The Blue Sphinx

CHAPTER XVIII THE NIGHT ATTACK

“SOMEBODY on the phone for you, Mr. Burke.”

Clyde arose from his typewriter. He was in the local room of the Enterprise, rewriting stories for the morrow. The night copy boy had brought the message.

“Hello… Burke…” It was Drury’s voice that Clyde heard over the wire. “Listen. I had somebody else ask for you. Don’t let the copy boy know I was calling…”

“All right,” agreed Clyde. “Something hot…” Drury’s tone was strangely interrupted as it continued. “Want you with me… Slide out quietly…”

“Where to?”

“Cooper’s cigar store. Parking lot just the other side of it. Green sedan with a Maryland license…”

Clyde finished the call, went back to the typewriter and pulled his half-written page from the carriage. He told the copy boy he was going out for a cup of coffee. Strolling from the office, he headed toward the parking space that Drury had mentioned.

There, Clyde found the green sedan. It was empty and it stood in an obscure corner. No attendant was on duty, for the lot closed at eight o’clock and it was now half past nine. Clyde approached the car.

Two men arose suddenly from the darkness. Guns jabbed Clyde’s ribs. A third man appeared; the first two shoved Clyde into the back seat of the sedan while the third man took the wheel.

Covered by the revolvers, Clyde kept grimly silent. He knew these captors to be pals of Konk Zitz’s. Though Clyde had wondered at Drury’s peculiar speech across the wire, he had never believed that a trap was awaiting him. Drury was not with this trio. Clyde wondered what had happened to the star reporter of the Enterprise.

The thugs offered no explanations. They kept sullen silence while the driver piloted the machine through secluded streets until he reached an open road. Then came a stretch of a broad highway. They turned into a dirt road.

A boom through the night. The muffled blast brought quivers to the air. Clyde knew that they were nearing the old quarry on the outskirts. Then, peering from the side of the car, he saw the outline of the Latuna Museum, off through some trees.

The sedan stopped.

“Come along, mug,” growled a tough. “Keep your trap shut!”

Clyde noticed other cars parked among the trees. He heard growled whispers. He realized that Konk Zitz had assembled his entire bunch at this spot. At least a dozen — perhaps more.

Clyde, however, was concerned with one captor. This fellow was urging him from the car and up a slope toward the side elevation of the museum.

By the moonlight, Clyde made out stealthy figures moving toward the building. He saw four men reach the front of the museum and crouch there. Then one made a motion as if pushing the bell button.

Clyde recalled that the police shifts at the museum had been irregular. He realized that one of the officers would respond to this call, supposing it to be a relief. Remaining silent because of the gun against his ribs. Clyde saw the big door swing open.

Crouching figures arose. They made hurling motions as they sprang forward. Against the white front of the museum, Clyde saw a grotesque profile as one ruffian turned and waved his arms. The others were entering the door.

Tear gas! The fellow who had waved was wearing a gas mask. Gorillas had hurled bombs upon the unsuspecting police. By strategy, they had gained entrance to the museum without firing a single shot.

NEW figures were advancing. They paused on the threshold. Clyde’s captor made a motion with the gun and ordered the reporter forward. When they neared the museum, unmasked men were entering while others stood by on guard. The tear gas had evidently spread. Masks were not necessary.

The front hallway of the museum was lighted. There, Clyde came face to face with Konk Zitz. Zitz was sending stealthy raiders into the end corridors. He laughed when he saw Clyde. His tone was ugly.

“Want to see something, Burke?” questioned the crook. “All right. Come along.”

He took Clyde along the corridor toward the curator’s office. All the while, the other crook followed with a gat poked in Clyde’s back. They found a raider outside the door of the curator’s office. At Konk’s orders, the fellow nodded and opened the door, to deliver a snarl to persons within:

“Konk’s here.”

After a moment, the peering thug swung the door open. Konk motioned Clyde to the threshold. The reporter stared with amazement into the lighted room.

On the floor were the three policemen, bound and gagged. They were coughing in muffled fashion; their eyes were blinking with the light. Evidently they had received only a brief whiff of the gas. Enough to prevent their resistance; but not sufficient to stop quick recovery.

Two gorillas were standing by with guns in readiness. But the person who caught Clyde’s amazed gaze was the one who occupied the center of the room. It was Bart Drury. Revolver in hand, the star reporter was glaring fiercely at the prone forms on the floor.

“All right, Bart,” chuckled Konk. “Here’s Burke. You wanted him.” Bart turned. A twisted smile showed on his usually loose lips. He eyed Clyde contemptuously; then spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“So you fell for it,” sneered Drury. “I thought maybe you were going to be tough. A wise guy from New York. Never figured who was running this outfit, did you? Well, you know now. I am!”

CLYDE was too flabbergasted to offer a response.

“What’ll I do with him, Bart?” questioned Konk. “Take him out by the front door and keep him there until you come?”

“Sure,” responded Drury. “Remember how we arranged it, Konk? Hold him until we’re ready to blow.”

Drury turned to stare at the captured cops. Konk motioned Clyde back into the corridor. While the gorilla paced beside them, Konk growled in Clyde’s ear.

“You’ve only seen part of it, Burke,” he told Clyde. “I guess you know what we’re after. That swag that’s in the vault. Drury’s going after it. He’s got a truck out back.

“When he comes out of the office, he’s going to take a couple of soup men and blow that brick wall for a loop! He and his crew will yank the swag and roll it away. You’re coming with my part of the crew. Out by the front.”

They reached the front hall. They stopped near the door of the Medieval Room, where Konk motioned Clyde against the wall. Clyde made no protest. He lounged at the spot designated while the gorilla kept him covered. Konk strolled back toward the corridor to the office.

Footsteps. Konk appeared in company with Bart Drury. They were holding a confab. Clyde saw Drury scowl. Then the reporter came in his direction.

“I’m leaving you with Konk,” sneered Drury. “Maybe I’ll give you a break, Burke. If you don’t act smart, you’ll be all right. But if you try anything, you’ll know what’s coming.”

With that, Drury raised his revolver and leveled it squarely between Clyde’s eyes. Unconsciously, Clyde flinched. Then, suddenly, as he stared into the leveled revolver, he began to blink. Drury chuckled contemptuously.

“Understand, Burke?” he snarled. Clyde nodded, staring straight into Drury’s eyes. The man lowered his gun and stepped away. Three gorillas — those from the office — were prompt to join him. They went out by the front door.

Konk Zitz watched them go. Then he spoke to the gorilla who was covering Clyde. The man nodded and went out. Konk alone remained. His ready gun was a sufficient threat to keep Clyde from making a move.

“Listen, Burke.” Konk’s voice was an odd whisper. “Drury’s giving you no break. But I am. I’ll tell you why. I don’t put nobody but double crossers on the spot. Here’s the lay. Drury’s pulled a boner; that’s why I’m going to let you out.

“Drury don’t want to bump the coppers. But like a sap, he let them get a look at him. They’re going to squeal on him anyway. So it won’t matter if you talk, too. That’s simple enough, ain’t it?”

Clyde nodded.

“But Drury’s bull-headed,” went on Konk. “Before the cops lamped him, he had his mind set on rubbing you out. Wants me to take you along for the ride, hand you the works and drop you somewhere. Figures that the police chief will think you were working with him. In on the game. See?”

Again, Clyde nodded.

“You and Drury were pals,” added Konk. “You didn’t pull nothing phony. You can’t spill any more than the cops can. So here’s the gag. I’ll turn you over to a couple of gorillas. They’ll ride you out in a coupe. When they give the word, you make a break. They won’t stop you. I’ll alibi it with Drury.”

THE big shot’s word had gained the ring of sincerity. Clyde knew that he intended to keep it. Neither Konk nor Drury could possibly suspect that Clyde was an agent of The Shadow.

“Thanks, Konk,” said Clyde.

Two gorillas entered from the outside door. Konk spoke to them; Clyde could overhear his instructions. The gorillas nodded when they heard the orders that Konk had promised Clyde.

A muffled blast from the quarry on the hillside. While the dull reverberations were dying, two new gorillas entered, lugging a man who was bound hand and foot. Clyde Burke stared.

The prisoner was Cliff Marsland!

“A double crosser,” informed Konk, turning to Clyde. “You can remember that, Burke. Tell the bulls that this guy was one of the crew. After the bulls find him.”

With that, Konk motioned Cliff’s captors into the Medieval Room. Leaving Clyde with the first pair of gorillas, Konk followed those who had dragged Cliff from view. He returned two minutes later.

“Curtains for that mug,” chuckled Konk. “He’ll look pretty when they find him. I’m leaving this to the gorillas who held Clyde so it’s time you bozos were heading for the coupe. Follow along. Don’t worry about Dopey and Duke. They’ll join me after they’ve finished Marsland.”

Konk turned and strode toward the outer door. Clyde’s captors nudged him with their gats as soon as Konk had gone. It was the signal for Clyde to march out to the coupe. Nodding, the reporter obeyed. But as he started along between the gorillas, Clyde clenched his fists in readiness for a sudden break.

Though it might mean death; despite the odds against him, Clyde Burke was preparing to put up a desperate fight in the hope of rescuing Cliff Marsland.