The Black Hush

CHAPTER XIV. AT HEADQUARTERS

THE next night found Detective Joe Cardona seated at his desk in headquarters. The star sleuth was going over a stack of papers which referred to the interrupted raid on Thaddeus Harmon’s apartment.

Cardona looked up from his desk as a man entered. He nodded as he caught sight of Detective Sergeant Markham, the aid who had been working on this case with him. Markham took a chair; Cardona swung to face him.

“Any new clues, Joe?” questioned Markham.

“Not a thing,” responded Cardona gruffly. “Nothing but a hunch” — he paused to smile — “and this hunch is based upon what happened up at Harmon’s.”

“What is it?”

“That the same crooks who did those killings at the Olympia were the ones who raided Harmon’s.”

“I thought you figured differently, Joe. You said first that it looked like one crowd had picked up the idea from another.”

“That’s what I told the reporters,” grinned Cardona, “and I gave them the idea I had at the time. Now, I’ve picked a different slant. I haven’t told anyone about it yet.”

“I get you.” Markham caught on. “Two perfect jobs mean the same method and that connects the first with the second.”

“Right.” asserted Cardona.

“It sounds reasonable to me, Joe,” declared Markham. “But why haven’t they gone after Goldy again? That was their first objective.”

“I’ll tell you why,” said Cardona, wagging his forefinger. “They know that Goldy is smooth. They’re afraid he will get wise to them and demand a cut to keep mum. That’s Goldy’s racket. So they went after him first, but they’re afraid to chance it again because he’s laying low.

“They figure, too, that Goldy is afraid of them. Maybe he is. So they’re going right ahead with a regular schedule of crime. This mess up at Harmon’s was just the first job on their list. There’s others coming.”

“That’s bad, Joe.”

“Sure it’s bad. That’s why I’m keeping tabs on Goldy. They may take another shot at him; if they do, we’ll find out who they are. At the same time, Markham, I’m letting the newspapers hold the old idea. It may help fool these smart crooks.”

“Listen, Joe,” said Markham suddenly, “you’ve given me a thought there. I was over by Goldy’s apartment house last night. I saw a reporter coming out of the place. Maybe—”

“Who was he?” questioned Cardona sharply.

“Burke, the fellow on the Classic,” returned Markham.

“Clyde Burke, eh?” Cardona’s tone was analytical. “Say, Markham, he’s been on both of these cases. Maybe he’s been trying to get Goldy Tancred to talk.”

“Not much chance,” said the detective sergeant. “You quizzed Goldy. He claimed he told you all he knew — which wasn’t much.”

“Yeah, but Burke may have something.”

With his final statement, Cardona reached for the telephone. He called the Classic office. He was connected with Clyde Burke. The detective requested the reporter to come to headquarters.

CLYDE BURKE arrived in Cardona’s office with the air of a man who expected information. He expressed surprise when the detective began to question him.

“Sure, I was up to see Goldy,” asserted Clyde. “I thought the same as you, Joe. Maybe Goldy would know who was trying to get him, and would spill it. But he was like a clam.”

“All right, Burke,” returned the detective. “If you run into something, let me know. It would help if I could find out who was after Goldy.”

Clyde Burke departed. Detective Sergeant Markham followed a minute later. When the reporter reached the street, the sleuth was on his trail.

Off duty, with nothing more important than a quiet evening at the Classic office, Clyde Burke strolled along the street, totally unconscious of the fact that he was being trailed by the detective.

There was also another incident that Clyde failed to notice. A prowling figure was moving up the street ahead him. He had been followed from the Classic office to headquarters; now, the lurker who had trailed him was preceding him.

Detective Sergeant Markham, keeping well in back of the reporter, had no suspicion that a creature of the underworld was moving ahead of the reporter. Yet this odd condition of affairs was due to bring unexpected consequences.

The prowler neared a corner; there he stopped to greet a man who was idly waiting. Quick words passed between the two. Then, as Clyde Burke approached, the pair began a conversation. The reporter did not hear it until he had passed. He hesitated as he caught the louder words.

“He’s going to get Goldy, eh?”

“Yeah — I’m meeting him down at Jerry’s—”

A buzz; then, as Clyde paused to light a cigarette, he heard the mention of a street address in a disreputable neighborhood. As he flicked the match away, Clyde turned slightly and saw the backs of the men as they moved along the street.

Clyde Burke’s decision was a prompt one. Like all of The Shadow’s agents, the reporter was expected to use his own wits in a time of opportunity. He thought no more of the two men, he simply decided to head for the spot that they had mentioned, and see what was happening there.

As Clyde quickened his pace toward a subway entrance, Markham also increased speed. The detective sergeant was some distance behind the reporter; he had not observed that Clyde had overheard the conversation between the two idlers.

Markham simply decided that Burke must have an important destination. Tailing a newspaper reporter was a new experience for the sleuth, but under the present circumstances, Markham felt that the trail might lead somewhere.

That had been Joe Cardona’s idea, and the ace detective still held to it. Back at his desk in headquarters, Cardona was smoking a cigar while he continued to pore over the accumulated data in hope of a new hunch.

Methodically, Cardona placed papers aside when the phone rang. He growled a hello into the mouthpiece. A quiet voice replied. Cardona listened.

That voice brought back recollections. Cardona was sure that he had heard it before. It was not the voice of The Shadow — a strange, sinister tone that Cardona had sometimes heard — but the calmness of this voice brought up strange connections that concerned the master of the night.

There was a reason for Cardona’s impression. The ace detective was listening to the voice of Burbank, The Shadow’s hidden agent. In accordance with special instructions, Burbank was telephoning detective headquarters at an exact time appointed by The Shadow.

The call finished, Cardona slammed the receiver on the hook and leaped to his feet. He bellowed to men who were in another office. They responded to his summons.

“Everybody on this job!” exclaimed Cardona, in a quick but steady voice. “We’re making up a raiding squad. We start inside of five minutes. We’re going to stop a robbery at the New City Bank!”