Six Men of Evil

CHAPTER XX BEYOND THE LAW

IN the chill of an early evening fog, a man was wending his way along a narrow San Francisco street. Ahead of him, towering through the mist, was a strange galaxy of Oriental signs. The man had reached the fringe of San Francisco’s Chinatown.

This visitor to the Oriental district seemed to know his way perfectly. Yet there was something furtive in his step as he kept to the inner side of the walk, avoiding persons whom he met.

As he reached the bizarre section where East and West were mingled, the man turned from the brilliant street and sought the seclusion of one of those mysterious alleys which are so common in that part of San Francisco.

The man walked more easily now. His gait became a long, lusty stride. Using the dim street lamps as a guide, he stopped before a darkened door that appeared to be the entrance to a closed shop. He opened this door and came into a narrow entry. There, he rapped upon an inner door.

A bland-faced Celestial appeared. He gazed solemnly at the visitor as though to inquire his purpose. There was a brief pause; then, as the man from the street did not speak, the Chinaman questioned him in English.

“Who you want to see?”

“You savvy English, eh?” responded the visitor in a growling tone. “All right. I want to see Tam Sook. Tell him Charley Kistelle is out here.”

“Charley Kistelle,” repeated the Chinaman. “All right. I tell him. You wait here.”

The Chinaman disappeared and returned about three minutes later. He pointed to the door and the visitor followed him. They went up a flight of steps and the Chinaman ushered the man into a lighted room.

There, seated at a table, was a man dressed in American garb whose face showed his Oriental ancestry. This man was Tam Sook, one of the most important figures in Chinatown. He turned his gaze upward and his almond eyes narrowed as he saw the face of his visitor.

“You are not Charley Kistelle,” he declared.

The visitor laughed. His face, pudgy-nosed and sloping, remained impassive until the lips began to form a smile.

Tam Sook stared incredulously at the evil leer which spread upon the countenance before him. He was more sure than before that this was not Charley Kistelle. Then came words that astounded Tam Sook.

“Don’t look at my face, Tammy,” said the visitor, in a friendly tone. “Listen to my voice. That’s all. You’ll hear Charley Kistelle’s voice. That ought to be enough for you.”

Tam Sook began to nod. There was something about the voice that he recognized. Yet he could not connect the voice with the man. Here, Tam Sook decided, was something extraordinary.

“I KNEW you in New York, Tammy,” said the visitor, seating himself in a chair. “We worked together there. When you moved to Frisco, we made an agreement. If I needed you again, I would know where to find you. So I’m here now.

“A lot has happened since I saw you last, Tammy. See this face of mine? Well, I picked it up in the meantime. It makes Charley Kistelle look different, doesn’t it?”

Tam Sook nodded. “You are Charley Kistelle,” he said, solemnly. “I know it now. Tell me how you got your new face. Tell me what I can do for you.”

“I picked up the face in Mexico,” responded Kistelle, with an evil chuckle. “That’s a long story. I’ll come to that later. But right now I’ll tell you how you can help me out.

“There are six of us, Tammy — ” Kistelle paused for a correction — “that is, there used to be six of us. Now there’s five. We all look alike. Sounds funny, eh? Well, it’s true. Five of us — all alike.

“So we worked together and we went after some nice hauls. We made three clean-ups, Tammy, and we were on our way to a fourth. Then we hit trouble” — Kistelle’s lips formed a reminiscent leer — “and we had to scram. I’ll tell you what it was, Tammy. We landed up against The Shadow.”

“The Shadow!”

Tam Sook’s echo was a knowing one. It was evident that the name of The Shadow held a powerful effect upon the Chinaman. Kistelle saw Tam Sook’s expression and responded with a growl.

“Yes, The Shadow,” he said. “Another fellow and I were making a getaway and he queered it. Shot a tire off our car out on a Dakota road. We went over the edge of a cliff. The car did — with my pal in it — but I managed to get out in time.”

“You were fortunate,” declared Tam Sook.

“You bet I was!” said Kistelle. “But it put me in a bad jam, just the same.

“The only thing that saved me was that The Shadow thought I was dead, too.

“Get this, Tammy. Here were four of my pals sitting pretty. One in Illinois, one in Maryland, one in Georgia, one in Louisiana. Each has a mug like mine. I pulled alibi jobs with three of them and the other guy was waiting.

“Then The Shadow pops up and queers the whole lay. The police have all the dope — and I’m out in the middle of North Dakota. Well, that’s where I acted smart.

“Way back, Tammy, a year ago, when I framed all these alibi jobs, I figured that there might be some need for a general scram. So I had each of my pals tipped. An emergency signal — by telegram — would mean to scram. Where to? Ah, that was where I was wise. Get for cover was my order and call on Tam Sook in San Francisco, ten days later.

“I never thought I’d have to pull the rip cord, but I was mighty glad I had it all set. Out there in Dakota, I hoofed back to a railroad line and walked a mile until I came to a station. There was a man on duty and a train coming in. So I sent telegrams to my pals and caught the train west.”

“You were lucky to get away,” observed Tam Sook.

“It was a break,” admitted Kistelle, “but you must remember that everybody thought I had been killed, including The Shadow. The real break came when I sent the wires. The cops had got the names of all my pals. But they didn’t send out the word until the morning. So my wires landed in ahead and the boys had a chance to scram. So they’re coming here.”

“When?”

Kistelle counted on his fingers. He stopped at the count of eight.

“Today is Wednesday,” he declared. “They will be here Friday night.”

“And then?”

“We want to get together. There’ll be some swag to divvy, and you’ll get a cut.”

Tam Sook smiled and nodded. He pointed downward with his thumb.

“I have the place,” he declared.

“A hop joint?” questioned Kistelle.

“It used to be,” informed the Chinaman.

“Great,” said Kistelle. “We’ll meet there. When each man shows up, send him down. We can make our plans then.”

Tam Sook bowed.

“Very good,” he declared. “What are the names of these men? How shall I know them?”

Kistelle thrust his face into the light.

“Take a good look at that,” he laughed. “You won’t forget this face very quick. That’s all you need to know, Tammy. Any guy with a mug like mine gets in and stays in. That’s enough.”

Tam Sook bowed again.

“Just one thing,” said Kistelle, becoming serious. “I’m worried, Tammy — worried about The Shadow.”

“Why?”

“He knows too much about me. Must have me listed in his big book, I guess. He was on my trail when I scrammed from New York — before I went to Mexico. If he knows as much as I think he knows, he’ll link me up with you. What’s more, he’ll know where you are. Maybe — maybe not — but The Shadow’s mighty wise.”

Tam Sook nodded. He was staring straight at Kistelle. He did not notice the door beyond. There, on the floor, was a splotch of black. That splotch — had Tam Sook known it — was the sign of The Shadow!

“So,” resumed Kistelle, “I’m taking something of a chance. Once I get the gang together and split what we’ve managed to haul, we can all scram for Mexico. The boys made a getaway, all right — I’ve checked up on that. But the game is up and we’re marked men. The cops won’t be looking for us here in Frisco, just yet. It’ll take them too long to trail us. That’s why we can get away.”

“Friday night, then,” declared Tam Sook.

“Friday night,” repeated Kistelle. “But if The Shadow should come here then—”

Tam Sook smiled.

“Let The Shadow come,” he said, quietly.

Kistelle formed his evil smile.

“You know your stuff, Tammy,” he declared. “You aren’t in the Tong racket for nothing. I guess you have things just the way you want them.”

Tam Sook waved his hand.

“Do not worry,” he said, “All Chinatown will do my bidding. Let The Shadow come. That is all I ask. He will find Tam Sook ready.”

Charles Kistelle turned to the door. He paused as he heard Tam Sook ask another question.

“You are sure that none will be here before Friday night?” the Chinaman interrogated.

“Not until then,” said Kistelle, emphatically. “They know the orders. Ten o’clock on the tenth night after the signal. They’ll go by the rule. Remember, Tammy, they all look like me. Six of us — I mean five of us — counting myself.”

Tam Sook nodded. Charles Kistelle laughed. The man with the evil leer left the room. Tam Sook leaned back in his chair and began to inscribe Chinese characters upon a sheet of paper before him.

A few minutes later, the splotch of blackness that showed from the darkness of the outer hall disappeared. Kistelle had gone by without seeing that sign of The Shadow. Tam Sook had not noticed it.

The Shadow was gone. Like Kistelle and Tam Sook, he was awaiting Friday night!