Atoms of Death

CHAPTER XXIII JARK TRIUMPHS

AMID his burst of pealing mockery, The Shadow wheeled from his place beside the window. Quick with his aim, he pressed the triggers of his automatics. Bullets seared forth from flashing muzzles as The Shadow picked the closest of his threatening foemen.

These were Louie and Pete. Unwittingly, they had given The Shadow a break by their excited entrance. Already prepared for battle, the master fighter was quicker than they when it came to the opening shots.

Louie fired before The Shadow; but that was only because the mobster was hasty in his aim. His revolver bullet whistled wide of the disguised warrior. Before Louie could fire again, he was tottering, clipped by one of The Shadow’s first shots.

Pete, The Shadow’s second target, had dropped back as Louie fired. The move saved him momentarily, for it placed him behind Louie and The Shadow’s second gun could not follow to its aim. But as Louie’s body sagged, the way was open.

Savagely, Pete aimed at his double. He was too late. Again, The Shadow fired. Pete wavered; his gun clattered from his hand.

The Shadow had laughed with purpose. His jubilance was more than a challenge. It was a stroke of intuition; yet one that carried tremendous risk. For by his weird cry, The Shadow had drawn upon himself the third man who was ready for the fray: Digger Wight.

Whirling away from Cliff Marsland, Digger had aimed for The Shadow. Quick as well as accurate, he had gained a prompt bead on his adversary. A snarl was Digger’s expression of elation over his own opportunity. But as the short crook pressed his trigger, a fierce attack lunged him forward. Digger’s bullet missed The Shadow and buried itself in the floor.

The Shadow had counted upon Cliff Marsland; and Cliff had not failed. With the sound of The Shadow’s laugh, Cliff had swung about and away from Digger. Seeing the crook aiming, Cliff had pitched upon him with a vengeance.

Luke Cardiff was leaping for the door to the hall, yanking a gun from his hip as he made the spring. Matt Theblaw, pulling a revolver with one hand, grabbed Doctor Baird as a shield and backed up against the white wall to gain aim at The Shadow.

Rutledge Mann was piling in to aid Cliff Marsland with Digger, who was putting up a struggle; while Basil Tellert was diving to gain the revolver that Pete had dropped.

AMID this chaos, there was one man who performed most singular action. That was Professor Baldridge Jark. With a loud, fiendish cackle that sounded high above the crack of guns, the old inventor raised a paean of long-repressed triumph. Bounding toward the far wall of the room, the professor reached his atomic gun and whipped away the canvas covering.

“Stop him!” The sharp cry was from Tellert. “Stop the professor!”

The old man heard the words. His answer was a jeering cackle that derided the promoter’s cry. With claws clutching the chromium surface of the three-foot tube, Jark began to tug the machine clear of the wall. He was swinging the tube on a pivot.

Matt Theblaw had fired two quick shots at The Shadow. At that instant, The Shadow slumped. Matt sent Baird sprawling against the wall, while he sprang forward, shouting triumph. It was then that the dark-haired crook learned his error.

The Shadow’s drop had been a bluff to make Matt toss Baird aside. An automatic spoke as The Shadow’s fake dive ended. Matt’s leap ended in a jolting, upward bound; from that spring, the crook pitched forward to the floor.

Luke Cardiff had wheeled as he reached the doorway. He had yanked open the door to bring in the reserves. He was starting to fire at The Shadow; his first shots were wide ones that flattened against the whitened walls beyond the weaving figure that looked like Pete.

“Stop Jark!” Tellert’s yell was repeated. The promoter had yanked up the revolver that he sought. “Stop Jark!”

Cliff Marsland heard the cry. So did Rutledge Mann. Cliff had finished Louie with a gun rap on the head. Mann was close beside Cliff. Both saw Tellert aiming wildly toward the professor as The Shadow, still weaving, swung in that direction also, while he ignored Luke’s spattering fire.

Jark had pulled the atomic gun clear from the wall. It was pointing across toward the outer door; the professor was still clutching the pivoted barrel as he kept behind the machine. But Cliff had a chance to wing him. The Shadow’s agent aimed.

Mann was looking past Cliff, straight for both Tellert and The Shadow, who were but a few feet apart. He saw Tellert suddenly change aim; The Shadow must have sensed it, for at that instant, the master fighter wheeled toward the promoter. The Shadow gave a fierce warning hiss; at the same instant, Mann uttered an understanding cry.

Hurling his rotund body forward, the investment broker made a grab for Cliff Marsland’s wrist. He jarred the aim just as Cliff fired. Cliff’s bullet went wide of Jark and found the wall instead. Then, dully grasping Mann’s meaning, Cliff shot a glance toward Tellert and The Shadow. Like Mann, Cliff saw the unexpected.

The promoter’s aim for the professor had been a bluff to divert The Shadow. But the master battler had sensed it. The Shadow had guessed what was coming. Dropping as he wheeled about, he aimed his own automatic for Tellert. At the same moment, the promoter pressed the trigger of the revolver, aiming the weapon straight at the spot where The Shadow had been.

Tellert’s shot went wide, despite the close range. The Shadow’s quick fall had won. An automatic blazed. Tellert slumped backward and rolled to the floor. The Shadow caught himself and swung about to rise.

LUKE CARDIFF had heard Tellert’s cry; but he had not heeded it. Just as Tellert had counted on The Shadow and Cliff to polish off Jark, so had Luke, seeing Tellert’s aim, believed that the promoter would do the job that he had so suddenly demanded.

To Luke, The Shadow was the only target. Luke, a poor marksman at long range, had spent five useless bullets. The Shadow’s fall, however, had given him a better chance with the sixth. Luke fired as The Shadow rose.

Cliff saw The Shadow jolt. The Shadow’s right arm gave. Luke had scored a lucky hit. He had sagged The Shadow with a bullet to the right shoulder.

Wildly, Cliff wheeled toward the door, ready to do lone hopeless battle. As he raised his gun, he knew he was too late. A surge of mobsmen was coming through the door.

Reinforced with half a dozen henchmen, Luke Cardiff was ready for slaughter. With The Shadow wounded, with Cliff holding a single gun, with Mann and Baird unarmed — the ex-gambler saw prompt and overwhelming victory. His men were swinging guns to aim. But Luke, in his desire to finish The Shadow, had forgotten all about Professor Jark.

In the sudden lull of gunfire, the shock-haired professor delivered a high-pitched cackle as he snapped the switch of his atomic gun. Blue coils flared and emitted shafts of crackling light. Behind the shell-shaped tube, the professor wavered the rounded barrel on its pivot. The mouth of the death machine shook back and forth as it pointed toward the doorway from the hall.

Luke Cardiff’s face showed sickly. His emptied revolver fell from his hand. The long-jawed man clamped hands to chest. Then, with a sighing gasp, he sank to the floor.

Behind him and beside him, mobsters withered. Like Luke, they were learning the power of a machine that could deliver paralyzing death. Guns clicked to the floor. Mobsters toppled from their shaky legs. Only one of the six — the nearest to the door — had strength to back away. He succumbed as he reached the doorway in his halting, reversed stride.

Blue lights faded as crackling ceased. Professor Jark had turned off the switch. Then, as The Shadow’s laugh was silent, there came a different cry of triumph that marked the victory of right over evil. That cry was the jubilant chortle of Professor Baldridge Jark.

THE SHADOW was rising by the window sill. With one hand, he thrust the automatics beneath the coat that he was wearing. With that same hand, he clutched a package from the sill. Still in the guise of Pete, he wavered.

Cliff Marsland sprang forward to catch his chief. Rutledge Mann followed.

Another joined them. It was Doctor Baird. In a quiet, but assuring tone, the specialist took charge. At his order, Cliff and Mann aided The Shadow past the withered mobsters by the door. Baird led the way to a room that was fitted like a physician’s office.

Cliff and Mann placed The Shadow on a couch. Baird cut away the coat sleeve and found The Shadow’s wound. He ordered Mann to rejoin Jark. Then, with Cliff aiding, Baird probed the wound. Cliff brought the instruments as the physician called for them.

SOME while later, Doctor Baird and Cliff Marsland returned to the laboratory, to find Professor Jark engaged in conversation with Rutledge Mann. Both inventor and the broker were anxious in their gaze. Baird smiled.

“The wound is not serious,” declared the physician. “By giving it prompt attention, I have been able to eliminate complications. It was sufficient to put anyone out of action. Yet this patient has regained strength in most amazing fashion. He is resting, in the darkness. He would like to talk with you, professor. Immediately and alone.”

Jark nodded. He walked out into the hall and found Baird’s room. He groped through the darkness to a chair beside the couch. The old man heard a soft, whispered laugh.

“Again we meet, professor,” came a low voice from the couch. “This time, there is no occasion for us to hide our true expressions.”

“You understand?” queried Jark. “That night when you posed as Lamont Cranston?”

“Partly,” replied The Shadow. “You had no need of the thugs who were present at our interview. By all rights you should have talked with me alone. I suspected listeners, also. Outside the room.”

“Theblaw and Wight.”

“So I decided, later. Duncan told me afterward that he had listened in the night they came to your home. He heard you conspiring with them.”

“But not at first! They threatened me. They told me they had already taken Baird. My only hope was to pretend that I was as crooked as they were—”

“I know. Duncan did not overhear the first half hour of your talk.”

“And yet you understood—”

“That if you had summoned those two as aids, you would have settled the important details promptly. You would have ridded yourself of Duncan beforehand. You would have written Tellert that you were going on a vacation, without sending him a letter that would stir his antagonism.”

“I understand. Yes; it would have been a mistake to have sent him that letter saying I wanted my invention for the government. If I had actually been crooked—”

“But you were not, professor. You were sincerely anxious to place your great invention in the proper hands. That was why Tellert decided it was time to play his game of crime. He sent his lieutenants, Theblaw and Wight. They and their underlings watched you, constantly. You did your best to save your own life — and Baird’s — and Duncan’s—”

THE SHADOW paused to rest. Professor Jark was nodding solemnly in the darkness. He still could hear the echoes of the whispered voice. He marveled at the power of this mysterious avenger who had brought needed rescue. A question leaped to his mind. Singularly, The Shadow answered it before Jark could speak.

“Tellert was clever,” declared the speaker from the couch. “There was no proof against him. Yet whether he was innocent or guilty, he was the only man through whom I could operate, once Marsland was a prisoner.

“I sent Mann to Tellert. I knew that Mann would be seized. Tellert, if innocent, would be taken also. Knowing that, Tellert allowed himself to be abducted along with Mann. So that he could work fiendish trickery.”

“While I,” put in Jark, “was still forced to act as his spokesman, thanks to the presence of his hellions.”

“Yes. But the abduction was so easy that it proved my suspicions. It took place at Tellert’s home. No one was about except Tellert and Mann. Crooks had learned the terrain; too promptly, however—”

“Tellert made a telephone call to Theblaw,” interposed Jark. “There is a telephone in this house, used for incoming calls—”

A soft hiss from The Shadow. Jark listened. From above, a noise coming lower, closer, then ending. The Shadow spoke in tones of finality.

“Your move for the machine was timely,” he commended. “It told me, at the crucial moment, that you had perfected your atomic gun. Tellert’s act was final proof of his evil scheming. I left the field to you, professor, while I dealt with Tellert, the master of these crimes.”

Something thudded softly on the roof above. A slight scraping followed.

The Shadow rose from the couch and moved toward the dim light of the opened door. Jark stared at sight of cloaked and hatted shape. The Shadow had donned the garments from the box, during Baird’s absence.

“Come, professor,” whispered The Shadow. “Show me a way to the roof.”

Jark led the course to a stairway. He and The Shadow ascended. The professor unbolted a trapdoor while The Shadow gave words of instruction.

“I know that the spoils must be here,” he stated. “Therefore, professor, you can return them to the law. Baird, Marsland and Mann were legitimate prisoners. Their stories, their testimony, will substantiate your statements. I shall inform Duncan of the facts. He will appear to give his evidence also.”

As Jark watched The Shadow step to the moonlit roof, the old professor saw the outline of an autogyro. A man was standing by the craft. It was Harry Vincent. Receiving an order from The Shadow, Harry aided his chief aboard the ship; then followed.

Guided by Miles Crofton, daredevil aviator who served The Shadow, the autogyro throbbed loudly as it rolled forward. Huge vertical blades bent to their task. The ship ascended as it reached the edge of the roof. Ascending abruptly, the autogyro rose vertically above the trees.

Professor Jark watched it in the moonlight. The old professor chortled. Then, as he listened, his white hair flowing in the wind, the inventor heard the fading peal of a sinister mockery. Weird laughter reached its crescendo, then ended amid the breezes of the night.

The Shadow had brought victory. Professor Jark had cackled in jubilance at the moment of battle’s end. Now, with all completed, The Shadow was proclaiming the achievement that had been his mission. The Shadow had sounded his triumph laugh.