The Red Blot s-31

by Maxwell Grant

  The lights of Park Avenue glittered in the drizzly night as Lamont Cranston hailed a passing taxicab. A soft laugh sounded as the passenger entered the vehicle.

  The menace of The Red Blot was doomed.

  The Shadow knew!

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE RED BLOT STRIKES

  “CALL for you, Cardona.”

  It was Detective Sergeant Markham who spoke from the door of Inspector Timothy Klein’s office. Cardona, standing beside Klein’s desk, whirled about angrily.

  “I don’t care who it is,” he exclaimed. “Tell them there’s nobody here by that name -“

  “Easy, Joe,” interposed Inspector Klein. “Don’t give up yet. I haven’t had orders to put you on the sliding board.”

  “Some fellow wants to talk to you pretty bad, Joe,” stated Markham. “Funny sort of voice over the wire. Kind of quiet.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  Cardona sprang from the room and entered his own office. He seized the receiver and spoke quickly in the mouthpiece.

  “This is Cardona. Detective Cardona.”

  The voice that replied came in a strange monotone which made Cardona grip the telephone. He knew that voice! He had heard it before! The voice of The Shadow!

  “Receive instructions,” came the solemn words. “Follow these orders exactly.”

  “Go on!” exclaimed Cardona breathlessly.

  “Inform Inspector Klein,” came the voice, “that you plan a final raid in the underworld. Request him to have raiding squads ready for your call. Tonight.”

  A pause; the voice resumed:

  “Take three men of your own. Ten o’clock is the zero hour. Be at the Hotel Gigantic. Occupy Elevator No. 9. Descend to the level below the basement. Enter passage. Advance one hundred paces. Await distant flare.”

  “Elevator No. 9” - Cardona was repeating the instructions - “Hotel Gigantic - ten o’clock -“

  “Advance after you see the flare. Reach large central room. Through open doorway. First room on left. Complete instructions will await you.”

  A click came over the wire before Cardona could respond.

  The Shadow’s call was ended. But the detective knew that this was no fantastic summons. The Shadow’s instructions could mean but one thing: that the master of darkness has found the way to offset the terror of The Red Blot!

  WELL did Cardona know the need for secrecy. He glanced at his watch. It was five o’clock - this was the afternoon following the theft of the five million dollars from the office of the Amalgamated Builders. Five hours to prepare - then to be at the appointed place!

  Assuming a poker-face expression, Cardona strolled into Timothy Klein’s office. Another detective had come in during his absence - Merton Hembroke. The rising sleuth welcomed Cardona with a friendly smile. Coldly acknowledging the greeting, Cardona turned to Klein.

  “Well, inspector,” remarked Cardona, “I think I’ll stick it through until I get the bounce. If I’m slated for the skids, I might just as well make one last effort to redeem myself. I might get a break.”

  “Play for one, Joe,” advised Klein.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of investigation down in the bad lands,” continued Joe; “Never found anything yet. Just the same, something might come of it if we swooped in on those dives and hangouts.”

  “So far, you’ve advised against the dragnet, Joe.”

  “That’s right, inspector. I figured The Red Blot was too wise to be anywhere that we might be liable to get him. But he uses a bunch of mobsters who are hiding out. Another shooting up at the Club Janeiro last night. Talk about Dynamite Hoskins being in town. Socks Mallory is around - we’re sure of that. Maybe the dragnet would make a haul.”

  “Go ahead, Joe.”

  “I’ll start out with a few men. Have the raiding squads ready when I give the call. That’s my suggestion.”

  “Approved.”

  Klein began to make the arrangements. Cardona stalked from the office. When he reached his own desk, the detective turned to see Merton Hembroke beside him. The younger sleuth had followed him here.

  “Say, Joe” - Hembroke’s tone was straightforward - “I wish you all the luck in the world tonight.”

  “Thanks, Mert,” rejoined Cardona gruffly.

  “I’ve been lucky,” observed Hembroke. “You haven’t. But if you think you’re on the skids, Joe, I can tell you that I’m headed the same way. The Red Blot has got me buffaloed. If I’m up against him alone, I’m licked.”

  Cardona shrugged his shoulders.

  “The commissioner called me in today,” continued Hembroke. “Told me you were through - that I’d have to carry on. I came right back at him, Joe. I told him frankly that if I’d been on the outside last night, I’d have been the goat - not you.”

  “You told that to the police commissioner?”

  “Sure thing. Why should I try to look big - then be made small afterward? Say, Joe, I’ll bet if we’d been teamed up together from the start, we’d have got The Red Blot by now! This independent working doesn’t get a man anywhere!”

  “Maybe you’re right, Hembroke,” agreed Cardona. “I like to talk with a fellow that’s on the level. Maybe we’ve both made a mistake - going separately to -“

  “I got a break down at Baruch’s hock shop,” put in Hembroke, “but what did it get me? Nothing. All I can say is that I’ve been on the job. But I didn’t land my man at the Club Janeiro - or at the Hotel Gigantic - or last night, for that matter. Say, Joe, I need a fellow like you to work with me; and maybe I could give you a slant on some of the problems that you’ve bumped up against.”

  “That’s fair enough,” commented Cardona. “You were up at the Gigantic pretty quick, weren’t you, Hembroke? Say - what about that elevator mix-up?”

  “It began on the twenty-fourth floor. Someone crowned the elevator operator. Then dropped to the eighth.”

  “Where do you think they took off Selfridge Woodstock?”

  “Anywhere along the line. Maybe below the eighth - then up again. Maybe between the eighth and the twenty-fourth. But we went through that whole hotel, Joe.”

  “What was the number of the elevator?”

  “No. 9. Say, Joe - what’s that got to do with it? Have you got a line on something?”

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Off duty.”

  “Want to come along with me?”

  “Sure. Where?”

  “To the Hotel Gigantic. I’m going to look into that elevator business.”

  “Say, Joe - Hembroke’s tone was eager - “if you’re wise to something, let me in on it! I’ll give you all the credit. That would fix it great with the commissioner.”

  “Tonight, then.”

  “Why tonight? It you’re on the trail of something real - say, Joe, have you been up to the Gigantic?”

  “I’m going up there tonight.”

  “Why not go up now - together?”

  “Tonight is the time. I don’t want anyone to get wise.”

  “I can fix that, Joe. Through Belville, the chief hotel detective. Say - I can have Elevator No. 9 off duty - waiting for us on one of the upper floors -“

  CARDONA considered. Here was a chance to prove the authenticity of The Shadow’s call. Cardona did not doubt The Shadow; but he did respect The Red Blot’s prowess. Perhaps that supercrook knew that Cardona had received messages from The Shadow in the past. Perhaps the call had been a cleverly perpetrated hoax.

  “Go ahead,” ordered Cardona. “Fix it with Belville.”

  Detective Sergeant Markham was coming in the door. Hembroke strolled out and returned in about five minutes. He gave a sign to Cardona. The ace joined him.

  “All set,” whispered Hembroke, as the pair left the office together.

  They reached the Hotel Gigantic, and took an elevator to the fourth floor. Here they found the door open in front of Elevator No. 9. There was no operator.

  “I’ll take care of it, Joe,” asserted Hembroke
. “I can run this buggy. Which way - down or up?”

  “Down.”

  Hembroke clanged the door and dropped the elevator to the basement level. He turned questioningly to Cardona.

  “We’re at the bottom,” protested Hembroke.

  “Try it,” asserted Cardona. Hembroke ran the elevator downward. It descended another level. The detective whistled. He opened the door and peered into blackness.

  “Say, Joe!” gasped Hembroke, “How did you get wise to this? This must be the only shaft that comes down here! This is the way they took Woodstock, sure enough!”

  “Go easy,” ordered Cardona. “We’ll only move in far enough to get the lay. Ten o’clock tonight is the time we’re due to be here.”

  Cardona stepped into the passage. His flashlight glimmered on the stony flooring. Then, before the ace detective could emit a cry, men were upon him. Stealthy figures crouching in the blackness leaped forward and fell upon Cardona en masse.

  Vainly, the sleuth tried to call for Hembroke. He realized dully that the other detective would be unable to help him. There were enough antagonists to take care of two as readily as one.

  A pungent odor filled Cardona’s nostrils as a chloroform-soaked rag was clapped against his face. All went black after that.

  The Red Blot had struck! Joe Cardona was in the hands of the enemy.

  The ace detective had failed to do The Shadow’s bidding. This premature investigation had been against instructions. Joe Cardona had offset The Shadow’s craft by his own stupidity!

  CHAPTER XXII

  ZERO HOUR

  IT was nearly ten o’clock. In the light of a gloomy cavern, a horde of mobsters were slowly moving toward a passageway that cut through solid rock. The outlet which they were choosing was not the only one from this spot. Rounded holes, large enough for the accommodation of a human form, led off like burrows in other directions.

  Socks Mallory was in charge of this mob. Back, at the side of the cavern, were two other men. As the crew of thugs disappeared into the yawning gap, this pair followed.

  The Red Blot and his second lieutenant! Both were here tonight. Only their backs were visible as they followed the mob led by Socks. Those backs were seen by peering eyes that keenly searched the cavern.

  A hidden watcher was looking from the crevice of a partly opened door. The Shadow was behind the barrier that blocked off the corridor to The Red Blot’s office and the passages beyond. He had come through from the secret way which led to the Falconette Apartments.

  Slow minutes passed. It was precisely ten o’clock. The door opened; the tall figure of The Shadow stalked across the gloomy cavern and entered a passage opposite the one which The Red Blot and his hordes had taken a few minutes before.

  The Shadow followed this blackened corridor until a turn put him completely out of sight from any who might have returned to the central cabin. A tube was in The Shadow’s hand. It clicked. A red flare threw a weird glow along the passage.

  The signal to Joe Cardona and his men, waiting in the cavity beneath the Hotel Gigantic!

  Rapidly, The Shadow retraced his course. He crossed the cavern, left the door of the corridor open, and reached the little stonewalled office. There, he produced the map of Manhattan. Upon it, he placed an unsealed envelope. Retiring, The Shadow reached the gloom of the corridor and slipped beyond the door at the farther end. His hidden lips whispered a mocking laugh.

  One minute - two minutes - still The Shadow waited in darkness. His keen eyes could see through the corridor; into the cavern; across to the blackened hole that led to the Hotel Gigantic.

  Three minutes.

  No sign of the approaching detectives. Sufficient time had elapsed for them to be here. The Shadow’s laugh came low and tense. More seconds drifted by; a flashlight clicked behind the door where The Shadow was concealed.

  A disk the size of a silver dollar shone upon the topmost step of the downward flight. The Shadow had not been here tonight. He knew what was below; now, he had an inkling of a disaster which had fallen.

  THE black cloak swished as The Shadow swept downward. His invisible form stopped at a heavy barrier, The light focused on a padlock; then moved up to a wicket. A gloved hand slid the little opening aside.

  Light from within revealed a gloomy room. The Shadow’s eyes, staring through bars, saw the forms of drowsing men resting upon cots.

  The Shadow had noted that collection of prisoners before; now, his quick gaze saw a new addition. On a cot close to the door was stretched the motionless form of Detective Joe Cardona!

  A steel pick worked while the flashlight glimmered on the padlock. A second click - a third - the padlock sprang open. The Shadow softly slid the door into the stony wall. His spectral figure swept into the dungeon.

  Joe Cardona was the first to realize The Shadow’s presence. Groggy, the detective felt himself lifted bodily from the cot. As other men raised their heads to stare at the spectral form, the figure was blotted out behind Cardona’s body. The Shadow dragged the half-conscious detective from the prison, and shoved the door shut. The padlock clicked.

  The Shadow had rescued Cardona alone. There were other prisoners; they were safer here at present. In blackness broken only by a silvery disk that lighted up the steps above, Joe Cardona felt himself being forced toward the upper regions.

  The detective was too groggy to resist. Puffs of fresh air were reviving him; yet he kept on blindly. He knew that someone was aiding him. Dimly, he thought of The Shadow. Then came the lighted corridor, as an unseen hand opened the door at the top of the steps.

  Joe Cardona wavered. Powerful hands came under his armpits. With rushing stride, The Shadow swept the detective forward - into the stonewalled office, and plopped him in the chair by the desk. The jar brought Cardona to his senses.

  Then came a momentary relapse. As Cardona caught himself toppling to the desk, a black-gloved hand picked up the telephone that rested there. A whispering voice spoke in the mouthpiece.

  “Burbank speaking,” came the reply over the wire.

  “Unavoidable delay,” returned The Shadow, to his agent. “Is connection still established between this wire and the outside line?”

  “Connection established with telephone in Apartment 4-C,” came Burbank’s response.

  The Shadow hung up the receiver and produced a small vial. He placed it to Cardona’s nostrils.

  The detective’s frame shook. His grogginess was dispelled. As he gripped the arms of the chair, Cardona fancied that he heard the sound of a fleeting laugh. He turned quickly, but saw only a fading splotch of blackness at the door.

  The detective’s eyes went to the map upon the table. His fingers picked up the envelope. They tore it open. With startled gaze, Cardona read blue-inked lines. He dropped the paper and began to tap the map with his forefinger.

  He referred again to the note. To his amazement, the writing had vanished! The momentary surprise faded. Cardona did not need those instructions any longer. The map was sufficient!

  GRIMLY, the detective seized the telephone. He clicked the hook and heard the operator’s response. He called for detective headquarters. He heard the voice of Inspector Timothy Klein.

  “I’m in The Red Blot’s hideout!” growled Cardona. “His mob has gone to raid Galladay’s jewelry store. They’re after a ten-million-dollar haul!”

  “Get men there - quick! Surround the place. No… No… Not from the outside… They’re blowing their way up through the cellar… Dynamite Hoskins is with them… Smash in from the outside…”

  Cardona paused. Over the wire he could hear Klein barking out instructions to detectives who were near at hand. Quickly, Cardona gave further news.

  “There’s places where you’ve got to block them!” he exclaimed. “Club Janeiro - in the office - an outlet there. Hotel Gigantic - Elevator No. 9… Got that? Wait… There’s more… Conference room in Amalgamated Builders’ office… Now get this one - most important of all - emergency exit East Side subway,
one hundred yards south of Eighteenth Street station… Yes… Yes… Get those places. Hold them!”

  The receiver clattered on the hook. Cardona sank exhausted. There was one spot which he had not mentioned; that was the lobby of the Falconette Apartment. There was an answer. The Shadow’s hand had obliterated that station from the map!

  Minutes went by. Cardona’s relapse was followed by a slow revival. Half rising, the detective heard a sound which brought him to his feet. It was a distant blast - the boom of an underground explosion.

  The raid had begun! Soon The Red Blot’s cohorts would be returning! Cardona had been told to bring other men with him, that they might hold this spot. Cardona realized that he was alone! He reached for his pocket, realizing as he did that his revolver must have been taken from him. To his amazement, his fingers brought forth an automatic!

  On his feet, Cardona found his other coat pocket heavy. He brought out a second automatic! Doubly equipped, Cardona knew his duty. He was to defend this outlet! He was to drive the returning hordes into other passageways, where the police would be ready to stop them!

  The Shadow, returned to darkness, had equipped Joe Cardona for the fray that was to come!

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE END OF THE BLOT

  CROUCHING mobsmen were waiting in a widened portion of an underground passage. The report of an explosion was still ringing in their ears. Smoke and fumes were dispelling up ahead, where the gleams of flashlights were focused.

  “That’s all.”

  The words came from Dynamite Hoskins. They meant that the explosion was over; the way was clear ahead. Socks Mallory gave his command.

  “Come along!” he ordered. “Inside there; cover the doors while we grab off everything. It will be twenty minutes before the bulls can begin to crash in!”

  The horde followed Socks. Three men remained; Dynamite Hoskins stood in darkness; behind him, the bomber knew, was The Red Blot and the other lieutenant who ranked with Socks Mallory.

  Little did this waiting trio realize that already a raiding squad of police was arriving at Galladay’s jewelry store! Joe Cardona’s tip-off was to have startling consequences tonight.