The Big Book of Rogues and Villains

by Otto Penzler

  “It has been returned to its proper place,” the Crime Emperor said curtly. “I decided not to use it, as long as Traile knows the way into this room and is still at large.”

  At the mention of Traile’s name, Kang Fu’s sallow face took on an ugly expression. He looked significantly at the torture devices.

  “When he is captured, Master, I hope you will let me take part in—”

  “We will speak of that later,” Doctor Yen Sin halted him. He waved a yellow claw, and the Eurasian opened the door. Traile followed him out into the passage. His hand closed around the butt of Bannister’s gun as they started on, but his plan was abruptly thwarted. A searching party with flashlights was coming through the tunnel, and a burly Sikh was now standing guard at the secret gate in the brick wall.

  The door through which the other Gray Man had gone was still open. Kang Fu stepped aside to let Traile precede him. Traile entered, a helpless feeling coming over him that some irresistible Fate had him in its hands. Then he thought of the cold, white face of Eric Gordon, and the grim set came back to his jaw.

  The room he had entered was not unlike the reception room of a small club, except that there was an Oriental touch to the furnishings. A thickset Chinese with horn-rimmed glasses began to open a record book on a desk, but after a second glance at Traile he stood up and drew aside a tapestry. A narrow corridor lay beyond. It was only about twelve feet in length, and as Traile neared the other end a solid door noiselessly opened.

  It closed behind him as he went in. He looked back and saw that Kang Fu had disappeared. Then he heard a sound and glanced around. The Gray Man he had already seen was turning hastily. Traile guessed that he had been trying to peer through one of the sections of dark glass which formed the wall.

  The man stared at him through the eye-slits of his rubber mask, then abruptly seated himself near the end of a long table. Traile saw that numbers had been neatly painted on the table, running in sequence from 1 to 16. The Gray Man had seated himself before the number 10.

  —

  Traile moved his eyes swiftly about the room. The walls on his right and left were composed of the peculiar black glass. Steel uprights divided the glass into sections six feet wide, and these were further divided into squares, so that they appeared like huge, dark French windows. He could see nothing beyond them.

  At the other end of the room was a clear glass bay, formed of three heavy panels connected by metal frames and extending upward at least nine feet. This bay closed off the space behind it. Directly back of the center glass panel was a tall ceremonial pedestal. There was a round hole in its top.

  A light was shining at an angle from the high ceiling. Its rays slanted down on the front of a wide partition behind the glass bay. In the middle of this partition, and just under a black rectangle, was an open-faced cabinet. Traile barely hid a start as he saw it. The cabinet was almost filled with ugly little puppets like the one which had caused the Rainbow Death.

  There was something gruesomely suggestive about the faces of those hideous dolls. He stepped forward, moving carelessly, aware that sharp eyes were probably observing him from behind the dark glass walls. The Gray Man at the table jerked around as he passed.

  “Be careful, you fool!” he said in a harsh whisper.

  The door at the rear of the council room opened before Traile could reply. Two more of the masked men appeared. Kang Fu and two Chinese were briefly visible before the door closed. The newcomers stared at the cabinet, then silently took places at the table.

  Traile sat down in front of the space marked 9. His chair was the first on the left, at the end near the glass bay. Citizen Ten was at his right, and the other men were seated across the table and farther down. The one at the space marked 6 looked again at the cabinet, and Traile saw him tremble.

  The man’s eyes seemed to be fixed on a puppet in the lower right-hand corner. It was a grotesque little figure, perhaps a foot high, with a bald, ugly head too large for its body. On the front of its tiny shirt was a red splotch, like a drop of blood, as though the puppet represented a man who had been stabbed.

  The heads of the other dolls were also too large for their bodies, each being about the size of a man’s clenched fist. Their lips and nostrils were sewn together with thread, and their eyes were tiny, vacant slits.

  A wave of horror suddenly swept over Traile. He had been partly prepared; Allen’s X-ray film had hinted at the fate of Meredith. But that frightful puppet show turned him sick and cold, as he realized the truth about those hideous dolls.

  Each one bore the shrunken head of a murdered man!

  Behind the rubber mask an icy perspiration bathed Traile’s forehead. For a moment he thought that nausea would overcome him. But by a tremendous effort he controlled his sickened stomach.

  A terrible fascination drew his eyes back to the puppets. He had seen shrunken heads before, in the Jivaro Indian country of South America. He had even witnessed the grim procedure which followed a head-hunting raid upon an enemy tribe. The slitting of the scalp from the hairline to the back of the neck…the removal of the skull…the sewing up of the scalp, the mouth, nostrils, and ears to retain the hot sand which kept the features intact while the empty head was boiled and toughened.

  That had been bad enough, even in a savage atmosphere, with the victims as deadly as their killers. But this horrible display before him almost froze his blood.

  —

  The rear door opened again, and seven other Gray Men entered. He saw each one look toward the shrunken heads, and in more than one man’s hasty stare he read despair and horror.

  Without a word, the masked men took their seats. Only their strained breathing broke the hush of the room. Traile watched them from behind his mask, saw their tight-clenched hands, saw their bodies go taut with fear. The tension swiftly increased.

  From somewhere behind the glass bay came the sharp clash of a gong. Every man at the table jumped. As Traile jerked around he saw a dim light shine up through the hole in the tall, carved pedestal. Then, slowly, a gleaming object moved up into view.

  It was the Golden Skull.

  The jangling clash of the gong faded away. Traile gazed at the leering face of the skull, concealing a shudder as he thought of its grim secret. He started in spite of himself as an almost toneless voice came from those golden jaws.

  “It is unfortunate that two more members of the Chuen Gin Lou will be absent—permanently.”

  The words were somewhat muffled by the thick glass, but Traile recognized the voice of Yen Sin.

  “Citizen Five bribed an agent of the Invisible Empire,” continued the voice from the Skull. “He attempted to withdraw from the Chuen Gin Lou, but met with a misfortune. His end was—colorful.”

  The man next to Traile shivered. Traile looked at the cabinet. He was close enough to see two severed wires where the death’s-head doll had been fastened. It was obvious that an alarm had been disconnected. He remembered that Sonya had mentioned “rainbow fire.” Evidently Doctor Yen Sin had placed a chemical bomb inside each puppet, arranged so that a slight impact or even tilting would set it off.

  “The absence of Citizen Thirteen will be explained later—if necessary,” the Yellow Doctor went on sibilantly. “But you have been summoned here for more important matters.”

  Traile heard a click, then one section of the dark glass swung back. A light went on in a vault, at the front of which was a large stack of engraved certificates.

  “Citizen Seven, you will examine a few of the exhibits,” directed the Invisible Emperor.

  The Gray Man addressed went quickly to the vault. He picked up three or four of the certificates.

  “They’re bonds!” he exclaimed. “Good Heaven, there must be—” He broke off, hastily turned. “They’re stolen! These four were stolen in the Union Trust robbery a year ago!”

  “Your memory is excellent,” came the mocking reply from the Skull. “You need not examine the rest. They are in the same category.”


  —

  Three or four of the Gray Men gasped. Traile looked in amazement at the pile of bonds. There were, he knew from his reading of financial journals, almost a billion dollars’ worth of stolen bonds in the United States. Normally only a small portion would ever be recovered or sold as legitimate bonds through dishonest brokerage houses. But it was plain that the Yellow Doctor had, through his vast criminal empire, drawn the larger part of the stolen securities from their various hiding places. The possibilities staggered his already taut brain.

  “Details are unnecessary,” he heard the silky voice of the Invisible Emperor. “The bonds will be equally divided, for sale through your banks and brokerage offices. It will be forty-eight hours before the truth is generally known. By that time—”

  “But, my God!” cried Citizen Seven. “The losses have already been paid by the insurance companies. The market will have to absorb them again—it’ll mean a panic worse than Twenty-nine!”

  “I am not interested in the stock market of America,” the hidden Chinese said coldly. “Here are my orders: As rapidly as the bonds are sold, they will be converted into foreign securities or jewels, as I direct, and these will be delivered to me by—”

  “You’re mad!” the man next to Traile broke in furiously. “It’ll wreck the country—ruin us all—”

  “Silence!” rasped the Invisible Emperor.

  But Citizen Ten whirled frantically to the others.

  “You damned fools, are you going to let him finish us? We’ll be ruined—they’ll jail us for—”

  The crash of the unseen gong cut him off. He turned, shaking, looked toward the Golden Skull. There was a dead silence as the reverberations of the gong ceased. Then the Crime Emperor spoke in an icy tone.

  “Perhaps you would rather go to the electric chair for—murder!”

  “You tricked me into killing him!” the Gray Man said hoarsely. “By Heaven, I’ll take my chances with the police!”

  Traile had slid his hand into his pocket, was watching tensely. If the rest should rebel, there might be a chance….

  “May I suggest,” said the Invisible Emperor softly, “that you turn and look to your right?”

  The Gray Man turned, went rigid. Diagonally across from the vault, another section of the dark glass had opened, revealing the torture room.

  Though Traile had already seen the mutilated corpse, a chill ran down his spine. For beside the dead man’s bier was a small guillotine. Its slanting blade was raised, and an ugly stain covered most of the surface. In the background stood several shadowy figures.

  “Cloyd!” the Gray Man whispered as he saw the face of the corpse. He stumbled backward, dropped heavily into his chair. There was a sound like a faint mirthless laugh from the Golden Skull.

  “I trust,” said the Invisible Emperor, “there will be no further objections.”

  Citizen Ten buried his head in his hands. No one spoke. The pivoted black glass slowly began to close. It was almost shut when from the passage beyond the torture chamber came the unmistakable crack of a pistol shot.

  Traile and several of the Gray Men leaped to their feet. A bright light flashed on in the torture chamber, as the waiting assassins whirled and ran for the passage. Then the Yellow Doctor’s voice crackled from the amplifier back of the Skull.

  “There is no cause for alarm. My men have obviously captured a certain spy who has been hiding in the base.”

  Traile was tightly gripping his gun. This might be a break….

  There was a sound of fierce struggling, as the passage door opened. A dozen of Yen Sin’s killers appeared, dragging two men with them. Traile silently groaned as he recognized Bill Allen. His eyes shifted to the second man. Then he stood paralyzed.

  It was Eric!

  Chapter 14

  The End of the Rainbow

  In that first moment, Traile almost doubted his senses. But the Yellow Doctor’s men viciously shoved their captive into the lighted room and he saw that it was really Eric Gordon. The deathly pallor of the young Southerner’s face had given way to an angry flush. He struggled for a second more, then gave up as he saw its futility.

  Traile had instinctively sprung forward to help the two men. But even as he moved, he knew it was useless, and he transformed his hasty action into a threatening gesture. Bill Allen cursed him, and Eric gave him a savage glare.

  Behind the group of dacoits and Chinese killers, three more figures appeared. Traile’s eyes narrowed back of his mask slits as he saw Sonya with Iris Vaughan and Kang Fu. Then he realized that she could not know him, that she had not been able to return to the room where he had left Bannister.

  Above the confusion and jabber of voices, an imperious command came from the Golden Skull.

  “Kang Fu! Explain this, at once!”

  The Eurasian gave Eric a half-frightened look.

  “How this man recovered, I do not know, Master. He was leading the other one and a small party of Federal agents when Agent Eighty-five gave the alarm.”

  There was a short pause, and Traile guessed that the Yellow Doctor was looking at Iris Vaughan through the rectangle of dark glass. The blonde girl came forward nervously.

  “I know nothing about it, either—I had just come in through Entrance Four when I saw them.” She motioned to Sonya. “I was with her. We were unable to use the other entrance.”

  “What of the raiding party?” the Invisible Emperor demanded.

  It was Kang Fu who answered.

  “One of the men was killed. The others were shut out when we closed the emergency door. Group Five has been sent to take care of them.”

  “And you still have not found the man Traile?” came a harsh query from the Skull.

  “No, Master, but it is impossible for him to escape,” the half-caste replied hastily.

  “Are you blind?” the Invisible Emperor said in a fierce voice. “This entire affair is a conspiracy. Traile must have known about the drug, and he simply pretended to agree to my conditions so he could discover the base. He must have some scheme to wreck our plans.”

  For just an instant, Traile caught a strange look in Sonya Damitri’s eyes. And he knew, then, how Eric had been revived. But Kang Fu’s next words snatched his mind from that brief, revealing thought.

  “These two must know what Traile intends, Master. It should not take long to make them talk.”

  Before Yen Sin could answer, Traile wheeled toward the glass bay, which he knew shielded the Yellow Doctor.

  “Let me handle them!” he said harshly. “I’ve a score to settle with both of them.”

  He thought Sonya gave a start, in spite of his careful imitation of the millionaire’s grating voice. But Yen Sin’s answer showed he had no suspicion.

  “Very well. Kang Fu will assist you.”

  —

  The tight band about Traile’s heart relaxed. He nodded to the Eurasian. Kang Fu ordered the others to take out the captives. They were starting through the opening to the torture room when, without the slightest warning, the black section next to the vault whirled open on its pivots.

  Then Mark Bannister plunged into the room.

  There was a stifled exclamation from the Golden Skull, and Yen Sin’s voice rose sharply.

  “Kang Fu! Seize the man behind you!”

  Traile had leaped back the instant he saw the millionaire. Kang Fu spun around, halted with a look of stupefaction. As Traile snatched the gun from his pocket, the half-caste frantically raised his own pistol.

  Traile fired. Kang Fu crumpled to the floor, and Bannister tripped over him in his furious charge. One of the Gray Men clawed out at Traile’s gun hand. Traile jumped sidewise, stiff-armed the other man.

  In the sudden confusion, Eric had wrenched away from his captors. He hurled himself down after the half-caste’s pistol. A squealing Chinese dashed after him with a knife. Traile drilled the man through the head. Two of the Gray Men were almost on him. He slammed the gun across the nearer one’s face. The rubber mask tore away,
and he saw a bleeding gash. Before the second man could reach him, Traile hurdled a chair and jumped onto the table.

  The second Gray Man dived at his legs. He lashed out, kicked the man squarely under the jaw. The Gray Man fell back with a strangled groan. Traile flung a look upward, crouched swiftly. Two dacoits were springing to drag him down. He leaped up with all his might, hooked one arm over the top of the center bay-panel.

  Clutching hands caught at his feet. He kicked backward, felt the thud of his foot against flesh. His gun had slipped from his fingers as he grasped the top of the panel, pulled himself up with both hands.

  Back of the partition, the Satanic face of the Yellow Doctor glared up at him. As he swung himself over the top, a gun blasted from the council room. The slug made a scar on the bulletproof panel, ricocheted up to the ceiling. Two more shots crashed against the glass as he dropped.

  He struck beside the pedestal. Like a flash, the black rectangle was slid aside, and the snout of a peculiar weapon appeared. He threw himself flat. There was a twang, and a steel dart buried itself in the side of the pedestal.

  As Yen Sin stepped back to recharge the gun, Traile sprang to his feet. The Crime Emperor stabbed a yellow talon at a button before him, and the right bay-panel swished back into a niche. Bannister and four of Yen Sin’s killers darted toward the opening.

  Traile whirled, snatched one of the death’s-head dolls, and hurled it toward the onrushing men. A horrified look shot into Bannister’s face as he saw the doll. He jumped back, threw his hand before his eyes.

  There was a brilliant flash, an awful shriek, and the millionaire was lost in a blaze of rainbow fire. As Yen Sin ran toward the other side, Traile saw two more groups closing in. He turned desperately and jerked one after another of the deadly puppets from their wires. He saw it land near the pile of bonds, and another blaze up near the door to the torture room.

  —

  Alarm bells were clanging wildly above the hiss of the Rainbow Death and the screams of the dying men. Traile felt his way toward the right side of the bay, to the opening through which Yen Sin had fled.