Don Winslow of the Navy

by Frank V. Martinek

  XXX

  TRAPPED

  The hundred-odd men and women of Scorpia shivered in the darkness beyondthe stage. All had heard tales of Cho-San's torture room. Some even hadvisited the vaulted chamber and seen old bloodstains on those devilishmachines.

  They remembered their fellow agents who had disappeared to be "tried"later in this same underground auditorium. In such cases the accusedwere brought on the stage to give their "confessions"; but their brokenbodies and fear stricken tones told plainer than words of secrettorments. Not even the few who were released after trial ever toldexactly what had happened to them.

  And now these members of Scorpia's Inner Council were to see with theirown eyes the fate of two who had defied the Scorpion's power. Theircruel natures were as thrilled by the prospect as they were awed bythought that their own turn might come some day.

  Such was the mind of the audience which heard Cho-San's grim accusation.With savage eagerness they drank in the Scorpion leader's every word,while their eyes gloated over those helpless victims on the wheel andrack.

  With the tread of a great jungle beast, Cho-San approached thehalf-conscious Lotus.

  Facing the assembly, the Chinese raised his voice.

  "This girl, this fickle traitoress," he cried, "has gone over to theenemy, body and soul. In a few minutes you will hear her confess herguilt under mortal pain. But first--"

  Cho-San paused dramatically.

  "First," he repeated, "she will listen to the screams of this otherenemy of Scorpia--the man who was once a member of this very InnerCouncil--Count Andre Borg! We shall see what confession another turn ofthe ropes will wring from him ... Dr. Skell!"

  Into the spotlight moved a tall man garbed in a white laboratory coat.His bald, skull-like head turned to face Cho-San.

  "One turn?" he asked, laying a bony hand upon the rack's windlass.

  The Chinese nodded. Slowly the rack's wooden crank moved downward,tightening the ropes. Count Borg's body stiffened under the frightfultension. Through his clenched jaws issued a grinding sob of pain.

  "Another turn and his bones snap out of their sockets," came the drycroak of Dr. Skell. "Shall I go on?"

  "No! No!" came Lotus' frantic cry. "Torture me, Cho-San, but not Andre!Anything--_anything but that_!"

  "Tear him apart!" snarled the Scorpion leader. "Put your weight on thatwindlass, or--"

  CR-RACK!

  The whipping report of a rifle slapped against the walls. With a queer,animal whine, the bony Skell shrank back, his bullet grazed handdripping red.

  For a moment paralysis seemed to grip the assembled Council of Scorpia.Then through tense silence the voice of Don Winslow cut like a knife.

  "Hold it, Cho-San! We've got every exit covered. You'd better give up!"

  Quick as a cat, the big Chinese leaped. Outside the spotlight, hisfigure was a swift vanishing blur. The slam of an automatic pistol cameseconds too late, as Michael Splendor charged onto the stage at the headof twenty fighting men.

  Leaping down across the footlights, Don Winslow, Red Pennington and adozen of Hammond's men lined up with ready guns. Yet in the face of thatthreat more than half the Scorpion assembly had drawn concealed pistols.

  A single shot would touch off a battle to the death. None knew it betterthan Michael Splendor as he perched on the shoulders of a powerfuldeputy, full in the spotlight's glare. He knew also that men and women,however desperate, can sometimes be bluffed.

  "Every exit to this room is blocked by armed men!" he announced in aringing voice. "Throw down your weapons and ye'll take no harm. Fightand ye'll get licked anyway. Which will ye choose?"

  A low muttering began among the trapped councilmen of Scorpia. Above thebabel of whispers a single voice rose clear.

  "Cho-San escaped!" rang the defiant shout. "The secret corridors are NOTblocked. We will scatter--and catch these fools in their own trap!"

  A roar of approval went up from the crowd. In three scrambling groupsthe assembly broke for the sides and rear of the auditorium, avoidingthe platform. A few of the nearest kept their eyes and pistols trainedon the line of riflemen, but they clearly wished to postpone theshooting.

  To the mob's angry surprise, this means of escape had been forestalled.When the paneled exit doors slid back, a squad of deputies barred eachopening with clubbed guns. At the same time Splendor's bellow rose abovethe tumult.

  "On with your gas masks, boys!" he ordered. "We'll have these wastrelschokin' for breath in two minutes."

  Suiting action to words, the veteran pulled the ring of a tear gasgrenade and flung it. Twice more he repeated the motion before bulletsfrom the ranks of Scorpia drilled him and his human mount. With a groanthe big deputy sank to his knees, spilling his wounded chief to thefloor.

  From the embattled exits more gas grenades were being hurled, but therethe press of fighting bodies was too close for pistol work. The samesort of struggle was taking place where Don Winslow and his squad offighters held back a rush for the stage exits.

  The only shooting appeared to be aimed at Splendor and the fallendeputy, sprawled in the white glare of the spotlight.

  It was Mercedes Colby who acted in the nick of time to save them.Already she had cut loose the racked body of Count Borg and freed hissobbing companion. Now, braving the bullets that clipped across thestage, she started to drag Michael Splendor out of the light.

  At that moment two Malay councilmen broke through Don's thin line offighting deputies. Maddened by the smart of tear gas they leaped ontothe platform, armed with long, glittering knives. Their yells oftigerish fury announced that they had gone _amok_.

  Bullets could not have stopped them in time, yet Mercedes sprang to facethem. Her left hand pistol barked. White smoke from the tear gascartridges belched in the face of her attackers.

  Their yells ended in choking grunts. Clawing at their blinded eyes, theMalays staggered back to plunge over the platform's edge.