Atoms of Death

CHAPTER VIII THE SHADOW’S THRUST

“WE’RE going to stage it like a phony snatch, see?”

Matt Theblaw growled this news to the men with whom he was riding. Seated in the rear of a sedan, the tall crook was leaning over the back of the front seat, watching the tail-light of the coupe ahead. Louie was at the wheel of Matt’s car.

“The whole thing will look like a bum job,” continued Matt. “But it won’t be. Because there are two guys who look like they were each other. Just as much as if they were twins. When we grab the new bimbo, Pete drops the old one. That’s all.”

Matt paused to poke Louie’s shoulder. Pete’s coupe was drawing ahead past a turn in the road. Matt wanted the driver of the sedan to keep closer. Louie stepped on the gas.

“We don’t want a squawk,” explained Matt, “so we’re going after this guy in a hurry. No fireworks, unless he yanks a gat. But he don’t know we’re after him, so that gives us an edge. When you fellows snatch him, Louie and I will be sitting back with our rods. We’ll pump him if he gets tough.”

Louie chuckled.

“Bet you we will,” he volunteered. “Say, Matt — the way you talk about it, you’d figure this mug we’re after was The Shadow.”

Chuckles from the other mobsters. They liked the jest. Matt maintained silence. He had not wised his men to the identity of their prey. Only Digger and the professor had shared Matt Theblaw’s knowledge. There was no reason to give the information to these yeggs.

But Jark had suggested nothing that indicated murder was afoot. To preserve the friendship of the prisoner they dropped, it was essential that they should avoid a killing under the very windows of Lamont Cranston’s home. But if the new victim should put up a fight, Matt intended to mow him down, with Louie’s aid.

Matt Theblaw was clever. Two of his men knew what was up. But those two were the pair up in the car ahead: Pete and his pal. They had been present during Professor Jark’s interview with the prisoner. They knew the part they were to play; but they had gained no chance to talk with Matt’s crew.

All this was to Matt’s liking. The crook was thinking of the surprise his men would get after snatching The Shadow; when he revealed the identity of their new victim. For Matt, relishing the idea of a surprise attack, felt full confidence in his scheme.

Matt wanted The Shadow alive. He had — so he thought — a golden opportunity to trap the master fighter. Never before, to Matt Theblaw’s knowledge, had raiders managed to catch The Shadow unaware. For once, Matt believed, The Shadow’s own confidence would make him easy prey.

Guised as Lamont Cranston, not knowing that his counterpart had returned to New York, The Shadow would be enjoying a respite from battle when he returned to his New Jersey home. Tonight — so Matt believed — The Shadow had been balked in open fray.

The gorillas with Matt were men who had fought from atop the stairway. They were still exultant over The Shadow’s retreat. Not elated enough to tell them that they would again be up against The Shadow. The memory of fallen companions might throw cold water on their enthusiasm.

But they were confident enough to seize a man from ambush. That was sufficient for Matt Theblaw. Watching the road ahead, the big crook smiled to himself as he listened to the chuckles of Louie and the other mobsmen.

THE coupe ahead had taken to a lonely road. Matt Theblaw knew the general vicinity of Lamont Cranston’s home. He had looked into that after the early evening capture. He was sure that they must be close to the grounds of the millionaire’s estate.

Then the coupe began to slow. It pulled up past a gateway, where Pete piloted it to a stop beyond some bushes. Matt gripped Louie’s arm and told the driver to stop in front of the gate. Louie complied.

“We’re heading in,” informed Matt, “without lights. Feel your way, Louie, by the gravel on the tires. Pete’s holding that guy he’s got until we make the snatch. Look there; see the lights of the house? Guide by them.”

Louie blinked off the lights. He turned the sedan into the driveway. A slight glow from windows of the mansion ahead showed that the driveway separated to form a circle in front of the house. Matt gave another nudge.

“Take the left,” he whispered. “Stop before you get to the house. I don’t think the bird’s home yet. If he comes in, he’ll cut around by the right.”

Louie obeyed the instructions. He brought the sedan to a stop at the edge of the circle. Matt motioned the two gorillas out into the drive. They moved up to the steps of the house and crouched there, ready for a new command.

OUT on the road past the gate, Pete and his pal were waiting in the coupe. Their prisoner was between them; both thugs had hands upon revolvers, but they were keeping the weapons out of sight.

The Shadow was calculating. He had played his ruse almost to the limit. He had brought Pete to Lamont Cranston’s, believing that Matt Theblaw might have learned the exact location of this estate. The Shadow knew that Matt had followed; he knew that the tall crook was posted with his crew.

Moreover, The Shadow had figured Matt’s game to the dot. He knew that the crook would want to make a silent capture; that there would be no fireworks, if Matt could help it. But The Shadow did not care to trust that to chance.

Here, in the confines of the coupe, he was waiting for the right opportunity to deal double attack against Pete and the fellow’s pal. Unarmed, The Shadow faced bad odds. But he had a plan of action that would work. Soon, he was sure, either Pete or the other mobsman would get the idea of stepping from the car. Then would come opportunity. Already Pete was shifting at the wheel, one hand on the handle of the door.

Then, just as The Shadow saw success before him, a new event spelled finish to the plan. A glare of light flashed suddenly from the road at the gateway; the glow turned suddenly and cut off into the drive. With it came the crunch of heavy tires upon gravel.

Lamont Cranston’s limousine had come in from New York. The millionaire was riding straight into the trap that Matt Theblaw had provided for him. Pete and his pal became rigid, guns half drawn from their pockets. The Shadow could only wait.

A battle in the coupe would prove fruitless. Shots here would cause hubbub by the house. A man’s life was at stake. The Shadow could not afford to risk a disturbance that might bring wild action elsewhere. He still, however, had one factor upon which he could count. The chances were that the capture at the mansion would be an easy one. After that would come The Shadow’s turn.

UP by the house, Stanley had alighted from the limousine. The chauffeur was opening the door of the big car. The front door of the house opened also. Richards, the valet, stood in view. A shaft of light showed the cement walk beside the drive.

Then, from the limousine, stepped the real Lamont Cranston. Light showed full upon the millionaire’s face. Lurking mobsters recognized the double of the prisoner who had been at Professor Jark’s. As Cranston stepped toward the house, two brawny forms lunged forward to meet him.

The millionaire was caught entirely off guard. The attack bowled him over. As he rolled upon the ground, the thugs pounced fiercely and dragged him to his feet, half dazed. While Stanley and Richard stood astounded, the captors swept their bewildered prisoner toward the car where Matt and Louie awaited them.

On came the lights. The sedan was in reverse as the mobsters bundled their captive aboard and leaped in after. Revolvers were pressed against Cranston’s body; then the guns were raised as the victim sank helpless in Theblaw’s clutch.

The sedan swished backward through a shrubbery bed. Louie spun the wheel to head it for the gate. At the house, Richards gave a cry of alarm and dashed in to find a weapon. Stanley, in turn leaped to the wheel of the limousine, to give pursuit.

Out on the road, Pete had seen the blinks of lights. Hearing the cry of Richards, the driver of the coupe gave a hoarse laugh. The job was done. It was time to get rid of his first prisoner. Pete grunted to his pal, who yanked open the door on the right.

“Hop out,” ordered the gorilla, shoving The Shadow forward. “We’re goin’ places.”

“And call off the bloodhounds,” added Pete, remembering orders in Matt’s note. “Tell’em you’re all right. Savvy?”

The Shadow dropped from the step. As Pete shoved the coupe in gear, his companion leaned forward to close the door. Then came The Shadow’s stroke. Like a flash, he dropped lethargy for action. Long arms shot forward; vise-like fingers caught the leaning gorilla’s throat.

PETE was stepping on the gas as The Shadow grabbed his pal. Turning, Pete saw the fellow go headlong from the coupe. The Shadow had whipped the thug clear with the precision of a mongoose attacking a writhing cobra.

Pete jammed the brakes. As he did, he heard a terrorizing sound. From that figure on the ground came the burst of a wild, outlandish laugh. It was a cry that had until now been silent — the mocking merriment of The Shadow.

Wildly, Pete stepped on the gas. As the coupe shot away, The Shadow dived to the ground and grabbed up a gleaming revolver that had come from the clutch of the man whom he had overpowered.

Whirling, The Shadow dashed through bushes, toward the gate. As he took that direction, he again emitted his strident, unmistakable laugh. The weird crescendo quivered upon other ears. Matt Theblaw’s sedan was whizzing from the gate. Matt and the gorillas with him caught The Shadow’s challenge.

A revolver barked from blackness. The bullets sizzled past the opened window of the sedan. A second shot, as The Shadow dashed forward. With the echoes of his fire came that gibe that only he could utter.

Matt Theblaw fumed as he dropped his hold upon Lamont Cranston. Whirling about, the tall crook jabbed his hand from a window and opened wild fire from the fleeing sedan.

“The wrong guy!” muttered the crook. “We’ve got the wrong guy!” Then, in a harsh rasp to Louie: “Get going! Keep going! It’s The Shadow! He’s in the clear!”

The Shadow’s laugh had ended. Again came the staccato bark of a revolver. The Shadow was at the gate, squarely in the middle of the road, when suddenly his evening-clothed form was outlined in a blaze of light. Stanley was coming from the driveway in the limousine. The chauffeur applied the brakes when he saw his master.

“Mr. Cranston!” cried Stanley, leaping from the big car. “Are you hurt? How did you get free?”

Trembling, the chauffeur was holding a revolver that he had pulled from a pocket in the car. Without a word, The Shadow swung and plucked the weapon. With agile stride, he sprang to the wheel of the limousine. With Stanley’s gun as reserve, The Shadow shot the big car forward, leaving the chauffeur bewildered by the gate.

Far ahead, The Shadow caught the twinkle of the sedan’s tail-light. The limousine, heavy and powerful, clung hard to the winding road as its driver impelled it forward. Steadily, The Shadow was closing the gap between himself and the fleeing sedan.

Raising the gorilla’s gun with his right hand, The Shadow delivered three quick shots. Revolvers answered from the sedan. The chased car veered to the center of the road, almost into oncoming traffic. Approaching cars took to the shoulders.

The Shadow sped the limousine up on the right. His laugh rang clear, taunting, vengeful, terrifying. His left hand flashed the revolver that he had snatched from Stanley. A mobsman fired blindly toward the limousine. The Shadow answered; his bullet sent the gorilla sinking back into the sedan.

Matt Theblaw fired once and ducked. The cars were almost alongside. A mobster took pot shot from the front seat. The Shadow picked him off with the second of two swiftly delivered slugs. Lamont Cranston’s face was showing white at the window. Matt had dropped from view.

Again, The Shadow raised his strident laugh. He had a bead on Louie, but he did not fire. The driver must have known his danger; he slung the sedan to the right to force The Shadow’s car to the ditch. The Shadow jammed the brake. His big car slowed enough to avoid the crash.

Then, as Louie saw a clear path to the left, the sedan kited suddenly in that direction. Half skidding, it took to a side road as the limousine kept straight. Louie caught his grip on the wheel; the sedan righted and kept in flight.

From the limousine came final shots; with them, the last taunt that The Shadow chose to give. The tones of that fear-provoking mirth brought tremors to Matt Theblaw and Louie. But to Lamont Cranston, The Shadow’s laugh gave hope.

The sedan kept on in its flight for safety, far along the side road that Louie had thought himself lucky to find. But the limousine, still on the main road, was following a course to Manhattan. The Shadow had given up the chase of Lamont Cranston’s abductors.

HALF an hour later, the big car stopped near Delavar Street. Stepping from his post behind the wheel, The Shadow strode in the direction of the house that bore the number 18. He found the front door unlocked. He entered.

Downstairs and up, the building was empty. Professor Jark had left with his electrical equipment; only odd pieces of furniture remained on the second floor. Still in his guise of Lamont Cranston, The Shadow turned on lights and laughed sardonically as he viewed the room wherein he had played his game of bluff.

The big clock on the mantel was gone. Jark had evidently taken that one item with him. Turning, The Shadow extinguished the light and made his departure through darkness. His laugh was soft and prophetic.

The Shadow had no fear for the present safety of Lamont Cranston. Crooks had not wanted the real Cranston before; they would not want him at present. Deliberately, The Shadow had restrained himself from shooting Louie; for had he wounded the driver, he would have wrecked the sedan with Cranston in it.

Lamont Cranston would come to no harm, thanks to The Shadow’s chase. For in that pursuit, The Shadow had pronounced his own identity in a manner that Matt Theblaw would remember. Crooks had grabbed the wrong man after all. They would release Cranston as willingly as they had The Shadow.

Having driven Matt Theblaw into flight, The Shadow had chosen to let him go, that Cranston’s safety might be assured. Instead of continuing the chase of the sedan, he had come swiftly to this house on the chance that Jark and Digger had lingered too long.

Those birds had flown; learning that, The Shadow had searched for some clue. None found, his trail was ended. Crime still lay ahead; and, as yet, The Shadow had gained no inkling of its purpose.

Though he had saved Bruce Duncan’s life; though he had bluffed and extricated himself from captivity; though he had assured Lamont Cranston’s safety — The Shadow was back almost to his starting point.

Stinger Lacey and various mobsmen had fallen in strife against The Shadow. The master fighter had displayed amazing prowess. Yet the real men behind crime were still at large; and The Shadow had no knowledge of their whereabouts nor of the crimes they contemplated!