The Shadow - The White Skulls Part 9

"Not yet," rea.s.sured Sark. "This is different from most infernal machines.

They have clockwork that goes tick-tick and tells people what they are. Have no worry while this one is silent. It works in reverse."

"But if the clockwork starts, you would hear it?"

"Yes, but not for long. Now tell me" - Sark supplied one of his obnoxious grins - "does this make any difference in your plans?"

"It means I'm stopping the car and getting out," Margo decided. "The rest are coming along with me, but you are staying in this car, Sark, until I send the police to get you."

With that, Margo threw a glance from the rear window just on the hunch she wouldn't have to wait for the police. If Cranston had gone through Sark's papers as thoroughly as Margo hoped he had, he logically would have watched the Cafe Unicorn too. Probably he wouldn't have entered there as Cranston; maybe he had been delayed as The Shadow.

But there were others, a string of agents whose names were lining up in Margo's mind, who might have been deputed individually or collectively to check on Sark's usual Wednesday habits. How Margo wished for a sight of Shrevvy's cab, back through that window!

Occasional headlights were distinguishable along the darkened street, but Margo had no way of telling if any belonged to Shrevvy's cab. Then, as if realizing that Margo wouldn't be looking for a police car, and therefore must be thinking of some quicker aid, Sark said crisply: "We do not intend to stop."

"Sorry," began Margo, thrusting her gun firmly, "but we do."

For answer, Sark let his own hands ease from the box, which tilted precariously upon his knees. Margo recoiled as Ludar had. Then, finding her voice again: "You'd be a fool, Sark, to let Ludar take you to Zune!" exclaimed Margo.

"Don't you realize that he intends to do just that?"

"Quite," returned Sark, straightening the box. "I should like to see Zune."

"But he tried to kill you once -"

"And would probably try again, should occasion warrant. Am I right, Ludar?"

Ludar grunted something that sounded affirmative.

"Sulking Ludar?" sneered Sark. "You shouldn't be, considering that I am letting this ride continue. Suppose you tell Miss Lane just how I stand withZune."

A snarl meant that Ludar wouldn't, but when Sark let the box swing about until it rested on only one corner. the blunt-faced man capitulated.

"Sark is the White Skulls," a.s.serted Ludar, "but he is not our leader. He is only the custodian."

Margo stared at Sark and asked: "Custodian of what?"

"Let Ludar tell you," returned Sark, leaning back and drawing the box toward him. "Only put away that gun. It makes me nervous and it isn't right that I should be nervous."

Margo decided that Sark shouldn't be nervous and therefore put away the gun, though reluctantly. Bark nodded for Ludar to proceed.

"Custodian of the treasure," stated Ludar. "After all, if you know so much, why should you not know more? Sark came to this country before the war began, to guard the treasures which we knew that we would send him."

By "we" Margo knew that Ludar must mean the bigwigs of the n.a.z.i swarm that had spread all over Europe like a locust plague. Only why they should send treasures to America, Margo didn't understand until Ludar explained further.

"Some fools thought they saved their treasures," sneered Ludar, "but we had the facts in every case. Our agents not only posed as refugees; they encouraged others to put whatever they still owned in places where we wanted them.

"It was Sark who had charge of all that and it was his business to arrange everything for our convenience when we arrived as we did in other countries, using the white skull as our secret symbol."

The full light broke on Margo. It was the game of the Wooden Horse as played in Norway and other countries. In terming Tanjor Zune the leader, Ludar must mean that Zune had come as the head of the secret tribe of invaders.

Suddenly, Margo became defiant.

"But it didn't work here," she a.s.serted. "You were stranded, all of you.

There's n.o.body home in n.a.z.i-land to receive the goods that you can't even ship.

You'll only give yourself away if you try to steal those treasures."

Instead of taking that to heart, Ludar responded with a snarl: "So Sark said!"

Those big hands of Ludar's were itchy, this time for a grip on Sark's throat. Toying with the box as a reminder that Ludar shouldn't try, Sark said bluntly: "After all, I am the custodian."

"But Zune is the leader!" stormed Ludar. "He said we would proceed despite you and we did! Our first victory gave us what we needed to gain the treasures that are really ours!"

"And Zune did well," complimented Sark. "I shall tell him so. If I had known how perfectly all would work, I would not have obstructed matters."

Ludar relaxed with an ugly laugh that fairly teemed with confidence.

"Try to make Zune believe that now."

"I shall," a.s.sured Sark, "because I know the one thing that Zune needs.

He wants a hostage."

That made Ludar laugh again.

"Zune already has two hostages," said Ludar. "He brought them from your house, Sark."

"Those two?" Sark gritted a hard chuckle. "They were scarcely more thanstrangers where The Shadow is concerned. To influence The Shadow, you must hold a hostage that he values. I am bringing one as a peace offering to Zune."

Finishing his cold laugh, Sark stared straight at Margo Lane. Under the frigid glare of those glistening white eyes, the girl felt a chill that seemed to creep to every fiber. Alban Sark was right. His was the master stroke. In Margo Lane he had produced a human weapon that Tanjor Zune would welcome as a threat against The Shadow!

CHAPTER XVII.

ALONG with the chill that swept her, Margo felt a sinking, sickening sensation that she thought was mental, like the blackness that came with it.

Then, with a last despairing glance through the back window, she saw the reason.

This car had reached its destination, somewhere in Manhattan, but it was entering a sort of place that Margo hadn't believed existed. Here, in an alleyway that squeezed between two old buildings, the car was being swallowed by the ground itself!

The street had dipped down like a hinged contrivance and looking back, Margo saw the whole thing springing up again. There was a last sight of street lights, but no sign of a pursuing cab among them; then the view was blotted.

Blackness in back and not the blackness that represented The Shadow, who somehow must have been diverted from the trail. If Margo had known of that recent fray in Thorneau Place, she might have had an explanation of The Shadow's absence. But as it was, explanations didn't matter. The Shadow wasn't here; that was all.

Dipping deep into this subterranean domain, the descending car came to a lighted area where the ramp leveled toward a blocking wall. Now more amazed than frightened, Margo saw the great wall split and spread like two parting curtains, its steel halves sliding into b.u.t.tresses of concrete. Next the car rolled through a rough-hewn tunnel to a second door, which opened like the first, the tunnel serving as an ante-room between.

Stocky men approached and Margo heard voices speaking in a peculiar language which was probably of an International variety. She could guess why it was used, as she alighted from the car along with the other pa.s.sengers. The men who occupied this underground realm looked like the renegades of a dozen nations, hence they required a special language to talk among themselves.

Here was first-hand evidence of pre-invasion methods that the n.a.z.is had used and which still existed in this relic of their vast plans. Under Sark's direction, a vest-pocket city had been hollowed deep beneath New York itself, the workmen being these renegades who pa.s.sed as citizens of threatened countries, not of the menacing German nation, or its satellites.

This beginning, of course, must have dated back to the pre-war period and Sark, the future treasure custodian, had arranged it. Even now, some of the underground dwellers showed respect toward him and Margo noted that Sark was listening to catch and a.n.a.lyze the words of the jargon that they uttered.

Other doors, smaller doors, were sliding open, producing a deeper route into this strange domain. Ushered along as though she were an invited guest, Margo kept watching Sark and Ludar as they accompanied her. All the while, Sark was carrying that precious box of his with a nonchalance that was maddening toanyone informed as to its contents.

While most of the underground inhabitants accepted Sark's presence, there were occasional men who sprang forward angrily, ready to challenge the skull-faced visitor. Ludar always gestured these back, firmly and swiftly, with explanatory words in that tongue which Margo was now beginning to understand.

One word for instance that Ludar repeated was "mordo" which Margo guessed meant "death."

It applied to the contents of Sark's box, of course, and was sufficient to force bold men back. But when Margo looked over her shoulder to watch the reactions of such individuals, she saw each one leer behind Sark's back.

Maybe that term "mordo" would apply in reverse after Sark met Zune. For these men who flashed that antagonism toward Sark, appeared to be those who were strictly in the know. Margo heard Ludar address one as Kromer and remembered that such was the name of the man who had been planted at the Apex Garage in Stanwich.

From the grim smile that Kromer furnished, Margo was sure that Sark had escaped one death warrant only to invite another. Still, final decision would rest with Zune.

Unless there was other intervention!

Margo held no brief for Sark.

The man deserved to die as much, if not more, than any of the dwellers in this invisible realm, Zune included. But as the target of fellow criminals, Sark was a threatened person, who should be protected just as a way of frustrating the plans of murderers.

The Shadow would therefore prefer to keep Sark alive, in fact had already demonstrated that preference. That to Margo meant that The Shadow would reach this realm if possible, and as soon as he could manage it.

But did The Shadow know that such a place existed?

Something important must have engaged The Shadow this evening, otherwise he would have been at the Cafe Unicorn. Perhaps as the result of some run-in with roving foemen, The Shadow had traced them here!

Looking back a few times more, Margo saw that blackness kept constantly closing in behind her, in the form of dropping curtains and sliding doors, which respectively seemed like the falling of shrouds or the clamping of coffin lids.

If only The Shadow were part of that following blackness!

Then, what seemed to be a death parade, came to its conclusion as curtains parted to admit the small procession to a room hung in purple. There, in contrast to the regal surroundings and the gilded furniture, a plain desk was at the far wall.

Behind that desk sat a man who seemed to grow in proportions as he arose and stood with his fists doubled on his hips. Across his heavy, bloated face, played a venomous expression that beggared any efforts at imagination.

This visage from a nightmare belonged to Tanjor Zune. It was little wonder that the man who owned it stayed deep in the concrete mole hill which he ruled and let others handle public relations for him. n.o.body who saw Zune once would ever forget him.

Peculiarly, Zune seemed glad to see that Sark was still alive. When Ludar pointed anxiously to the square box and began to speak in terms of "mordo" and other appropriate words, Zune glowered, but not at Sark. Zune's glare was of the silencing variety and it covered Ludar. Then, letting his features writhe into a less ugly contour, Zune furrowed his thick eyebrows and inquired in English: "Who is this?"

The hand that gestured from Zune's elbow indicated Margo.

"A hostage from The Shadow," explained Sark, in his crisp tone. "Better than those you already hold. They did not come to my house at The Shadow's bidding; they were intruders there."

Zune's hands performed a peculiar cross-slap that furnished a sharp sound like that of a beaver's tail smacking the water. Instantly curtains parted and two of Zune's bitter-faced henchmen introduced Jud Mayhew and Gail North to the scene.

No fakery was needed on the part of those prisoners. The challenging contempt that Jud showed toward Sark; the dagger looks that Gail tossed at Margo, convinced Zune that there has been no prearrangement where this meeting was concerned.

Turning, Zune parted a pair of curtains behind his desk and drew down a huge roller map. The guards were about to remove Jud and Gail, while Ludar was drawing a gun to cover Margo. Only Sark stood unmolested, by virtue of the package he carried. Swinging about, Zune spoke imperiously: "Let them stay!"

Eyeing Sark steadily, Zune questioned: "You are prepared to collaborate as before, now that I have demonstrated what can be done?"

"Cooperate is the correct word," returned Sark, crisply. "I am ready."

"And you are right," Zune acknowledged. "We need no Quislings any longer.

They would handicap, not help us. We shall be masters of our own underworld."

Sark supplied a bow to that.

"I shall show you my plans," stated Zune. "In return I expect you to prepare a full report, covering the information in the doc.u.ments you destroyed."

Again Sark bowed. Remembering the paucity of evidence in the papers Sark had sent to Cranston, Margo realized that Sark must have disposed of anything and everything important.

Satisfied, Zune turned to the big map and used a long ruler as a pointer to indicate its details. Here was the time so long awaited, when the inner machinations of stupendous crime were to be disclosed.

All that was needed was one all important witness for whom Margo Lane looked in vain.

The Shadow!

CHAPTER XVIII.

ZUNE'S large scale map showed a network of highways some miles outside of New York. The roads were marked in various colors, some stretches being mere segments; hence the map was very unusual, but Zune did not comment on that fact.

Conspicuous on the map was the town of Stanwich. Zune tapped that point with his ruler.

"Our first stroke was there," a.s.serted Zune. "It was essential in order to obtain the valuable supplies that you had planted in the warehouse."

This was spoken to Sark, who nodded.

"You did well, Sark," complimented Zune. "I was truly sorry that it seemed necessary to liquidate you later. When I first arrived in New York, I wondered why these quarters were so cramped." Zune gestured about him as he spoke."Considering the quant.i.ty of the disintegrating fluid that we sent you, I had expected something like the huge hidden city that lay beneath Berlin.

"When you explained your other uses of our Formula Four Hundred, I was greatly pleased." Though facing Sark, Zune gestured toward the map. "Even better was your plan of saving a surplus to store in Stanwich with the neutralizer.

We have enough of the N-Five to cover up all we may do with Formula Four Hundred.

I.