The rear door swung open and two men got out. Both had coat collars pulled high and hat brims down over their eyes. They entered Viola’s car, came out in less than ten seconds and held something close against their bodies. They made one more trip and then jumped into the back of the hearse. It pulled away and McGrath gave the signal to attack.
The police car roared forward. One man jumped out as it slowed a bit, and went to Viola’s car to protect her. The others tore after the hearse. The grim black vehicle turned left. So did the driver of McGrath’s car. Guns were raised now, ready to let fly a song of death. Then McGrath’s jaw dropped, someone rasped a curse and they all saw their chances of capturing that hearse flitting away like a puff of steam.
In his first swift count, McGrath checked eleven hearses all practically alike and matching the one which had been manned by the Patriot’s men. Each lane of traffic disgorged more of them.
Sirens were wailing from all directions now as police cars closed in to block the highways.
It required a full hour to assemble all the hearses. Their drivers and attendants were none too polite about how they felt either.
“We got a hurry call,” one driver explained. “The address was phony so we just turned around and started for home.”
Another indicated that he was on his way to pick up a corpse. Each hearse was owned by a reputable undertaker, the drivers and attendants were checked and found to be telling the truth. There were twenty-three hearses in all now and their number increasing every two or three minutes as police herded others to the spot.
Not one carried a single clue to the whereabouts of the missing cash. The Patriot again had won. He’d even foreseen that the police and G-Men would try to move in on him.
McGrath walked back to his car.
“How many people knew we were going to trail the King girl? Halton, Lockwood, Quinn and his valet, Silk. The last two are okay—take my word on that. But Halton has been yelling his head off about paying the Patriot. He maneuvered this whole thing. Lockwood has always been with him, maybe egging him on. It’s Lockwood or Halton. Personally I think it’s Lockwood because he’s kept his mouth shut and he’s a smart bird.”
“Let’s pick both of them up,” the Field Director of the F.B.I. suggested. “You see to that, Captain. I’ll take charge of protecting the Acme Insurance Building. Don’t forget—the Patriot promised to blow it to bits if we crossed him and we certainly showed our hand plainly here. I think the hearse actually manned by the Patriot’s men made good its escape right through our cordon. Anyway the Acme Building is our greatest worry right now.”
* * * *
Tony Quinn heard about the events from two sources. Commissioner Warner called and described what had happened and almost the moment Quinn hung up, Viola King was on the wire.
“The police were there—G-Men too,” she sobbed. “What will happen now—to Dad, I mean? They’ll think I warned the police. They’ll kill him.”
“Please,” Quinn soothed her, “nothing like that will happen. If you had told the police, they’d have captured those men easily. The Patriot knows that. Just sit tight—don’t talk to anyone. If you receive further advice from the Patriot, let me know about it. And don’t worry—your father is going to be all right.”
When Quinn hung up, Silk grunted: “Trust McGrath to pull a stunt like that. He flops every time he tries anything. Of course the Patriot will murder Viola’s father now. What’s more, he’ll blow up one of the big buildings in town. People will be killed.”
“A building will not be blown up, people will not be killed and the Patriot is on his way to justice,” Quinn said softly. “Don’t ask questions because I’m not prepared to answer them. However—in a short time we’re all going into action.
“For days I’ve kept a card up my sleeve, not daring to use it because if I failed—well, I’d be sunk, too. Now it’s time to play that card, but first we’ll wait. The Patriot won’t take this fiasco lying down. We’ll hear from him, in one way or another. Meanwhile you’d better get your disguise materials ready for quick application.”
That Tony Quinn spoke the truth became evident an hour later. Captain McGrath arrived, face flushed, eyes hard and uncompromising. He had a piece of paper in his hand.
“Warner sent me over with this,” McGrath barked. “Take a look at it.”
Quinn never even moved his head, nor allowed a muscle in his arms to ripple.
“I?” he smiled wanly. “Come now, Captain, you know better than that. Forever trying to trick me into betraying the fact that I can’t see, aren’t you? Hand it to Silk and he’ll read the thing to me. What is it, anyway?”
“I’m sorry.” McGrath sat down like a man dead on his feet. “I wasn’t trying to trick you. So many things have happened, there’s so much to do—I just forgot. This is a leaflet, one of several thousand that came floating down from several different tall buildings in town. It’s the Patriot’s latest blast. Read it, Silk.”
Silk did. “The heading says, ‘PATRIOT DEFIANT.’ Then it goes on, sir. ‘Despite all my warnings the Police and G-Men disobeyed the orders I gave and tried to intercept certain cash being paid to me by government officials smart enough to realize I hold the upper hand.
“‘Because of this fact I now demand the instant payment of another sum—three million dollars to be delivered to me by tomorrow night and if any attempts are made to intercept the men sent for it—the weapon I now own will be immediately sold to certain agents of another government. It will be turned against us eventually because the nation that possesses it can rule the world.
“‘I made a promise that I would exhibit my little machine again if I was crossed. Now I am forced to do that. I hereby warn everyone to remain away from the vicinity of the Acme Insurance Company Building. If my new demands are not met I shall take steps to destroy a battleship now in the harbor.
“‘Citizens—contact your duly elected representatives. Tell them they must obey me. It is foolish to attempt any compromise or to defy me.’”
“Patriot!” McGrath growled derisively. “He’s the biggest traitor we’ve ever known. For the love of Mike, Mr. Quinn, if you have any ideas about this—if you are the Black Bat—help us.”
* * * *
Quinn disregarded McGrath’s plea. “What have you done about the Acme Building?”
“Everything possible. Cleared it out, searched every nook and cranny—at least that’s being done now. And say, listen to this, Jim Halton and George Lockwood both have offices in that building. Coincidence, maybe? Not to me it isn’t. One of those two—or maybe both—are connected with the Patriot. Anyway we’re doing all we can. Buildings nearby are watched. Nobody is allowed to enter. The streets are patrolled and guarded. But what good is all this if a machine can be set up somewhere, maybe quite far away, and turn some kind of a blast on the building? We can’t cover the whole city.”
“True,” Quinn agreed. “But it’s still your problem, Captain. Thanks for bringing me the latest dope sheet from the Patriot. One thing about that man—he likes himself.”
When Silk returned from letting McGrath out, Tony Quinn had disappeared into the private laboratory. He rarely moved in such haste immediately after McGrath departed so Silk knew things were ripe for action.
Carol and Butch were there. Quinn opened a large cabinet and gestured toward the small arsenal it contained.
“Arm yourselves—bring extra ammunition. Carol, we’ll use your car because it’s big and fast. You and Butch drive to the corner, pick up Silk and follow me. I’ll be in Steve Cobb’s taxi. Stay out of sight until I signal.”
Quinn left the lab and Butch and Carol looked at Silk inquisitively. Silk shrugged and kept dabbing on makeup.
“He says he’s going to play an ace that’s been up his sleeve for a few days. Don’t ask me what it is. I’d better go help him.”
Quinn put on his coat, picked up his cane and hat and moved to the door. At the curb, Steve Cobb was dozing behind the
wheel of his taxi. He woke up instantly when Quinn walked down the steps. Cobb rushed up to him and helped him to the taxi.
“Gosh, boss,” Steve Cobb said, “somethin’ must have happened. I can tell by your face. Where to?”
“Viola King’s house—where you took me before. Hurry, Steve, this is urgent. The Patriot is getting ready to spring his last trap. The Police practically are wise to him and they’ve set a little trap of their own.”
“Yeah?” Steve gaped. “Say—can I get in on the excitement?”
“Nobody can,” Quinn replied. “Captain McGrath just left my house. Anyway they’ve rigged up something at the Acme Insurance Company Building that is bound to nail anyone who enters. Just what it is I must keep secret, but—it will work. If it does—the Patriot or his agents will be killed. Every one of them. I’ve got to warn Viola not to stir. She’s a peculiar girl and might decide to visit the building and challenge the Patriot.”
“Okay,” Steve gasped and drove like a mad man to Viola King’s home. He even mounted the curb before he got the car to a stop. Quinn was all but dragged out.
“You gonna be in there a few minutes, boss?” Steve asked breathlessly. “I gotta make a phone call down the street. Won’t take me long.”
“Very well,” Quinn answered, “but I won’t be here more than three or four minutes and I’ll need you badly. You only know half of what’s going to happen tonight, Steve.”
* * * *
The taxi shot away and Carol’s car glided up softly. Tony Quinn cast aside all pretense of being blind. He jumped into the car, peeled off his hat and coat and hurriedly donned the somber clothing of the Black Bat.
“Follow Steve,” he told Carol. “Don’t lose him whatever you do. He won’t be suspicious. The little man is in far too much of a hurry to think about anything other than a very mythical trap which the police are setting for the Patriot.”
“I don’t understand, sir,” Silk frowned.
Quinn laughed. “Steve Cobb was my ace in the hole. That’s why I permitted, even encouraged, him to hang around. You see Steve happens to be an agent of the Patriot, assigned to watch me. Just why, I’m not so sure except that it’s possible they think I’m working very closely with the police and transferring to them a lot of information I get from Viola. At any rate, Steve is not only the Patriot’s agent—he’s a murderer.”
“Murderer?” Carol cried. “Whom did he kill?”
“The printer who was blown to bits at the airfield. I’ve been sure of that ever since I learned the facts. Think back—the printer got away very neatly. In fact, I think they let him get away. He knew what they were up to because he printed those circulars under their direction. Probably they even told him that if he escaped he could save the lives of those pilots by going directly to the airport.”
“But where does Steve come in?” Silk asked.
“The printer jumped through a window, fell and was hurt. We know that. Steve and his taxi came along at the crucial moment and of course the printer pressed Steve into service. He drove the printer to the airport and from the testimony of sentries at the gate and from Steve himself, even helped the printer out and up to the gate. The man was injured and needed this help. But Steve was sending him to his doom.”
“How?” Butch and Silk chorused.
“You’ll learn that quickly enough. Now—watch him. No time to talk. Steve will go directly to the Patriot’s headquarters. He’s bound to because of what I told him. Then we must act fast.”
CHAPTER XVIII
Raid
Steve really did that trip up brown, flirting with arrest at every traffic light. Carol kept on his trail, far enough behind to avoid being seen, but always maintaining a constant distance between the two cars.
Quinn now was garbed in his regalia and had become the Black Bat once more. Steve led them across town and then up Riverside Drive. Suddenly his tail light flashed as the car made a quick turn into a driveway. Carol immediately slowed up.
“He entered that estate,” the Black Bat said. “Carol—drive close to it, and I’ll get out. You others park the car, return and be ready to fight your way inside. Don’t make any more noise than necessary until the fireworks really begin. Good luck!”
He leaped out of the car as it slowed down, flitted across the sidewalk so fast that he was a darker blur among many shadows. Few people were on the streets and he went unnoticed.
About fifty yards up the imposing driveway was an iron gate. The Black Bat ducked off the drive, merged with the carefully cultivated shrubbery and approached the gate carefully.
He held a gun in his hand and those extremely sensitive ears of his were alert for the slightest sound. He heard a hoarse whisper, parted branches and his eyes cleaved the darkness to see two men standing beside the gate. Both had submachine guns.
He veered left, reached the fence at a point well away from the gate and took a slender piece of steel from his pocket. Ordinarily it was used to pry open locks, but this time the black Bat tossed it lightly at the fence. There was no crackle of electricity and he felt secure in climbing the fence. That was no easy task for it had been made to circumvent any such attempts.
He crouched, for a moment, on top of the fence and then jumped. Ordinary eyes would not have seen the small, cleared area below, but the Black Bat saw it and avoided being tangled up in shrubs.
He had to work fast. Silk, Butch and Carol would be on their way toward the gate in a few moments. Running lightly, he reached the drive. Rubber soled shoes on well cropped lawn were noiseless and the two guards had no inkling that an enemy approached until one of them suddenly groaned and slumped to the ground.
The other started to turn around. He saw a blur that turned into a fist. It walloped him on the chin, stifled the cry for help and stunned his brain. Another punch finished him off.
The Black Bat searched both men, removed their guns and found keys to the gate in the pockets of one. He unlocked the big iron doors and in a moment his three aides were gathered about him.
“The Patriot’s real headquarters are in the mansion. You can see the rooftop above the trees. Our job is to get inside and save Joel King. The Patriot may have quite a group of killers assembled here so make every shot count if shooting becomes necessary.
“Carol—you are to remain here. Don’t argue the point—someone must. Watch for any signs of reinforcements. Give us about ten minutes and then come immediately to the rear door of the house. Keep out of sight until you see one of us. Watch these two guards also and use the butt of your gun on them if they start making any noise.”
* * * *
With Silk and Butch close beside him, to take advantage of his abnormal sight, the Black Bat moved quickly toward the house. They surveyed the place, huge and sprawling, one of the last remnants of an era gone by.
“We can’t delay a moment,” the Black Bat warned. “Getting into the place won’t be easy, but I’m afraid they may murder Joel King if they have time to do so. Therefore, this is our plan. Butch, reach the west side of the house. Silk you take the east and I’ll tackle the rear.
“Check your watches with mine—just let me see them—I’ll adjust them for you in the darkness. Now, in precisely four minutes I want each of you to hurl the biggest rock you can find through a window. I’ll do the same. The killers inside won’t be sure from what direction the crash came.
“I’m hoping that they all rush to either side of the house so I can go in through the back. When I get there—and my chances are two-to-one against my making it—I’ll start another diversion which will draw them to my side. You two will then try to get in also.”
“I understand sir.” Silk’s face was set.
Butch smiled grimly. “Me too, this is what I been waitin’ for. It’s okay to slug as many of them rats as I can, huh?”
“It’s just what I want you to do,” the Black Bat said. “All right, we part up here. Four minutes—on the dot.”
The Black Bat made his way to the rear
of the house, found a good sized stone from a rock garden and hefted it as he gauged the distance to a cellar window. Eyes riveted on his watch, he waited until the zero moment and then hurled the rock.
Silk’s stone smashed through a big bay window at almost the exact instant. Butch was half a second late, but he wrecked another window. The lights in the house winked out simultaneously, indicating they were all hooked to a main switch conveniently located upstairs.
The Black Bat raced to the window he’d broken, hesitated a bare second and then knew the men inside were heading toward the racket on the first floor. He picked out the larger pieces of glass, unlocked the window and slipped through. The intensely dark cellar meant nothing so far as his eyes were concerned. He moved directly to the cellar steps, raised his automatic and fired a single shot.
The pounding feet on the floor above, all hesitated and then rushed toward the cellarway. Three men rushed down the stairs, guns ready. One had a flashlight and started to spray the darkness with it. A gun blazed. The light went out and its owner slumped to the floor. The other pair started shooting indiscriminately while they retreated. Others were hurrying to aid them. The way probably was clear for Butch and Silk.
* * * *
A moment or two later this fact was a certainty when the Black Bat heard a howl of anguish and then a tremendous. crash as Butch hurled one man against a wall.
The Black Bat opened fire again, with both guns now. He went up those steps rapidly, stopped at the top and listened. There were two quick shots. Someone screamed and a man fell to the floor almost at the Black Bat’s feet. Silk was in action now.
The Black Bat catapulted through the doorway, faced a thug who was in the act of taking aim and beat him to the shot by a fraction of a second.
Elsewhere in the house a battle royal raged. The Black Bat found no opposition as he raced upstairs to the second floor and began opening every door to search for Joel King.
He heard a muffled cry, went down along the upper corridor like a flash and another of those cries placed the room from which it originated. He flung the door open.
Adventure Tales, Volume 6 Page 35
