The Shadow - The Death Sleep Part 12

"Yeah? Well, what's the dope?"

"The Shadow again."

"The Shadow? Where did he horn in?"

"That fight up in the hall. The news hounds got it from the police that some of the guests must have put up a battle. But that wasn't the lay at all."

"Shoot it, quick."

"Here's what happened," explained Spud. "Skeet and the five guys with him were over in the empty apartment. They got the signal all right. From the inside man. It meant to come in five minutes, if there wasn't no other sign. That was it, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. That was the dope I had you pa.s.s to Skeet. Go on."

"Skeet sends the boys out ahead. Back in the empty apartment, he knows there's something wrong. The last of the crew chucks one of the bombs."

"In the hall?"

"Yeah. He heaves it from the door of the empty apartment. Then comes shots. This guy uses his rod. It was Zug. Skeet seen him fire. Then comes another shot. Zug pitches flat. Out in the hall. So Skeet slams the door."

"Yellow, eh?"

"Yellow nothing. Didn't he see Zug toss the bomb? Skeet knowed it was some sniper out there, shooting from where the gas couldn't get him. He figures The Shadow, so he waits. When he does sneak out, the gas is done. The four guys are lying in the hall. Door of the apartment is open. Skeet knows they must have heaved a bomb in there, because there's no noise.

"He sees the steel door of the fire tower and figures it was from in back of that The Shadow does the sharpshooting. No sign of The Shadow no longer. So Skeet moves quick. He s.n.a.t.c.hes the masks off them dead gorillas and takes the couple of bombs they got left. He heads down the stairs in a hurry."

"Where were you all this time?"

"Outside, laying back, with gorillas all around the apartment house. I spotted the bulls coming up. I knowed there was going to be trouble. Some tip-off. So I busted loose with my gat. Give the boys the alarm. I beat it over to the coupe and made a getaway."

"The others?"

"They was quick. Put up a running fight and took it on the lam. n.o.body scratched. But wait'll I tell you the rest about Skeet. He heaved another bomb in the lobby, square into the middle of a lot of cops.

Knocked them out. Grabbed a cab; plugged a bomb into a patrol car. Made his getaway."

"Did anybody see him work?" quizzed Wolf.

"Only the taxi driver," replied Spud, with a grin, "and Skeet fixed him right. Picked a place to drop offand told the guy to slow down. Just as Skeet slid from the cab, he laid another bomb in the front seat.

"Boy! That cab goes right through a traffic light, hits the curb, and busts through a plate-gla.s.s window.

Traffic cop goes piling over to give the driver blazes. Finds him sitting at the wheel, stiff as a board."

"That meant another mug for the hospital. The taxi driver was the only one that saw Skeet use the bomb.

It gave Skeet a chance for an easy getaway besides. I met him over at the hideout. He slipped me the whole story."

WOLF had risen. He was pacing back and forth, recalling all that Spud had related. The big shot was tabulating losses, considering consequences. Spud watched him hopefully. He started to speak once or twice, but caught himself each time. When Wolf spoke, his tone was a.n.a.lytical.

"First off," declared the big shot, "you're out a raiding crew. The only guy left is Skeet. He looks to be the best of the lot. You're right about him using brains last night. We can count on him to lead the next raid.

You'll have to pick the four best gorillas you've got in the outside crew. Who are they?"

"Louie and Gabby, to begin with," returned Spud, promptly. "Then there's two other guys. Muggsy McGilly and the fellow that came with him - Cliff Marsland."

"Marsland, eh? I've heard of him. Did time up in the big house. He's been doing good since he got out of stir. Say - how'd you land him for the outfit?"

"Luke Gonrey knew him. Luke fixed it."

"Well, he's worth a couple of ordinary gorillas. Get hold of those four bimboes tonight. Send them up to the hideout. Skeet can break them in."

"For a job tonight?"

"Yeah. Listen, Spud, we're going to pull something that'll turn this town upside down. Something I just got wind of from a smart guy I know. Did you ever hear tell of Teladron?"

"Who is he? One of them Greeks that owns a chain of restaurants?"

"The name's Greek all right," snorted Wolf, "but it don't refer to a person. Teladron is the name of a play.

What they call a modernized version of a cla.s.sic tragedy. Here's the dope on it. In the newspaper."

Wolf fumbled through the pages of the journal that he had been reading. He noted an advertis.e.m.e.nt and a column article. He chuckled.

"This play opened in Philadelphia," he stated. "They tried it down there and it clicked like wildfire. All the ritzy folks were making week-end trips to Philly just to see that show. Well, Teladron closed in Philadelphia, and it's opening here tonight.

"The promoters have opened the old Galloway Theater. Seats fifteen hundred people, and you know what the prices are going to be? Five bucks up to twenty bucks top; and there won't be a seat empty."

"How come?" questioned Spud, amazed.

"The censors weren't going to let it open," explained Wolf. "The box seats were sold; before the regular advance sale started, the censors put the ban on it. They'd seen the show down in Philly. They said nix.

Then the promoters pulled a smart one. They got an injunction against the censors on the grounds that they couldn't pa.s.s decision on a show that hadn't appeared in New York." "So it's opening?"

"Yeah. Teladron tonight at the Galloway. Maybe it'll be toned down; maybe it won't. The whole cast may be pinched. But the show runs this one night, at least. That's why the prices skyrocketed. The promoters aren't going to deal with agencies. Ticket sale starts at five o'clock, at the theater."

"Where do we come in?"

"First of all on the box office receipts. I figure they'll take between ten and fifteen grand. That goes up to the manager's office. One guy with a gas bomb can take care of that. But that's chicken feed."

"I told you the boxes have been sold. I've learned who's got them. This show is going to be as big as the opening of an opera season, except that it'll be flashy as well as ritzy. You've heard of Peter Caldoon, haven't you?"

"Yeah. The South African diamond king. Has a couple of Pinkertons with him for a bodyguard."

"That's the guy. The rocks he wears are worth fifty grand, and he never carries less than that amount of dough with him. Well, he's got one box, with the d.i.c.ks there with him. In another box we'll find Halwood, the banker. His wife's due to show up with a big layout of sparklers. That ain't all; but there's no use in going through the whole list. The point is, we're going to get all the swag in sight."

"By ga.s.sing the boxes, eh? But what about the rest of the folks in the theater? What about the actors?"

"Listen, Spud. You know what those bombs will do. Their action is terrific. The gas goes everywhere; then drops. Valdan invented it for war purposes. Claimed that a big-sized bomb could cover the area of half a city block.

"Maybe he exaggerated; but it's a bet that if your outfit chucks a half dozen, there won't be n.o.body left to squawk. The newspapers say that the audiences in Philly were paralyzed with laughter when they saw Teladron. Well, we'll give this New York crowd a taste of real paralysis. Actors along with the audience.

"You've got five men. One comes in from back stage. One goes up to the manager's office, while another covers the lobby. The other two cut down in by the boxes. The first guy busts a bomb square on the stage. Changes the action into a still picture. That's the cue.

"The guy that's after the box office dough is watching from the balcony. The mug from the lobby is lamping the stage from downstairs. The fellows by the boxes are looking in too. Masks ready; on they go. Out come the bombs."

SPUD was staring open-mouthed. The tremendous scope of this scheme stunned him. His lips moved, but made no utterance. Wolf watched him, chuckling, while Spud finally found his voice.

"You - you mean" - the mobleader stuttered - "we're going to hand the death sleep to everybody in that theater? Fifteen hundred of them -"

"That's it," returned Wolf, leering. "Customers for a lot of hospitals this trip; not just the Talleyrand. When the gas. .h.i.ts, the fellow upstairs hops for the manager's office and drops another bomb. He grabs the dough and comes downstairs. Meanwhile the two by the boxes are making grabs for bank rolls and jewelry.

"There's two ways out. Across the stage and through the back alley; or out by the lobby. Remember - both those ways are covered. The fellows there have extra bombs. The pineapples will work in the openif they're needed.

"You be around, but not too close to the theater. The crew heads for the hideout with the swag. That's where you meet them. Remember, the bulls don't know yet that we're using gas. They won't be thinking about the death sleep hitting in a whole theater. If they got the gas idea at all, they'll figure it's limited. Not big enough to paralyze fifteen hundred people all at once."

"What about an outside crew?" inquired Spud.

"Get one," ordered Wolf, "but do it cagey. A big bunch of cheap gorillas; have them report in different places near the theater and stay there. They won't know what job we're pulling. Tell them if they see any guys with masks making a getaway, they're to help out. Get it?"

"I've got it," nodded Spud. "Even if The Shadow does get on the trail of some small fry, he won't be able to figure out what's happening until it's over."

Wolf motioned with his thumb. Spud arose and moved slowly toward the door. It was the signal to scram. On the way, he paused to put a question on a different matter.

"Say, Wolf," he remarked. "There's one guy in that bunch of victims from last night - lying up there at the hospital - one guy who might blab -"

"The taxi driver?"

"Well, him, too. But he wasn't the one I was thinking about. I mean the inside man you had at Galder's.

He didn't have no chance for a getaway. Suppose Cardona picks him out and begins to quiz him after he wakes up. It may lead back to you -"

"Don't worry," interrupted Wolf, with an evil leer. "He's not the only bird I know. The fellow you mean is Bud Jardell; he was at Galder's under the name of Huring. He's being watched by another fellow - an inside man - that I've got planted at the hospital."

"But Skeet ain't up at the place no longer -"

"I know that. I was only using Skeet to keep tabs on Doc Lagwood. This other guy I refer to is watching the patients. I've tipped him to see that Huring doesn't pull anything. We didn't know about this guy Throckmorton being wise to the Galder set-up, or we'd have handled Throckmorton like we're going to do with Huring."

"And the taxi driver?"

"I'll pa.s.s the word about him. If Cardona is still dumb enough not to know we're using gas, the taxi man won't get a chance to squawk. But after tonight, there won't be much doubt about the bomb business.

Fifteen hundred dummies in a theater will tell their own story."

"Maybe Cardona knows it already. There was a dozen people at Galder's the -"

"What if he does? He won't figure the big scale job that's coming tonight. If he knows already - if he finds out tonight - well, then we won't have to worry about the taxi fellow. But Bud Jardell, that Cardona knows as Huring, well - it's going to be too bad for him."

"After tonight?" queried Spud, his hand on the door k.n.o.b.

"We're leaving New York," chuckled Wolf. "Remember what I said about the United States Mint? Well- that wouldn't work; but there's a job that will, even though it ain't in this country.

"We're going abroad, Spud. You and me and - well, others that we'll need. To London. Take it easy for a while; then we'll tackle the Bank of England. That crib can be cracked when we've made up a new supply of bombs. We'll pick a new crew over there."

Spud grinned. Then he delivered one more parting remark, based upon Wolf's previous statements.

"Say," mentioned the mobleader. "About this inside man up at the hospital. You mean that when Lagwood was -"

"Scram," ordered Wolf. "I'm taking care of things up there. Lay low until dark, Spud. Then round up your new raiding squad and get them to the hideout. After that, grab any b.u.m gorillas for the outside mob."

Spud departed. Wolf picked up the telephone. Chuckling, the big shot settled back in his chair, satisfied that all was well. Tonight, so Wolf pictured it, crime without parallel would strike in Manhattan.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE SHADOW'S THRUST.

DUSK. Cliff Marsland was standing by a table in a tawdry room. This was a place that The Shadow's agent used for temporary living quarters in the underworld. The door was locked; Cliff was holding a small package that he had brought in his pocket.

An hour ago, Cliff had left the confines of the badlands. Respectably garbed, he had visited the office of an investment broker named Rutledge Mann. There, Cliff had received the package with instructions not to open it until he was safely alone.

Mann served as a contact agent of The Shadow. When Cliff opened the package, he was, therefore, not surprised to find a folded envelope accompanying the small cardboard box that lay within.

Last night, Cliff knew, a crew of selected raiders had met their Waterloo in the service of Spud Claxter.

Shock troops eliminated, it was obvious that Spud would have to draft new raiders from his outside crowd. Cliff knew that he was eligible. He had reported that fact to The Shadow.

This was The Shadow's answer. Cliff placed the little box upon the table. He opened the envelope. He read coded lines that had been inscribed in ink of a vivid blue. Cliff was familiar with the code. He read the message easily, then watched the writing vanish. That was the way with orders from The Shadow.

Cliff tore the sheet of paper, tossed the blank pieces into a cracked wastebasket and stood in thought.

The Shadow had planned a clever thrust. The delivery depended upon Cliff Marsland. The agent was picturing the work that lay ahead. He fancied that he would encounter no great difficulty, provided, of course, that Spud chose him to act as a raider. Would that be tonight or later? Cliff considered.

Spud knew where Cliff was located. But Cliff had no idea where Spud could be reached. The mobleader's orders were to stay either here or at the Black s.h.i.+p. One thing had bothered Cliff. He imagined that contact with The Shadow might be difficult should he receive a sudden summons from Spud. But that worry was ended.

The Shadow's instructions had placed Cliff on his own. Should Spud require him for the new band of raiders, The Shadow would know that Cliff had accepted the job. Lack of a call to Burbank would establish the fact. Once with the inner group of mobsters, Cliff could follow The Shadow's orders.

The task might be easy. If so, Cliff would be able to report after he had accomplished what The Shadowrequired. The one hitch would be an emergency. Work done, the thrust made, Cliff might find himself in a position from which there was no immediate escape. If that difficulty arose, there would be an out. Cliff smiled as he picked up the cardboard box. Within this container - according to The Shadow's note - lay an instrument which Cliff could use in emergency. The Shadow had provided for whatever might occur.

Cliff opened the box. Inside was a tiny leather bag. From the bag, Cliff drew a cylinder of metal. It was a hypodermic syringe, fully loaded. Cliff examined it carefully, then replaced it in the bag. He put the bag in his coat pocket.

A cautious knock sounded at the door. Cliff tossed the little box in the wastebasket. He went to the door and growled a challenge. A whispered voice gave a pa.s.sword. Cliff unbolted. A scrawny, pasty-faced gangster entered.

CLIFF knew the fellow. Skeet Wurrick. He realized instantly that Skeet must be a member of the selected raiding squad. Spud had not informed him that Skeet was in the game; but Spud had told Cliff to follow anyone who gave the pa.s.sword.

Skeet beckoned. Cliff followed. They went down the stairs of the rickety building that Cliff had chosen for a rooming place. Skeet glanced cautiously about as he stepped into the darkened street. Then he whispered to Cliff to follow. The little mobster led the way through an alley.