Lingo

CHAPTER XVIII. THE SHADOW’S STRATEGY

NIGHT had passed. New day had come to Manhattan. The city lay basking in the brilliance of glaring sunlight. But those burning rays failed to reach a spot where darkness always ruled.

That was The Shadow’s sanctum. The Stygian abode lay hushed in inkiness, its solid walls holding it as spectral as a tomb. It was not until a faint swish denoted a living presence that man-made light brought illumination to this sable-walled chamber.

A click; a glow upon a polished table. White hands beneath the light. The Shadow began a summary of findings that had brought a sharp change to his plans.

Harry Vincent was missing. The agent had not reported when due. Early this morning The Shadow, himself, had visited Harry’s room at the Hotel Framton. Listening through the dictograph, he had heard sounds of Buzz Dongarth moving about in the next room.

No trace of Harry; yet the setup was still working. To The Shadow, that offered two possible conclusions. Either Harry had blundered into trouble outside of the hotel and had covered up his real activities; or he had been trapped by Buzz and the dictograph had been allowed to remain as a means of enticing another victim.

The Shadow, stealthy in his visit, had fallen for no lure. Departing, he had made no effort to learn which case existed. For The Shadow, always prepared for complications, had planned a mode of action in case of emergency such as this.

A soft laugh whispered through the sanctum. Rare opportunity had come The Shadow’s way. It was a chance that he had carefully avoided; because, as planned procedure, it would first have forced him to throw an agent into Rook Hollister’s hands.

The Shadow had preferred not to risk the life of a trusted aid. But since circumstances had caused Harry’s disappearance The Shadow was now forced to the course that he had considered and rejected.

First: The Shadow must learn if Rook actually held Harry Vincent. Second: He must extricate his agent from the big shot’s toils. The Shadow’s scheme was double-barreled; it promised to accomplish both missions.

Moreover, it carried further. If successful, it would give The Shadow a direct lead to the big shot himself, But in every step, The Shadow’s plan required delicate strategy. No blunt maneuver would do — such as the violent seizure of Buzz Dongarth.

For The Shadow had long since realized that Rook Hollister would stop at nothing. Assuming that Rook held Harry, it was a sure fact that the big shot would murder the prisoner the moment that Harry became a burden rather than a means of reaching The Shadow.

Burbank’s voice was coming over the wire. Whispered orders came from The Shadow’s hidden lips.

Prompt instructions to Hawkeye. New work for the little agent. The Shadow was chancing a course that, if successful, would prove swift.

The light clicked out. The Shadow was departing. His final laugh was prophetic. But that mirth might have been less mocking had The Shadow guessed that two, not one, of his agents were held prisoner by Rook Hollister.

Reports from both Mann and Burbank had announced Clyde Burke off duty. Even The Shadow supposed that the reporter was a passenger aboard a coastwise vessel. Rook Hollister, like The Shadow, was equipped with a double-edged weapon.

AFTERNOON arrived. A slouching figure came along the East Side street where Lingo Queed’s apartment was located. Hawkeye waved greeting to Jerry, the street guard stationed in front of the building.

“Lingo in?” queried Hawkeye.

“Sure,” grunted Jerry. “He was out this morning, though, and you should have seen the way he beat it in a taxi.”

“Figures the finger’s on him?”

“Looks that way.”

“Lingo’s alone now?”

“Naw. Couple of guys are up there with him. Buzz Dongarth and Blitz Schumbert. Guess he’s weeping on their shoulder.”

Hawkeye grinned as he rode up in the elevator. He had learned plenty for a start. Lingo was turning yellow. Just what Hawkeye wanted in order to spring the new proposition that The Shadow had ordered. The presence of Buzz Dongarth was also a vital point in the scheme.

WHEN Jericho admitted Hawkeye, the little spotter found Lingo Queed in conference with Buzz Dongarth and Blitz Schumbert.

Lingo’s face was drawn, his eyes worried. Buzz was seated in noncommittal fashion, looking on while Blitz rumbled angry accusations. It was plain that the pug-faced racketeer was still beefing over the fate that had befallen Louie Caparani.

“You’ve muffed things worse than Rook did,” bassoed Blitz. “Worse than Rook did, and quicker. It won’t be a bunch getting together to rub you out, Lingo. It’ll be everybody. Even your own gorillas.”

“I’ve got Jericho,” grunted Lingo.

“He won’t help you,” scoffed Blitz. “What I’m telling you, Lingo, is for your own good. I’m not against you — because I figure we were saps to have bumped Rook, the way things have turned out since. Whoever comes along next may be worse.”

“What do you think, Hawkeye?” queried Lingo, appealing to the newcomer.

“Blitz is right,” commented Hawkeye. He had gained an immediate chance to start things moving. “There’s only one out for you, Lingo.”

“What’s that? To take it on the lam?”

“No — to pull something hot enough to make these mugs forget your bum guesses.”

Blitz rumbled contemptuously.

“Where do you get that line?” queried the racketeer. “What can Lingo pull that’s going to set him in right? The bulls have queered every job since Lingo was in. One good bet isn’t going to fix things for Lingo.”

“No?” There was a sly gleam on Hawkeye’s wizened face. “You’d better think again, Blitz. I know something that would square Lingo everywhere and put the bulls on the fritz besides.”

“Let’s hear it,” suggested Lingo eagerly.

“All right,” agreed Hawkeye. “To begin with, where do you think this dumb egg Cardona is getting all his tips from?”

“Stoolies?” questioned Blitz.

“Not a chance,” jeered Hawkeye. “Why, Cardona’s wised to stuff that hasn’t even been piped along the grapevine. I’ll tell you who’s handing the dope to the bulls. The Shadow!”

Lingo stared, open-mouthed. Blitz looked troubled. Buzz showed no change of expression.

“I’m telling you what I know,” assured Hawkeye. “I’ve heard plenty of mugs talking about it. There’s your stunt, Lingo. Get The Shadow.”

“Say” — Lingo snorted as he sank back in his chair — “what is this? A gag? Listen to that, Blitz: Hawkeye says to get The Shadow. Like it was a cinch.”

“It oughtn’t to be tough,” asserted Hawkeye. “Not if you go after it right.”

“How’s that?” inquired Lingo.

“Easy,” replied Hawkeye. “It wouldn’t be if The Shadow was still playing a one-man racket. But the way things are blowing, it’s a sure bet he’s got stoolies of his own. You’ve got to grab one of those mugs first.”

“What then?”

“Lay a trap for The Shadow. Let him come around to snatch back his stoolie. Then you’ve got The Shadow.”

SILENCE followed the proposal. It was making Lingo think. Blitz was nodding his slow approval of the idea! It was Buzz who put the objection.

“Trouble with that,” he remarked, “is that The Shadow would crimp it for you. Maybe you could land one of these heels that’s working with him. But you couldn’t put the clamps on The Shadow with no ordinary trap.”

Hawkeye was about to refute Buzz’s statement when Lingo saved him the trouble. The big shot came upright in his chair. His lips spread sourly beneath his spread-out nose; his jaw thrust forward in a challenge.

“Couldn’t snag The Shadow, huh?” he demanded, savagely. “Who couldn’t? Say — if I had one of those stoolies of his for bait, I’d make a cinch of it!”

Buzz, doubt showing on his hardened countenance, emitted a depreciating grunt as he heard Lingo’s boast. The big shot showed ire at the lieutenant’s attitude. Hawkeye saw another opportunity.

“Lingo means it, Buzz,” vouchsafed the little spotter. “Maybe he is in wrong with a lot of guys that think they’re big shots; but he stands in tight in places where those four-flushers don’t count.”

“Like where?” queried Buzz.

“Down in Little Italy,” remarked Hawkeye.

“Since Louie Caparani got his?” snorted Buzz.

“Well,” admitted Hawkeye, “maybe that wasn’t so good for Lingo. But you still rate high in Chinatown, don’t you, Lingo? Say — I’ll bet that’s where you figure you can nab The Shadow.”

“Sure it is,” growled Lingo. “And none of you guys” — he glowered at Buzz — “can tell me that the chinks aren’t smart. Say — I’ve got buddies down there that’ll pull anything I ask!”

“Like Koy Dow?” put in Blitz. “He was smart. I met him.”

“Yeah,” returned Lingo. “Koy Dow. He’ll fix a trap that would land six guys like The Shadow. He’s the guy I’ll see about it, too. If I can only nab one guy that could be good bait—”

“That’s the trouble,” observed Blitz.

Silence. Men were speculating. Hawkeye noted that Buzz had a far-away look. Again, Hawkeye spoke.

“Listen, Lingo,” he urged. “Suppose I spread it to the grapevine that you’re after some mug that’s working for The Shadow. Pipe it along that you’ll make it worthwhile for the fellow that brings in one of The Shadow’s stoolies.

“That’ll stop the squawks for a while. The guys that want you out will figure you’ve got something, that you’re following a real lead. Getting The Shadow. They won’t holler about rubbing you out while they’re seeing how they can grab a reward by bringing in one of the mugs you want.

“Maybe they’ll snag a bird for bait. Meanwhile you have it fixed with Koy Dow. Don’t let nobody in on what you’re going to do until we’ve landed the boob for the trap. Then you can plant him at Koy Dow’s.”

“And then?” demanded Lingo.

“Another pipe along the line,” responded Hawkeye. “Letting it out, like it was a slip, that you’ve got The Shadow’s stoolie at Koy Dow’s. Then, The Shadow—”

“I get it.” Lingo came to his feet as he made the interruption. “Let the rest of it slide until we’ve tried the first part. It’s a long shot but we can’t lose much by trying it. Spill it to the grapevine, Hawkeye. Let’s see how it goes.”

Lingo was reaching for a coat as he spoke. He gave instructions to Jericho.

“Keep the place until I get back,” he ordered. “I’m going down to see Koy Dow. Come on. Blitz. You can stick with me until we get near Chinatown. Then I’ll leave you. I’ll see you later, Buzz. You too, Hawkeye, after you’ve tickled the grapevine.”

A FEW minutes later, Hawkeye left the others outside of the apartment house. The little agent was eager as he strode along. He had gained the point he wanted. Lingo had ordered him to send a rumor out by the underground telegraph of the bad lands.

A report, first, to Burbank. The Shadow would learn that Hawkeye had again put over one of the cloaked chief’s schemes. Also word about Buzz Dongarth. For Hawkeye had watched the lieutenant’s departure.

The Shadow believed that Buzz was Rook Hollister’s representative in the underworld. If so — and Hawkeye believed The Shadow was right — the news of Lingo Queed’s proposed trap would travel to Rook before it hit the grapevine.

If Harry Vincent lay in Rook Hollister’s power, the big shot would find it advantageous to deal with Lingo Queed. Once such a course began, The Shadow would have a tracer on Rook.

So Hawkeye reasoned; and the little spotter grinned with glee as he foresaw potential success to The Shadow’s coming scheme. By dealing with those in view, The Shadow might reach the enemy who had taken cover.

Subtly, The Shadow had ordered Hawkeye to spring his talk with Lingo in the presence of Buzz Dongarth. Through hidden steps, The Shadow was letting Rook Hollister believe that it would soon be time to move.

From Rook would come the bait, once Lingo fixed the trap. That bait would be a boomerang to the big shot who supplied it. What was more, The Shadow’s strategy could prove the most effective way of regaining Harry Vincent from the toils of the foe.