The Fate Joss

CHAPTER XII THE CRAFT OF DOCTOR TAM

WHILE Yat Soon, the arbiter, was still pondering on the facts presented by the mandarin, Shan Kwan, two men were guarding the Fate Joss in its obscure abode. Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland, on duty since six o’clock, were together in that little side room that adjoined the abandoned garage.

The evening was still young. As The Shadow’s agents kept vigil, they chatted. At times, their talk concerned the Fate Joss. That subject came up suddenly after a lull in conversation. Harry Vincent mentioned it after noticing an item in the final edition of an evening newspaper that he had purchased before coming here.

“Look at this, Cliff!” Harry pointed to a paragraph. “The police have been getting all sorts of rumors about that Chinese truck. Half a dozen persons have reported that they saw a truck last night. Some say Chinese were aboard; others were not sure. But they all talk of a truck near Laudring’s.”

“What of it?” queried Cliff. “There might have been a hundred suspicious looking trucks along the avenue last night. We passed a bunch when we were bringing in the Fate Joss.”

“Not trucks on side streets, Cliff. Of course these reports are exaggerated. The way they read, you’d think that half of Chinatown had gone into the trucking business. These people who talked to the police may have been mistaken as to the time they saw a truck. But I’m wondering—”

“If somebody spotted our truck coming away from that street in back of Laudring’s?”

“You’ve guessed it, Cliff. It may mean trouble if the police begin checking up on trucks at different garages.”

“That’s possible, Harry. Still — the Howland Garage is thirty blocks south of Laudring’s. That truck we used is—”

Cliff stopped. The telephone was ringing. Harry answered it. Cliff heard him talk in brief, affirmative phrases. The call completed, Harry eyed Cliff solemnly.

“It was Burbank,” stated Harry. “The police are starting a check-up on trucks. They figure there was more than one up at Laudring’s. Clyde Burke must have gotten that dope at headquarters.”

“Any instructions?” queried Cliff.

“Yes,” returned Harry. “We’re to leave here as soon as my coupe comes in. We’ll go to the Howland Garage and get the truck. But it’s to be done openly, so there’ll be no suspicion.”

“Where are we taking it?”

“Up to Scranton, Pennsylvania, to deliver it to a garage there. The truck has been sold to some coal mining outfit. We’ll come back by train, tomorrow afternoon.”

“Won’t the garage wonder about the truck going out again? The Howland Garage, I mean?”

“No. That’s the neat part about it, Cliff. The Howland Garage has received a letter from the supposed owner of the truck, telling them to deliver it to Mr. Dyke, who will call, carrying the owner’s license. Dyke is to take the truck to Scranton, where he will wire back after he arrives.”

“Back to the Howland Garage?”

“Yes. So the supposed owner — a Mr. Middleton — can call up the Howland Garage and learn if the truck reached Scranton safely.”

“And you’ll be Dyke. Is that it, Harry?”

“That’s it, Cliff. Give me those license cards that you used when you took the truck out last night.”

Cliff grinned as he passed over the cards. The plan pleased him because of its openness. It would be Harry’s first visit to the Howland Garage. The people there would suspect nothing concerning a truck like this one. Nor would the police, should they learn of it.

The law would be looking for trucks that were secretly removed. This truck, its coming trip fully accounted for, would be passed by in the search. Particularly after the Howland Garage received a wire from “Dyke,” stating that he had delivered it in the proper Scranton garage.

WHILE Cliff still chuckled, the sound of a motor purred softly from beyond the door. Harry extinguished the light; the two went out into the storage room. Harry’s coupe had arrived; its driver had slid open the outer door without betraying noise.

Both agents saw the outline of the car in the darkness and guessed the identity of the driver who still sat within it. They knew that The Shadow had come to watch the Fate Joss.

The two agents departed, locking the outer door behind them. Darkness stirred within the coupe. The Shadow stepped from the car which he had temporarily taken over for his own use. He glided to the back of the coupe; his flashlight glimmered, showing a large black box which he removed from the rumble seat.

The box was oblong in shape; it had been carefully wedged in place so that it would not shift with the motion of the car. Carrying the long box, The Shadow blinked his flashlight as he progressed toward the inner storage room.

He reached the abode of the Fate Joss. His flashlight focused on the great idol; then the gleam turned to one of the War Dogs. The light blinked toward the second cannon; then went out. With a whispered laugh, The Shadow began to open the oblong box in darkness.

Since Harry and Cliff had gone off duty, Hawkeye and Jericho must be given time for rest. Their vigil would begin again at midnight and continue until Harry and Cliff returned from Scranton, tomorrow night. Yet, in addition to his evening watch, The Shadow had found some task to occupy him in the abode of the Fate Joss. The oblong box was testimony to that fact.

SOME fifteen minutes after their departure, Harry and Cliff arrived at the Howland Garage. This was a fair-sized storage building, a half block east of the avenue which Cliff had used in his drive to Laudring’s. The garage fronted on a narrow street that permitted westbound traffic only.

Cliff stayed near the corner while Harry went to the garage. Entering the broad door, Harry noted that the floor was practically deserted. Back in a far corner he saw the truck he wanted; but he did not go in that direction. Instead, Harry stepped into a little front office and sat down.

Five minutes passed. A garage superintendent entered the office and eyed Harry. The Shadow’s agent introduced himself as Dyke and presented his credentials. The garage man nodded when he saw the licenses. He picked up a letter that was lying on the desk.

“This came from Mr. Middleton,” he said. “He told me you’d be coming here, Dyke. You’re to take the truck to Scranton and leave it at the West Side Garage. Send me a wire when you arrive there. That’s all; you’ll find the truck at the back of this floor.”

Outside, a small coupe was parked on the left side of the westward street, directly opposite the lighted office of the garage. Within the car were two observers, whose faces showed yellowish in the tiny glow of the dashlight. The man beside the driver spoke.

“It is the man, Doctor Tam. The same one that I saw when I called you from the drug store.”

“You are sure of it, Satsu?” came the purred response.

“I am certain, Doctor Tam. Look — he is reading the letter that the garage man has shown him. The letter which I saw twenty minutes ago, when I went unseen into that office.”

“I commend you, Satsu. You did well when you overhead that man speak of somewhere thirty blocks south.”

“It was you, Doctor Tam, who guessed that he might mean a garage. Look — the man is going for the truck.”

“That is well. Tuan and Leng have followed the order which I gave them when you told me of the letter. Like you, Satsu, they were fortunate in finding no one present when they entered the garage.”

Doctor Tam started the motor of his car. While the engine throbbed, a roar came from the garage. The truck appeared, with Harry Vincent at the wheel. It swung westward and stopped to pick up Cliff Marsland, who clambered aboard the front seat. The truck crossed the avenue; Doctor Tam started the coupe on its trail.

ROLLING along the side street, Harry spoke to Cliff. He told his companion that the garage man had suspected nothing. The Middleton to Dyke transfer had been accepted as an item of ordinary business. As Harry talked, he neared the next avenue. A stop light was glowing red beneath an elevated structure. Harry applied the brakes.

As the truck came to a standstill, two figures arose from behind the wide front seat. Clutching yellow hands thrust forward from the darkened interior. One pair of claws gripped Harry’s throat; the other pair tightened about Cliff’s neck.

Fiercely, The Shadow’s agents struggled; they could not wrest away those clutching hands that yanked them backward. Over the low seat, into the darkness of the truck; there they writhed as they fought with their assailants. Tuan and Leng, secreted in the truck, were the men with whom Harry and Cliff struggled.

The Chinese were skillful fighters. Wiry and powerful, they had gained an advantage at the start. Each was choking his victim into submission; yet The Shadow’s agents rallied against the odds. Twisting, Harry pushed Tuan to the floor, while Cliff made a fierce yank to free himself from Leng.

Then came two new attackers, piling across the front seat. Doctor Tam and Satsu had stopped in front of the truck. Coming fresh into the fray, they stopped the rally. Flattened beneath four fierce assailants, Cliff and Harry were lashed with ready thongs. Half choked, they could give no outcry before gags were stuffed into their mouths.

Tuan and Leng took the front seat. Doctor Tam and Satsu returned to their coupe. The traffic light had changed to green; then back to red, but no interrupting traffic had come along this little-used thoroughfare. Doctor Tam waited for the green, then started off toward Chinatown.

They reached the little street by the tea shop and the truck was backed against the curb. Doctor Tam superintended the removal of the prisoners. The Chinaman in the tea shop opened the door that led through the rear shipping room. Others, upstairs, aided in carrying the captives through Doctor Tam’s office, off through a labyrinth of passages in an empty house at the rear.

DOCTOR TAM remained in his office. With him was Satsu, who had been relieved as burden carrier. Also present was one other: Noy Dow, the Chinese student. The bespectacled young Chinaman had been in the office when Tam and the others entered.

“It is wise,” declared Doctor Tam in a low, hissed undertone, “that the mission of those prisoners be completed. Soon the police may be stopping many trucks that leave the city. Time is precious at this moment.

“There is no one, Noy Dow, to whom I can entrust the task. None save yourself. I have the cards brought by the man who calls himself Dyke” — Tam was turning to Satsu as he spoke — “and I shall drive the truck to Scranton. You shall come with me, Satsu.

“To you, Hoy Dow, I entrust the keeping of the prisoners. See to their wants; but speak no words of comfort. The caged bird longs for the open; finding it not, he becomes tame. So it shall be with those men whom we have captured.

“Hours might fail to urge them should I demand their speech at present. After my return, minutes alone may suffice. Moreover, when I tell them that their mission has been completed, they will weaken, fearing that their master can never learn of their plight.”

With such philosophy completed, Doctor Roy Tam turned from the office. Satsu, a grin upon his face, was prompt to follow the departing physician. Alone, Noy Dow seated himself behind the desk. He waited until the troop of Chinese underlings reappeared. Four men stood ready to accept the secretary’s command.

“You may depart, Tuan,” declared Noy Dow. “You likewise, Leng.” Then, to the others: “You, Fong and Wook, shall take Doctor Tam’s car to the parking place where it belongs. He and Satsu have gone away in the truck.”

Perplexed looks showed that the four men were puzzled because none were required as guards. Noy Dow explained.

“None can enter through the tea shop where our watcher waits,” he stated. “Nor can any enter through the Hunan Cafe; for I shall descend thither and remain there. None will be needed here. Our captured guests can remain alone until the morrow; that is the time when all of you must return.”

Noy Dow watched the four minions depart. Alone, he gripped the telephone that rested beside him on the oak desk. His fingers were quick but nervous as they dialed a number. A voice responded; Noy Dow spoke in guarded but high-pitched Chinese.

His conversation ended, Noy Dow left the office and descended by the stairway toward the avenue. He opened a panel at the bottom and stepped into an alcove, from which he passed into a secluded portion of the second-story Hunan Cafe.

Agents of The Shadow had been trapped. Doctor Roy Tam, their clever captor, had departed with Satsu to fulfill the task given Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland. Doctor Tam had learned their orders; he would dispatch the required telegram from Scranton to the Howland Garage. Burbank, phoning there as Middleton, would think that all was well. The Shadow would not know, before tomorrow night, that his aids were prisoners.

Such was the craft of Doctor Roy Tam. Though he preferred the ways of America, the Chinese physician still used the cunning of his native race. His secret headquarters unknown even to Yat Soon, Doctor Tam had left with the belief that his schemes were safe. Though his purpose was to gain the Fate Joss, he had deliberately decided to wait before he questioned the two men who knew where the idol had been taken.

Doctor Tam had given his shrewd reason for such delay. He believed that when time had passed, his cause would be more secure. He was confident that no one could counteract his moves. In that one assumption, Doctor Tam was wrong.

Soon a countermove would come from an unexpected quarter. It would be a stroke that Doctor Tam had no reason to expect. For its instrument was to be the man he trusted most — the Chinese student, Noy Dow!