon. The same applied to Pendleton, and even Steve's own case was covered. The Dragon Clan hadn't come after him; he'd gone after it, and gained a due reward. Sujan, planted in Chinatown for just such a purpose, had given Steve a jet dragon when he'd asked for one.

Therefore, Steve had been tagged for death, from which The Shadow saved him!

THE trouble was, Cardona didn't see it that way. The ace police inspector was figuring things to his own convenience. He thought that Steve had murdered both Miljohn and Pendleton, each time picking up the dragon token that the victim hadn't heeded. The clincher in Cardona's estimate was Steve's absurd alibi of a fantastic Chinatown adventure at the very hour of Pendleton's death.

"Smart stuff, Trask," jabbed Cardona, "coming here with the dragon you brought from Pendleton's and saying Miljohn had one like it! You wanted us to know that Miljohn's death was murder, instead of suicide, you thought we'd never accuse you of the very thing you so obligingly revealed!"

He added: "You figured, too, that by chattering about one crime, you could dodge questions on another. We'd just ride over the Pendleton case and forget it, where you were concerned - at least, that's how you doped it. But we've tagged you for both jobs, and what's more, today you were delivering another death threat.

"That's what you did when you handed the black dragon to Mr. Fenmore." Steve was sweating under the third degree. A light blinded his eyes.

Then came a welcome pause, produced by new arrivals, persons who stopped beyond the light. Whoever they were, Cardona saw fit to greet them; and Steve, given a chance to speak for himself, made the most of it.

"Call Li Huang!" blurted Steve. "He'll tell you that I was in his house."

Paper crinkled beyond the glaring light. It was Steve's typewritten statement, being pa.s.sed from hand to hand. Then Cardona's voice: "All right. We'll phone Li Huang."

Steve heard Cardona make the call, and though he couldn't see the telephone, he took it for granted that the inspector wasn't faking. Finis.h.i.+ng, Cardona gave a short, harsh laugh.

"Li Huang never heard of you!" the inspector sneered.

Steve broke into a frenzied protest. Of course Li Huang wouldn't know who Steve was, because Steve hadn't identified himself. Cardona's whole handling of the matter was unfair, done in a manner that Li Huang would mistake for a trick.

If they'd take Steve to Li Huang's, the Chinaman would remember him.

Cardona extinguished the glaring light. After a minute of blinking Steve made out other faces. One that wore a military mustache-belonged to Police Commissioner Ralph Weston. Steve heard Cardona address the commissioner by his t.i.tle.

Accompanying Weston was a man named Cranston, whose face was dignified, reserved and quite impa.s.sive. Indeed, Steve might have identified Cranston with The Shadow, but for the fact that the commissioner's companion was leisurely in action and utterly indifferent to the business under discussion. Every time Weston addressed him, Cranston appeared bored.

"Trask admits knowing Miljohn," a.s.serted Weston brusquely. "The question now is whether he knew Pendleton, which is something that he won't admit.

Perhaps some of Pendleton's friends can tell us."

"Pendleton just returned from the Orient," objected Fenmore. "He has very few friends in New York. Even I knew him only by reputation."

"What about Sauber, the importer?" queried Weston. "His business with the Orient was huge. He must have advertised in some of Pendleton's journals. They should have known each other quite well."

Steve saw Fenmore shake his head.

"I am afraid Pendleton knew Sauber too well," said Fenmore. "Two years ago, Pendleton canceled Sauber's advertising because it was misrepresented.

Nevertheless, Sauber might be the very man to supply information concerning an insidious organization like the Dragon Clan."

MARCHED from Fenmore's mansion, Steve found himself planted between Cardona and Weston in the commissioner's official car.

Cranston wasn't accompanying them. Either he felt that the trip would bore him, or people like Sauber didn't belong in Cranston's social set. Then, as the car rolled away from Fenmore's, Steve had a hunch. Maybe the choosy Mr.

Cranston didn't care to ride in a car that contained a common criminal like Steve!

That was enough for Steve to dismiss Cranston completely and think of what Sauber might be like. Steve was left to his own conjectures, for Weston and Cardona were remaining strictly silent.

The big, official car was nosing its way through a slum area, whichstruck Steve as an odd district for a wealthy importer's residence. Then Steve noted that large warehouses, sprouting up among the squatty tenements, were largely occupied by importing concerns.

Swinging a corner, the car stopped near an archway that opened into a secluded court, a short street of its own. There were trees as well as houses beyond the archway, marking the court as an exclusive residential sector.

One of the houses was Sauber's, because Weston and Cardona alighted, drawing Steve with them. Pa.s.sing through the archway, Steve looked to his right and saw a similar arch, leading to another street. It was very dark, that archway, like the boxes surrounding the trees and the narrow cul-de-sacs that flanked the houses.

A servant answered Cardona's ring, but it was Weston who introduced himself and asked for Sauber. Before the servant could summon the importer, a querulous voice arrived, followed by Sauber himself. At first, the importer was just a blocky figure, but when he reached the vestibule, his face showed plainly, as though a veil had been swept from it.

The reason, of course, was the light in the vestibule. Sauber had stepped right into its focus. But that only made the thing the more startling to Steve.

It was like something s.n.a.t.c.hed from a forgotten dream and brought into reality.

Beady eyes, bushy brows, sharp nose above yellowed teeth - those features, and the thrust of the jaw beneath them, jabbed Steve's memory like a pin puncturing a balloon.

Sauber was the man that Steve had met outside of Li Huang's, the figure who had arrived by cab only to dart away when shadows came to life!

If the evil Dragon Clan owned a local chief, Carlton Sauber was a logical candidate for the insidious t.i.tle of Black Dragon!

Briefly stating the object of the visit, Cardona asked if Sauber could identify Steve as a person who had known Pendleton. Briefly, those beady eyes showed recognition; then, with a sudden head-shake, Sauber drew back into the vestibule.

"No, no!" began Sauber hoa.r.s.ely. "I never saw this man before. I never met Miljohn or Pendleton. I know nothing about the Black Dragon, except that it should be avoided. I am an importer. At least, I used to be until the business closed, but I have never been to China, nor any part of the Orient -"

"Except Chinatown!" With that interruption, Steve shoved his handcuffed fists toward Sauber. "You were there last night, outside of Li Huang's, and you're going to tell us why!"

Madly, Sauber was trying to thrust Steve back and slam the door in his face. Weston and Cardona aided by hauling their prisoner down the steps. They were at the bottom, Steve halfway up, and Sauber at the top, all etched against the light, when Sauber gave a warding gesture in his wide-arm fas.h.i.+on of the night before.

The signal that had unleashed a horde of villainous fighters, followers of the notorious Black Dragon!

Steve was lunging for a grab at Sauber's arm when the door slammed hard.

But it wasn't the combined pull of Weston and Cardona that brought Steve down.

Instead, the force was living blackness that swooped from nowhere up between the two men whose clutches couldn't hold Steve back. Again, The Shadow!

SOMERSAULTING as the black swirl swept him, Steve heard whizzing sounds above him. Those whirs ended in thuds as a pair of knives drove deep into Sauber's door and stopped there, quivering. There were startled shouts from Weston and Cardona as they sprang off to the sides of the steps, pulling their police revolvers.

Finis.h.i.+ng against a tree, Steve was hauled to his feet by the human tornado that had swept him from murder's path. Next, he was reeling through the side arch leading from the court. Guided by The Shadow, Steve could feel sudden jolts along the route. They were produced by the recoils from the gun with which The Shadow was jabbing shots at seemingly invisible foemen.

Steve's whirl increased as he landed in a waiting cab, the same timely vehicle as the night before. The door slammed and Steve was spinning away.

Back in the double-arched court, Weston and Cardona were making for the commissioner's car, jabbing useless shots at hidden lurkers who were beginning to respond with guns. Seeing his chauffeur, Weston yelled for the fellow to summon a.s.sistance, and the big car sped away to its a.s.signment.

Then new guns were talking from the very center of the court. The Shadow was back again, revolving like a battle turret, tuning his evasive laugh to the stabs of his deadly automatics. Each .45 seemed to s.n.a.t.c.h lurkers from their hiding spots. Tonight, they preferred flight to mortal combat with The Shadow.

Four were coming straight for Weston, when Cardona hauled him around the outer corner of the archway and down into a bas.e.m.e.nt entry. Whistling knives went past and clattered across the street; then motley men were scattering away from the shots that The Shadow was free to fire, since Weston and Cardona were out of the way.

Coming up from cover, Cardona glimpsed The Shadow wheeling back into the court. Then he was gone, that shape of blackness, pursuing a pair of stragglers who were making for the other archway. It seemed a sure finish for the Dragon Clan despite their mad flight, for The Shadow was scattering the human chaff where the police could gather it.

From various directions, Cardona, heard the shrill of whistles, the blare of sirens, and finally the roaring motors of patrol cars. Weston's official car was back, speeding from one street to another, to summon more reserves. The glare of searchlights spotted in from every street, picking out every niche and cranny along the house walls, blocking off all escape.

And in the middle stood Inspector Joe Cardona, more astonished than he had ever been before. Steve Trask was gone: that was bad enough. The Shadow had disappeared: that was to be expected.

But along with The Shadow, master of invisible methods, had vanished the entire tribe that served the Black Dragon, producing utter mystery on a wholesale scale!

CHAPTER VII.

THE DRAGON IN BLACK.

THE same thing was happening on two streets in Manhattan. That was, a unique event was occurring in two separate places, which was reallyextraordinary!

One thing involved Commissioner Weston's official car. It was coming back from its task. Patrol cars swung to the curb to let it pa.s.s. There wasn't a cop in town who didn't know the commissioner's oversized crate by sight. Indeed, that was the reason why the roving chauffeur had been able to gather so many police in so short a time.

When the big car pulled up in front of Gotham Court, where Carlton Sauber was a resident, Commissioner Weston stepped forward to congratulate the chauffeur. But Weston's tone of commendation changed when Inspector Cardona arrived to report the wholesale disappearance of at least a half dozen unidentified thugs, who by this time might be east of Suez for all Cardona knew.

"Find them!" bawled Weston. "Search everywhere! Hunt through the court!"

"That's one place they can't be!" insisted Cardona. "The Shadow drove them out."

"Search, anyway, to make sure that Sauber is safe. Those killers were trying to get him. The moment Trask attacked Sauber, the whole tribe popped out!"

Weston still had the wrong slant on Steve. In fact, the commissioner wasn't really certain of anything except that his car had returned and was parked outside Gotham Court.

Curious, therefore, that the big vehicle should also be rolling along a side street, outward-bound, a dozen blocks from the commissioner's present base!

However, it was - and patrol cars were making way for it. The same thing, in the shape of Weston's car, was in two different places!

n.o.body realized that two editions of that vehicle were at large: the genuine and this counterfeit.

No one except The Shadow.

He was a pa.s.senger on board the duplicate car. Actually "on board"

because he wasn't inside it. The Shadow was stretched on the top, his presence unsuspected by the huddled men who crammed the interior. This was the getaway car for the Black Dragon's six-man crew!

Clever of the Black Dragon to have a replica of the commissioner's well-known car outside of Sauber's. It had literally whisked his a.s.sorted followers from the vortex of the converging police. In planning crime, the Black Dragon could launch it best wherever the commissioner might be. Whoever he was, the Black Dragon was surely endowed with foresight.

HOWEVER, the Black Dragon hadn't made allowance for the unpredictable methods of The Shadow. In choosing this car for his own travel, The Shadow was running little risk of discovery. The driver was following dark, secluded streets.

The motley mob disembarked in a gloomy, blind alley behind an old loft building. The place was midway between Sauber's and Chinatown, convenient to both.

When the varied s.e.xtet poured from the fake official car, The Shadow noted limping members of the group, proof that he had winged a few targets. The limpers huddled by an obscure door leading into the building, while the rest made a brief inspection tour to make sure they hadn't been followed.

They were thinking in terms of The Shadow, probing every cranny fortraces of their cloaked foe, and all the while he was perched in their very midst on top of the car that they were using as the base from which they made their search!

There was one rule that The Shadow had never known to fail. It was the axiom that confidence would produce carelessness. So sure were these Orientals that The Shadow couldn't be anywhere about, that the way was paved for an even bolder course.

Easing down from the car top, The Shadow actually joined his recent enemies as they moved in through the doorway. The shrouding blackness hid him perfectly, and he knew this tribe wouldn't be using lights. Keeping with the tribe, The Shadow went right past the guards.

The loose-knit crew climbed a flight of stairs, reached a door that opened to receive them. The room beyond was lighted, but its glow came from past some concrete pillars of the bulky sort so common in loft buildings. s.h.i.+elded by the advancing dragon men themselves, The Shadow followed them into the meeting place, then side-stepped to a pillar as they continued onward.

At least two dozen of the Dragon Clan were already a.s.sembled, but their total was unimportant. Numbers dwindled when compared to the individual who presided over this meeting. This wasn't just a batch of underlings, holding a get-together.

Seated on a raised throne near the far wall, directly facing the a.s.sembled throng, was the master of the show: The Black Dragon!

LONG had The Shadow sought the human monstrosity who represented the insidious j.a.panese clan. Finding him, The Shadow saw that the Black Dragon was indulging in suitable theatricals. Sinister though the Dragon's followers considered themselves, they shrank to pitiful proportions in the presence of their powerful leader.

The Black Dragon saw to that. It fitted his style to play the role of an Oriental potentate, before whom his creatures could grovel. Likewise his ident.i.ty was concealed; not merely as a precaution - a thing which he might be expected to disdain - but because the very t.i.tle of the Black Dragon const.i.tuted a personality in itself, and therefore should be kept as such.

All that was manifested by the device which kept the Black Dragon unknown.

He was attired in a j.a.panese robe, its jacket golden, its sleeves silver.

Circling upward from the hem of the robe was an embroidered dragon, so huge, so fanciful, that it was forced to coil several times around the costume.

The embroidered dragon was jet-black, and every time its wearer moved the coils produced a writhing effect. But that was not the most remarkable feature of the costume, nor the most lifelike. It happened that the robe wasn't large enough to include the entire dragon, so it had an extension in the form of a hood, which made the dragon's head.