The Crime Master

CHAPTER V THE MASTER MOVES

“TRIGGER MADDOCK.”

The name was uttered with a chuckle. It came from the lips of a grayish face that peered toward the surface of a table, where knob-headed cylinders of wood were set on squares, like chess men.

The peering face was that of an elderly man. Thin lips were spread in an evil smile. Discolored teeth were revealed like insidious fangs. Above the face, a shock of pure white hair topped off the visage of a fiend.

Alone in a room with paneled oak walls, sitting in a corner where light showed the checkered table, this grinning creature was engaged in a most amazing game. The squares of his board were etched on transparent glass. Beneath the transparent surface, set on the wooden top of the table, was a large scale map of a portion of Manhattan — the district that included the location of the Titan Trust Company.

There were many more squares than on an ordinary chess board. The pieces, too, were different from those used in the famous game. They were all alike in pattern — cylinders like chess rooks, but with the knobby heads of pawns. These pieces were all alike in shape; but they were of three sizes. Moreover, they varied in colors. Red, blue and green — they formed intriguing hues upon the board.

The Crime Master! Alone in his chosen room, this fiend of evil was setting his pieces for tonight’s game. A clock beside him registered the time as half past ten.

The map below the square showed no more than a few blocks of Manhattan. Every building was defined in detail. Hence the squares, themselves, covered but fractions of a block.

“Trigger Maddock.”

Again the chuckle. It was obvious that The Crime Master still regarded the dead gangleader as a living henchman. A scrawny, clawlike hand was holding a green piece above the board. The fingers set the cylinder upon a square. That spot indicated the exact location of the parking lot across from the side door of the Titan Trust Company.

The hand moved away. On the top of the knobby piece appeared the letters MK — the abbreviation for Maddock. All the other pieces, large and small, had identifying letters.

Red men for crime workers; blue for hidden watchers and snipers; green for fighters — these were the symbols that The Crime Master used. The sizes of the pieces determined their strength. The small ones showed individuals; the middle, pairs or trios; the large, gangs.

Hence the piece that represented Trigger Maddock was green in color and of the largest size. It was one of the important blocks in The Crime Master’s fiendish game against the law.

THE board was set; the hands, however, were not finished. They produced white pieces of a different shape — cones with square tops. These were also of different sizes; yet The Crime Master used them indiscriminately. He was playing a game against himself. The white pieces represented the forces of the law.

One by one, the man with the shock of hair used the cones to attack the impregnable positions of his minions. His chortling tones came with convulsive regularity. Each gambit of the whites was futile. Moving from any direction, the police would encounter trouble.

The old man began to shift the reds. He was comparing their positions with the greens and blues, showing himself how his bank-crackers could come in and out under perfect cover. At intervals, he rested one finger upon the large green piece marked MK. Though he did not move it, his actions showed that he considered it of vital consequence in his strategic arrangement.

A buzzer sounded behind the table. The Crime Master did not notice the sound until it occurred a second time. Then he stretched out a talon and pressed a button on the side of the table. A click came from the opposite side of the room. A door opened and a figure entered.

A smug man came into the light. Of middle height, solemn in demeanor, this individual was as curious as the old man at the desk. The arrival was of middle age, quietly dressed and almost prim in his appearance.

“I have finished, Henley.” The old man’s voice was almost sneering. “See — my plans are as perfect as they were last night. I have made a new study of these key positions.”

Henley leaned over the board. He shook his head as he placed a pudgy finger upon the green piece marked MK. He mumbled, in troubled fashion.

“What is the matter?” The Crime Master’s quiz was a snarl. “Try to move the whites against it—”

“It will not do, Master,” inserted Henley. “I have received a bad report. It went through two hands to reach our emergency man.”

“What is it?”

“Trigger Maddock is dead.”

“How?” The old man’s snarl was vicious. “Who killed him?”

“Details are meager,” reported Henley. “Some of his henchmen were killed with him. There was only one relay message beyond Maddock. It was completed.”

“You have checked?”

“Yes. Through emergency delivery with return signal ordered. The check was made promptly.”

“Good.” The Crime Master leaned back in his chair and cackled in satisfaction. “That is all that matters, Henley. What is one man, in our game?” He waved his hand toward the board. “Any one of these puppets can be replaced.”

“Time is short, Master,” warned Henley. “It is approaching eleven o’clock.”

“Very well.” The Crime Master picked up a box from beside him. He opened it. From an assortment of pieces, he chose a new one — large and green — that bore the letters HR.

“Louie Harger,” decided The Crime Master. “I have been holding him in readiness. Emergency measures, Henley. Prepare the order at once.”

“Very well, Master.”

The solemn man hastened from the room. The Crime Master picked up the piece that represented Trigger Maddock; in its place he put the one that stood for Louie Harger. A new mobsman and his minions would take the assignment arranged for Trigger Maddock.

As Henley was returning, a few minutes later, The Crime Master took the discarded piece with the letters MK. With a strong twist of his scrawny, wiry fingers, he snapped the green man in half. That symbolized the passing of Trigger Maddock. The Crime Master tossed the broken pieces back into the box.

HENLEY laid a typescript note upon the checkered table. Orders to Louie Harger. The Crime Master read them. He produced a metal seal; he clipped the note between its halves and pressed the handles. Withdrawing the paper, he handed it to Henley.

Embossed at the bottom of the orders was the head of a skeleton; crossing behind it, a scimitar. This was The Crime Master’s signed symbol.

Henley folded the note and sealed it in a small envelope which bore the name of Louie Harger. He placed the envelope with a banknote in a larger wrapper which bore no name. He sealed the outer envelope.

“Send it by Woodling,” ordered The Crime Master. “Tell him to pick a man near the Black Ship — some small fry he has used before. Mention The Crime Master.”

Henley nodded. The Black Ship was the dive where Louie Harger spent his hours of leisure. The gangleader was at that hangout tonight.

The clock was pointing to eleven as Henley departed for the second time. The Crime Master chuckled. Half an hour was sufficient. At most, it could mean but a short delay past the appointed time of Harger’s arrival near the parking lot.

Yet the old man calculated upon this. He took the green piece marked HR and moved it, square by square, to the limit of the board. Then he retraced the moves. He was contemplating the approach of Harger’s mob, assuming that the crook and his crew would still be short of their destination at half past eleven.

Again, the moves. This time, the wizened criminal took white pieces into consequence. Once more he was satisfied. So long as Harger’s crew was approaching the Titan Trust Company, all would be well for his schemes. Troubles with police, a block or two away, would help, rather than hinder, the retreat of the red men who represented bank raiders.

In fact, when he had set his green piece on its appointed square, The Crime Master began a series of short moves, all starting from that point. These showed how Harger and his outfit could move forth to meet any attack; how they would serve to drive away approaching forces of the law.

The board was set; yet still, The Crime Master sat in contemplation. His thin, snarly lips were moving. His scrawny hand fumbled in the box. It brought out a white piece that differed from the others. It was the same size, but it bore the letter C.

THE CRIME MASTER repeated his police moves, using this one white piece at every strategic point. He gave it two squares — a jump on every move.

There was reason. This one piece represented Detective Joe Cardona. The Crime Master had recognized the star sleuth as superior to others in the service of the law.

Yet even with the exaggerated advantage that he gave to Joe Cardona, The Crime Master was satisfied. His own men, red, blue and green, formed a cordon about the Titan Trust. Wherever he allowed attack by the whites, The Crime Master could muster a prompt defense on the part of his own pieces.

Playing his strange game, the old man showed the complete progress of the colored pieces. He moved the whites, made jumps, retreats and captures. At the end, he had removed men of both sides; but meanwhile, his reds had escaped.

Satisfied, he replaced the pieces in their original positions. He settled back in his chair. The Crime Master’s game was no longer play. Actual events would tell the story; afterward, the old man could move the pieces to correspond with facts.

The buzzer. The Crime Master pressed the button. Henley entered from the clicking door. A smile showed on the lieutenant’s solemn face.

“All is ready, Master,” announced Henley. “Louie Harger is on his way.”

The Crime Master chuckled. His eyes shone through slitted lids as they turned toward the clock upon the table. Twenty-five minutes after eleven. The zero hour for crime would arrive within three hundred seconds.

Again, a fiendish chuckle came from snarling lips. The Crime Master was confident that his minions would prevail in their fight against the law!