Charg, Monster

CHAPTER XXII. DOOM TO THE BRAIN

WHEN Frederick Thorne walked into Bryce Towson’s conference room, he stopped short on the threshold. Before him, the harsh-faced power magnate saw Towson, stern and steady. Beyond was Shelburne’s body; past that, the shining cylinders of the robot which projected from the overturned radio cabinet.

Thorne’s eyes opened. They remained that way as a man swung into view from behind the door. Joe Cardona was holding a leveled revolver. Thorne’s arms went upward. He backed from the threat.

“Sit down,” growled Cardona. “We want to talk to you.”

“One minute,” interposed Bryce Towson, tersely. He stepped over and frisked Thorne’s pockets. He produced a loaded revolver. “I think our visitor can do without this.”

“Concealed weapons, eh?” questioned Joe. “We’ll make a note of that. All right, Mr. Towson. Let’s hear what you’ve got to say about this fellow.”

“I shall be brief,” declared Towson. “Cardona, I am the custodian of an invention designed by Meldon Fallow. It is because of that invention that Fallow was murdered. Loring Dyke was also interested. He, too, was killed.

“A third man, Herbert Whilton, left town because he feared attempts upon his life. I have been cautious. That is why” — he waved his hand toward the door, where three servants had appeared — “I have kept this retinue.”

Towson paused. Holding Thorne’s gun by the barrel, he used the handle to indicate Shelburne’s body.

Then he strode to the filing cabinet and produced a bundle of papers. He laid them on the table; from his pocket, he produced a sheaf of additional documents.

“This man,” declared Towson, pointing to Thorne, “wanted Fallow’s invention. Fallow would not sell it. So Thorne resorted to crime to gain control. He kept his murderous methods covered; but he made one slip.

“That” — Towson paused emphatically — “was in his hiring of a spy. He gained my secretary, Shelburne, as his secret agent. These papers” — Towson was tapping the big bundle — “relate to the invention. They are minutes of our meetings, which Shelburne copied and took to Thorne.

“These” — Towson stopped and indicated the smaller packet — “are actual letters from Thorne to Shelburne. Shelburne made the mistake of carrying them about with him. He made the error of laying them aside — here in this room early this evening. I found them.

“I had been suspicious of Shelburne. That was why I watched him. Now I have the proof of his perfidy; and I have the evidence on the man behind it. I want you to arrest Frederick Thorne for murder.”

CARDONA nodded. He looked straight toward Thorne. Towson was eyeing the magnate also. The consulting engineer was confident in bearing. Thorne chewed his lips. For a few moments, he looked like a guilty man, as he stared into the muzzle of Cardona’s revolver. Then, suddenly, he blurted this challenge.

“You’re a detective,” he snapped to Cardona. “You represent the law. I’m relying upon you — now — before it may prove too late. Towson thinks he has me cornered. He thinks that Shelburne called me tonight to tell me that he lost my letters. That is true; but it’s not all.”

Towson was standing idle; but his gaze was focused steadily upon Thorne. The power magnate shifted; then spoke emphatically to Cardona.

“Towson thinks that I came here to demand those letters. He is trying to make out that I came to murder; that I was responsible for the deaths of Fallow and Dyke. That is a lie. I can prove it.

“Shelburne did tell me about the letters; but he told me more. That’s why I came here, armed, to demand a showdown. Shelburne, when he found the letters gone, began to look around. He went into the laboratory that adjoins this room. He found an opened door. It led to a little office. He went in — and there he found lists and records that proved murder — and beyond it he found a room with machines like that mechanical killer on the floor—”

A hiss came from Bryce Towson. Joe Cardona turned. The engineer was covering him with Thorne’s revolver. Helpless, Cardona let his own weapon fall. The mask was off. Bryce Towson showed the countenance of a fiend.

At his hissed order, the servants produced revolvers. They entered; they covered Cardona and Thorne.

A fourth man suddenly shouldered his way in behind them. It was Daper, also armed. The agent of Charg had come to remove Shelburne’s body; he had walked into an amazing scene. He had recognized that Towson must be his actual master.

TOWSON sneered as he pocketed Thorne’s revolver. While his henchmen covered Cardona and Thorne, the revealed murderer spoke in sarcastic tones.

“Thorne is right,” he emphasized. “I wanted Fallow’s invention for my own. I created robot killers. I constructed a hidden lair from which I gave agents orders through mechanical means. I am the brain behind the killers. I am the brains of the murder master, Charg.

“I planted killers for Fallow and Dyke. I had one for Whilton; there, alone, I failed. Whilton has left town. The old dotard, trusting me, sent a letter that I received yesterday, stating that he is in Florida.

“This radio cabinet was ready to be shipped to him. But I decided, first, to try it here. All my killers were shipped out long ago — the ones that Shelburne saw were merely experimental models. So I had the cabinet brought here by my agent, Daper. He picked it up at the storehouse. Tonight, he will take it away and see that it goes to old Whilton.

“Shelburne? Why did I kill him?” Towson snorted. “Because I feared that he might know too much. No one would have missed him — no one but Thorne — and Thorne would think that his spy had merely deserted his service.”

Towson paused. His eyes were gleaming. His lips were scoffing. He eyed the tense faces of Joe Cardona and Frederick Thorne. He snarled his derision.

“I had no quarrel with either of you,” he stated. “You have walked into trouble that you might have avoided. For that, the pair of you will die. Fools — both of you — fools. You should have realized that I, with my knowledge of engineering, would be the logical constructor of this robot killer that you see upon the floor.

“That was where you erred, Cardona. Your mistake, Thorne, was to think that you could gain a showdown by coming here. Fallow, Dyke, Whilton — all fools. You two are fools also. You deserve to die, like Fallow and Dyke died, like Whilton will die.

“There is only one who had the brain to give me trouble. But he is dead also. He ran into the power of a robot killer. With that enemy eliminated” — Towson paused as he thought of The Shadow — “no one could balk my plan to gain control of Fallow’s motor and the millions that I shall harvest!”

Still scoffing, Bryce Towson stepped back. He looked toward his servants. They were villains, all, ready to serve this evil master in any bidding. From them, Towson singled Daper.

“I am killing these two fools,” rasped Towson, in a voice that made Daper shudder, for it was the tone of Charg. “You and Laffan will be deputed to carry away their bodies. Where is Laffan?”

“He did not come,” responded Daper, in a troubled voice. “I waited for him at the meeting place.”

“Laffan is not here?” snarled Towson. “How can you reach him?”

“Only by returning to the meeting place.”

Towson’s face clouded. All the work of Charg’s agents had been conducted from the lair. The robots had been planted at warehouses and express offices. Until now, Daper had not known that Bryce Towson was his true master. Laffan would not know until he met Daper.

Towson, suddenly perplexed by Laffan’s failure to join Daper, turned instinctively toward the door that led to the hall. It was then that his evil leer began to fade as his body took on a rigid posture.

STANDING in the doorway was The Shadow. Automatics bulged from gloved hands. Burning eyes peered from between the collar of the cloak and the brim of the slouch hat. The master of vengeance whom Towson believed dead had arrived to deal with the fiend of crime!

A gasp came from Towson; a shuddering laugh broke from The Shadow’s hidden lips. Towson’s servants, swinging as they saw their master’s stare, were face to face with the dread enemy. Though they were four against one, The Shadow had the sure advantage.

Had any man sought to fire, death would have been his fate. It was Daper, closest to The Shadow, who performed the unexpected action that turned The Shadow’s advantage into a desperate conflict.

With a wild cry, Charg’s minion leaped upon the figure in black. His hurtling body blocked the automatics. Daper aimed to fire as he sprang. He was too late. The Shadow, thrusting forward, pressed the trigger of an automatic. He sank as Daper’s body lunged upon him; but his action was intended.

That shot had found Daper’s heart. Catching Daper’s crumpling form, The Shadow was using it as a shield against the mass attack which came in quick response to Daper’s lead.

Towson’s servants were leaping for the door, firing as they sprang. The Shadow, swinging to a corner, had Daper’s form in front of him. A single automatic spoke. One servant sprawled. The others gained the door.

The Shadow could have stopped them; but he had other work to do. Joe Cardona and Frederick Thorne had sprung upon Bryce Towson as the engineer was drawing his revolver from his pocket.

Towson’s left went to Cardona’s chin. His right hand dealt Thorne a glancing blow with the revolver.

With both opponents staggering, Towson swung to fire at The Shadow. All that he saw was blackness in back of Daper’s body; as Towson edged savagely to take aim, the corpse of his minion came hurtling through the air directly toward him.

Towson dodged the body as it plunged upon him. Swinging wide, he fired hastily. His shot missed its mark. No man, avoiding a plunging form, could have gained a proper aim. That futile shot was Towson’s last endeavor.

Before the unmasked fiend could catch new aim, a blast came from The Shadow’s automatic. Bryce Towson staggered. His revolver clattered. His hands doubled beneath him as he crashed head foremost to the floor.

WEIRDLY, The Shadow delivered a triumphant laugh. For a moment, his spectral form stood poised.

Then, with a sweeping motion, he whisked toward the door through which Towson’s two servants had fled.

Shots were sounding in the hall. The Shadow reached the door. He saw one of Towson’s servants sprawled upon the floor. The other collapsed as The Shadow swept into view. The smoke of pistols showed in curling wreaths from the front entry.

Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland — the latter had followed Thorne here — had been prompt to deal with the escaping villains. The Shadow had known that his agents were in readiness. He had been free to deal with Bryce Towson alone.

The Shadow’s agents saw their master. They caught the signaling sweep of his arms. The front door closed as Harry and Cliff headed for the outer darkness. Slowly, with calm choice, The Shadow turned to leave by a rear exit. His tall form stood momentarily still.

It was then that Joe Cardona, rising with hand to chin, heard the token of The Shadow’s triumph. The detective saw Bryce Towson lying dead. He observed Frederick Thorne, exonerated from charges of crime, slowly raising himself against the wall.

Victims marked for death had been delivered. The master of murderers — the brain who had backed Charg, the robot lord of minions — was dead. The Shadow had conquered; to Cardona’s ears came the shuddering cry of victory.

A weird laugh, a strange outlandish laugh: taunting, it echoed from the outside hall. Its tones of sardonic mirth brought eerie reverberations from the conference room, as though lingering, hidden ghouls had answered the call of a supernatural master.

The echoes faded into sinister whispers. With the passing of the last sound, stillness reigned. The Shadow, triumphant, had returned to his habitat of darkness.

The Shadow had brought doom to a superfiend. Justice had prevailed; and to the law would go the fruits of The Shadow’s victory.