The Secret Agent had seen many gruesome sights in his career; he had seen men in Flanders who took ten hours to die, lying on the shell-pitted battlefields with their entrails squirming out of gaping wounds in their stomachs while they moaned continuously till they died. But the picture of Tyler as the current raced through his body, twisting him into horrid, incredible contortions, was one that rivaled any horror conceivable by man.
“X” shuddered in revulsion as a long sigh went up from the assembled men. They were enjoying each moment of Tyler’s suffering. A long minute it lasted, while Tyler squirmed and strained in the chair.
And then it was over. The Skull must have pulled the switch, for suddenly Tyler’s body relaxed, sagged in the chair. His head hung on his breast, but the quick, heavy breathing attested to the fact that he still lived.
“Tomorrow, gentlemen,” the Skull said to them in the same steady voice, “Tyler will be able to get about again. His condition will no doubt be amusing to you. We will keep him around for you to play with for a day or two, then send him out into the street as a warning to those who defy the Skull!”
The light over the chair went out, leaving the room once more in utter darkness.
Chapter VI
DEVIL’S MISSION
A LOW murmur swept through the room as the men began to comment to each other on the scene they had just witnessed. Low, incoherent moans began to come from the other side of the mesh screen where Tyler was still strapped in the chair. “X” waited silently, bitterly. He could do nothing for Tyler, and now he would be unable to learn anything from him. The man’s mind had been destroyed by the ordeal. Through the mind of Secret Agent “X” there flashed a picture of Ainsworth Clegg, one day a brilliant, shrewd businessman; and the next, a doddering idiot. Now it was clear how the man’s condition had been brought about. If those men at the Bankers’ Club—Dennett, Grier, Hilary, Jewett—could see this diabolical means by which Clegg had been robbed of his sanity, they would hardly credit their senses.
His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the outer door. Binks, more horrible in appearance than ever, stood there. The light from the corridor cast an evil reflection on his vacuous, scarred countenance.
“All right, boys,” he announced. “The show’s over. All out.” He cackled, “Ha, ha—just like a movie—all out. Ha, ha!”
He waited while the men filed out past him. Five of the men he tapped on the shoulder, whispered to. Those five men stayed in the room. Among them were Nate Frisch, and Gilly, the gunman. When the Secret Agent passed him, he tapped him on the shoulder, too. “Stay here till I take these boys back,” he whispered. “Then I’ll take you to the Skull. He wants to see you.”
“X” nodded, waited with the others. Binks closed the door on them, leaving them in utter darkness once more. “X” debated the chances of breaking out of there. He wondered if those others had been told to guard him.
Soon the door opened once more, and Binks beckoned to them. Out in the corridor he said nothing to them, but led them through a new series of passages, to another anteroom similar to the one where Rufe had searched him.
Binks left him alone, going out through the side door, giving them a last leering grin.
While they waited, the men lit cigarettes, engaged in desultory conversation. Nate Frisch, though he had been appointed second in command, seemed to know as little about the reason for their presence there as the others. “Maybe it’s a new job,” he said. “The Skull has been planning something extra big for a long while.”
Gelter, a coarse brute of a man, who had escaped from the state prison where he had been serving a life term for kidnaping, said, “If it’s a snatch job, it’s right up my alley. This is good stuff, pullin’ jobs an’ bein’ able to disappear so the cops think you got magic or something!”
They relapsed into moody silence, watching the door opposite them—the door that had no handle. They were kept waiting a long time, so long that the Secret Agent began to think it was deliberately done for the purpose of increasing their nervousness. Finally there was a click and the door began to swing open, revealing an inner room without any lights. The men strained their eyes to pierce the gloom of that inner room, but without success.
When the door had opened wide, a voice from within, the voice of the Skull, called out, “Fannon and Gilly! Come in first.”
Gilly looked apprehensively at the others, wet his lips and went in. “X” followed him. The door closed behind them, and clicked as the lock caught. “X” could hear Gilly breathing hard close beside him, could hear the little gunman’s body shivering close to his own. But he also sensed another presence in the room—a sinister presence that seemed to exude an aura of evil.
A soft glow began to appear in the room, bathing it in a sort of dull, uncertain luminance. It was accomplished by a system of indirect lighting, of course, but the effect was uncanny.
As the light grew stronger, there became visible at the other side of the room, the figure of the Skull, seated at a desk, facing them. The glowing outline of the skeleton head grinned at them in weird, macabre brilliance.
Secret Agent “X” inspected the room through veiled eyes. It was a large room, perhaps twenty feet square, and absolutely bare except for the desk and the chair where the Skull was seated. The floor was of varnished hardwood except for a strip about four feet wide that ran clear across the middle, between the Skull and his visitors.
The Skull noted “X’s” eyes inspecting the place, and said mockingly, “You seem to be interested in my layout here, Fannon. What do you think of it?”
“It strikes me,” the Secret Agent answered, “that you have gone to a great deal of trouble to make this headquarters invulnerable. It looks as if you have built a permanent place here—secret panels, electric chair, a maze of passages. Is it all necessary?”
The Skull chuckled. “You have seen only a small portion of my arrangements here, Fannon. But I assure you that every bit of it is necessary, thoroughly planned. Think, for instance—you have been here a whole day; have you any idea where you are?
“Frankly, no,” said “X,” “I confess that I don’t know whether we are above or below ground. I don’t even know what portion of the city we are in. I can see that this place takes up a good deal of space, but I can’t imagine where it could be.”
THE Skull chuckled. “The location of this headquarters is nothing short of a stroke of genius, Fannon. And you see how efficient my other precautions are? No one of you can find his way out of here. No one of you can find his way back. Binks and I are the only ones who know the various ways in and out. If, by chance, one of you should be a traitor, he would never be able to lead the police here, because he knows as little as they.”
The Skull turned to the little gunman, who had stood silent during the conversation. “What do you think of this set-up, Gilly?”
“Gee, boss,” Gilly exclaimed, “you’re a wonder! You certainly got things down pat!”
The Skull’s voice suddenly became crisp. “X” felt that he was about to learn the real reason for his being there with Gilly.
“Fannon, I am going to send you out on a mission. Every new man must be tested.”
“X” breathed easier. The Skull then was not sure that it had been he who had struggled with Rufe in the corridor last night. Perhaps Binks had not reported his suspicions; or perhaps Binks’ manner had hinted of suspicions that did not exist in that quirked mind of his. In any event, it was a promise of action, and that was welcome.
The Skull went on. “Gilly will accompany you. Gilly is a very fast man with a gun, and he always goes out with new men. It is so easy for him to place a bullet accurately in the event that he smells treachery. You understand?”
“X” nodded.
Gilly broke in eagerly, “What’s the job, boss?”
“You are going to open a safe. Fannon, who is an expert safe man, will do the opening, while you act as lookout”
“Suits me swell,” sai
d Gilly.
The Skull looked at “X.” “And you?”
“X” nodded, dissembling his emotions. This was what he feared. Though he had made a study of many types of safes, though he had instruments and equipment in his various hideouts which would open any safe door, he certainly did not possess the great degree of skill which the real Fannon had developed in a lifetime of crime. He could not open a safe the way Fannon could, by listening to the fall of the tumblers. He must, in some way, get the use of his own tools. An accomplishment which seemed, on the face of it, impossible.
He said, “What kind of safe is this? Don’t forget I’ve been in stir for five years, and I’m a little rusty. Five years is a long time to be out of practice.”
THE Skull’s vermilion-gloved hand waved impatiently. “I have allowed for all that. I chose this job with that in mind. The safe is an old model, and should be child’s play for an old hand like you—rusty or not rusty.”
“X” remained silent, thinking swiftly. There must be some way out of the dilemma. He started at the Skull’s next words.
“It is the safe of a man named Harrison Dennett, in his home at number 363 Willow Street. He’s the subway construction man. Have you heard of him?”
“X’s” face showed no sign of recognition of the name. “We hardly hear about people like that in jail.”
“That is true,” the Skull said almost banteringly. “It would have been peculiar if you had heard of him, would it not? Now, as to the job. Dennett is much more than a mere construction man. He is a large scale real estate operator. But his wealth is tied up in real estate, and he has met with many—er—setbacks, on the subway job, so that he is very low on cash at this time. He has been offered loans from various sources, but on terms that would practically take the subway contract away from him.”
“X’s” mind raced back to that conversation at the Bankers’ Club. Dennett had felt then that some one was placing obstacles in his path, trying to ease him out of the contract. It seemed, from the Skull’s remarks, that Dennett’s intuition had been correct. The Skull was planning another coup against the construction man.
The Skull went on. “Dennett has one source from which he can raise money without losing control of the subway contract. That is by pledging as collateral two matched pearls which he owns, and which are worth a cool half million dollars.”
“X” had heard of those pearls, had actually seen them one day, when Harrison Dennett was showing them around at the club. They were a pair of gorgeous stones with a bloody history attached to them, dating back to Florentine times. No ordinary thief would have dared steal them, for they were well-known to connoisseurs of gems throughout the world, and would have been impossible to dispose of.
The Secret Agent listened closely as the Skull continued. “I have information that Dennett has arranged to secure a loan on these gems, that he has taken them out of his safe deposit box and put them in the safe at his home till tomorrow. I want those two pearls. You will open the safe and get them while Gilly watches for you.”
Now it was out. There could be no doubt as to the Skull’s intent. He wanted to deprive Dennett of the only hope of doing without a loan. And it was up to Secret Agent “X” to get those pearls. He must commit an act which would ruin Dennett in order to gain the confidence of this master of crime. And then came the next problem—how to open a safe. He was not a Fannon; he would need tools.
The Skull was saying, “It’s a Roebler Safe Company box, series of 1927, model 42. You should be familiar with that model. It was in use before your—er—enforced retirement. The servants are taken care of for the night, and I have arranged it so that Dennett will be away. You will have a clear field. It shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes.”
“X” hesitated, then decided to make an effort to get hold of tools. Without them he faced defeat.
“I’m afraid it would take me much longer than that. The Roebler boxes are tough nuts. And my fingers are stiff. Maybe I ought to have some tools.”
“Tools?” the Skull’s voice carried an edge of sudden suspicion. “You don’t want tools. This isn’t a nitro job. You’ve got to use your head and your ears and your fingertips. Aren’t those the tools of your trade?”
Gilly, who had been standing silent, snickered. “Tyler never used tools. An’ I thought you was better than Tyler.”
“X” snapped at him impatiently, “Tyler was in practice!” Then he turned toward the Skull. “Look here, boss, if you let me get a bag of tools I’ll guarantee a hundred percent job. You’ve got to make allowances for me—the first job in five years.”
“What kind of tools would you want?” the Skull asked. His voice was low, dangerous. “And where do you have to go to get them?”
“I have a friend in Chinatown from whom I used to borrow tools. I can get a full set from him in no time. He’d still remember me.”
“Tell me what things you need, and I will see that you are supplied. There is no need for you to go to this friend in Chinatown.”
“X” thought quickly. He wanted other things besides implements for opening a safe. He had come here bare of weapons, without any of the clever devices that had stood him in such good stead in the past. And lucky it was that he had done so, for the strict search to which he had been subjected would have revealed them, betrayed them.
Now he felt that in order to cope properly with the Skull, he must be properly equipped. Not only that, but the particular instrument he had in mind which might aid him in opening the safe in Dennett’s house was one of his own devising, an instrument which could not be procured in any store. Its very possession would brand him in the eyes of the Skull as being more than an ordinary safe breaker, for it was a product of a high order of mechanical skill and scientific knowledge.
It was imperative that he gain permission to go for them himself.
“These are special instruments,” he said. “My friend is the only one I know of who can supply them.”
“All right,” said the Skull. “Give me his address and I will send for them.”
“He would never give them to anybody but me. I have to go myself. It would take less than a half hour.”
“I wonder, Fannon,” the Skull said softly, “if you really need these things, or if you are not scheming some way of escaping.”
“X” concealed the sudden alarm he felt at the Skull’s uncanny instinct. This man, whoever it was behind that ghastly fleshless mask, was far too fiendishly clever to be handled in any ordinary way. “X,” keen student of psychology that he was, set himself to sell the Skull the idea of going for the tools. He assumed an appearance of hurt surprise at the motive imputed to him by the Skull.
“Why would I want to escape? Didn’t I come here of my own free will in the first place? And then, even if I did escape, where would I go? I’m wanted for murder—for killing Colonel Delevan in the army car. You can’t fool around with the government. They’d get me, all right, and I know it. I need you to protect me; I’d be crazy to try any stunts.” He paused, then said eloquently, “All I want is a chance to make good.”
And suddenly, surprisingly, the Skull capitulated. “All right, Fannon,” he snapped. “You can go for them. But Gilly goes along—and at the least sign of treachery, Gilly will empty his gun into you. Is that clear, Gilly?”
“You bet, boss. Seven slugs in the guts!”
“X” was distrustful of the sudden change of mood in the Skull. Had he really been convinced by “X’s” eloquence? The Agent doubted. The Skull was playing a deep game here, and it suited his plans to seem to acquiesce. There would no doubt be a trap somewhere along the line that would have to be met.
“X” asked, “What about Nate Frisch and those other men in the outside room? Are they coming with us?”
“No,” said the Skull. “Hereafter you must learn that it is unwise to ask questions here. You will be told all you need to know. In this case, however, I was going to make an announcement to the other men after you left
, so I will tell you now that I am sending Frisch on another mission of much more importance than yours.”
He stopped a moment while Gilly fidgeted, and “X” waited impassively. “There is one obstacle in the path of my plans for the future. Nate Frisch and the others are going out to take steps to remove that obstacle. That is all I will tell you now. By the time Gilly and you return, I will be able to announce the successful completion of their mission, and to outline our future operations—which, by the way, will net us millions of dollars in profit and startle the city by its ingenuity!”
He raised his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Go now. Get your tools. Then go to 363 Willow Street. The rear door will be unlocked, the house empty. Bring back the pearls. And remember, Fannon, I will accept no excuses, no excuses whatsoever! Failure is punished here severely, as you may guess. And nobody is allowed a second chance!”
THE door swung open, and “X” and Gilly passed out. From within, the Skull called out, “Nate Frisch! Bring those other men in!”
“X” and the little gunman watched them file into the darkened room. The Secret Agent wondered what mission they were being sent on. From what the Skull had said, it was one of paramount importance. The door without the handle started to swing shut. The Skull’s voice came to them sepulchrally from the inner room. “Wait there, Fannon and Gilly, until Binks comes. He has his orders to lead you out, and will await your return.”
The door clicked shut.
Gilly sprawled in a chair, lit a cigarette, and regarded “X” with narrow, sharp eyes. “I hope you don’t try no tricks on this trip, Fannon. I’d hate to have to burn you down. You’re a pretty smart guy, an’ if you’re on the square we’ll get along fine.”
“Have you ever wondered,” the Secret Agent asked him, “who the Skull really is?”
Gilly shrugged. “Nope. I ain’t interested as long as he takes care o’ us, an’ fixes the jobs so they’re easy to pull. An’ don’t forget, it ain’t healthy to wonder about things like that in here.”
Secret Agent X : The Complete Series Volume 3 Page 6
