The Chinese Disks

CHAPTER X. THE TRAP SPRINGS

TAM SOOK chuckled. There was dry mirth in his tone. He seemed to relish The Shadow’s presence.

He was unperturbed by the yawning muzzle of the automatic, though it loomed squarely before his almond-shaped eyes.

No response from The Shadow. His form became a statue; its sable hue matching the ebony of Tam Sook’s table. The burning eyes; the automatic; the girasol, sparkling from the white left hand — those alone formed a relief to the blackness of The Shadow’s garb.

Tam Sook’s chuckle ended. His eyes blinked. Then he spoke, in perfect English, except for the slight sing-song that the Chinaman had acquired from his native tongue.

“You are not the visitor that I expected,” remarked the Chinaman. “The one whom I awaited is called Slade Farrow. You, however, have displayed the required token. Therefore, I shall accept you in his place.”

The Shadow remained silent. Tam Sook indulged in a soft chuckle. The Chinaman settled farther back in his chair. He showed no dread.

“You are The Shadow,” pronounced Tam Sook. “You have come in the place of Slade Farrow. That is good. I am here instead of the man whom you seek. He is called Diamond Bert Farwell; but there was once a time when he was known as Wang Foo.”

Tam Sook paused. He placed his hands before him. They rested loosely upon the ebony table, like the hands of a musician, ready to play a piano selection. The gesture showed that Tam Sook had no weapon in readiness.

“Beneath this table,” remarked Tam Sook, “is a pedal upon which my foot is resting. While I continue to press it, this room will remain unchanged. Should I lift my foot” — the Chinaman paused to blink — “the entire floor will open. You, my visitor, will fall to your destruction.

“That is why your weapon is useless. The swifter your shot — should you choose to use your gun — the more rapid will be your doom. Should you wound me; should you kill me; the result will be the same. Death to you, The Shadow.

“Therefore, I advise you to make no foolish move. It would be preferable for you to talk. If you have any entreaty that you wish to make; if you have word for our mutual friend, Wang Foo, this is your opportunity to speak.”

Tam Sook paused. He fully expected The Shadow to reply. The Shadow, however, remained silent. His only motion was a slight backward glide, accompanied by a steady lowering of the automatic. Tam Sook took the hopeless retreat to be a gesture of surrender.

“PERHAPS,” observed the Chinaman, “you intend to wait until I have spoken further. Very well. I shall oblige. I shall answer a question that must be in your mind. I shall tell you about our friend, Wang Foo.

“This place was prepared as his abode. I have come here, night after night, to furnish it as his stronghold. To-night, my friend arrived. He came here as Diamond Bert. Awaiting him, I had the vestments that he required to once more assume his character of the past. The guise of Wang Foo.

“But he chose neither that guise nor this abode. Instead, he said to me: ‘Tam Sook, I wish you to remain here while I fare forth. Therefore, Tam Sook, I shall go as you. I shall be Tam Sook, the Chinese merchant; not Wang Foo, whom the police have known.’

“So Diamond Bert became Tam Sook. I, Tam Sook remained. Diamond Bert, the new Tam Sook, is free. He is ready to perform his chosen tasks. His workers are everywhere here. Those who carry the disks are ready for his call.”

There was cold truth in the Chinaman’s sing-song tone. The Shadow knew that this was the real Tam Sook. Diamond Bert had already arrived. Craftily, he had garbed himself as Tam Sook. An artist when it came to disguise, a man who had previously played a deceptive Chinese role, Diamond Bert had performed an expert job.

The Shadow had seen Diamond Bert at the alley door. The glimpse had been too short for The Shadow to discern the deception. The talk between Luke and Hunky had indicated that Tam Sook came here frequently and then departed. That had led The Shadow to accept Diamond Bert as the real Tam Sook.

“I remained here” — Tam Sook was resuming — “to greet the visitor who was expected. Slade Farrow. I stayed here to question him. To learn whether he might be friend or enemy. Instead, I have received you, The Shadow.

“You do not choose to speak. Therefore, I know that you cannot be a friend. You are an enemy. For such as The Shadow, there can be but one fate. You must die.”

As Tam Sook pronounced this verdict, he settled back into his deep chair. His hands slid from the table.

Then came a slight shift of his robed body. A muffled click sounded as Tam Seek raised his hidden foot from the pedal beneath the ebony table.

Splitting along its thin gold lines, the crimson floor dropped downward on heavy hinges. Except for the raised nook wherein Tam Sook was seated, the entire apartment changed into a yawning pit that formed a blackened cavern down into the cellar, three floors below. With that move, Tam Sook had blandly sprung the trap that he believed would hurl The Shadow to destruction.

But The Shadow had foreseen the move. He was acting as Tam Sook shifted. Swift in this moment of crisis, The Shadow had taken advantage of the one chance that offered. His left hand was sweeping upward as the click resounded. Just as the floor broke open, The Shadow clutched a bar of the little wicket set in the door through which he had entered.

The Shadow’s form slumped downward with the falling of the floor. But his left hand held its grip.

Dangling, with half his body beneath the level where the floor had been, The Shadow remained swinging before the startled eyes of Tam Sook.

THE right hand swung upward. Tam Sook slumped behind the level of the ebony table. A roar resounded through the open-floored room. A tongue of flame flashed from the automatic as The Shadow pumped a zimming slug upward through the woodwork of the ebony stand.

A scream from Tam Sook. The Shadow’s deflected bullet had scored a hit. The Chinaman was wounded. His trap had failed. The Shadow was still a menace. More shots, if they came through that ebony bulwark, would spell Tam Sook’s doom. The Chinaman did not wait.

Though wounded, he showed remarkable fight. He bobbed up from behind the table like a mandarin-clad jack in the box. His left hand shot out and caught the farther edge. His right hand swung forward with a long, terrific sweep as his body surged across the table top.

A knife glimmered as Tam Sook hurled it across the room. The deed was a swift one, performed before The Shadow could respond. As the automatic barked another bullet toward Tam Sook’s unprotected body. the flashing blade was already on its murderous course.

Had Tam Sook aimed the knife for the hanging shape of The Shadow, he would have certainly gained a hit. But such a stroke, to end The Shadow, would have had to reach his heart. That was why Tam Sook had chosen a different mark.

He had thrown the knife above The Shadow’s head, choosing as his target the white hand that clutched the wicket bar. Straight for the glimmering girasol. That had been Tam Sook’s aim. The Chinaman’s hope was to loose the hold that alone kept The Shadow from destruction.

The speeding weapon missed by the fraction of an inch. The whizzing blade breezed the knuckles of The Shadow’s fingers as it flashed between two bars of the wicket and bounded from the metal door beyond the anteroom. The Shadow’s clutch remained unloosened.

But Tam Sook fared less happily. In his venomous effort to dispose of his uncanny foe, the Chinaman had made himself an unprotected target. The quick response of The Shadow’s automatic was a shot that found its mark.

Half across the table, Tam Sook jounced upward as the bullet reached him. Writhing in agony, the Chinaman sprawled forward. His body could not stop its lunge. His clutching claws slipped as they tried to grasp the edges of the ebony stand.

Sliding forward in twisting fashion, Tam Sook delivered a high-pitched cry as his momentum carried him clear beyond the table edge. Pitching downward, head-foremost, the dying Mongol plunged into the darkened abyss. His scream trailed as he fell. Then came a dull crash from beneath. Faint, gasping moans reached The Shadow’s ears from far below. Then came silence.

Grimly, The Shadow laughed. It was the first sound that he had uttered since his arrival in this den of death. Echoed mockery was token of The Shadow’s triumph over the fiendish efforts of Tam Sook. That laugh, also, was foreboding. Its hollow mirth told of the danger which The Shadow still faced.

Hanging from the bar of the wicket, The Shadow was still above the opened pit. There was no means by which he could open the door. While he remained in this predicament, The Shadow could rely upon endurance only to prolong his life. Should his firm hold weaken, he would follow Tam Sook into the depths.

THIS was an emergency for which The Shadowy was fortunately prepared. When he fared forth upon adventure, The Shadow necessarily equipped himself for obstacles. Time and again, he was forced to scale outer walls in order to gain a goal. To accomplish this, he carried special devices in the form of rubber suction cups.

While his left hand still retained its hold upon the bar, The Shadow thrust his right beneath his cloak. He left his automatic there. In its place, he brought out a greased rubber disk. He pressed this firmly against the surface of the door and twisted it in place. Carefully, he released the bar and drew his hand away.

The suction cup held.

The left hand went beneath the cloak and brought forth a second disk. This clamped against the wall and showed its ability to grip. Twisting the right hand cup free, The Shadow moved along the wall.

Hand over hand, a hazardous course. The Shadow moved beetlelike among the hideous paintings that glared from the sides of this outlandish room. Ordinarily, The Shadow would have utilized emergency disks that fitted to his feet. The difficulty of adjusting them had forced him to forgo those aids to safety.

In order to reach a spot of security, The Shadow had to tour half around the room. He made the first corner. Suction cups squidged as he continued to the next. At the second turn, The Shadow paused; both disks pressed firmly to the wall.

There, he pressed his feet against the painted face of a Chinese devil and arched his body backward. The action eased the strain upon his arms. For two long minutes, The Shadow remained, swaying slightly from left to right that he might relax his muscles for a new ordeal. Then he resumed his precarious way.

Foot by foot, along the gilded painting of a Chinese dragon, The Shadow followed the final course. As he neared his goal, he moved upward on the wall. His climbing progress carried him above the arch of the half dome. The Shadow’s feet settled upon the very edge of the ebony table.

The Shadow knew that the blackwood stand was firmly clamped. Hence he relied upon his foothold. He loosened one suction cup with a twist and shook it free from his hand. It bounced upon the table and rolled into Tam Sook’s chair.

The Shadow did not attempt to pull away the second cup. Such a twist, without the holding force of the other disk, would have precipitated his balanced body back into the yawning pit. The suction cups had a tendency to resist release.

Holding the edge of the archway with his free left hand, The Shadow managed to pull his right from the grip-glove that covered the clamped cup. That done, he eased into the nook and gained Tam Sook’s chair.

Bending below the table, The Shadow discovered the pedal of which the Chinaman had spoken. He stooped and pressed it with one hand. Rumbling, the portions of the floor came up in place. Beside the pedal was a clamp. The Shadow swung it and held the pedal down. The room was restored to its former order.

WITH a soft laugh, The Shadow climbed upon the table and pried his suction cup free from the spot above the arch. He made a close examination of the desk. There he found control buttons and pressed them. The door with the wicket slid open; also the barrier beyond the anteroom. The Shadow let them shut.

He knew that there must be other controls somewhere on the stairway up which he had come. But what means had Tam Sook used for exit from the room? Closer examination gave the answer. Above each switch was a little catch. The Shadow pressed both devices. The doors slid open.

Slowly, the catches moved like pointers on a dial. It required half a minute for them to reach their limit.

Then the doors slid shut automatically. This was the means whereby Tam Sook had been wont to depart from his strange den.

On the other side of the table was a single switch with a catch above it. The Shadow knew that this must control the door that showed in the end of the room. He felt sure that Diamond Bert must have arrived here by that entrance. The Shadow decided to use it as an exit.

He found a light switch centered beneath the table. He pressed it. Darkness filled the room. Then The Shadow pressed the catch that controlled the single door. With glimmering flashlight, he saw the barrier slide open. Stepping from the nook, he made in that direction.

Passing through the portal, The Shadow found himself in a sloping space beneath a pair of steps. A click; the sliding door went shut. That did not disturb The Shadow. He found a release that opened a section of the stairway. He went through and pushed the steps shut behind him.

The twinkling flashlight showed that The Shadow had reached the normal portion of the house. This flight of steps led up to a small attic. At the bottom, where The Shadow now stood, was a heavy door, bolted.

The Shadow extinguished his light and softly drew the bolt. He stepped into an outer hall.

This house fronted upon a side street. The proof was a dull glimmer from lights along the thoroughfare.

By the faint glow of the windows, The Shadow was able to pick his stealthy way until he found a flight of steps that led to the ground floor. He followed them.

The Shadow reached an outer door. It was bolted. He drew the fastening and moved to a flight of stone steps, closing the door behind him. This house must have been left open for Diamond Bert. The crook, however, had bolted doors behind him.

The steps were just away from the circle of light that came from a street lamp. They formed an excellent spot of blackness. The Shadow paused; he edged toward the wall of the house in preparation for a choice of departure. Then he made a quick whirl as a figure came upward from beside the steps.

The Shadow had closed in upon a crouching watcher. Simultaneously he and the waiting man discovered each other. An instant later, they had come to grips, staggering out to the sidewalk. There, The Shadow twisted free. His form was plain in the sphere of lamplight.

His antagonist uttered a startled exclamation, just as The Shadow swung a gloved fist toward the fellow’s jaw. The blow struck. The man slumped and lay half groggy on the sidewalk. The Shadow, stooping forward, recognized a wizened face that he had seen before. The man was Hawkeye, the trailer whom Slade Farrow had dispatched to cover Diamond Bert.

Hawkeye had followed his quarry. Blocked when Diamond Bert had bolted the door of the house, the trailer had waited. In the dark, he had decided that The Shadow must be Diamond Bert, returning.

Thinking himself discovered, Hawkeye had sought battle.

The Shadow plucked Hawkeye to his feet. The little fellow was groggy; his feet responded mechanically as The Shadow carried him along the way. At the end of the block, they reached a street where an elevated structure towered above dingy-fronted shops.

A cab chanced to be standing by the curb. The Shadow opened the door and hoisted Hawkeye into the rear. The driver, hearing the noise, turned. The Shadow spoke in a quiet tone, giving him the address of Slade Farrow’s apartment.

The driver saw the door shut. He thought his passenger had closed it. He did not note that Hawkeye was slumped in the seat. He did not see the gliding shape of The Shadow. The driver shoved his car into gear and pulled away.

THE SHADOW faded with darkness. From then on, his course was untraceable. Only at intervals, in unfrequented spots, did a splotch of blackness manifest itself as it moved ghostlike beneath the glow of lighted patches.

This manifestation of The Shadow’s presence finally occurred upon a dim, narrow street that fringed the Chinese district. Edging into darkness, The Shadow stared across the thoroughfare, toward the front of a gloomy shop. Above barred windows glittered the gilded name: “Tam Sook.”

The shop of the Chinese merchant. Yet the place showed no signs of occupancy. The Shadow glided across the street; he found a side door, locked. A pick clicked in the darkness. At length, the barrier opened. The Shadow entered the silent house.

Ten minutes later, The Shadow reappeared upon the gloomy street. His search had proven futile. The house was empty. This was new evidence of Diamond Bert’s cunning. The crook had taken on the guise of Tam Sook; but he had not come to occupy the merchant’s shop.

A soft laugh in the darkness. A gliding shape beneath a lamp-glow. Then the figure, like the whispered mirth, had faded into nothingness. The Shadow, silent and unseen, was moving toward the lighted district of New York’s Chinatown.