While Cardona was phoning, Weston looked about, then questioned Boland:
"Where did Cranston go?"
Boland replied that the commissioner's friend had gone back to the Cobalt Club; that he would meet Weston there later. The commissioner gave a contemptuous snort; then, as Cardona finished the headquarters call, Weston dismissed thoughts of Cranston and told the inspector to come along.
Before Weston and Cardona had reached the street, a cab was pulling away.
Its passenger was Cranston, but Weston would not have recognized his friend.
Already, Cranston had become The Shadow. Garbed in black, he was tuning in his shortwave radio, to get Burbank's latest word.
Reports from agents. The lieutenants who served Five-face had suddenly begun to move. Driving separate cars, the three were picking up thugs as passengers. As The Shadow listened, Burbank relayed a report from Hawkeye. The spotter had learned where the crooks were heading - to the Hotel Clairmont.
According to Arnold Melbrun, the Clairmont could be reached in fifteen minutes from his office. In Moe's cab, with the speedy driver at the wheel, The
Shadow expected to cut the trip to ten. Those minutes would be precious.
Barney Kelm was already at the Hotel Clairmont, chatting with the five financiers who had brought fifty thousand dollars apiece. Barney Kelm wasn't the public hero that the law supposed. He was Five-face: Jake Smarley, Flush Tygert and Barney himself, all rolled into one, the most dangerous master crook
in all America!
Would Barney wait for Melbrun to appear? If he did, all would be well. If not, even The Shadow, with all his speed, might be too late to prevent the theft of another quarter million by the public enemy who basked in a hero's guise.
CHAPTER XIII
CASH IN ADVANCE
FIVE men were seated in a little room on the mezzanine floor of the Hotel Clairmont, bundles of cash piled in front of them. They had brought their money; they were waiting for Barney Kelm to finally sell them on his proposition. A few details, certain guarantees, were all that had to be settled.
The financiers felt quite secure. This conference had been kept strictly private; it seemed impossible that news of it could have leaked out. The doors of the room were bolted and the windows had grilled gratings, for this room was
specially designed for conferences.
Besides, the very presence of Barney Kelm was a guarantee of safety.
These
financiers did not share the qualms of Commissioner Weston. They did not think of Barney as a man hounded by criminals. They regarded him as a man who could settle crooks; for he had proven his ability in that line.
Down in the lobby were half a dozen of Barney's "boys," tough-fisted pugs who would rally the moment that their boss called them. The financiers had looked those young chaps over when they entered, and felt quite happy because such guards were on hand to protect them.
There was a heavy knock at the door, repeated in the fashion of the signal. A gray-haired man opened the door and admitted Barney. Wearing his derby hat, the smiling promoter strolled cockily to the table.
"I just called Melbrun," said Barney. "He was at his house, and he says he'll be coming down here. But he came in late from Norfolk, and from the way he talked, I don't think he'll have his cash with him."
Sharp looks passed among the financiers. This was to be a strictly cash transaction; one man mentioned it, and Barney nodded his approval.
"We don't need Melbrun," he decided. "This is a quarter-million-dollar deal, and we've got that much right now. Here are the papers, gentlemen. Look them over."
Barney placed an old valise on the conference table. Oddly, it was the same valise that Flush Tygert had carried away from the Diamond Mart. Old Breddle hadn't given a good description of that bag, so it excited no suspicion. Still, it was curious that Barney should be using an item that might
link him with Flush.
There was a reason. Like nearly every big-time criminal, Five-face was superstitious. As Flush, he had lugged that valise through a very tough tangle of circumstances, and had wound up with a successful getaway. As Barney, he wanted his luck to hold, and the valise was a good token.
In addition, Barney knew of only one person outside of Breddle who would recognize the valise. Barney was thinking of The Shadow. He was positive that on this occasion the cloaked fighter would not cross his path.
From the valise, Barney took stacks of papers that looked like contracts and handed them around the circle. Strolling across the room, he stopped near a
side door and took a cigar from a box that lay on a table. Lighting the perfecto, Barney leaned against the door and let one hand steal behind him.
He was sliding back the bolt, leaving the door unlocked. Thus, he was opening a route by which others might enter, when he called them. The room, therewith, would have two exits, for the front door was merely latched, not bolted.
Surprised exclamations came from the men about the table. The documents that Barney had given them were merely blank contracts, specifying nothing regarding the promoter's proposition. Hearing queries, Barney responded in booming tone:
"It's all right, gentlemen! Just a trifling mistake! I can explain everything -"
He was stepping forward, reaching in his pocket. From behind him, Barney heard a slight creak of the door. The thing that he drew from his pocket wasn't
a contract, but it was quite the thing to seal a bargain. It was a .45
revolver,
that Barney flourished under the noses of the astonished financiers.
BEFORE the group could come to their feet, two other men entered the room.
They were thuggish men, ill-clad, who wore handkerchief masks across their faces. Like Barney, they carried revolvers, but of a lesser caliber.
Though Five-face still preferred a big smoke-wagon, for the show it made, he had instructed his lieutenants to let their trigger men bring whatever weapons they chose. Big guns hadn't proven their worth during the battle in the
old arcade, wherein The Shadow, almost single-handed, had routed fighters who carried oversized revolvers.
The two men who now flanked Barney were ordinary thugs, delegated to this duty. Clip Zelber had provided them, but with instructions that, whatever happened, they were to blame the mess on Barney Kelm.
Their eyes, peering through the masks, showed surprise when they saw that they were actually siding with Barney. They had taken Clip's instructions to mean that they were framing Barney, not helping him.
But when they glanced at Barney, they understood. His face didn't wear the
smile that went with his pose of a public hero. Bearing down upon the cowed financiers, Barney was showing an ugly leer that was quite out of character.
With his present manner, Barney could have kept the financiers under full control without any assistance.
However, Barney had other work to do. He told the masked men to herd the victims into a corner. Quaking, the financiers retreated, leaving their money on the table. Stacking the piles of currency into the valise, Barney strolled to the front door of the room and laid his hand upon the knob.
"Stay just as you are, gentlemen," he sneered, "but put your hands in back
of you. My men are going to tie you up. Don't try to make a break, because" -
he
gestured toward the side door - "we have a few more on hand, to keep you covered."
At Barney's back, the door swung open to admit another pair of gunmen.
The
first two put their guns away; brought out coils of wire and rolls of adhesive tape from their pockets. Bundling the victims together, they began to bind and gag them.
Barney opened the front door of the room and sidled through, pushing the valise ahead of him. He poked his head back into the room, to take a last look.
Then, as an afterthought, Barney again addressed the helpless prisoners.
"Blame me for this," he chuckled.
"Anybody would turn crook, if the stakes
were big enough. That's the whole story. My boys downstairs are going to be as surprised as you fellows -"
Barney halted, staring at a window straight across the room. Outside the pane, he could see the dull gleam of the bronze grille. It seemed to blacken as
Barney watched it. He didn't like the looks of the thing; it reminded him too much of The Shadow. Then Barney chuckled.
The Shadow wouldn't be at that window. There was a little balcony outside;
one that extended away from the window's edges, and therefore offered a good lurking spot. But the bars weren't the sort that could be filed or pried loose.
Such a process would take a long time and make a lot of noise.
It would be funny, Barney thought, if The Shadow really happened to be out
there. When Barney reached the street, he would signal his lieutenants and point
out the balcony. The Shadow would be a fine target, on that unprotected ledge.
Unwittingly, Barney pushed the door a trifle wider, exposing the valise that he carried, though he didn't know it. Then, stepping out into the hall, he
slammed the door behind him.
Chuckling, Barney visualized the room just as he had left it: Five prisoners in the corner, being bound by two thugs; another pair of armed guards, at the side door across the room.
The window did not matter; not in Barney's calculations. Nevertheless, the
window was to prove important.
HARDLY had Barney stepped from sight before darkness shifted away from the
bronze grille. Something still remained near the bottom bars - a roundish object, that gave a slight sputter.
Barney would have noticed that tiny squidge of light. But the thugs who had taken over for him were not in positions to observe it. Something was about
to happen very suddenly.
Five-face was wrong, when he supposed that it would take a long while to crash through the heavily barred window. He was right, however, in his guess that noise was necessary.
A huge flare of light blazed beyond the darkened pane, lighting the room vividly, along with the outdoor scene. The gush of brilliance was accompanied by a huge roar - the explosion of a powerful bomb that twisted metal bars into hanging strands. Smashing inward, the blast blew the window into fragments, turning the glass pane into powder.
Like the men who were binding them, the prisoners in the corner were flattened by the powerful concussion. The masked guards at the side door were staggered. They clawed at the handkerchief masks that slipped across their eyes. They didn't see the figure that came from the outer shelter of the balcony, leaping through the gap that had once been a window.
They heard him, that challenger who had blasted his way into the scene of crime. They recognized him by the laugh that quivered, a fierce, challenging crescendo amid the echoes of the bomb's explosion.
Only one fighter could deliver such strident mockery, the taunt that all men of evil dreaded.
The Shadow!
CHAPTER XIV
CROOKS IN THE DARK
A SWEEP of blackness in a room where lights seemed dim. Such was The Shadow, as he wheeled beneath the tilted chandelier in the center of the conference room.
Though half shaken from its moorings, the chandelier still had lighted bulbs; but their glow was feeble to the thugs who were yanking away their masks.
The brilliance of the blast had dazzled everyone, except The Shadow. He had held his cloak across his eyes, out on the balcony, while the short fuse was completing his brief fizz. He had counted upon dazzling the crooks; otherwise, he would not have made his tremendous entry, with the lives of five prisoners at stake.
Some of the financiers were bound, and the rest were practically helpless.
So The Shadow went to their rescue, first, completing it in rapid style. The thugs who were doing the binding had put their guns away; they had barely managed to get the weapons from their pockets, when The Shadow was upon them.
He settled that pair with hard blows from his guns. Shots would have betrayed his position, and he wanted no firing in this direction. Thugs at the door across the room were still wondering where The Shadow was. Half blindly, they turned toward the ruined window, supposing that he was keeping to its shelter.
Instead, The Shadow was skirting wide along the front of the room. Again, crooks heard his laugh, almost at their elbows. They turned, tugging their gun triggers, trying to aim point-blank at swirly blackness.
The Shadow was on them before they fired. He sledged the pair out through the door, driving them as human blockades against reserves who were lunging in from a stairway.
Guns roared at close range. New gunmen, who could see to fire, drove their
bullets home. But it wasn't The Shadow who received those deadly slugs. The shots found the thugs that he had shoved ahead of him. His guns, blasting in reply, sent sizzling bullets past the human shields and clipped the marksmen beyond them.
There was the sound of bodies tumbling down the stairs; shrieks that turned into groans.
Wheeling full about, The Shadow saw the room again. He hadn't heard the front door rip open, but he guessed that it would be wide. On the threshold stood Five-face, still in the guise of Barney Kelm, aiming his big revolver, hoping to find The Shadow. He heard the tumble of bodies, saw the swirl of returning blackness.
Five-face dodged as he fired. The shot from his .45 went wide. Like the mobbies who had perished in his service, crime's overlord was learning that a heavy gun couldn't be handled quickly enough in combat with The Shadow. With a smaller weapon, he might have been able to jab in a telling shot as he made his
dive.
He was smart enough, however, to yank the door with him as he went.
Otherwise, The Shadow would have clipped him. The heavy door took the bullets that The Shadow meant for Barney and splintered big chunks from the woodwork.
Racing across the room, The Shadow yanked the door open.
Five-face had reached a stairway, leading down from the mezzanine. He had left the valise at the top, and was scooping it up as he went. He disappeared as The Shadow aimed.
Pausing, the cloaked pursuer motioned for the rescued prisoners to follow,
which they did, some tugging themselves from the half-twisted wires that partially bound them.
Dashing down the stairs, The Shadow saw Barney darting across the lobby, still lugging the valise. Barney was shouting something, and as The Shadow aimed, a flood of punching men flung themselves in the way. They were Barney's
"boys," who still thought that their boss was honest.
They were sluggers, those boys from Barney's stable, but they couldn't reach The Shadow with their punches. Weaving among them, The Shadow made long sweeps with his arms, and his guns gave him a much longer reach than his opponents. Barney's boys were bouncing all around the floor, and Five-face did not wait to see how they fared.
He was gone, with his valise out through the rear exit, just as Commissioner Weston and Inspector Cardona came in through the front of the lobby, followed by a squad of headquarters men.
IT was a puzzling sight: The Shadow scattering a crowd of earnest boxers, who had so recently proven their ability to aid the law. One of those cases wherein The Shadow might have been mistaken for a crook; for there had been times when men of crime had donned black cloaks and hats, solely to confuse the
police.
But The Shadow had foreseen a circumstance such as this, and had provided for it.
Hearing wild shouts from the mezzanine, Cardona looked up and saw five frantic men, who could only be the financiers that Melbrun had mentioned in his
phone call to Weston. They were yelling something about Barney Kelm and a bag of
missing cash.
As The Shadow turned toward the rear of the lobby, Cardona beckoned to his
men and gave the word:
"Come on!"
The police followed
The Shadow through the exit, spilling rising boxers who tried to stop them. Reaching the rear street, they were greeted by a hurried fire from cover-up cars.
There wasn't a sign of Barney, nor of The Shadow. But the cloaked fighter suddenly denoted his presence, by opening fire from across the way. The Shadow had made for the opposite darkness, to wait until crooks showed their hands.
Again, the lieutenants who served Five-face were trying to spring a surprise on the police, and The Shadow was turning the game on them. The crooks
didn't wait around, when they recognized the laugh that came with The Shadow's gunfire. They spurted their cars for corners, glad to get away.
Only a handful still remained on the scene; the usual brand of small-fry who could be sacrificed to save the others.
Police were spreading, to deal with those scattered foemen. Picking spurts
of thuggish guns, The Shadow supplied timely shots that picked off the nearest snipers. The rest took to flight, with Cardona's men in full cry. Alone, The Shadow began to scour alleyways in search of Five-face.
This time, Five-face had made a rapid getaway, probably to a car parked in
another block. In his hunt, The Shadow was joined by Cliff Marsland and Hawkeye,
who had been on the outer fringes of the mob and had filtered through when the cars sped away. Cliff only remembered the lieutenants and their cars, but Hawkeye recalled another automobile in the offing.
It had sped away during the brief fray in back of the hotel, and while Hawkeye hadn't seen Barney Kelm, he had heard someone running toward the car in
question. Hawkeye's testimony settled the problem of Five-face. The master crook
had completed escape, along with robbery, despite The Shadow.
Hearing spasmodic firing from the street that fronted the hotel, The Shadow started in that direction to take a final hand. He arrived in time to witness a near tragedy.
Arnold Melbrun had just reached the hotel, and was stepping out of his car. Melbrun wasn't alarmed by the excitement, until a pair of thugs bobbed into sight and flung themselves upon him.
They wanted Melbrun's coupe and were trying to slug him, to get the keys he carried. Melbrun had a heavy cane with him and tried to ward off the attack.
The Fifth Face s-204 Page 9
