The Dark Death

CHAPTER XII. A TRAP IS SET

IT was the next afternoon. The Club Cadiz was deserted, save for a few attendants who were loitering about among the tables. The obscure door to the gaming room was locked. Nicky Donarth would not be due for the next half hour.

A man came strolling into the barren night club. It was Tony Luggeto, the roulette operator who hailed from Monte Carlo. A smile on his dark, mustached face, Tony nodded to the idling attendants. He produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the gaming room. He entered and locked the barrier behind him.

Tony’s smile persisted as he strolled across the gaming room. The floor was one large space, for the roulette table was absent. Tony continued until he reached the door to Nicky’s office. Here he paused and looked about in a cautious manner.

There was nothing unusual in Tony’s entering the gaming room. The key which he had used was one that Nicky Donarth had given him. But it was not Tony’s privilege to enter Nicky’s private office. The night club proprietor presumably possessed the only key to that inner room.

Hence Tony had need for caution when he produced another key from his vest pocket. He moved into the little passage, reached the inner door and inserted the key in the lock. The key worked. Tony entered the office, shut the door behind him, and turned on the light.

He opened a drawer of the proprietor’s desk. In it, he found a bunch of keys. Carrying these, he chose the steel door at the left side of the office. He unlocked it and revealed a flight of stone stairs that went downward.

Tony pressed a light switch. Bulbs glowed along the winding descent. The roulette operator stole downward. He came to the bottom of the steps. A light showed two metal doors — one on the left the other on the right. A stone wall blocked the end of the passage.

Tony unlocked the door on the right. The glow from the passage showed a light truck parked in what appeared to be a one-car garage. Tony gave a slight whistle. A man came from behind the truck and stepped into the light. It was Cuyler Willington.

The two shook hands. Then Tony, still using the ring of keys, unlocked the door at the left of the little passage. The light revealed the bottom of an elevator shaft. In the lowered car stood Nicky Donarth’s roulette wheel.

THE elevator car was nothing more than a platform; and its floor matched the thick, ornate rug that adorned the upstairs gaming room.

Cuyler Willington noted this and smiled. Tony Luggeto chuckled.

“Just like I told you it was,” he stated. “Trapdoor in the gambling room. Press the switch under Nicky’s desk, the trap breaks downward and the whole roulette layout comes up through the floor.”

“The same switch sends the works down. That’s why Nicky ain’t scared of the bulls. All he’s got to do is douse the lights and press the switch. Ten seconds — the works is gone. Down here.”

“Ready to be taken out aboard the truck?” queried Willington.

“Sure,” nodded Tony. “That part’s a cinch. Right out into the alleyway. The way you came into the garage. Nobody thinks any thing of that truck being here. Just an old truck in a sort of private garage.

“Good stuff,” commented Willington. “But how did you get down here, Tony, without Nicky knowing it? You were going to explain that to me when I phoned you—”

“Here’s the answer,” put in Tony, “Nicky leaves the keys right in his office desk. So he can send me or anybody else in there if there’s an emergency. We’ve each got a key to the truck.”

“But Nicky keeps the office key. That’s the hitch. Only, one night, he sent me into the office, giving me the key. I made a tracing of it, and measured the thickness with a ruler in Nicky’s desk. I had a key made. It worked.”

“Good,” laughed Willington.

Tony Luggeto looked pleased. His dark face looked unusually sallow in the dim light. He stepped into the little elevator room and stooped above the roulette wheel. Unfastening a clamp, he removed the wheel from the heavy base on which it rested.

“See?” Tony pointed to a hollow interior. “It’s all ready if Nicky wants to plant any kind of a gaff inside. There was a fellow trying to sell him an electric control. But Nicky figured he didn’t need it. We’ve been using bouncers.”

“Bouncers?” queried Willington.

“Yes,” replied Tony. He pulled a short strip of thin hard rubber from his vest. “Like these. Wedge one in the back of a pocket on the roulette wheel. The ball bounces out. We use them when a guy’s luck starts running too good on one special number.

“But I’ve been telling you all along, boss” — Tony paused with a gleam in his dark eyes — “I’ve been telling you that if we planted a gaff of our own in this wheel, Nicky Donarth would never know. Believe me, it sounded great when you called me and told me to go get that machine this morning.”

“Where is it now?” asked Willington, smoothly.

“In the truck,” replied Tony. “Still in the crate, like you told me to leave it. Say — it’s heavy enough, isn’t it? What is it — an electro-magnetic machine?”

Yes,” stated Willington. “Listen, Tony, When you first talked about this idea of double-crossing Nicky Donarth, I didn’t like it. I had made a deal with you to keep an eye on the people who came here. I wanted to know who was gambling; how much they spent. I told you to forget it when you sprang your plan of breaking in on Nicky’s gambling racket.

“But from what you tell me, Gyp Tangoli and Turk Berchler must have used Nicky’s office as their headquarters when they hatched their little scheme to rub me out. That means Nicky was in on the deal, to some extent. So I’m ready to get back at Nicky.”

“Good way to look at it.” commented Tony.

“Come on out to the truck,” suggested Willington. “Give me a lift with that crate. Let me plant the machine. I’ll make sure it works. Then I’ll tell you what to do.”

THE two men went out to the truck. The vehicle was a small one: for Nicky Donarth had intended it only for the purpose of removing his gambling equipment in a hurry, should police raid his joint.

They brought out the same box that Willington and Brophy had carried downstairs from the inventor’s private laboratory. They had no difficulty getting it into the elevator where the roulette table stood.

“The other truck was at the house when I got there this morning,” remarked Tony Luggeto. “I had to go around and pick up the key that you left in the envelope at Soulard’s restaurant. I had the other fellows take the luggage to storage. One of the truckmen helped me get this crate into my truck.”

“Good,” assured Willington. “Nicky didn’t know you took out the truck?”

“Not a chance.”

“All right. Slide upstairs while I plant this machine in the roulette wheel. Where’s the floor plug?”

“Right here. Shove back the edge of the carpeting. Don’t you want me to help?”

“No. I want to be sure that Nicky isn’t around.”

“All right, boss.”

Tony left. As his footsteps died on the stone stairs, Willington opened the box. He managed to hoist the machine from its container; for without the weight of the box, the task could be accomplished by one man.

It required an effort to get the Q-ray machine into the space in the roulette pedestal, but Willington succeeded.

He attached the floor plug. Then he tested the machine. The crimson tubes sparkled. A smile appeared upon Willington’s pale face as his eyes spied an opening at the back of the pedestal. He turned about the machine and adjusted it so that the lever projected from the open space.

Then he put the roulette wheel back in place. He lifted the empty crate, carried it out and set it in the truck. He returned to the passage just as Tony Luggeto reappeared from the steps.

“Any sign of Nicky?” whispered Willington.

“Not yet.” Tony shook his head. “But he’s due soon. Got the thing planted?”

“Yes.” Willington stooped to indicate the lever, now hidden by the surface of the roulette wheel. “But don’t fool with it, Tony. It’s set just the way I want it.”

“But how does it work?”

“You won’t have to know. Leave that to me. When I give the signal once” — Willington crossed two fingers — “you press the lever all the way. A signal twice — push it back. I’ll play the right numbers. We’ll bust Nicky Donarth tonight.”

“Did you put the crate back in the truck?”

“Certainly. So you can get the machine out all alone. Load it in the crate and move the truck out tomorrow. Nicky will never know how we trimmed him.”

“Where will I take it?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“All right,” nodded Tony. “But remember one thing. Keep out of Nicky’s office. Gyp and Turk may be around tonight. They won’t touch you in the gambling room. But in the office—”

“Don’t worry about me, Tony.”

“I’ve got to warn you. There’s two ways out from that place. The door that leads down here. Another that opens into a passage that goes the opposite way. And be careful after you leave the gambling joint. Gyp or Turk might tail you.”

“I’ll be careful. By the way, Tony, what about these steel doors in Nicky’s office. He leaves the keys in his desk?”

“Yes. Like I told you. And there’s bolts on the outsides of the doors. In the passages, see? So if anybody comes following along, they’ll he stuck even if they bust the locks.”

“I understand. All right, Tony. Go on up. I want to go around to the front street and see Nicky when he comes in.”

Tony Luggeto ushered Cuyler Willington out through the little garage. Tony’s face showed a pleased grin when his chief had departed. Locking the door to the garage, then the one to the little elevator, Tony ascended the stairs. When he reached Donarth’s office, Tony locked the door to the stairway. He replaced the keys in the desk; then turned out the light. A dull square of illumination came through the frosted surface of a thick skylight. It showed Tony opening the door that led toward the gambling room.

Past the barrier, Tony closed the door behind him. It latched automatically. The roulette operator strolled across the gambling room and used his own key to go out into the night club proper.

MEANWHILE, Cuyler Willington had arrived on Broadway. Standing by the entrance to the Club Cadiz, he was inserting a cigarette in his holder, when he observed the approach of Nicky Donarth.

Willington stretched out a hand.

“Hello, Nicky!” he exclaimed. “I thought you would be along soon.” Then, in a confidential tone, “Are you still running the roulette games?”

“Certainly, Mr. Willington.” responded Nicky, covering the surprise that his dark face had betrayed. “When will you be around again?”

“Tonight,” replied Willington, lighting a cigarette. His tone was casual. “I’m going out of town tomorrow. I thought that perhaps a little luck might help finance my trip.”

“Good,” said Nicky. “I’ll see you tonight then, Mr. Willington.”

Another handshake. Willington strolled away, puffing his cigarette. Nicky Donarth stood in portly pose, watching Willington’s departure. But Nicky did not see the smile that showed on Willington’s face.

Nicky displayed a grin of his own as he walked up the steps to the night club. He nodded to the waiters as he passed them. He waved a greeting to Tony Luggeto. He continued on through the gambling room.

He unlocked the door of his office and entered.

After turning on the light. Nicky locked the door and hastily picked up the telephone. Still grinning, the dark visaged night club operator dialed a number.

Nicky Donarth was calling Gyp Tangoli and Turk Berchler to let them know that he had learned where Cuyler Willington would be tonight.