Double Z

CHAPTER XIV. DOUBLE Z PLOTS

CLYDE BURKE’S story in the next day’s Classic was read by New Yorkers with avid interest. Arnold Bodine, the big shot who had cloaked himself with respectability, had been murdered in his own apartment!

Even the security of a secret hideout had not protected him. That, in itself, was sensational. The fact that the police had received a tip-off from Double Z was amazing. Once again, the name of the archmurderer was on every tongue.

Joe Cardona, calm in the face of criticism, reiterated the fact that Double Z was not responsible for the killing. The police had evidence that pointed to the real slayer. Clyde Burke, as the Wise Owl, suggested the name of Dave Markan.

It was the underworld’s general opinion that Markan had engineered the slaying; and the underworld had a peculiar habit of being right.

Popular opinion produced strange results. Cardona’s truthful statement that Double Z had merely furnished information, and had not been the actual murderer, was ridiculed.

A few months ago, it would have been accepted. But with Double Z classed as the slayer of Joel Caulkins and Philip Farmington, anything which carried his name indicated his action.

Editorials condemned Joe Cardona for his honest opinion. Even Inspector Timothy Klein, now back on the job, came in for criticism, although he had been absent when Double Z had killed.

The exciting events at the apartment of Arnold Bodine had made it hot for Dave Markan. He had ordered the death of the big shot. He had an alibi. Ordinarily it would have held. But now it was subject to fire.

It was obvious that the police would have to round up any one who might be connected with the affair, purely because the trail might lead to Double Z. That, in itself, was trouble enough for Markan.

But he was in wrong elsewhere. The underworld was seeing red. Markan’s mob was growling at their chief’s slip. It was rumored that Arnold Bodine’s bodyguards would not let the death go unavenged.

There was talk of a fund established secretly by Bodine.

In the event that the big shot was murdered, so the tale went, a certain lawyer would pay a large sum to the man who killed the murderer.

When the underworld said that gunners were out to get Markan, the underworld meant that very thing.

Under all this pressure, Dave Markan showed a yellow streak.

He fled from the city. He had planned too boldly. He feared his own mob, Bodine’s killers, and the police.

Jake Dermott assumed control of the leaderless mob. His apprehension had been changed to realization.

Jake was on top of the world. He prided himself upon his secret allegiance to Double Z.

Before the print had dried on the final editions of the evening newspapers, another killing took place. Gun shots flashed in a gloomy room where Mike Lombrosi made his headquarters, and Tony Marano became the new leader of that mob.

Lombrosi had long been tottering on his throne. He had paid tribute to the dead Arnold Bodine, and rumor had it that he might have supported Dave Markan in the enterprise. So Tony stepped in with a big gat and ended the discussion.

The killing took place when several of the mob were present, so Tony did not have to wait long for congratulations.

Like Jake Dermott, Tony Marano was pleased with his new connection. Double Z, through Sneaks Rubin, was to be the recipient of the tribute that had once been paid to Arnold Bodine. But that was a matter that Tony intended to keep to himself.

Thus, in less than twenty-four hours, two of the most proficient criminal groups in New York had come beneath the sway of the great unknown — Double Z — and not a word of the change had reached the ever-ready ears of gangland!

Bodine’s death was something of a mystery. The first indication had been the note from Double Z.

Detective Joe Cardona had put men on guard at the Goliath Hotel. Cardona, himself, had camped in Bodine’s rooms.

He had answered a telephone call. It had been Bodine’s cry for help. A slayer was in the big shot’s hideout!

The shooting had commenced before Cardona had arrived. The detectives found the door barred. They were sure some one was in the apartment.

In the alley outside, men sent to guard the flank had discovered the body of Clipper Tobin — a lone wolf in gangdom. Crashing into Bodine’s room, the detective found the body of the big shot, but the slayer was gone.

What part had Clipper Tobin played? Cardona doubted that he was one of the murderers. It was more likely that Bodine had hired him as a special bodyguard.

If so, two men had doubtless entered for the killing. They must have escaped by the window, swinging to the roof of the garage, for it had been some time before the police had blocked that exit.

Logically, these men would be considered as hirelings of Dave Markan. That was Cardona’s claim, and it gathered force when Markan made his sudden departure. But the newspapers could not forget Double Z. His name was undeniably linked with the killing. Perhaps he was the actual murderer!

JOE CARDONA was glum when he conferred with Inspector Timothy Klein. The detective was a man who had his ups and downs. Klein was always the same — gruff and doubtful. He was not pleased with what had happened. He lost no time in saying so.

“Rather bungled,” was his comment, and the words were no salve to Joe Cardona.

“It’s this Double Z business,” protested the detective. “If they’d lay off and give us a chance! Burke, with the Classic, is shooting straight. But the others—”

“Can you blame them?” questioned Klein. “You admitted you got the tipoff; but the killing went through just the same. Who is the guy? Have you any idea?”

“Never hit anybody like him. He’s a mystery.”

“How about The Shadow?”

Klein’s question was startling, but it brought a growl of disapproval from Cardona.

“The Shadow isn’t a killer,” he declared.

“He’s given tipoffs,” retorted Klein.

“Yes,” said Cardona, “but they’ve been clean ones. I’ll tell you what, Inspector. I wish The Shadow was in this!”

“Why?”

“Because we’d be getting some results.”

“You think he’d help out?”

“He did in the past.”

“Well,” drawled Klein, “maybe The Shadow is in it. Maybe he’s changed tactics. Maybe he’s Double Z.”

Cardona shook his head. He had met The Shadow in the past. He had never gained an inkling of the mysterious man’s identity, but he felt that he understood The Shadow’s methods.

“Where is The Shadow?” questioned Klein. “This is the kind of mess he would get into. We haven’t heard a word of him. Doesn’t that make it look like he might be Double Z?”

“You don’t know The Shadow, Inspector. If he happened to be in back of this — playing the part of Double Z — he’d be in the game as himself, just to make it more bewildering. No, The Shadow isn’t Double Z. I’ll stake my reputation on that!”

“You won’t be staking much,” asserted Klein grimly. “Not if this keeps on, you won’t!”

“Listen,” replied the detective. “I’ll make a prediction: We’ll hear from Double Z again. Soon. And his next job will be a flop!”

“I hope so.”

HAD Joe Cardona paid a visit to Room 909 in the Badger Building, he would have been surprised to observe the actions of an investment specialist named Rutledge Mann. For that quiet-faced individual was dealing in other papers than stocks and bonds.

He was clipping accounts of the Bodine killing and the rumors which had followed it. He was missing nothing. Among his tabulated statistics were the facts that Mike Lombrosi and Dave Markan were no longer important figures in the realms of gangdom.

His notations came from other sources than the actual newspapers. On his desk was an envelope delivered by Clyde Burke when the reporter had stopped by on his way to the Classic office. The Wise Owl had been getting material. He had been hearing more than rumors from the lips of mobsters.

Finishing his work, Rutledge Mann pasted up some clippings and stuffed them in an envelope. He dropped them in the office marked B. Jonas, while en route to the Cobalt Club. After a heavy dinner, Mann lighted a cigar and strolled about. Once again, the plutocrats were discussing Double Z.

“The man’s a maniac!” he heard Barnaby Hotchkiss say. “He’s dangerous! It is outrageous, the way the police continue to fail! Why, we’re all in danger! First Farmington was killed; now Bodine.”

“No analogy there,” declared Blaine Glover. “One was a banker — the other a crook.”

“Both had money.”

“But this man called Double Z did not profit thereby,” Glover persisted.

“How can you tell? I assert that no one is safe! He will strike again, and one of us may be the victim!”

“That would be interesting,” commented Matthew Wade. “I hope it isn’t worrying you, Hotchkiss?”

“Just as much cause for you to worry, Wade,” came the reply. “You are no safer than any of the rest of us. I tell you again, the man is out to make trouble. He has a mania that causes him to attack those who have wealth — no matter how they may have acquired it.”

A murmur of agreement followed. Even Glover admitted that Hotchkiss might be correct in theory. Wade seemed noncommittal. Rutledge Mann noted that Lamont Cranston was in the group, but silent. He went along to the library. When he returned, Cranston was gone.

A few hours later Mann stopped back at his new office. He found a letter on the floor. He opened it and read it quickly. The writing faded away, but Mann had perused the entire coded message. He sat by his desk and softly repeated the words that he had read.

“Jake Dermott,” he said. “Jake Dermott and Tony Marano. That’s right. Burke said they were only gunmen, not typical gang leaders. Marsland must be cautious; but if he can follow Dermott, he may gain information. Burke must be posted, too. Vincent on the usual job — no results as yet—”

None of these thoughts had occurred to Mann when he had forwarded his data to The Shadow. But since then, the Double Z problem had been studied by The Shadow. Mann knew that the master mind had been at work, for he had just become acquainted with the findings. Facts that Cardona had never suspected were seen by The Shadow’s keen vision.

“Cliff Marsland’s report,” murmured Mann. Here he was on a trail which Cardona had not even seen.

“Who sent Clipper Tobin on the job? Does that man know Marsland? Well — Marsland can trace back Tobin’s actions. Perhaps he may discover their source—”

SOMEWHERE in New York a man sat in a small, darkened room, a pair of earphones clamped to his head, a mouthpiece before him. He was at one end of a conversation. At the other end, in the back room of a secluded dive, sat Sneaks Rubin. The pale-faced gangster with the fanglike teeth was talking with his master — Double Z!

To Sneaks, Double Z was no more than a voice — but he dreaded that voice to the depths of his evil heart. In this conversation, Sneaks was pouring out all he knew — and his words told of a looming danger. For Sneaks Rubin had not been inactive during the exciting moments that had followed his departure from Arnold Bodine’s apartment.

“Clipper was double-crossed,” he was saying. “The guy that went with him on the job was a phony.”

“What was his name?”

The question came in a deliberate, monotonous voice. It was that same singleness of tone that had constantly perplexed Sneaks Rubin.

“I don’t know who he was,” admitted the gangster. “Clipper figured he was O.K.—”

“You did not follow my instructions,” said the accusing voice. “I told you to obtain a reliable man.”

“Clipper said he was reliable—”

“That is not sufficient,” came the interruption to the protest. “You should have been positive, from your own observation.”

“I played it safe, Chief,” said Sneaks. “I tagged along to see that the job was done. When I got to Bodine’s, I found this guy had covered Clipper. I stepped in back of him an’ cracked him. That gave Clipper the chance to plug Bodine.”

“Then what happened?”

“I don’t know. I scrammed. I heard Clipper shoot. I run down the fire tower. I waited at the bottom. Then Clipper falls out the window!”

“What about the man you struck? Was he unconscious?”

“I knocked him cold. It was some other guy that heaved Clipper out. That’s why I’m worried, Chief. This other guy musta come in after I was gone, an’ I know who he was. The Shadow!”

SNEAKS blurted the fearsome name in a hoarse whisper. He listened intently, wondering what the response would be. But the voice of Double Z betrayed no emotion.

“How do you know he was The Shadow?”

“When I see Clipper flop in the alley, I slides up to him. He was pretty near gone, Chief, but he knew who I was when I spoke. He says: ‘The Shadow got me. The Shadow. Get him, Sneaks—’ Then he passes out.

“I didn’t wait no longer. I got away just a few minutes before the cops showed up.”

“What do you know about The Shadow?”

“Nothin’, Chief! That’s the worst of it. I figure he had this guy fixed — the guy that was with Clipper.”

There was silence. Then Double Z spoke slowly.

“You must find The Shadow.”

“I don’t know how to find him, Chief—”

“There is one sure way. Look for the man who went with Clipper Tobin.”

“But if I don’t find him—”

“You do not need to find him. He will find you!”

The suggestion brought a shudder to Sneaks.

“When he finds you,” resumed Double Z, “lead him to Loy Rook’s.”

“I can get Jake Dermott to bump him off—”

“I need no suggestions,” reprimanded Double Z. “I order. You obey. Lead him to Loy Rook’s. He will be captured there. We do not want him dead.”

“But he double-crossed Clipper.”

“He shall die for that,” announced the voice. “His death will come later. When he has been captured at Loy Rook’s, have Dermott and Marano in preparation. For you may be sure of this: The Shadow came to his rescue once before. The Shadow will come again.”

There was a click. The earphones and mouthpiece were laid aside in the darkened room. Sneaks Rubin, his mouth gaping as he understood the scheme, sat at the end of a dead wire. His orders had been received; he would hear no more from his master tonight.

“I’ll find the guy,” muttered Sneaks, with a malicious grin. “Find him by lettin’ him find me. Then it’s curtains for him — an’ The Shadow!”

The scrawny gangster was confident as he sauntered from the dive to keep an appointment with Tony Marano. The Shadow, scourge of the underworld, was to meet his match. Double Z had plotted — and Double Z would win!