Кеннет Робсон - Death in Silver

"Will you send Miss Zane to Miss Savage's offices," he requested, then put the instrument down, scowled at Pat, and added, "You had better hope that scheme works!"

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The scheme worked as perfectly as the 2 silver men could have wished. Unsuspicious, freshened, and more entrancingly pretty than ever, Lorna Zane came swinging in. She was an advertisement for the effectiveness of Pat's beauticians.

Stepping to her side as she came through the door, the 2 men put guns to her side and chorused, "Do the wise thing, sister!"

Lorna Zane looked at the 2 men … then at Pat.

"Sorry," said Pat. "I did all I could."

"I could scream," Lorna stated grimly. "But they would probably shoot us both."

"You're damn right we would!" she was assured.

"We're walking you out," advised the second of the 2 men in the metallic disguises. "Take the back way."

Lorna Zane did not move. She stared steadily at the 2 sinister figures in silver .

"What do you want with me?" she demanded. "Why did you try to kill me at the shipyard?"

"Don't kid us, sister," sneered the man. "You know why!"

"I do not!" Lorna insisted. "And that is the truth!" The vehemence in her tone seemed to penetrate the callous armor of the 2 men, convincing them that she was telling the truth.

"Let's get this straight," one growled. "Didn't you know what that blueprint was about?"

"You mean the print that your gang stole from the safe out at the shipyard?" Lorna demanded.

"Sure. You know what it was, didn't you?"

"No," said Lorna. "I did not."

The silver man whistled softly as if amazed. "Didn't old Winthrop tell you what it was all about?"

"Emphatically not!" Lorna snapped.

"Damned if I don't believe you," the man mumbled thoughtfully.

The second silver man emitted a gritting laugh. "Say, I see what happened! Remember when the big boss threatened Winthrop over the telephone? Winthrop was scared. He said this dame had the blueprint and knew the story and would go to the cops if anything happened to Winthrop. We had been keepin' an eye on Winthrop and knew who had the blueprint — this dame here."

"You think Winthrop stalled to save his neck for a while?" his companion questioned.

"It looks like it," the other admitted.

"Then you'll let me go?" Lorna asked hopefully.

"Yeah, just watch us do that!" the man growled. "Get goin', both of you skirts! Out the back way!"

Pat and Lorna walked meekly ahead of the 2 gunmen. There was nothing else for them to do.

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Instead of an alley at the hack of the modernistic skyscraper which housed Pat's beauty establishment, there was a large tunnel of an affair, closed at the street by large steel doors. During the daylight hours, this was used by the trucks which had merchandise to deliver to the building. But at the present late hour, the tunnel was occupied only by an innocent-appearing truck.

The truck driver had his collar turned and his hat was yanked over his eyes. This — coupled with the darkness — afforded him a complete disguise.

Pat and Lorna did not see his features as they were forced to get into the hack of the truck accompanied by their 2 captors. The doors were closed.

One silver man pressed his metallic mask to a slit in the van and spoke to the driver. "All set?"

"Sure," said the driver.

"And listen! Did I get a message that was relayed from the Big Boss?" chuckled the other.

"Savage doesn't know it," the driver advised gleefully. "He's all set to get his within 10 minutes, though! Everything is fixed. The Big Boss himself arranged it!"

"Where is Savage now?" asked the silver man.

"In the Indian Head Club. He's frisking the joint."

The silver man swore violently. "Hell, if he ever finds …"

"Don't worry!" snapped the driver. "He won't find anything but sudden death! It's all fixed, I tell you. Savage won't suspect a thing until blooie! He'll be done for."

Pat heard each word. Desperation seized her and she lunged at the nearest captor. It was a move doomed to defeat because the fellow was alert. He simply stepped back and sideswiped Pat's head with the barrel of his heavy automatic — not hard enough to do violent damage but forcibly enough to send her reeling back.

The van rolled out of the tunnel and into the traffic as the 2 men in the rear used tape to gag Pat and Lorna.

"You'll hear all about the party at the Indian Head Club!"

The Indian Head Club was outwardly quiet. But there was grim work underfoot inside. Doc and his party were searching.

"This place is more than a hideout," Monk stated firmly. "There's some secret about it!"

"What makes you think that?" Doc questioned.

"The way them silver mugs acted," Monk explained. "They were mighty careful. And I heard one of them remark that if you or the police found out what was here, 'the fat would be in the fire'."

Ham — who was hauling clothing out of a closet — emitted a grunt of pleasure. He had found his sword cane.

"Our captors brought this along when they seized us," he said, flourishing the weapon. "They were curious about the chemical on the tip. I heard one of them remark that Ull might make use of it."

"Yeah," Monk admitted. "This Ull is a brainy cuss from what they said."

Flushed and seemingly enjoying the excitement, Hugh McCoy put in, "Did either of you gentlemen hear a mention of Gardner while you were prisoners?"

"No," said Monk. "Who's Gardner?"

"A man who might conceivably be behind the Silver Death's-Heads ," McCoy replied.

Rapid Pace snapped, "What makes you suspect Gardner? That is what I want to know! What makes you suspect him?"

"Have you any better suggestion?" McCoy asked coldly.

Rapid Pace merely glared at McCoy, then wheeled away.

"We are killing time!" he snapped. "The thing to do is find where those 4 silver men went to."

"That will not be difficult," Doc assured him quietly. "Monk, you watch the rear door. McCoy, you take the front entrance."

The bronze man moved out into the street and ran toward the corner where his roadster stood. The streets were quiet except that late-playing children made a little noise up in the tenement section. The fog seemed to be thicker.

From the nimble seat of the roadster, Doc got an object which might have been a press photographer's camera. But it was actually a lantern projecting light rays in the ultravioletrange of the spectrum.

The device was simple, merely being an electric bulb, battery-operated, which gave off light closely akin to that of an arc and a deep filter which cut out all the light but ultraviolet.

Doc went back to the house and to the stairway where he had sprinkled the powder from the shaker during the time that the silver men were unwittingly leading him to Monk and Ham. The silver men had walked through the powder without knowing it.

Doc extinguished all lights, turned on the ultraviolet lantern, and pointed its dark lens at the floor. Scattered patches of glowing electric blue appeared wherever Doc bad sprinkled the powder. And where the silver men had walked through the powder, their feet had therefore left prints.