XIX
A LUCKY ENCOUNTER
Pocketing his pistol, Don Winslow moved out into the glow of the car'slights.
"Thanks, Hammond!" he said simply, gripping the other's hand. "Yourcoming for us is going to simplify a lot of things. Come on, Red--Imean, Penny! Michael Splendor's last message told us to leave the planeright here."
As the car cut back into the highway leading to the city, Hammond leanedforward to speak to the driver.
"Drive slowly when you get inside the city's limits, Martin," he said."Swing around past Cho-San's place before you pull up at the office."
Leaning back against the cushions, he addressed the two youngIntelligence officers.
"We got the whole story by beam radiophone," he explained. "That's howwe were able not only to meet you gentlemen, but also to make certainother preparations as well; such as an electric needle for giving you ascar, like the little one Count Borg has just below his cheek bone. Youcan only see that mark by a bright light, but it's one of the things hisScorpia friends are going to look for."
"I know about that, Hammond," Don Winslow answered. "Borg himself calledmy attention to it yesterday. There's the matter of his clothes, too.Borg has always been a slick dresser, and he is supposed to have escapedwith a wad of Splendor's cash. That means his Scorpia pals will expecthim to show up dressed like a fashion plate."
"They will," nodded Hammond. "Splendor broadcast the story of 'CountBorg's' escape with his plane and his dough. There's no doubt theScorpion and his agents know about that. They'll expect you to show upat the meeting two nights from now, if not sooner. They'll find outabout the plane having landed. Splendor's flying here tomorrow with MissColby on Captain Holding's orders. He'll pretend he's just trailing hisstolen plane...."
"Z-ZZZ-ZZZZ! PR-R-R-RRH!"
A sudden loud snore from Red Pennington drowned out Hammond's voice. Thechunky lieutenant had done his full share of the piloting since leavingHaiti, and was letting weary Nature have her way now.
"We'll let him sleep," chuckled Don, "until we get to your office,Hammond. We can discuss everything then."
Red's slumber, however, was due to be rudely interrupted. After skirtingthe edges of San Francisco's old Chinatown, the car turned up a steephill at the top of which stood the great stone-walled house of Cho-San.
"I wanted to show you this place just in passing, Commander," Hammondwas saying. "Cho-San lives here like an Oriental prince, yet his onlyvisible income is from his curio shop down the hill. We know he's a bigshot in the criminal organization of Scorpia, but we can't pin it onhim. That job will be up to you, if you live to finish it! Cho-San'sthugs will stop at nothing--"
BANG!
At the loud report, the car lurched sidewise, swayed another twentyyards, and stopped. Red Pennington awoke with a yell. Guns out, thethree men in the back seat peered through the bulletproof windows.
They were just opposite the dark stone edifice, which was the onlybuilding within a hundred yards. Could a single shot from behind thosemisty walls have ripped through one of the rear tires?
It was Don Winslow who answered the question in all their minds.
"Just an accidental blowout, I think," he stated, putting away hisautomatic. "There's not enough light to fire a shot with any accuracy."
"You're right, sir!" muttered Hammond, following Don through the door."I guess I'm jittery just because it happened right across fromCho-San's stone fort. Probably just an accident--"
"Is that the fort you mean?" gulped Red, with one foot still on therunning board. "Gee! If they've got machine guns trained on us, isn't itkinda foolish to stick around?"
"I didn't mean a fort in that sense, Lieutenant!" said Hammond."Cho-San's rock pile here _looks_ like a fort, especially in the dark.If there's any machine guns inside, they won't be aimed at us now....But, say! What's that car pulling in ahead of us?"
A long, low hung, black car had boiled up the hill behind them, only tostop ten paces beyond with a squeal of gripping tires. The two youngofficers, with Hammond and Martin, stiffened instinctively, handswhipping to their pistols. For all they knew this might be a gang car,filled with Scorpion killers.
A door opened, and a man in uniform cap jumped out. Swiftly he moved tothe rear door, opened it, and stood back waiting. From the dark interiorappeared a young woman in a white evening wrap, her dark hair lighted bythe flash of jewels. With a murmured word, she turned away from the car,walking quickly toward the house of Cho-San.
The four men watching her relaxed.
"That's the girl they call the Lotus!" whispered Hammond in DonWinslow's ear. "She's the one you'll have to look out for especially,Commander. Look! What's she up to, now?"
With a low cry of pain, the girl had stumbled. Now she stood swaying, asif about to fall.
"She's turned her ankle! I'm going to help her, Hammond," muttered Don."You all stay here."
The other car, Don noted, was just driving away. Reaching the girl'sside, he caught her arm firmly, taking the weight off her injured foot.
"I saw you trip," he said, imitating Count Borg's smoother tone. "Whatluck that I was just across the street!"
"Andre! Andre!" gasped Lotus, leaning heavily against him. "Is it reallyyou? But yes! Your voice--your touch on my arm! I know them, though yourface is queer in this light!"
"Of course, little Lotus bud!" laughed Don, slipping an arm about hershoulders. "You miss the moustache I had to shave off. But your anklemust be paining you a lot. Let me help you as far as the house!"
"To the house, Andre!" cried the girl. "You mean you're not cominginside? Didn't you come here to see me?"
"Please--not so loud!" warned the pseudo Count. "I can't stop longerwithout making the men with me suspicious. It was just the accident of ablowout that made them stop here at all. I'll explain everything when Isee you next--say tomorrow night, at the Empire?"
"That's a long time to wait, Andre, when I haven't seen you for solong!" sighed Lotus, with a hint of disappointment. "I guess you knowbest, though. Suppose you meet me in the dining room, at that samelittle table in the corner--remember?"
"At seven o'clock," agreed Don, as the girl turned with one gloved handon the gate latch. "And I'm awfully glad your ankle isn't reallyinjured! Good night!"
Returning across the street, he found that Hammond's chauffeur had aboutfinished putting on the spare wheel. Hammond beckoned both officers intothe car and closed the door after him. A moment later the motor started.
"Tell us about it, Commander," the office man urged, as they turned into a more brightly lighted section of the city. "You think the Lotusreally took you for Count Borg? If she didn't, it's going to make thingspretty difficult."
"I don't think you need to worry, Hammond," Don replied. "Remember, thelight was very dim, so she couldn't have noticed small details. Ofcourse, I had to explain the loss of my moustache.... By the way, I'vegot a dinner date with her for tomorrow evening at the Empire!"
"That ought to give us enough time to get fixed up and coached for ourparts," Red Pennington commented. "Gee, Don! What a lucky break! Ourtire blowin' out, and Lotus showin' up at the same time! It all happenedso naturally, not even the Scorpion himself could suspect anythingqueer."
"Unless," said Don thoughtfully, "the guard inside Cho-San's iron gatesmelled something phony. You see, Lotus _wanted_ to believe I was Borg,but that other guy may have been leery."
"A guard, huh?" snorted Hammond. "I don't like that, Commander! As yousay, he just _might_ have smelled a mouse. Those Scorpion agents aresuspecting each other half the time, and.... Hmmmm! You were closeenough to see him plainly?"
"Only the glow of his cigarette tip," answered Don. "But why worry overthat? Looks as if we'd arrived at your office already; and I'm hungryenough to eat the letters off a stone monument!"
"And those letters are sunk in, too!" laughed the Intelligence man,reaching for the door handle. "Well, Commander, there's a hot meal
waiting for you right upstairs. I ordered it brought in, because you'renot visiting any restaurant until your make-up is absolutely perfect."
Don Winslow of the Navy Page 19
