Doc Savage - The Man Who Shook The Earth Part 7

THE terrified men looked at the two motionless forms on the floor. The faces of the two were steaming in the frigid air, but the pair looked entirely lifeless.

"We'll spill whatever you want!" one man groaned.

"Who's your boss?" Doc demanded.

"Velvet and Biff," the man replied uneasily.

"But who gives Velvet and Biff their orders?"

"We don't know-honest we don't!" wailed the man. "Listen, here's how it is. Velvet and Biff showed up in New York. They had a deal on. They wanted some boys to help 'em out, and they hired us."

"Hired you to do what?"

"Well, we been watchin' all the incomin' steamships from South America," the man explained. "We always got the pa.s.senger list. We hunted for one certain man-John Acre. Tonight we found out he had come in on the Junio."

"And you decoyed John Acre to the front of the Midas club, where you seized him," Doc elaborated.

"That's right, boss!"

The man was talking freely, although in a scared voice.

"Where is John Acre now?" Doc questioned.

"We don't know. Velvet and Biff took him off somewhere.""Where did Velvet and Biff take the girl?"

"To the same place they're holdin' John Acre, wherever that is."

"This information is not very helpful," Doc said grimly. "You birds had better cough up something worth while."

"We don't know much, and that's the truth, boss," the crook whimpered. "Velvet and Biff are from some place in South America. They're workin' for somethin' they call the Little White Brother."

"You mean a man called the Little White Brother?"

The scared crook shivered. "I don't know if it's a man or not. Sometimes they talk like the thing ain't-ain't human."

Doc's flaky golden eyes dominated the fellow. "Don't try to kid me."

"It's the truth, mister. The Little White Brother may not be human. It's somethin' that shakes the earth!"

It was rarely that Doc showed any emotion whatever, but now he frowned.

"What?" he demanded.

"That's all we know, boss," the other whined. "The Little White Brother has got somethin' to do with the earth shakin'. I dunno what the thing is, but I've seen Velvet and Biff get as white as if they was about to be killed when they heard the rumble of a subway train, or the shock of blastin', or somethin' like that."

Doc Savage asked a few more questions, but he learned nothing of value. He kept at it until he was convinced that the prisoners had told all they really knew. They were merely hirelings.

Doc Savage produced his hypodermic needle again. He went to each of the captives in quick succession, and jabbed the needle into every man. The last two screamed and tried to flee. Monk and Renny caught them. The men all sank to the floor and became motionless.

They were only sleeping, however. The drug in Doc's needle merely produced unconsciousness.

The prisoners were now carried out and placed in the sedan. To get all seven in the rear seat, it was necessary to pack them sardine fashion.

NONE of Doc's aids asked what disposition was to be made of the unconscious prisoners. They knew.

Crooks who fell into the hands of Doc Savage were handled in a peculiar fashion. They were taken to an inst.i.tution Doc maintained in the up-State section of New York. Here they underwent a delicate brain operation, which completely wiped out all knowledge of their past.

Then they received training in the ideals of upright citizenry, and were taught a trade.

Monk and Ham took charge of the sedan. Doc, Long Tom, and Renny trailed them in the roadster. The trip back into New York City was made in quick time.

The prisoners were left in a small room in a shabby section of the city. The windows of the room were barred, and there was a rear door which opened upon an obscure alley.

The captives would sleep for many hours yet. Long before they awakened, an ambulance would appear.

Silent, grim attendants would load them aboard. They would be whisked away into the blizzard.

Months later, seven honest citizens would walk away from the grim walls in up-state New York.

Doc Savage placed a long-distance telephone call from the room. The call was to summon the ambulance which would carry the men away.That task done, Doc and his men drove directly to the skysc.r.a.per which housed the bronze man's headquarters.

As Doc drove up to the garage door, it opened mysteriously.

Monk, noting this, scratched his head vigorously. He still did not understand why those doors swung ajar at Doc's approach.

The doors of the high-speed elevator also slid back as Doc approached. The cage lifted them. It started off with a shock that jerked every one except Doc to their knees. It raced up at an incredible speed. Its stop was so abrupt that it seemed certain that they would go sailing on up through the ceiling.

The door of Doc's office opened itself for him.

The panel, swinging ajar, revealed the sprawled body of a man. There was not much doubt that the fellow was dead. His head was nearly severed from his body.

Chapter VI. THE MAN WHO COULDN'T TALK.

MEN less trained than Doc's aids would have become excited at the discovery of the man's body, and dashed forward. Such action might have destroyed clews left by the murderer. Doc's men came to a stop where they were.

Doc himself did not advance immediately. His keen eyes appraised the scene.

"Notice the door lock," he suggested.

"Yep," said Monk. "It's torn out. The door was forced by somebody."

"It was forced by the man dead on the floor," Doc said.

The others showed surprise. They could see nothing to indicate that the slain man had opened the door.

"How come?" Monk asked.

"Notice that the dead man wears a yellowish overcoat. The coat is wet from melted snow. Now, about shoulder-high on the door, you can see faint yellowish marks. These are stains of dye squeezed from the coat as the man shoved hard against the door."

The other four eyed the door. Now that they knew what to look for, they could see the vague stains.

Doc Savage stepped into the room. Near the murdered man, he discerned two objects. He picked these things up, inspected them.

One was a large screw driver. It had the type of handle preferred by electricians-of black insulating compound. In the proper hands, this could become a really vicious stabbing weapon. On the handle was a stamped name: S.S. JUNIO.

The second object was a radio-message envelope. It was empty. It did not appear to have been sealed, and was creased as if it had been carried in a coat pocket.

Rapidly, Doc searched the slain man. He found the usual stuff men carry in their pockets-coins, bill fold, cigarettes, matches. Only the bill fold yielded information of value. In it was an identification card. The name on this read: S. E. COILS.

"We've heard that name once before tonight," Doc said slowly.

"Sure," said Monk. "That's the name of the radio operator on the steamer Junio - the fellow who disappeared right after the ship docked."

Doc Savage finished his inspection with a scrutiny of the slain man's vest pockets. One contained a bit of paper. Names and numbers which it bore proved it had been torn from the page of a telephone directory.

Written in pencil on the fragment of paper was the address of Doc's office laboratory.

"He seems to have looked up my address here in town," Doc announced. The bronze man fingered the radiogram envelope. "He evidently carried something which he had in this envelope. Whoever killed him took it."

"This John Acre was supposed to have sent you radiograms, Doc," said Monk. "Do you reckon maybe this radio operator didn't send them?"

"That would explain our not getting them," Doc replied. "But why should he hold them up? And why should he come here to the office with them? Was he slain to get them?"

"And who killed him?" Ham finished the mystery, giving his sword cane a flourish.

Renny was standing near the open door.

"Holy cow!" he boomed unexpectedly. "Come here and look at this!"

Renny was not in the habit of showing excitement without reason. He was certainly excited now. The men sprang to his side and stared through the open door.

Astonishment pulled their eyes wide. They were men hardened to horror, but as they stared there was not one who did not feel as if there were invisible ants crawling on his flesh.

ONE of the elevators had stopped at the eighty-sixth floor. The operator was helping a man out.

It was the condition of this man which caused little p.r.i.c.ks of horror to tingle the skin of Doc's aids.

The newcomer was a wiry man. He had a tremendous beak of a nose, the tip of which hooked down well over his mouth.

He had fingers that were very long, and so flexible as to be unpleasantly remindful of dangling strings. His clothing was expensive. It was torn in several places. His knees, elbows, and hands were muddy. His garments were damp with melted snow.

What riveted attention, however, was the man's condition. He seemed alive, and yet dead. His jaw, sagging down, held his mouth roundly open. His tongue dangled out.

He seemed powerless to make any motion of his own volition.

When the elevator attendant released him, the man began to fall. The attendant caught him.

"He was able to walk into the elevator and ask to be brought to your office," the attendant said excitedly. "But he seems to be getting worse."

The living-dead man's eyes did not look at Doc. Apparently he did not move them. But from his lips words came.

"Doc Savage?" His question was a barely audible gulp.

"Yes," Doc said.

The man seemed to try to say something. Failing, he slumped forward. Doc caught him, carried him into theroom.

Reluctantly, the elevator attendant went back to his duties. He would have liked to remain and watch Doc Savage work. He had heard of some of the bronze man's amazing feats.

While Doc investigated to see what ailed the man who seemed to be dead, and yet alive, Ham went through the fellow's pockets.

A plain, richly engraved card came to life. The name on it read: JOHN ACRE.

The guy who was kidnaped!" Ham e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "He must have got away from them. But what ails him?"

Doc was giving the examination of John Acre all the benefit of his knowledge of surgery and medicine. He completed a first scrutiny without finding what was wrong. He began a second examination.

"He is under the influence of some kind of stupefying drug," Doc decided. "But that doesn't entirely explain his condition. I never saw anything quite like it."

John Acre's eyes remained fixed in their sockets. It was as if every muscle in his body had been despoiled of its ability to move.

Very slowly, as if it cost an infinite effort, John Acre's eyelids dropped, then lifted.

"Good," Doc said. "Now I'm going to ask you some questions. If the answer is yes, blink once; if no, don't blink."

Doc launched into his catechizing.

"You are John Acre, and you were kidnaped by Velvet and Biff?" he asked.

One agonizingly slow blink conveyed an answer in the affirmative.

"Did you manage to escape from them?"

One blink.