Adventure Tales, Volume 6

by John Gregory Betancourt

  * * * *

  She followed the road until she rolled up beside the rear door of the big clubhouse. There she was ordered out. Mike seized her arm and forced her into the building.

  A center room proved to be Carol’s destination. There were no windows. Two additional men were waiting. One of them was about thirty, slender, snappily dressed and betrayed his egoism in a slender, highly-waxed mustache.

  “Well, well,” this man regarded Carol critically, “what have we here? Mike—you didn’t make a mistake and tail the wrong car, I hope?”

  “No, he didn’t,” Carol shook off Mike’s grasp. “I was following you. I did so because I saw you running out of Viola King’s house after you robbed it, I suppose. I wanted to find a policeman and have him stop you, but I couldn’t even see one.”

  “She’s balmy, Gus,” Mike offered caustically.

  The slender crook, who seemed to be in charge—and answered to the name of Gus—wasn’t so sure.

  “If you’re telling the truth, lady, then how come you didn’t pick up one of the fifteen or twenty traffic cops we passed?”

  “If I had, you’d have disappeared before I got through explaining to him,” Carol said. “Viola is a friend of mine. You can’t get away with this.”

  “We have so far,” Gus scoffed. “Now listen—tell me the whole truth and you won’t get hurt. You were watching Viola King’s house. You knew the Black Bat was there. Maybe—say—you might even be the dame who came running out of the tenement house. I only had a glimpse of her, but she was built like you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carol insisted. “All I know is that you must be a bunch of burglars. I had someone else with me when I saw you come out of Viola’s house. He got off to call the police. Maybe they’re coming here right now. Maybe they followed—”

  “She’s nuts, Gus,” Mike broke in again. “Nobody followed her except me. Like you said, we parked and waited in case you and the boys wanted to transfer to another bus. When you kept going, we got set to follow along, and then this dame takes up your trail—so we chased her.”

  “We’ll find out quickly enough,” said Gus. “Mike—take a look at the car she drove. Check the marker plates and go back to town. Find out who owns the car. Maybe, if we’re lucky, you’ll discover the bus is stolen.

  “If so, this obstinate young woman is going to be found in what’s left of it, and she’ll be as wrecked as the car. Take one man with you and see if you can find out what happened to Wicks. He was guarding the back door when all the fireworks began. I hope the Black Bat gunned him out, for Wicks knows where we’re hiding.”

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Mike said. “I know just how to find out if that car is swiped, and whether or not Wicks is in jail. Leave it to me.”

  * * * *

  Gus looked down at Carol, who had seated herself primly on the edge of a chair. Her eyes defied the glaring anger in his.

  “If this is a set-up, lady, you’ll be sorry,” he threatened. “We rigged this clubhouse as a hideout for plenty of bucks. You could save yourself a lot of grief by talking, you know. How about it?”

  “I’m a respectable housewife,” Carol insisted. “I followed a lot of burglars here, and you won’t get away. I’ll see you all in the police station where you belong, and that’s all I have to say.”

  “Suit yourself,” Gus shrugged. “Get up and walk ahead of me—straight to that door. Go on, move.”

  Carol obeyed and found herself in a smaller room which seemed to be used as a depot for golfing supplies. Old bags, clubs and baskets full of used golf balls filled half the place. There was a heavy chair which Gus pushed into the rnidde of the floor.

  “Sit down,” he ordered, “and behave. Mike will return soon. If he backs up your story, maybe you won’t get hurt. If he proves that you’re lying, then I’ll know you work for the Black Bat—and lady, that means quick curtains for you.”

  Two men took up posts on either side of her. Gus told them that if she escaped, they personally would go through what had been promised as Carol’s finish. Then Gus went out, closing the door behind him.

  Carol leaned back and eyed the room. There was a single light, hanging from a wire almost directly above her. She saw that the room was equipped with a skylight through which she could see stars and the reflection of a moon. The only door led into the larger room where Gus and the others were waiting. There were no windows. Escape seemed utterly impossible.

  Not only that, but the Black Bat didn’t have the slightest idea where she’d gone. Hope sank to a lower ebb in her heart, but she never damned herself for taking matters into her own bands. As an integral part of the Black Bat’s organization, it was her job to take advantage of any opportunity to assist him. If the result meant death, she was willing. Her father had faced it—and lost, bravely. Carol was cut of the same cloth.

  Mike would soon determine that she lied, return here and then the man called Gus would do his best to make her talk. That was a horrifying thought.

  Her best bet was to look for a loophole by which she could trick these two men guarding her.

  Carol glanced at the scowling men.

  The hip pocket of the man at her right bulged ominously. Carol leaned back in the chair, opened the small purse she carried and smiled very innocently when both guards tensed. She withdrew a compact, opened it and studied her face in the mirror.

  She removed the powder puff, started to pat it on her nose, then dropped it.

  The man with the bulging hip pocket bent down to retrieve it. Carol suddenly grabbed at the exposed gun butt.

  She gave a hard tug at the weapon, and it came free. The second man punched at her head. Carol literally slid out of the chair to the floor, pivoted and brought up the muzzle of the gun.

  The other thug was half crouched, swearing softly and ready to spring. Carol started to get up.

  Unexpectedly the door opened and Gus, with Mike right behind him, was framed in the doorway. Carol started to turn and the thug on her left leaped and knocked the weapon spinning.

  Gus walked swiftly up to her, grabbed one arm and hauled her up. Then he pushed her roughly into the chair.

  “Just a nice peaceable housewife, are you? It takes a dame with brains to get the best of my boys—even those two dopes. What’s more, Mike just got back and says the car you were driving was swiped from in front of a house on the street back of Viola King’s place. All of which leaves you in an awful spot, lady. Well—do you talk or shall we try a few tricks that usually serve to loosen even a man’s tongue?”

  “Give me time to think.” Carol brushed a hand across her face as if she were tired. “Five minutes. I-I can’t make up my mind now. I…”

  “Stay right in front of her, Mike,” Gus ordered. “You two saps who let her snatch your gun—stand on either side of her. She’ll have time to think all right. I’ve got things to do—take me ten or fifteen minutes—and when I get back you either talk, lady, or it’s the finish. And if you’re stalling for time to let the Black Bat get here—that’s okay, too, because I’m stalling for the same reason. I want him to come, understand? He’ll get here all right, but he won’t ever leave—believe me.”

  * * * *

  Gus slammed the door on his way out. Mike slowly drew a gun and held it limply—just a suggestion that she’d die fast if she attempted to escape. A deathly quiet settled. Two or three minutes later it was broken by the croak of a bull frog. Carol shivered. Perhaps the marsh where he held sway would be the spot she’d inhabit from now on—if Gus changed his mind about wrecking her with the car she’d stolen.

  Then Carol almost gasped aloud. The bull frog absolutely was insistent about it all. His croaks were frequent and loud. Carol relaxed completely and even Mike and his two men seemed to be overcome by the quiet. Mike yawned lustily, but in the middle of it he gave a strangled gasp.

  Carol began singing—at the top of her voice.

  She sounded like the happiest girl
alive.

  CHAPTER VIII

  The Exploring Death

  Driving straight back to his house, the Black Bat parked not far from the garden gate entrance and made certain his prisoner still was unconscious. He pushed him far down in the seat so no passerby would see him and then glided like the night itself toward the gate.

  Silk met him in the laboratory and the Black Bat ordered:

  “Put on your simplest disguise and go to the car. Drive the mug inside it to a park, drag him out and let him recover. Then hide and watch him. He’ll head straight back to whatever rat hole the rest of his kind frequent. Follow him—and whatever you do don’t lose him—for Carol hasn’t reported!”

  Without a word, Silk opened a drawer and began to disguise himself.

  “I believe Carol either has trailed those birds to their hideout and is watching them or they’ve captured her, Silk. This thug will lead you to her—so don’t miss. If you find you are outnumbered, contact me here. If I’m not around, Butch will be; and I’ll tell him how to reach me.”

  Silk changed his clothes to a cheap brown suit, and used his makeup kit. He no longer looked like the smooth, polished, ex-confidence man and servant. His face was uglier, his head no longer bald. He put a long barreled thirty-two automatic into a hip holster.

  Slipping through the tunnel, across the estate and out the garden gate, Silk reached the coupe and found the thug still unconscious. In the park, Silk stopped at a dark, isolated spot and hauled the man out. He searched him first, but found nothing of consequence. Leaving the man sprawled out beneath a bush, Silk retired to hide behind a thick tree trunk. In the inky darkness he’d never be seen.

  Minutes slipped by and Silk grew impatient. Like the Black Bat, he believed that Carol had been captured. Silk’s lips were drawn into a thin, straight line. If she were dead—or injured—he meant to play a grisly song with his automatic.

  Then the thug sat up slowly, rubbed his swollen chin and looked around. He got to his feet, swayed drunkenly and began to lumber toward the road. Silk reached the coupe and followed him at a discrete distance. This coupe was an old, rather badly used piece of junk on the surface, but there was a smooth, powerful motor under the hood. It could never be traced to the Black Bat and the motor couldn’t be heard ten yards away when turning over slowly.

  The thug clearly had no idea where he was, but lights beckoned him toward the edge of the park. Reaching an avenue fairly heavy with traffic, he stopped long enough to find out whether or not he’d been robbed. Finding money, he yelled at a passing cab and got in. Now Silk really had a job on his hands, for that cab rolled fast.

  * * * *

  They headed across town to the elevated speedway on the West Side. Silk cut into the lane of swiftly moving traffic on the express highway, picked up the cab again and held a steady pace until the cab shot off the busy highway and headed into a state road. It followed this for several miles and then slowed. Silk allowed his coupe to coast off the road into the protection of the darkness around the shoulders. The thug got out of the cab, paid the driver and began to trudge along. The cab turned around and returned to the city.

  Silk realized he was bound for some nearby hideout, so he followed on foot. Suddenly the crook disappeared up a side road. Once or twice he looked around, but Silk was a capable shadow and an indistinct shadow among shadows.

  He followed the man almost to the clubhouse when he heard the whine of a motor car down the road, and dropped flat. The car pulled up at the rear entrance of the place and two men got out.

  Rather faintly from somewhere above, Silk heard sounds of a brief scuffle. There was a moon and it gave light enough so he was enabled to see the partly open skylight. The noise came from there. Silk darted toward the building, tested the strength of a drain pipe and climbed it, easily and soundlessly. He squirmed across the room until he could peer through the skylight.

  Carol was seated in a chair and being threatened by Gus. Silk heard the conversation, knew his time to act was limited and tried to determine how he could rescue Carol without exposing her to additional danger.

  Crawling back, Silk slid down the drain pipe. He saw the vague outlines of a workshed about a hundred and fifty yards to the left. The small structure was locked, but the lock gave way readily to a short bit of steel which Silk was proficient at using. Inside, were the lawn mowers and equipment used to keep the course in a good state of repair. Silk found a coil of rope, slung this over one shoulder and stepped behind the supply shed. In his pocket he carried pliers equipped with wooden handles.

  Now came the most ticklish part of his job. Silk had formulated a plan, but it was necessary that Carol know of it to carry out her end.

  He had good inspiration when frogs in the swamp at the edge of the golf course croaked at the moon. Silk let out a loud croak. It sounded life-like. Then he set up croaking din, but there was method in his madness for, by a simple code, he signaled Carol to be ready and that escape would be effected through the skylight by means of a convenient rope.

  He repeated this several times, jealous of the minutes that were wasted. Then Silk heard a clear, ringing voice. Carol was singing.

  Silk followed the fringe of trees until he faced the back of the place. He waited a moment or two in order to make sure the crooks hadn’t caught onto the meaning of those croaks and of Carol’s singing. Then he reached the drain pipe and climbed it once more. Slithering across the roof top he took another look through the skylight. Silk would have liked this affair much better if the Black Bat were at his side.

  * * * *

  The electric light wires ran from a pole at the west side of the clubhouse to a point not a dozen feet from where Silk lay. In the room below, Gus had returned to investigate Carol’s crazy singing. To motivate it, Carol just smiled a silly grin at him, kept humming and tapping her foot in time to the tune. Gus wrinkled his nose, turned and walked out again.

  Silk was busy preparing a loop in one end of the rope. He got it set to drop quickly and then crept over to where the electric light wires were installed. He cut them with the wooden handled plier, heard shouts from the room below and the sound of running, blundering footsteps. He reached the rope and let it fall. Instantly it grew taut. Silk, no longer cautious now, stood up, braced himself and pulled Carol up until she was able to grasp the skylight frame and haul herself to the roof with Silk’s eager help.

  In the room below, Gus and two other men practically were fighting among themselves to find Carol in the pitch darkness. Someone lit a match. A scraping sound on the roof brought all eyes ceilingward. Gus yelled a curse as he saw Carol’s ankle disappear through the skylight. He whipped out a gun and fired blindly. His men also joined in the shooting.

  Silk’s gun was in his hand. He motioned Carol to run for it, leveled the automatic and fired twice. A scream of pain attested to his marksmanship. Silk took a long chance then. There was a bank, rising about eight feet behind the clubhouse and reaching a point almost level with the roof. He gave a running jump, cleared the space and landed lightly. He slid down the bank and found Carol waiting.

  “We’ll cut across the edge of the golf course,” he told her. “Against the dark background of the trees we’re less likely to be seen.”

  “Isn’t—the Black Bat along?” Carol panted.

  “No—I’m handling this job alone though I’ll confess it looked too much for me ten minutes ago. Let’s get started.”

  They ran quickly to the southwest corner of the course and then streaked due south, keeping well hidden in the shadows. No shots came from the clubhouse, no men poured out of it to take up the hunt. Just a grim, ominous silence held sway and Silk didn’t like it. Mugs like the ones who had captured Carol didn’t give up so easily—or if something did impel them to—they’d have streaked toward their getaway cars.

  Silk looked over his shoulder and gave a grunt of amazement. From one of the windows in the clubhouse came a soft, brownish yellow ray of light. Not exactly a beam, but just a
light with none too much candlepower. It kept moving slightly, like a searching finger.

  Carol saw it too. ‘What does it mean, Silk? Do you think…?”

  “The invention those crooks may have? I don’t know, Carol, but we’ve got to keep going. I…”

  Suddenly a whole section of the earth—twenty feet in front of them, seemed to rise into the air. A terrific explosion accompanied this. Silk grabbed Carol and threw her flat on the ground. Dirt and stones thudded down upon their backs. When the fury subsided, Silk whispered words of encouragement to Carol and both of them arose and ran forward again.

  Another explosion, this one even closer, hurled them off their feet. Silk grabbed Carol’s hand.

  “We’ll take a chance and cut directly across the golf course. Perhaps they spotted us and are turning that infernal machine our way—using it more or less blindly in the hopes of blasting us into bits. They won’t expect us to risk an open dash for safety. Let’s go—and fast.”

  They covered about a quarter of the distance across the field when that brownish yellow light flickered again, moving slowly as if by a gunner finding his range. A dozen yards to their left the earth was blasted. Dirt cut into Silk’s face. Half blinded, he stumbled on. Carol threw an arm around his waist and they kept going.

  Two more gigantic explosions, dangerously close, impeded their progress and then Carol took a long chance. Guiding Silk, she veered toward the further end of the field. As she reached its protecting shadows, a whole section of the surrounding brush leaped into the air. Silk stumbled and fell.

  * * * *

  Carol dropped, covering the back of her head with her clasped hands. Big pieces of shattered wood fell around them. Silk groaned as a piece of rock landed on his left shoulder.

  “Crawl,” Carol urged. “Crawl, Silk. There’s a big crater where that explosion took place. We can hide in it until you recover. This way—hold my hand tightly.”

  Silk followed Carol, sliding down into the depths of a shallow crater. Carol went to work then, with a piece of her dress torn from the hem. She cleaned out most of the dirt from Silk’s eyes.