Doc Savage - The Man Who Shook The Earth Part 22

There was nothing in Doc's metallic features to hint at the ugly shock the words gave him.

The hawk-nosed man shrugged. "They told me to stay here and tell Dido Galligan what had happened-if they didn't see Galligan downstairs."

"Dido was not here when the second phone call came?"

"No." The hard mouth made a fierce, small smile under the beak of a nose. "He left a few minutes before that."

"Why?"

John Acre hesitated meaningly, then said: "He gave no reason."

Tip Galligan vented a hissing sound of angry disgust.

"You're trying to insinuate that my brother had something to do with that fake call!" she snapped.

The chief of the secret police spread his hands. "Senorita, I am merely telling the truth."

"Tell it, then!" Tip gritted. "And let others draw their own conclusions!"

After this outburst, the young woman looked around. Apparently her intention was to a.s.sure Doc that her brother could not be guilty of any spurious phone calls. Instead, she stared in surprise.

Unnoticed, the bronze man had quitted the hotel room.

Chapter XVI. A GATHERING SINISTER.

IN the street in front of the Taberna Frio, a Chilean gentleman started slightly when a metallic Hercules of a man materialized before him with a suddenness that made him think of striking lightning.

"The running Yankees," asked this giant, "which way'd they go?"

The Chilean pointed. He opened his mouth to give directions, then closed it. His gesture had been enough-the mighty man of metal was gone; already he was a score of yards distant.

Doc Savage traveled swiftly for a hundred paces before he asked another Antof.a.gastan the course taken by five excited Yankees. In this fashion, Doc trailed his five aids the equivalent of half a dozen blocks. Then thetrail came to its ugly end.

Dios mio!" exclaimed a questioned man. "They ran no farther than this point."

"Ran no farther?" Doc echoed.

Si, si! A large covered truck pulled up to them and kindly gave them a lift. The Yankees did not seem very grateful, but they got in."

A tiny storm seemed to hit the flake-gold pools that were the bronze giant's eyes. He asked: "Is it not possible that men pointed guns at them from inside the truck and forced them in?"

En verdad!" gasped the informant. "Perhaps that is why the five Yankees were so reluctant to accept the truck ride!"

For twenty minutes, Doc tried to trace the truck. It was a hopeless task. In the excitement of the night, no one had noticed it.

Returning to the Taberna Frio, the bronze man located the desk clerk. "Did the five Yankees who left so hastily leave papers in your safe just before they departed?"

The clerk nodded, went to the safe, and came back with a bulky envelope.

"This is it, senor."

The envelope bore no name.

"Do you deliver articles from your safe to whoever calls for them?" Doc asked sharply.

"No," said the clerk. "This envelope was left here for you. I was told specifically to hand it only to you."

Doc's golden eyes remained fixed on the clerk. "You still have that other package of mine in the safe, haven't you?"

The parcel to which Doc referred was the one containing the wax cylinders which bore the recordings taken in the New York warehouse-hangar-at the supposed murder of the first John Acre.

"It is still there," the clerk declared.

"Be very sure to surrender that to no one but me," Doc ordered.

"Si, si."

The bronze man now opened the envelope, spilling out the contents. There were several graphs on which were wavy inked lines, and half a dozen sheets bearing columns of meter readings. Some of these were records from instruments planted in the earth by Johnny, the gaunt geologist. Most of these were seismographic devices.

A man who had proper training along such lines could study the records and secure an accurate idea of what had happened far beneath the earth during the quake.

The other papers were records of meters which Long Tom, the electrical wizard, had attached to the local electric-lighting circuits and high-tension lines. These registered not only volt and current pull, butalso such fine details as alterations in the magnetic fields surrounding the conveyors.

Just how satisfactory Doc found these results of work done by his a.s.sistants was shown, not on the bronze features, but by another sign-one peculiar to this remarkable bronze man of metal.

For a brief moment, Doc's low, mellow, trilling note was audible. The hotel clerk was looking directly at Doc's lips as the sound came. Yet the fellow, not realizing from whence it emanated, peered about curiously.

Doc slipped the papers back in the bulky envelope. He gave them to the clerk.

"Lock these with the package," he said. "And watch them closely. They are very, very important."

Pretty Tip Galligan, a strange figure in her gold evening gown, with the bottom torn off, and with the gaudily colored poncho about her shoulders, appeared at the head of the lobby stairway.

"Mr. Savage!" she cried excitedly. "John Acre has disappeared."

DOC SAVAGE raced to the young woman's side.

"When?" he demanded.

"At least five minutes ago," she explained. "He stepped into the other room. I thought he had a strange expression on his face. I waited a couple of minutes, then I looked. He was gone! Since then, I've been waiting for you to come back."

Grasping the young woman's elbow, Doc hurried her up toward the suite of rooms.

"You stay here," he commanded. "Some one should be here as a medium of contact between my men and myself."

"Do you think your five friends are safe?"

"No," Doc said. "It is obvious they were decoyed away from the hotel. That means a trap!"

"My brother!" Tip Galligan gasped. "It's strange that he hasn't returned."

"Something is happening," Doc told her. "You will remain here. I'm going out and scout around."

Tip made angry fists of her small hands. "I don't like John Acre!"

Doc went to a bag, opened it, and extracted a tiny superfiring machine gun hardly larger than an automatic pistol. He clipped a drum of a magazine in the feed jaws.

"Take this," he said, and handed it to the girl. He showed her how it functioned. Then he directed: "Lock the doors after I leave. Don't open them for any one except myself or my five friends."

"Or my brother," Tip amended.

Doc hesitated. "Or your brother."

"John Acre?"

"Don't open for John Acre!" Doc said sharply.

The young woman pushed her lips together in a grim mouth.

"I thought so!" she exclaimed. "There's something phony about the John Acre business! Listen, Mr.Savage-was the man murdered in New York the real John Acre?"

The bronze man, very busy locking the windows and the other suite doors, appeared not to hear. He left the room, still without replying. He heard the key rattle in the lock-the girl was following his instructions.

The Taberna Frio was not a building of sufficient height to warrant elevators. Doc descended the stairs swiftly, entered the lobby, and made for the street door.

"Senor Savage!" called the clerk.

Doc stopped. "Yes."

"A man just left a note here for you." The clerk produced a crisp, new-looking envelope and extended it.

The envelope bore Doc Savage's name, typewritten. His long, tendon-wrapped fingers opened it deftly. There was a single sheet of paper in the envelope. It bore typewritten words. Across the bottom of the sheet in black ink were five distinct finger prints.

Doc eyed the prints first of all. Two of them were huge. They had been made by the thumbs of Monk and Renny; the other three by Long Tom, Johnny, and Ham, were smaller.

Doc Savage had seen the finger prints of his five men countless times. He could recognize them instantly.

The note was rather long-winded, and not exactly what he had expected. He read it.

Your five companions evidently think highly of you. Believing you in danger, they rushed headlong into the hands of my men. Their finger prints are appended hereto by way of evidence that they are now my prisoners.

No doubt you will be interested in the next earthquake-or rather what it will bury.

FIRST LITTLE WHITE BROTHER.

The name which signified such terror and violence, looked a bit silly at the bottom of the note.

Doc turned slowly toward the door.

ACROSS the street from the Taberna Frio stood a building which housed one of Antof.a.gasta's banks. This structure had a roof which extended out over the sidewalk, and was supported by large columns.

As Doc Savage started for the door of the Taberna Frio, a man sauntered hastily away from the shelter of one of these columns.

This man was barefooted, stooped, and had an extremely brown face. He wore a bright-colored poncho, and a panama hat with an extremely high crown. He looked like a human down from the Andes to see the sights of the city.

It would have taken a close observer indeed to discern in the figure of this stooped brown man the normally rather neatly clad Velvet. Having stained his skin and donned Indian garb, Velvet was walking with a stooped posture.

He quitted the vicinity at a good speed. He did not look back too often, knowing very well that this was one way of attracting attention to himself.

Nor did he haunt the shadows. Many persons, fearing an earthquake which might shake the roofs down on their heads, had spread pallets in these shadows for the night.

Velvet was not the only prowler of furtive manner afoot in the streets.

Behind him trailed another man; and behind this one a third. Both these latter wore dark ponchos. They hadhat brims snapped low over their eyes. This combination, coupled with the fitful nature of Antof.a.gasta's street lights, offered an excellent disguise.

The little cavalcade wended its grim way to the outskirts of town.

They entered a sw.a.n.ky residential district. Most of the mansions had two, and even three floors. The central courts or patios, instead of being cramped breathing s.p.a.ces, were almost small parks.

Velvet entered one of these near-palaces.

The first of the two figures which trailed Velvet turned off cautiously a few yards from the house, and entered the shrubbery. Such bushes as were about the place were extremely scrawny. Only because the night was rather dark did they offer concealment.

The man stopped there, waiting. It was Dido Galligan. From an armpit holster, he drew a serviceable automatic. Making sure the cartridge clip was full and securely in place, he jacked the slide back to c.o.c.k the weapon, then holstered it. He let the safety off.

At that moment, the other fellow who had come in the wake of Velvet approached. Dido Galligan shifted his position slightly, so that he was in greater concealment. He peered out at the new arrival. Obviously, he had not known of the man's presence.

"John Acre!" he breathed.

DIDO GALLIGAN was here because of a determination to see the kidnapers of his sister punished.