Charg, Monster

CHAPTER XX. TITANS OF STEEL

STILLNESS reigned in the abode of Charg. The Shadow, viewing the strange scene, was waiting for some stroke to occur. Nothing happened. A laugh came from the lips that resembled those of Jerry Laffan; it was incongruous, that laugh, as it shivered through the triangular room.

Jerry Laffan could never have uttered it. Hence the laugh proved that The Shadow no longer saw the need for hiding his identity. Minutes passed. To an ordinary person, the suspense would have been fearful. To The Shadow, it was welcome.

This lair was a trap. That was evident. The trap, to be in keeping with the robot figure of Charg, must be a mechanical device. If it had been timed to spring, its action would have come. These fleeting minutes proved that there was no stroke that would act of its own accord.

Until The Shadow sought to escape, there would be no danger. Once he tried to leave this tomblike room, some force would act to obstruct him. Knowing the strength of Charg’s killers, The Shadow realized that the test would be severe.

Two hours remained before Jerry Laffan was due to meet Bart Daper. Whether or not The Shadow might seek to keep the appointment, there at least was time for cautious procedure. If murder lay in the offing, it was not due to strike immediately. The Shadow had complete chance to study his own position.

The intruder who had disguised himself as Laffan moved toward the overturned screen. There, he examined the interior of the big box upon which the dummy figure had rested. Through brief, but active inspection, The Shadow made prompt discoveries.

The records that were in the massive pedestal were labeled. They were set in separate racks; each had its own peculiar operating mechanism. The Shadow could see that certain ones would slide into position, according to the rings of the outer bell.

This was why Charg gave his minions numbers. The brain behind Charg — the living person who had arranged this strange den — had never been compelled to visit the lair after his records had been set.

There was one complete set for Quinton, arranged for number one. A second for Daper; a third for Laffan. Another, with a single record, used, was labeled Talbot; while a fourth was marked for Randham.

Besides these were special records; also emergency levers which served a cunning purpose. They formed connections with a telephone receiver. This had been converted from an extension in the apartment above. It meant that any time Charg might wish to change arrangements, he could do so by calling the apartment number on the telephone!

The Shadow saw how clicks across the wire could put the mechanism in operation. This was the way that Charg had used to dispatch his agents on their quest for The Shadow. All the apparatus in the big box was simple; the only complicated phase was the involved scheming that some master mind had used in working out his campaigns.

From anywhere in the country, simply by calling over the telephone, that insidious master crook could put his machinery to work. Charg, the figure whom the minions dreaded, had always been within this room.

His moving arms; his turning head; these were mechanical actions.

THE voice of Charg? His conversations with his henchmen? That was the simplest, yet the most subtle part. When a visitor like Laffan came here, the ring of the bell at the outer door set the figure of Charg in motion. A record shifted to the turntable in the box. The mechanical arm of Charg pressed the switch that raised the door.

The record, started, was ready with the raspy words that greeted the intruder. Then the record stopped, automatically. The factor that started it again was the voice of the intruder himself!

Even The Shadow had believed that he had talked with Charg. Actually, he had talked with a revolving disk. Charg’s coming statements had awaited The Shadow’s portion of the conversation. A microphone, at the front of the big box, showed how voice vibrations actuated the delicate mechanism.

Such was The Shadow’s finding. His problem now, was to leave the lair of Charg. Free from this place, he could seek the master crook who had designed the strange den; the real brain in back of murder.

The Shadow calculated. He knew that he must face great danger. He was confident, however, that Charg’s den would not be slated for destruction. It was too valuable an adjunct to its maker.

The Shadow found the switch that controlled the door. He pressed it. There was no response. His attack upon the screen had broken the electrical contact that made the mechanism work. The Shadow approached the outer door.

The barrier had settled in grooves of metal. It would not yield to ordinary attack. The Shadow had a measure that might settle the barrier; but before he attempted it, he looked about for some less difficult measure of escape.

Drawing an automatic from beneath his coat, he approached the door on the right side. This was the door to which Talbot had gone, at Charg’s bidding. It was behind that barrier that a mechanical killer lurked. Talbot had met a speedy death and the door had dropped when he had fallen. Did The Shadow suspect the lurking menace?

His actions showed it as he neared the door. The Shadow paused, five feet away. He uttered no sound as he moved slowly closer to the portal. It was still beyond his reach.

Click!

The door shot upward. Some mechanical device had been put in operation at the time The Shadow had smashed Charg’s screen. The Shadow’s approach — nothing more — had loosed the mechanism. The lights of the room remained illuminated. The Shadow stopped short as he viewed the figure which stood revealed in the alcove.

THIS was no collapsible robot. It was a gigantic murder machine, a device that stood eight feet high. It was equipped with rounded legs of steel, set upon massive feet. Its body was a heavy cylinder; its head, a smaller one. As with the killer that The Shadow had met before, this huge robot possessed four arms.

But in comparison, this new menace had fully thrice the power of the other. It had slain Talbot without moving from its placement. Actuated to meet the present emergency, its attack upon The Shadow differed. Something clicked within the central cylinder. A Goliath of solid steel, the massive robot lumbered forward.

The Shadow fired. Quick shots burst from his automatic as he emptied the powerful .45, backing as he loosed the volley. Bullets flattened themselves against the cylinders that formed the robot’s body and head. The machine of death came pounding forward.

The Shadow stopped short. The robot still approached. The huge machine would keep coming until it clutched its victim. Then only would it be ready to cease action after motion had stopped. Wheeling as the steel monster increased its forward drive, The Shadow headed toward the central door.

The robot turned its course. The Shadow’s motion was the force that drew it. Motion — motion — the robot kept responding like a living creature. All the while its terrible arms, jointed pistons four feet in length, were clutching crablike for its human foe.

The machine was more terrible than a living enemy. Its mechanical precision guided it with unerring faculty. When The Shadow whirled to escape its course, the robot acted in turn. Quick, weaving measures on The Shadow’s part seemed to bring him loss, not gain.

The Shadow was whirling toward the spot where Charg’s screen lay. There, against the wall, he stood a scant yard from the sweeping arms of the big robot. Diving away, he barely missed capture. An iron claw caught his coat and ripped the entire side of the garment. Only a rapid whirl saved The Shadow from the robot’s clutch.

Spinning as he reached the wall at the right, The Shadow found himself facing the machine as it pounded forward. He sped along the wall; the robot’s course described a parabola that brought it closer. Had The Shadow tried a quick reverse, he would have been trapped by those deadly arms. Wisely, he again made for the open center of the room.

All the while, The Shadow held his emptied automatic, His left hand, sliding beneath the coat, brought out a second gun. While he kept up his spinning flight, The Shadow fired; his bullets were aimed at the moving arms. He was hoping to shatter some connecting pivot.

Bullets were flattened. The joints, encased in steel tubes, withstood The Shadow’s shots. The chase continued; The Shadow, backing, springing, whirling, was engaged in trapped flight from an untiring foe.

A FLINGING rod shot straight toward The Shadow’s face. To ward the blow, The Shadow swung his left hand. The automatic made the steel arm waver. The Shadow ducked to temporary safety.

Steel against steel. This was the only advantage that The Shadow had gained. Again an automatic clicked as The Shadow delivered a smashing blow. The stroke deviated the robot for an instant; but it did no damage.

The use of the automatics was merely prolonging the inevitable finish. By crashing with his emptied weapons, The Shadow could let his arms do work that would give his legs a chance to ease their speed.

His confidence in this procedure almost became his undoing.

Backed against the central door, The Shadow delivered two quick and powerful crashes toward the approaching arms. They stayed the upper portion of the lumbering robot. The lower arms, however, shot to clutch their prey. Another smash, with all The Shadow’s fury; the robot turned slightly from the blow and The Shadow, diving sidewise, managed to elude the clutch of the lower rods.

The stroke, however, had turned the robot toward him. The murderous machine gained impetus. The Shadow, leaping away with all speed, came to a portion of the room which he had hitherto avoided; the zone close by the unopened door on the left.

Click!

The door shot upward. From it loomed a second Titan of steel — a robot that was the twin of the first!

The new machine started forward. The Shadow swept by it. He leaped over the fallen screen. Whirling, he saw the approach of death.

Fatigued by his maddening flight, The Shadow was faced by a double menace. As he staggered backward toward the wall, two man-killing machines were bearing down upon him. One was piling forward from straight ahead. The other was coming from his right.

It was then that The Shadow acted with sudden impulse. His dive had gained him three yards’ leeway.

The only free space lay to his left. Instead of taking it, The Shadow hurtled forward, squarely between the converging robots!

The steel figures swung in response. Huge arms shot forward with their piston drive. Eight massive rods of metal; The Shadow felt the clutch of iron claws as he whisked through the closing space and flung himself headlong in an acrobatic dive.

The lumbering robots turned as The Shadow sprawled in the open center of the room. They were still pounding forward as they swung. Then came the clash that The Shadow, quick in his decision, had foreseen.

The robots locked as they swung together. Colossal figures of steel came head-on together. The Shadow, rolling to the wall, lay motionless. Panting, he became the sole witness of the most amazing struggle that eyes had ever seen.

Charg’s metal murderers were impelled by search of motion. They were designed to smash and drive at whatever came within their clutch. Giants of steel, these brainless robots had found a battle worthy of their mechanical power.

Eight armlike pistons drove in fury. Like hammers, they arose and descended, with ringing blows as metal pounded metal. Steel claws slipped from steel cylinders. Closing like mallets, they delivered blows that would have killed a human being in the fraction of a minute.

Steel dented steel. Sweeping rods cracked protecting joint tubes. One robot’s cylindrical head went clattering to the floor and rolled to The Shadow’s feet. The decapitated body kept on with its unrelenting struggle, swinging its arms with damaging force.

The second robot’s head was dented. It wavered; it went bouncing from the cylindrical body. A crash; a huge arm was knocked from its mooring. It bounced upon the stone floor and clattered useless while the robot that had owned it began to describe a swinging, lopsided course against its foe. Another arm went flying; this from the second robot.

Cylindrical bodies were cracking. The struggle was nearing its end. Another arm smashed upon the floor, a fourth. Then a body crashed open wide. A plunging arm came driving through to shatter the machinery within. The ruined robot broke apart; another blow sent its top-heavy body skidding to the floor.

The victor did not stop. Pounding downward, it smashed new blows with its two remaining arms. Then the motion of its adversary ceased. The winner, headless, lay like a useless hulk upon the vanquished.

As the struggle ceased, The Shadow lay loading an automatic. He arose. He moved toward the center of the debris. Responding to new motion, the battered winner of the mechanical duel came swinging crazily to its massive feet. Tilted at a sidewise angle, its cylindrical body broken near the side, it swung toward the living being who challenged it.

Flames spat from The Shadow’s automatic. The hand that held the weapon directed the shots for the gap in the robot’s side. Bullets, unstopped, shattered the machinery. The winning robot toppled and clattered on the loser.

The Shadow had dealt the last stroke. He had disposed of Charg’s second slayer. He stood safe in the center of this lair. He had turned a hopeless defeat into victory. By escaping the first formidable foe, he had managed to throw the second against it. Titans of steel had battled to a finish.

From separate pockets of his tattered coat, The Shadow produced two bags. A black powder issued from one; a gray powder from the other. The Shadow spread the mixture along the base of the central door.

He produced a vial. Encased in thick leather, this tiny bottle was unbroken. The Shadow poured its liquid along the line of powder He sprang across the room, as speedily as he had dodged the robot, to gain the shelter of the niche where Charg’s dummy figure lay.

An explosion followed. Pungent fumes pervaded the room. The smoke settled. The Shadow arose. His explosive had loosed the heavy outer door. The muffled blast, confined to this lair, could not have been located by any outside hearers.

The door still formed a barrier, though force could break it down. Seizing a huge arm that had come from one of the robots, The Shadow wedged it through a crevice and used it as a heavy lever.

The road to escape would soon be open. Minutes only detained The Shadow. The genius of his brain had gained the triumph over Charg’s men of steel!