Nevins had been in the department thirty years, and he took liberties with his superiors that would not have been tolerated from any one else. On many occasions he had been outspoken with the commissioner himself.
“X” met the situation as he thought Burks might have met it. He arose, came around the desk, and towered over Nevins. “Sergeant,” he said in an ominous voice, “you will remember that I am chief inspector, and your superior. I find it necessary to interview Kyle—here. Will you bring him up, or will I relieve you of your post?”
Nevins looked at him for a long moment without saying a word. “X” waited tensely for some sign that Nevins had penetrated his impersonation—some flicker of the eye that would indicate he knew the man before him was not Burks. But Nevins had a poker face, and it remained calm. Finally he shrugged. “If you put it that way, inspector, all right, I’ll bring him up. But the responsibility is entirely yours.”
He turned and went out.
“X” walked back and forth. Much depended on the next five minutes. If Nevins had been fooled, well and good. But had he? It was possible that his shrewd eyes had noted some little thing amiss, and that he had gone out to get help to seize the impostor.
WHILE “X” waited, a groan issued from the closet where Burks lay. The Agent frowned. The gas would soon wear off. It was not intended for the purpose of keeping a person unconscious for any great period of time, and a man of Burks’ great stamina might recover even sooner than the average.
“X” took a hypodermic syringe from one of the receptacles in his vest. This syringe contained a nicely measured dose of a drug prepared by himself. It was sufficient, if injected, to keep a man under its influence for three hours. He approached the closet with the syringe. It would be best to make sure that Burks made no sounds when Nevins returned with Kyle—if he did.
But just as “X” had his hand on the closet door, the telephone on the desk burst into sound. With a philosophical shrug he put the hypo back in its receptacle, and went to the phone.
He picked it up, said, “Yes?” He turned cold as he heard Commissioner Foster’s voice crackle over the wire. “Look here, Burks, what’s this they tell me? Nevins just called up, and says you’ve ordered him to bring Kyle up to your office. I didn’t countermand the order, because I repose full confidence in your judgment—but I’d like to know what it’s all about. Couldn’t you at least have told me in advance what you intended to do?”
“X” thought quickly. He was unfamiliar with the terms of intimacy upon which the commissioner and Burks talked. He might say the wrong thing—one little word, perhaps, which would give Foster grounds for suspicion. It would then be an easy matter for the commissioner to hang up and phone back to the switchboard, ordering him held there.
He had to trust to luck here—to luck and his uncanny instinct for saying the right thing. “I’m sorry, commissioner, but this thing arose so suddenly that I had no time to phone you. There’s been a man here from the attorney general’s office, and he gave me a tip that may open up a new line of inquiry on Kyle. I thought it best to have Kyle up here where I can talk to him in private.”
“A man from the attorney general’s office?” the commissioner demanded. “What’s his name? I know all those boys.”
“X” could not afford to hesitate now; the least pause would have raised Foster’s suspicions. “His name is Black—James L. Black. His credentials are all in order.”
“Black,” Foster mused. “I don’t know any Black in the attorney general’s office. Tell you what—hold everything. Keep Kyle and this Black in your office. I’m coming over myself to take a look. So long. See you in a few minutes.”
The commissioner hung up.
“X” replaced the receiver, his mind racing. He would have to work fast now. Once the commissioner got on the scene, the play would be over.
THE door opened suddenly, without any preliminary rap, and Nevins walked in, looking sulky. He held a big service revolver in his right hand. Kyle was handcuffed to his left, defiant as ever.
Kyle’s stained teeth were in evidence, for he was grinning broadly. “What’s eatin’ yuh, Burks?” he asked. “Think you can wear me down?”
Nevins said, “Here he is. I should tell you that I phoned Commissioner Foster before bringing him up. I think it’s a crazy stunt—with this bird’s record of escapes.” He shrugged. “But as long as the commissioner said okay, okay it is.”
“Thanks,” the Secret Agent said dryly. He was listening, taut, for a sound from the closet. He would have to get rid of Nevins quickly—before Burks groaned again. If he had only had the time to administer that drug! He said to Nevins, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone with the prisoner!”
Nevins almost shouted. “Alone!”
“That’s what I said!”
Nevins suddenly grinned. He waved the revolver at “X.” “Sorry, inspector, but it can’t be done!”
“X” advanced upon him in Burks’ best truculent manner. “What do you mean—can’t!”
“Don’t you remember, inspector, that you yourself gave the order that any officer who was handcuffed to Kyle should be sure not to carry the keys on his person? Funny you don’t remember that. You said it would be too easy for Kyle to knock out the officer and take the keys. Don’t you remember that?” At the same time that he spoke, Nevins looked queerly at the man who was supposed to be Burks.
“X” wondered if this was a trap. Had Burks really given any such order, or was Nevins inventing it to see if he would give himself away by seeming to remember something he had never said?
Kyle’s barking laugh saved him. “Well! It looks like I’m a pretty important guy—having the whole damn police department arguin’ over me!” He shook at the handcuff that linked him to Nevins. “Come on, sarge, be a good sport. Open up them cuffs!”
And just then the thing happened that “X” had been in fear of!
From the recesses of the closet came a deep groan.
Nevins turned a startled face toward the closet. His gun wavered. “What the hell,” he exclaimed. “That sounded like—”
“X” grasped the opportunity. He said softly, “Sorry, Nevins!” His right fist flashed up in a short arc, landed flush on the detective sergeant’s chin.
Nevins’ eyes open wide, he grunted, and slid to the floor, his body sagged against the handcuffs attached to Kyle’s wrist. The heavy service revolver clattered to the floor.
Kyle gazed down at him in stupid amazement, exclaimed, “Jeez!”
Now “X” surprised Kyle with the speed of motion that he exhibited. From an inner pocket of his vest he took a leather kit about three by six inches; and no more than a quarter of an inch in thickness. Unfolded, this revealed a set of chromium steel tools, and a set of master keys suited for every conceivable form of lock. From this kit the Secret Agent picked unerringly, a single key. While Kyle watched in amazement, he inserted it in the lock of the handcuffs, and opened them.
He replaced the key, folded the kit, and put it away. Curtly he ordered Kyle, “Get those handcuffs off you!”
Kyle scuffed the steel bracelet off his wrist, his beady eyes mirroring a deep cunning. Suddenly he dived for the revolver that Nevins had dropped.
“X” took a quick step and kicked the revolver out of his reach. He said, “You fool, do you think you can shoot your way out of here? You’d be dead in two minutes!”
Kyle asked uncertainly, “What’s your game, Burks?” He crouched, animal-like, not comprehending the situation.
“X” said slowly, clearly, “Never mind what my game is. Do as I say and I’ll get you out of here with a whole skin!”
Kyle looked at him stupidly. “You’ll get me out of here? Why?”
“X” snapped at him, “Are you going to keep on asking questions until the whole police force piles in here? Get out of those clothes!” He strode around the desk, got out the suit he had come in—the clothes of the fictional Mr. James L. Black. “Put these on, qui
ckly.”
Suddenly a light came into Kyle’s eyes. “I got it!” he exclaimed. “You’re in the pay of the boss! He’s fixed you! You’re gonna save me! I knew the boss’d come through!” He started to get out of his clothes. “Jeez! The boss must be good. I never thought he could get to you!”
“X” said nothing. He got out his make-up case, and when Kyle had put on the clothes, he set to work on his face. In less than five minutes Kyle was the double of Mr. James L. Black. The nose had not needed changing, due to “X’s” foresight in providing Mr. Black with a nose like Kyle’s. It was only necessary to thicken his lashes a little, give him a slightly wider jaw, and insert a plate to cover his stained upper teeth. The plate was an exact duplicate of Mr. Black’s teeth.
Secret Agent “X” stood back and surveyed his handiwork, nodded in satisfaction. “You’ll pass,” he told the bewildered Kyle. “Now remember—from this minute on, you keep your mouth shut; don’t talk. That’s the only thing that will give you away. They’d recognize you in a second if you started to talk.”
From the depths of the closet came another groan.
Kyle demanded, “Who’s in there?”
“Never mind!” the Secret Agent rapped at him. “You want to get out, don’t you? All right. I’m taking you out. This is the most dangerous part of the program. I’m Inspector Burks. You’re James L. Black, Special Investigator for the attorney general’s office. Look your part, but don’t talk it. Ready? Let’s go. We’re going to walk right out of headquarters, through the whole police department!”
Chapter VIII
Through the Lines
NEVINS was beginning to stir on the floor. “X” stooped and gave him the injection of the hypodermic syringe that had been intended for Burks. There was no time now to reload it for the inspector. They would have to trust to the potency of the gas to keep him out of the picture for a short while longer.
The Secret Agent looked up from beside Nevins, to see Kyle making for the revolver that the sergeant had dropped.
He rapped out, “Keep away from that gun, Kyle!”
Kyle turned, stared. “I ain’t gonna use it on you, Burks. I just figure I oughta have a gat if we’re gonna make a break.”
“There’ll be no gats on this job. We use our heads here.” He stowed the hypo away, took Kyle’s arm. “Let’s go.”
He opened the door, and they went out into the corridor. They walked down toward the entrance, and the man on guard saluted. “X” returned the salute. He had to acknowledge half a dozen more salutes before they reached the street. Out on the sidewalk, he nudged Kyle. “To the left.”
They could discern the dark shadows of watchers in doorways across the street. In the middle of the block a squad car came to a halt alongside the curb. The man beside the driver leaned out, looked searchingly at them, then exclaimed, “Oh! Inspector Burks. I didn’t recognize you.”
“X” said, “All right. Glad to see you’re so vigilant.” He pressed on, still retaining his hold on Kyle’s arm.
Behind them, the officer who had spoken to “X” said to the driver of the car, “Gee, did you hear that? Imagine it! Burks handing out praise! He’s gettin’ old!”
At the next corner was the car in which Lieutenant Fitzimmons was stationed. He got out of the car as he saw their figures approaching. When he recognized Burks, he saluted. He nodded to Kyle, recognizing him as the man from the attorney general’s office.
They passed by Fitzimmons, and Kyle said, “Jeez, what a stunt. Walkin’ right out o’ headquarters arm in arm wit’ the chief inspector!”
“Forget about that,” the Secret Agent told him. “Just keep your head. If you hear an outcry behind us, don’t get panicky. Follow my lead.”
“X” really expected such an outcry. For he knew that Burks would not long remain under the influence of the gas.
They proceeded slowly. “X” had difficulty in restraining his companion, who was constantly getting slightly ahead of him.
“Relax,” he told Kyle. “The police cordon ends at the next corner. I have a car parked a block beyond that. Once there we’ll be safe.”
“What I can’t figure,” Kyle said, “is how come the boss could get you to do this. You’ll sure get broke for this job—if not worse!”
As they neared the outside of the police cordon, “X,” peering ahead into the night, gave an involuntary gasp of chagrin. At the corner, a large, expensive limousine was drawn up close to the curb, and one of the plain-clothes men was talking to its occupants.
“What’s the trouble?” Kyle asked, nervously.
“That,” said the Secret Agent, “is Commissioner Foster’s limousine!”
KYLE uttered a low curse. “X” could feel his arm trembling. “Hell,” he exclaimed, “let’s duck in one of these houses. We gotta make a break!”
He turned toward the doorway of the house they were passing. “X” tightened the grip on his arm, dragged him along. “You idiot! There are men stationed in those houses. We’ve got to bluff it out with Foster!”
“But suppose they find Nevins back there while we’re talkin’ to the commissioner? They’d burn us down! Nix on that stuff—let’s dive in one o’ these houses—ouch!” as “X’s” fingers became a steel band around his arm.
“You’ll play it out this way! Do you think I got you this far only to have you shot down?”
Kyle’s voice took on the suggestion of a whine. “Jeez! At least give me a gun so I can shoot my way out if they get on to us. I ain’t even got a gun.”
“Neither have I. There’ll be no shooting. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“Jeez! Neither of us wit’ a gat! What sort of a fool play is this? Say—” as a new thought dawned on him, “—you ain’t leadin’ me into no trap, are you? Maybe the boss fixed it with you to get me knocked off—”
“X” squeezed his arm so that he winced. “Quiet!”
They were close to the commissioner’s car, and the detective who had been leaning in at the window turned to see who they were. When they came up to him, he saluted, said, “Inspector Burks! Here’s the commissioner!”
Commissioner Foster leaned out from the back seat of the car. His features expressed worry. “Burks!” he exclaimed. “Anything wrong?”
“X” could feel the spasmodic twitch of Kyle’s arm under his grip. Kyle was not used to facing situations like this. Give him a loaded automatic, and he could raise the courage for anything; but this was something that called for cool nerves and quick thinking.
The Secret Agent said, “Nothing wrong, commissioner, but something quite important has come up. This,” he nodded at Kyle, “is the man I told you about—from the attorney general’s office. I believe that with his assistance we can tie Kyle up with the murder of Michael Crome, and get to the reason for his attack on Governor-elect Farrell. I’d like to talk to you in private.”
The commissioner seemed doubtful, but he shrugged, opened the door.
“X” propelled Kyle into the car. Kyle’s instinct was to resist, but that steel grip on his arm would brook no argument. When the door of the car closed behind them, the chauffeur turned his head from the front seat, and said, “Will we move on, sir?”
Commissioner Foster shook his head. “Shut your motor off, Willis. We may be here awhile.”
The Secret Agent said hurriedly, “No, Willis, wait.” He turned to the commissioner. “Let him keep it running. I’m going to a certain place with Mr. Black, here, and perhaps you’d like to come along?”
“All right, Willis,” the commissioner ordered. “Let it run.” He bent an inquiring gaze upon “X” and his companion. “Now, will you be good enough to tell me what this mystery is all about?”
Just then, the detective who had been standing at the curb, exclaimed, “Look, commissioner! There’s something the matter over at headquarters!”
The Secret Agent’s body stiffened. He could feel Kyle, who sat between himself and the commissioner, squirming.
> THE car was facing toward headquarters, and by peering ahead through the darkness, he could discern a crowd of milling men in front of the gloomy structure. Soon several figures disentangled themselves from the crowd, and came running in their direction. As they passed under a street light, the figure in the lead was illuminated. It was that of Chief Inspector Burks, clad only in his underwear, clutching a revolver in one hand, and shouting wildly at them.
The detective at the curb cried, “That’s the inspector! Then who’s—” He turned a suddenly suspicious stare into the car.
The commissioner said, “Hell! What—”
But the Secret Agent’s lightning quick mind had already shaped a course of action. Before the detective at the curb could realize the meaning of the situation, “X” had drawn his gas gun, and reaching past the commissioner and Kyle, discharged it full in the detective’s face.
At the same time he ordered, “Take care of the commissioner, Kyle!”
Without waiting to see that his order was obeyed, he swung around to the chauffeur, and brought the butt of his gun down on the driver’s skull, with just enough force to render him unconscious. Even at this critical moment he was careful not to inflict a mortal injury.
He sensed a struggle going on beside him, between Kyle and the commissioner. He had heard the commissioner’s single startled gasp after his command: “Kyle! Good God—” and then the silence of the struggle.
He had no time for that now. Leaning over the front seat, he shoved the chauffeur’s body to one side, and scrambled in behind the wheel. With consummate skill he shifted into first, and swung the wheel. The car was long and heavy, but he succeeded in making a complete turn in the narrow street by climbing the opposite curb with the front wheel.
Behind them now he heard Burks’ voice raised in an angry shout. “Stop that car! Kyle’s escaped!”
He raced the motor, and the car leaped away from the pursuers.
Secret Agent “X” – The Complete Series Volume 2 Page 18
