Лестер Дент - Death in Silver

The bronze man's skyscraper establishment had cost a small fortune, yet its expense was scarcely a drop from his reservoir of wealth. Doc possessed an almost unlimited source of funds — a treasure trove as unusual as the bronze man himself.

Scarcely 3 minutes after disaster befell Monk, Doc Savage was on the street in an expensive but unostensible roadster. He touched a dash button. Under the hood a siren began wailing. Traffic police heard and opened a way for him.

Doc went down Broadway. For a long time, the speedometer needle swayed above 70 mph. He drove with an uncanny skill.

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The roadster was fitted with shortwave radio receiving-and-transmitting apparatus. Ordinarily, Doc Savage would have used this to get in touch with the other 3 members of his group of 5 assistants.

But 3 of his aides were not at present in New York. William Harper 'Johnny' Littlejohn — the expert on archaeology and geology — was in London filling a special lecture engagement at a famous university.

Major Thomas J. 'Long Tom' Roberts — electrical wizard extraordinaire — was in Europe collaborating in experiments with another electrical expert on a device which was Long Tom's pet dream. It was an apparatus which — when perfected — could be used to kill insects with ultra-short sonic or electric waves. This would be an inestimable boon to farmers.

Colonel John 'Renny' Renwick — famous engineer — was in South Africa, halfway around the World overseeing construction of a particularly difficult hydroelectric plant — a project in which the engineer himself had a financial interest.

For the first time in many months, Doc Savage would have to go into action without the aid of 3 of his remarkable group of 5 men, each of whom was a master in some profession.

Several blocks from the scene of the strange explosion in the office building, Doc switched off the siren. A crowd milled in front of the building itself. There were signs of excitement.

Doc parked at the end of the block and hurried forward, intent on learning what had befallen Monk and Ham. He caught snatches of conversation from the crowd.

"They came in an armored truck!" gasped a man.

A woman was telling a friend, "Did you notice how they were dressed? Silver -colored suits!"

"Those silver masks on their faces!" gasped the friend. "Ugh! Hideous !"

Doc went on and heard a fat black fellow in a bus boy's uniform exclaim, "Dem silver lads done lit out of heah in the same truck dat dey came in!"

"Boy, did yoah see dem two men they was draggin' when they up an' left?" asked a brother bus boy.

"Yassuh," agreed the first. "Dem two was daid if yoah asks me."

Doc Savage's remarkable bronze features did not change expression. That did not mean he was unconcerned for he schooled himself until he possessed an uncanny control over his own emotions.

A lieutenant of police — the same individual to whom Monk and Ham had been talking — answered the question. Doc encountered the officer in front of the building. The cop saluted briskly.

"It was the Silver Death's-Heads ," the policeman explained before Doc could put a query. "They drove right through the crowd in an armored car. Ran down 2 spectators! They rushed in, clubbed down the guard at the door, and seized Monk and Ham. It happened so quickly that we could do nothing, although I did manage to fire one shot."

"Did they harm Monk and Ham?" Doc demanded.

The Lieutenant shivered slightly at the grim sound of the giant bronze man's voice.

"Both were clubbed over the head," he said thickly. "Ham was caught beside me. The silver devils came up behind us. Monk was in the telephone booth and did not get out in time."

"How badly were they clubbed?" Doc questioned.

The officer moistened his lips. "Pretty hard. I don't know … if they are alive. They were dragged away."

"What about the armored truck?" Doc asked. "Armored trucks are not extremely common on New York streets."

"This one was a steel payroll truck," the policeman replied. "It was stolen, we learned, from a company which makes a business of delivering payrolls. It was taken only a few minutes before the raid here."

"You assemble information very quickly," Doc told the officer. "Good work! Was the truck followed?"

The policeman grimaced. "I'm sorry to say that it got away completely. Of course, every radio patrol car in the city is now looking for it. We expect a report at any minute. It cannot escape!"

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Doc Savage did not rush off on any wild chase of his own in search of the armored truck. He knew the efficiency of the metropolitan police. He had, in fact, served in a consulting capacity when the present radio car system was inaugurated. A vehicle as prominent as the armored truck would not get far before it was discovered.

The bronze man's first move was to examine the semi-molten silver mass which Monk and Ham had found in the basement fire box. A small bag was brought from Doc's roadster. With chemicals taken from the bag, Doc tested the silver .

"Coin silver," he announced.

"Eh?" The police lieutenant was puzzled.

"The cloth is interwoven with fine wire made from molten silver dollars," Doc explained.

"Does that prove anything?" the officer queried.

"Only that the criminals must be making the garments themselves, which indicates that some of them are highly-skilled metalsmiths," said the bronze man. "If the disguises had been purchased, it is almost certain that a different grade of silver would have been used."

The policeman nodded — not greatly surprised — for he knew the amazing detective ability possessed by Doc Savage. He was slightly abashed, however, when Doc went upstairs to the explosion scene and almost at once turned up the cause of the blast.

Doc did not expend much time on the wreckage itself except to apply chemical tests to some of the powder stains.

"The work of trinitrotoluene," he stated.

"Huh?" asked the officer.

"TNT," Doc elaborated. "The famous World War explosive."

"Oh!"

The bronze man dug into the office walls, probing pits made by bits of wreckage, and brought out — after some work — several bits of steel. He assembled these, studied them.

"We found some of that metal and sent it to a specialist for an opinion," said the officer. "We hoped it would tell us what caused the blast — whether it was a bomb or not."

"It was a high-explosive 3-inch shell," Doc said.

"Good night!" the Lieutenant exploded. "You don't mean a cannon ball?"

"You might call it that," Doc assured him. "Except that this was a very modern demolition shell from a 3-inch artillery piece."

"But where was it fired from?" yelled the officer.

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There was an interruption while a sergeant came in with a report that the armored truck had been found. A radio car bad come upon the truck, abandoned on the waterfront of the East River.

No trace of the sinister men in silver garments had been found in the vicinity of the truck. Nor were there fingerprints. No one could be found who had seen the truck being abandoned.

"Finding it doesn't help us a bit," the police Lieutenant groaned.

"I would not say that," Doc told him.