The Red Blot

CHAPTER XXI THE RED BLOT STRIKES

“CALL for you, Cardona.”

It was Detective Sergeant Markham who spoke from the door of Inspector Timothy Klein’s office. Cardona, standing beside Klein’s desk, whirled about angrily.

“I don’t care who it is,” he exclaimed. “Tell them there’s nobody here by that name—”

“Easy, Joe,” interposed Inspector Klein. “Don’t give up yet. I haven’t had orders to put you on the sliding board.”

“Some fellow wants to talk to you pretty bad, Joe,” stated Markham. “Funny sort of voice over the wire. Kind of quiet.”

“Wait a minute.”

Cardona sprang from the room and entered his own office. He seized the receiver and spoke quickly in the mouthpiece.

“This is Cardona. Detective Cardona.”

The voice that replied came in a strange monotone which made Cardona grip the telephone. He knew that voice! He had heard it before! The voice of The Shadow!

“Receive instructions,” came the solemn words. “Follow these orders exactly.”

“Go on!” exclaimed Cardona breathlessly.

“Inform Inspector Klein,” came the voice, “that you plan a final raid in the underworld. Request him to have raiding squads ready for your call. Tonight.”

A pause; the voice resumed:

“Take three men of your own. Ten o’clock is the zero hour. Be at the Hotel Gigantic. Occupy Elevator No. 9. Descend to the level below the basement. Enter passage. Advance one hundred paces. Await distant flare.”

“Elevator No. 9” — Cardona was repeating the instructions — “Hotel Gigantic — ten o’clock—”

“Advance after you see the flare. Reach large central room. Through open doorway. First room on left. Complete instructions will await you.”

A click came over the wire before Cardona could respond.

The Shadow’s call was ended. But the detective knew that this was no fantastic summons. The Shadow’s instructions could mean but one thing: that the master of darkness has found the way to offset the terror of The Red Blot!

WELL did Cardona know the need for secrecy. He glanced at his watch. It was five o’clock — this was the afternoon following the theft of the five million dollars from the office of the Amalgamated Builders. Five hours to prepare — then to be at the appointed place!

Assuming a poker-face expression, Cardona strolled into Timothy Klein’s office. Another detective had come in during his absence — Merton Hembroke. The rising sleuth welcomed Cardona with a friendly smile. Coldly acknowledging the greeting, Cardona turned to Klein.

“Well, inspector,” remarked Cardona, “I think I’ll stick it through until I get the bounce. If I’m slated for the skids, I might just as well make one last effort to redeem myself. I might get a break.”

“Play for one, Joe,” advised Klein.

“I’ve been doing a lot of investigation down in the bad lands,” continued Joe; “Never found anything yet. Just the same, something might come of it if we swooped in on those dives and hangouts.”

“So far, you’ve advised against the dragnet, Joe.”

“That’s right, inspector. I figured The Red Blot was too wise to be anywhere that we might be liable to get him. But he uses a bunch of mobsters who are hiding out. Another shooting up at the Club Janeiro last night. Talk about Dynamite Hoskins being in town. Socks Mallory is around — we’re sure of that. Maybe the dragnet would make a haul.”

“Go ahead, Joe.”

“I’ll start out with a few men. Have the raiding squads ready when I give the call. That’s my suggestion.”

“Approved.”

Klein began to make the arrangements. Cardona stalked from the office. When he reached his own desk, the detective turned to see Merton Hembroke beside him. The younger sleuth had followed him here.

“Say, Joe” — Hembroke’s tone was straightforward — “I wish you all the luck in the world tonight.”

“Thanks, Mert,” rejoined Cardona gruffly.

“I’ve been lucky,” observed Hembroke. “You haven’t. But if you think you’re on the skids, Joe, I can tell you that I’m headed the same way. The Red Blot has got me buffaloed. If I’m up against him alone, I’m licked.”

Cardona shrugged his shoulders.

“The commissioner called me in today,” continued Hembroke. “Told me you were through — that I’d have to carry on. I came right back at him, Joe. I told him frankly that if I’d been on the outside last night, I’d have been the goat — not you.”

“You told that to the police commissioner?”

“Sure thing. Why should I try to look big — then be made small afterward? Say, Joe, I’ll bet if we’d been teamed up together from the start, we’d have got The Red Blot by now! This independent working doesn’t get a man anywhere!”

“Maybe you’re right, Hembroke,” agreed Cardona. “I like to talk with a fellow that’s on the level. Maybe we’ve both made a mistake — going separately to—”

“I got a break down at Baruch’s hock shop,” put in Hembroke, “but what did it get me? Nothing. All I can say is that I’ve been on the job. But I didn’t land my man at the Club Janeiro — or at the Hotel Gigantic — or last night, for that matter. Say, Joe, I need a fellow like you to work with me; and maybe I could give you a slant on some of the problems that you’ve bumped up against.”

“That’s fair enough,” commented Cardona. “You were up at the Gigantic pretty quick, weren’t you, Hembroke? Say — what about that elevator mix-up?”

“It began on the twenty-fourth floor. Someone crowned the elevator operator. Then dropped to the eighth.”

“Where do you think they took off Selfridge Woodstock?”

“Anywhere along the line. Maybe below the eighth — then up again. Maybe between the eighth and the twenty-fourth. But we went through that whole hotel, Joe.”

“What was the number of the elevator?”

“No. 9. Say, Joe — what’s that got to do with it? Have you got a line on something?”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Off duty.”

“Want to come along with me?”

“Sure. Where?”

“To the Hotel Gigantic. I’m going to look into that elevator business.”

“Say, Joe — Hembroke’s tone was eager — “if you’re wise to something, let me in on it! I’ll give you all the credit. That would fix it great with the commissioner.”

“Tonight, then.”

“Why tonight? It you’re on the trail of something real — say, Joe, have you been up to the Gigantic?”

“I’m going up there tonight.”

“Why not go up now — together?”

“Tonight is the time. I don’t want anyone to get wise.”

“I can fix that, Joe. Through Belville, the chief hotel detective. Say — I can have Elevator No. 9 off duty — waiting for us on one of the upper floors—”

CARDONA considered. Here was a chance to prove the authenticity of The Shadow’s call. Cardona did not doubt The Shadow; but he did respect The Red Blot’s prowess. Perhaps that supercrook knew that Cardona had received messages from The Shadow in the past. Perhaps the call had been a cleverly perpetrated hoax.

“Go ahead,” ordered Cardona. “Fix it with Belville.”

Detective Sergeant Markham was coming in the door. Hembroke strolled out and returned in about five minutes. He gave a sign to Cardona. The ace joined him.

“All set,” whispered Hembroke, as the pair left the office together.

They reached the Hotel Gigantic, and took an elevator to the fourth floor. Here they found the door open in front of Elevator No. 9. There was no operator.

“I’ll take care of it, Joe,” asserted Hembroke. “I can run this buggy. Which way — down or up?”

“Down.”

Hembroke clanged the door and dropped the elevator to the basement level. He turned questioningly to Cardona.

“We’re at the bottom,” protested Hembroke.

“Try it,” asserted Cardona. Hembroke ran the elevator downward. It descended another level. The detective whistled. He opened the door and peered into blackness.

“Say, Joe!” gasped Hembroke, “How did you get wise to this? This must be the only shaft that comes down here! This is the way they took Woodstock, sure enough!”

“Go easy,” ordered Cardona. “We’ll only move in far enough to get the lay. Ten o’clock tonight is the time we’re due to be here.”

Cardona stepped into the passage. His flashlight glimmered on the stony flooring. Then, before the ace detective could emit a cry, men were upon him. Stealthy figures crouching in the blackness leaped forward and fell upon Cardona en masse.

Vainly, the sleuth tried to call for Hembroke. He realized dully that the other detective would be unable to help him. There were enough antagonists to take care of two as readily as one.

A pungent odor filled Cardona’s nostrils as a chloroform-soaked rag was clapped against his face. All went black after that.

The Red Blot had struck! Joe Cardona was in the hands of the enemy.

The ace detective had failed to do The Shadow’s bidding. This premature investigation had been against instructions. Joe Cardona had offset The Shadow’s craft by his own stupidity!