Doc Savage - The Man Who Shook The Earth Part 19

"I'll tell a man!"

John Acre spoke up: "I have advised all leading nitrate men of the meeting at ten o'clock, Mr. Savage."

"How did you spread word so quickly?"

"By telephone and messenger. That is the usual method."

The statement seemed to give Doc food for thought. He was silent several seconds. He did not, however, express an opinion about the summoning system.

"We might as well get organized, brothers," he said finally. "The shake was prefaced by a dimming of the electric lights here in Antof.a.gasta," offered Long Tom, the electrical wizard.

"You'll work on that angle," Doc told him. "Attach recording voltmeters and ammeters to the power lines.

Better light out at once on the job. No telling when the next shake will come. You brought the necessary devices, didn't you?"

Long Tom grinned. "Sure. I brought 'em because you suggested it, Doc."

Doc Savage now addressed Johnny, the gaunt geologist. "You have seismograph recording apparatus to register earth tremors, haven't you?" he asked.

The bony geologist fumbled his spectacles with the magnifying left lens. He put them on, made a face, and perched them on his forehead. He admitted: "I have such apparatus."

"You will plant the mechanisms at different points," Doc directed. "We might learn something of value."

"O. K.," Johnny agreed. "I'll do that immediately."

"Monk," said Doc, "your job is to visit the earthquake scene, gather rock samples, and make chemical a.n.a.lyses. Furthermore, I want you to secure a core drill, if possible, and take samples from several hundred feet down."

"Some of these mining firms should have a core drill I can borrow," Monk declared.

"What about me?" demanded big-fisted Renny.

"You've done engineering work in the nitrate business, haven't you?"

A faint smile warped Renny's puritanical face. "I superintended the installation of a plant down here one time."

Doc nodded. He had known this. Renny had handled engineering jobs in many parts of the world before joining Doc's crew of trouble-busters.

"You will visit nitrate plants in the arid interior," the bronze man advised. "You better use our plane for the purpose. That will be quicker. Leave in the morning."

"What am I to look for?" Renny asked.

"Something which might indicate what is behind these earthquake murders," Doc suggested. "Check the plants for operating efficiency. Keep your eyes open for signs of sabotage. But what I want particularly is to know the type of man who is taking charge of these plants when the original owners and managers are murdered. You might make inquiries in Antof.a.gasta tonight."

"I get you," said Renny.

Ham, the lawyer, twirled his sword cane and looked expectant.

"You will snoop in the legal end," Doc told Ham. "We have two big mysteries to solve. The first is: What causes the shakes; the second is: The motive behind all this! You're going after the latter. The legal papers of these nitrate companies-the articles of ownership, contracts, and so on-may hold the explanation."

John Acre had listened to all this with great interest. His hawk face had brightened visibly. He nodded as if thoroughly satisfied with the way Doc was going into action.

"I think I owe you an apology," he told Doc.

"For what?"

"The fact that my manners for a time were slightly uncivil," John Acre explained. "After the incident in Panama, I thought that you suspected me of being connected with the Little White Brother's organization. It got under my skin."Doc Savage bowed with a proper amount of politeness. But if John Acre expected to receive a.s.surance that he was no longer under suspicion, he was disappointed.

Doc Savage went to the case containing Monk's numerous chemicals. From these he extracted several bottles. A moment later he left the room.

To the men whom he left behind he said nothing of his destination.

Chapter XIV. MASKS THAT DISSOLVED.

AN elderly lady whose ancestors had been at least fifty per cent Indian owned the house where John Acre had been holding his nocturnal conclaves.

She was something over eighty years old, and stone deaf. Her honesty was as reliable as her hearing was bad. She was also nearsighted.

Informed by a messenger, whom John Acre had dispatched, that there was to be a meeting that night, she immediately prepared to take her departure. She had been in the habit of making herself scarce at meeting times. This was John Acre's suggestion.

Opening a wooden chest, the crone removed the a.s.sortment of poncholike hoods. These had been supplied by John Acre. She was taking care of them. She hung them on the array of nails in the outer room.

Then the old lady tottered outdoors. The night swallowed her.

Her footsteps had hardly died when a shadow beside the door took on life. This murk a.s.sumed a bronze color, and whipped into the room where the hoods dangled. There was no sound. The only indication that the bronze apparition was flesh and blood was the fact that several hungry mosquitoes trailed it inside.

Ignoring the insects, Doc Savage busied himself about the ponchos. He examined one, noting the attached hood. He gave attention particularly to the cloth.

Seemingly satisfied with what he had found, Doc Savage produced the chemicals which he had brought from the Taberna Frio. A foray into the kitchen regions resulted in the acquisition of a large earthenware crock. Into this, Doc poured chemicals. The process took many minutes. He watched the color of the mixture closely.

Time after time he tested it with hydrometers and narrow strips of litmus paper. At last he was satisfied with his brew.

In quick succession he dipped the poncho mantles in the solution. After each had been soaked, he wrung it out and hung it back on its nail.

The ponchos dried almost instantly. The immersion seemed to have had no effect on them.

When he had treated all the ponchos, Doc flung the rest of his chemical concoction outdoors. The stuff evaporated almost instantly after it had fallen. The bronze man washed the crock and replaced it.

For a time he stood in the door. He seemed to be listening. Then he faded into the outer darkness.

Doc had not used all the chemicals brought from the Taberna Frio. He was still carrying various vials and flasks.

Silence enwrapped the house for some ten minutes.

Then John Acre and Dido Galligan appeared.

THE two men entered the house, went to the room which was encircled by the wooden bench, and waited.

They did not don the poncho cowls. There seemed to be a slight friction between the two men.

"I notice that you are not cooperating fully with Doc Savage, now that he is on the scene," Dido Galligan said pointedly.

John Acre's slit of a mouth warped angrily under his hooked nose. He pointed out: "It was my idea-sending for Doc Savage."

"You were very enthusiastic," Dido Galligan agreed. "In view of your present reticence, that seems strange. It was as if you were at first making a great show, not expecting Doc Savage and his men to arrive on the scene at all."

The hawk-faced man made a hissing sound of rage.

"Careful, Yankee! Do not insinuate anything you can't prove."

"You can't bluff me!" Dido Galligan told him shortly. "I'll say what I d.a.m.n please! Furthermore, it strikes me as strange that you were absent tonight at the exact time Whistler Wheeler was killed in that quake."

John Acre ignored this, but his irate breathing was a series of noisy rushing sounds in the darkness.

"I wonder if that Hindu in Colon could have been telling the truth," he said after a time.

"d.a.m.n you!" Dido Galligan snarled. "You're hinting that Whistler Wheeler and I hired him to slip the explosive into Doc Savage's plane."

For a few seconds it seemed there would be violence between the two men. They crouched on the benches, muscles tense.

"We had better keep our accusations to ourselves," Dido Galligan said at last, seemingly having decided on peace.

The pair relaxed slowly. Both maintained an injured silence. Mosquitoes hummed in the hot room. A lizard scampering somewhere made scratchy sounds. Dogs barked in the distance.

Footsteps approached, entered the outer room, and paused there for a time.

John Acre got up from the bench, struck a match, and lighted a llama-tallow candle.

The newcomer came in from the outer room. He was enveloped in the all-concealing folds of the poncho, a shapeless figure in the candlelight.

After peering uneasily at John Acre and Dido Galligan, he took a seat.

Other men arrived soon. They came one at a time. On the occasion of their last gathering here they had exhibited disquiet. Their mien was even more restless now.

One shrouded fellow could not contain himself until the meeting opened.

"We have received threats!" he said in Spanish. He fumbled excitedly under his poncho, brought out a rather unclean sc.r.a.p of paper, and handed it to John Acre. "Here, look!"

John Acre scrutinized the sc.r.a.p. It was written in Spanish. Translated, it stated simply that something violent would happen to any one who opposed the Little White Brother.

"I received one of those, also!" said another masked man.

Further questioning elicited information that the warnings seemed to have been distributed generally.

John Acre waited impatiently for all to appear. In his fidgeting, he counted the a.s.sembled figures repeatedly."Only one more is to arrive," he said at last.

Five minutes pa.s.sed. Twice, John Acre got up and went to the outer door to stare into the darkness and listen. Then he heard approaching footsteps, sighed, and joined the others. He heard the newcomer enter the outer room, don one of the ponchos. Then the fellow came in and took his place on the bench. The last arrival was breathing heavily, as if he had been running.

ONCE more that night, the shadows at the side of the house seemed to take on life. A murky patch a.s.sumed the shape of a man, a giant of bronze.

Doc Savage made no effort to enter the house. Instead, he followed the back trail of the last man to arrive.

This was a simple matter-the houses along the street were constructed one against the other, which gave only two directions for a trail to take, up or down the street. It would take a very agile man indeed to surmount the roof tops.

Doc's ears had told him the direction from which the last arrival had come. When he had covered a few rods, Doc switched his flashlight on. This street was little more than an unpaved alley. Dust underfoot was inches deep in some places.

As in most arid, bleak regions of intense heat, there was a breeze in Antof.a.gasta at night. This wind, sweeping along the narrow alley, caused tracks in the dust to fill rapidly.

The tracks which Doc followed, being as yet unfilled with dust, were easily discerned.

Possibly two hundred yards from the meeting house, the trail turned suddenly to the right. It entered the murk of a recessed doorway. Doc advanced and made an examination.

Two men lay there. Both were dead, stabbed to death-in each heart a steel blade was still embedded.

Doc raced fingers through the pockets of the unfortunate ones. There was plenty of identification-letters, cards, business papers. Doc played his flash beam on these, reading the names.

The dead men were both wealthy individuals high in the nitrate industry of Chile.

In the course of his trip southward from Colon, Doc had secured much information from John Acre, Dido Galligan, and Whistler Wheeler. One of the items had been the names of persons prominent in the nitrate business.

These murdered men had stood well up on the list.

Naturally, they were men summoned to John Acre's meeting. The bodies were still warm. Death had struck only a few minutes ago.

Leaving the lifeless forms where they lay, Doc ran back to the house where the conclave was in progress.

The speed with which he was now moving would have amazed an observer.

Out of Doc's pockets came the flasks and vials of chemicals which he had brought from the Taberna Frio, and had not used in mixing the bath for the ponchos.

He entered the house silently. His hands became busy, opening the bottles, mixing the contents.

Voices murmured in the inner room. John Acre's was explaining that Doc Savage was now in Chile.

"Savage was to attend this meeting tonight," said John Acre. "He has not yet appeared. I do not think he will disappoint us, however. No doubt he will arrive before we adjourn."

John Acre paused to cough violently. While he was speaking, a strong odor had crept into the room. This caused a stuffy feeling when breathed, but was not otherwise unpleasant.

Peering about, John Acre became aware that a yellowish haze had filled the room. This, being almost thecolor of the light from the llama-tallow candle, had escaped his notice.

"What is this stuff?" he demanded sharply.