Don Winslow of the Navy

by Frank V. Martinek

  XXII

  WET TRACKS IN THE FOG

  The big car twisted and turned through the narrow streets, boring deeperinto the dark heart of old Chinatown. Don Winslow, seated betweenCho-San and Lotus, felt his sense of danger rising.

  At any moment now, the Chinese chauffeur would pull up at an unfamiliarbuilding. Then, flanked by two Scorpion spies, the pretended Count Borgwould enter the underworld of Scorpia.

  What further tests would he have to pass Don could not guess. He knewonly that if he failed his life would pay the forfeit!

  Tensely he told himself that he must not fail. For the honor of theUnited States Navy, for the sake of his friends, and of all who preferpeace to war's mass murder, _he must not fail_!

  Glancing at Cho-San, he saw that the Scorpion leader was studying asmall pocket mirror, cupped in one of his huge hands. The mirror washeld so as to reflect everything that could be seen through the car'srear window.

  Suddenly with an angry snort, the big Chinese bent forward.

  "_Yi kow pu hau-tung sai-kai!_" he cried sharply.

  "_Ta hau_," came the driver's answering sing-song, "_kia hing_."

  With a jerk the car speeded up, throwing the passengers back against thecushions. Don felt Lotus' small, cool hand close down on his finger.

  "It's that car following us, Andre," she explained. "Cho-San has justtold Ko Loo, the chauffeur, to speed up and lose it."

  Don twisted to look through the rear window at the criss-crossingtraffic of an intersection. With a short laugh he turned back.

  "Cho-San knows best," he remarked lightly. "I couldn't tell if one ofthose pairs of lights back there were following us. It looks to me as ifthey all are. But what's the difference?"

  "None, my dear Borg," rumbled Cho-San, "considering that Ko Loo hasnever yet failed to put an enemy off the trail. As a matter of fact, twosets of lights are following us at this moment. The trailer is beingtrailed by one of our own cars. He will have an unpleasant surprise, inaddition to losing track of us!"

  Sharp anxiety shot through Don's mind. "An unpleasant surprise" mightmean anything from a car accident to murder. And Red Pennington was thetrailer who was going to get it!

  However, there was nothing in the world that Don could do to warn hisfriend. By this time both cars were out of sight. Ko Loo skidded the biglimousine around two more dim corners at twenty miles an hour, andpulled up abruptly in front of a dark warehouse.

  "_Ki-wo-pu teh shwoh!_" sang out Cho-San's commanding bass.

  "_Ta chang!_" came the answer, as Ko Loo sprang out to obey the order.In the foggy night the chauffeur's voice had a curious, muffled sound.

  Almost immediately he returned, and the car rolled silently forward intoa black, cavelike opening. As it stopped, Lotus again squeezed Don'shand.

  "Last time, we came another way--remember, Andre?" she whispered. "Weare now in the garage next to Cho-San's curio shop. Of course it doesn'tlook like a garage from the outside with the doors closed...."

  "_Yi ko pu hau!_ I shall not need you any more, Ko Loo," interruptedCho-San harshly. "Get out; Lotus. I'll follow you, Count Borg. Sinceyour mind is admittedly sick, I would rather not turn my back on you,even here in my own quarters!"

  "Tit for tat, and insult for insult!" smiled Don, as a brilliant lightfilled the room from concealed electric lamps. "You can't make me angrytonight, though, Cho-San. Not even by breaking up my evening's date withyour ward! So far, your little game of hide-and-seek is mostfascinating. Even as a boy, I remember...."

  "Quite so!" hissed the Chinese furiously. "There is nothing wrong withyour memory, Borg! And I can promise that you will have cause toremember _this_ night if you live to be a hundred--which is not likely.Ummm-hummm! Not likely at all! Now, Lotus, if you will lead the way,please."

  "Which--which way do you wish to take, Cho-San?" asked the girl in afrightened voice. "The one through the shop?"

  "Ummmm, yes. That will do," rumbled the Oriental. "It will be new, Ithink, to Count Borg."

  "Right-o!" agreed Don airily. "I don't remember any secret passagethrough your shop."

  "You made the last trip to the comrades' quarters by way of Cho-San'shouse, Andre," Lotus murmured, taking Don's hand. "Follow me closelynow, and don't put out your hand to touch the walls!"

  As she spoke a panel slid noiselessly open in the side of the room.Cho-San raised his hand to the light switch. Glancing back Don notedwith surprise that the big rolling doors of the garage were now shut,though no sound had betrayed their closing.

  Darkness descended like a blow as he turned his head. Don could not hearCho-San's footsteps, though he guessed that the Chinese was movingtoward him. Lotus' gentle grasp on his hand was the only thing thatseemed real in that Stygian blackness. Like a blind man he followed herlead.

  * * * * *

  Meantime, several blocks away, Red Pennington perched anxiously on theseat of a skidding taxi. The driver he had picked up outside the EmpireHotel was good at this game of trailing a car on the dodge, but Ko Loohad been giving him the works.

  Both the driver and his fare realized this at the same moment.

  "It's this blasted fog, sir!" the former complained, straightening outafter a turn on two wheels. "I can't get close enough to see if that carahead's the same one we're after. Not without rammin' his rear bumper!Seems to me that guy cut in from behind us while we was dodgin'cross-traffic a mile back!"

  "I got the same idea, so you must be right," groaned Red, peeringthrough the misted glass. "Look! That car's stopping--pulling over tothe curb. Suppose you pull in ahead of it. I just saw somethingelse...."

  "Yeah? Well, all right!" grunted the driver, jamming on his brakes."That car we just passed ain't the one we was chasin' first, so what'sthe diff? The meter reads ten miles an' a quarter!"

  "Take that and keep the change, brother!" replied Red, shoving a billwith two figures on it into the taxi driver's hand. "I'm getting outhere. Stick around for a few minutes, in case I need you!"

  Not waiting for the man's thanks, he dodged across the misty street.Some two hundred feet back, the glare of the taxi's headlights hadbriefly picked out a gilt sign on a darkened shop front. The words Redhad glimpsed were: "CHO-SAN'S _Antiques and Curios_."

  Now, whipping a small flashlight from his pocket, he read the signagain, from the distance of a few feet. The shop, whose window wascurtained, seemed neither large nor pretentious. On either side werewarehouses closed by high, sliding doors. The blank, uninteresting wallswere in need of paint and spotted with torn bill posters.

  "Some dump!" Red Pennington muttered to himself. "Well, I had to take alook at what was under that sign, even if it didn't do me a whale of alot of good! We lost Don's car so far back that there's no use guessingwhere it--Huh! THAT'S something I didn't see before!"

  The flashlight beam, pointing downward, had picked out the marks of wettire treads crossing the sidewalk at his feet The tracks disappearedunder the big rolling doors of the warehouse to the left of Cho-San'sshop.

  Sometime in the past hour, perhaps in the last few minutes, a car hadgone in there!

  As Red stood there pondering, he heard a motor start up behind him. Atthe moment, however, it did not seem important. The real problem was tofind proof that the car which had made those wet tracks was the one he'dbeen trying to follow.

  Bending down, he scrutinized the tread marks by the light of his smallpocket torch. The sidewalk all about them was covered with tiny dropletsof moisture, he noticed. But the marks themselves were barely startingto mist over.

  Acting on a sudden idea, Red threw his light on one of his ownfootprints made on the fog-wet sidewalk a few seconds before. Already,he saw, two or three droplets had formed on the darker spot where hisheel had pressed.

  The conclusion was plain. A big car, with new, expensive tires hadentered the warehouse doors _less than five minutes ago_!

  As Red Pennington straighte
ned up, he made his decision. He would takethe taxi back to the nearest public telephone, call Hammond at theoffice, report what he had found, and then stick around on watch untilrelieved by a trained detective. Longer watching might attractattention, considering that he had come out minus hat or topcoat.

  A few quick steps took him across the street to the car which waswaiting at the curb.

  "Okay, brother!" he said, jerking open the rear door and ducking inside."Back to the nearest phone booth, and make it snappy! There's anotherten spot in it for you if--Say! What tha ding-dong.... _This isn't mytaxi!"_