THE SHADOW: DESTINATION MOON Chapter 13

 

(You can read the previous chapter HERE!)
13

Some minutes earlier, at the exact moment when, down in the ravine, The Shadow had discovered one CYPHER man alive, Margo and Harry Vincent checked the damage to their hired car from where the police car had side-swiped it. The entire left front fender was crushed in.

“I don’t think we can move it, Margo,” Harry Vincent said.

“No,” Margo said.

They were both down intently studying the damage. Stanley stood looking down into the dark ravine. Far below, the flames of the burning car flickered in the yawning maw of blackness.

Stanley peered down to see what happened below where he knew The Shadow was inspecting the wreck.

None of them heard the soft footsteps that stepped close in the mountain twilight.

“Just freeze,” a hard voice said.

Stanley whirled. His hand snaked toward the automatic inside his uniform jacket. He saw the men who stood in a semi-circle on the road all around himself, Margo and Harry Vincent.

Stanley moved his hand away from his gun. All ten of the men were armed with Czech-made sub-machineguns. The leader who had spoken nodded.

“That’s a smart boy,” his hard voice said lazily.

Margo and Harry Vincent stood up slowly from where they had been crouched. The cold eyes of the leader of the men flicked toward Margo and Harry.

“Be cool now,” the man said.

Margo looked at the leader. She recognized the black uniform with the white circle of CYPHER on the breast, and the mark of the rank of a CYPHER Group Sub-Leader. She also recognized the insignia of the United States Special Forces on his black uniform, and the ribbons of the Silver Star, Bronze Star and Purple Heart with two oak leaves. The other nine men could have been a cross section of the United Nation—all in the black uniform with the white circle of CYPHER, and all with the insignia of the Armies of their own deserted countries.

“Everybody keep their cool and we’ll all get along,” the Group Sub-Leader said. His cold eyes flickered again. “Where’s the other one? Cranston?”

Stanley, Margo and Harry were silent.

“Check the cars,” the Sub-Leader said without looking at his men.

Two black-uniformed soldiers checked each car. They all shook their heads. The Sub-Leader considered Harry, Margo and Stanley.

“Was he with you? My orders say get Cranston.”

“He wasn’t with us,” Margo said.

“Where is he?” the Sub-Leader asked.

Margo shrugged, spread her hands out in front of her. “I don’t know.”

Margo passed her left hand close to her face. The small ring radio was directly before her lips.

“Chief! It’s CYPHER! They … . .”

The Sub-Leader jerked his head. A black-uniformed soldier stepped to Margo and hit her in the face. She went down and out. The Sub-Leader watched Stanley and Harry Vincent. Both men stood helpless. The Sub-Leader nodded.

“Cool, man, cool, that’s the way to play,” the Sub-Leader said lazily. “Okay, she got out a warning. Probably that Cranston is somewhere around. Numbers Eight, Nine and Ten stay here. Take cover and see if anyone comes.”

The three soldiers named slipped out of sight in the night that was not dark. The rest marched Margo, Stanley and Harry Vincent along the road. A quarter of a mile away a truck waited. The CYPHER soldiers herded Margo, Stanley and Harry into the back, and four climbed in with them.

The other three got into the cab. The truck drove away on the highway toward the south.

The night became silent again. The two cars sat in the road.

Where they hid in the dark the three CYPHER soldiers were alert, their sub-machineguns ready, their eyes watching the two abandoned cars and the road.

They never saw the fiery eyes that suddenly watched them from the edge of the deep ravine.

The Shadow saw them clearly in the dark. The Avenger studied them and their positions for a long minute. Then his burning eyes vanished.

The men of CYPHER saw and heard nothing.

The first one suddenly felt fingers of steel on his throat. He opened his mouth to yell, the fingers squeezed a point on his neck, and the soldier slumped unconscious.

The second CYPHER soldier was more alert. He heard nothing, not a sound nor a movement in the dark night around him where he watched the deserted road. But he sensed something, he was alert and wary, checking all around him frequently and irregularly. The last time he turned to be sure no one was to his right, he stared straight into two burning eyes. He gave a short cry before the fingers closed on his throat and he slumped unconscious.

The third one heard the cry, whirled with his sub-machinegun pointed straight at where The Shadow loomed in the dark like a shape of the night itself. Two shots rang out. The third CYPHER man was hurled backwards and sprawled dead on the ground. The Shadow emerged from the dark with his automatics in both hands. He looked down at the dead man who had been hit by both shots straight in the heart. Then he turned and glided silently back to the second CYPHER man.

His eyes blazing like points of fire in the night, the dark Avenger concentrated his powers on the fallen man. He sent the cloud of power to cloud the mind of the black-uniformed soldier in the army of violence-for-hire. The soldier stirred where he lay on the ground. The Shadow’s powers reached in like long fingers and took hold of the man’s mind. The man came awake. His eyes opened. He looked up at the great, looming black shape of The Shadow. His eyes showed fear. First fear and then anger. And after the anger the man shook his head, looked around, and then smiled at The Shadow.

“You have captured Cranston,” The Shadow said. “Where will you take him?”

“Contract headquarters,” the soldier said promptly, the white circle of CYPHER clear on his breast even in the dark night.

“You have a prime contract?” The Shadow asked.

“Yes, Class One Contract, full security and protection, Battalion strength,” the man answered crisply.

“With whom is the contract?”

The soldier stiffened, then relaxed, but shook his head. “Negative, sir. Such information is not in my class.”

The eyes of The Shadow were grim, but not surprised. He had been sure that this CYPHER

soldier would, as usual, know no more than his immediate job. However, the man’s immediate job might be enough for the purpose of the Avenger. “Where did they take the others? Contract headquarters?”

“Yes.”

“Can you take me to Contract Headquarters? I am under orders from Sub-Commandant Nine,”

The Shadow said, the powers of his mind forcing the mind of the CYPHER soldier to accept his statement and instantly respond. Once the CYPHER man had accepted the truth of the statement within his mind, the responses then became automatic.

“Yes sir! I can take you to the first gate. I am not programmed beyond the first gate. A Sub-Group Leader will take you to the second gate.”

“Very good,” The Shadow said. “I commend your discipline. I have my own transport. You will drive.”

“Yes sir!”

“Now!” The Shadow snapped.

The CYPHER soldier jumped up as if he had been whipped. He stood at attention until The Shadow ordered him to the undamaged green car. While the CYPHER man went to the car, The Shadow bent over the other CYPHER soldier who was still alive and concentrated his powers on the man. The man’s unconscious mind lay open for the instructions of The Shadow. The Avenger silently impressed his orders on the fallen man’s brain: the man would remain asleep for three hours; when he awoke he would remember nothing; he would remain here as if nothing had happened until someone ordered him away. The Shadow studied the man for a moment, and then turned and glided swiftly through the night to the green car. He got in beside the CYPHER soldier who waited behind the wheel.

“Proceed!” the Avenger snapped.

The CYPHER man started the car and drove it off in the night toward the south— away from the direction of the Federal Cybernetics plant! The Shadow’s eyes narrowed. Had he been wrong?

Was the staff of Federal innocent in the entire affair? Then who was behind it all? Who could afford the price of CYPHER to protect him, and for what? It was undoubtedly CYPHER who had performed the sabotage and the killings, and CYPHER came at a very high price. What was important enough?

“Faster!” The Shadow commanded.

“Sir!”

The green car jumped ahead in the night. The CYPHER man was a good driver and the small car raced around the mountain curves its lights probing the darkness like long feelers. The highway led south and east and slowly deeper into the high mountains. It was a deserted road, few cars came from the other direction. Suddenly the CYPHER man drove around a long sweeping curve and turned sharply off the road to the left. The green car plunged into a narrow dirt road.

The driver was forced to slow down as the narrow side road was rough and rutted. It climbed upward at a steep angle through the dark forest that covered the mountainsides.

“We are near contract headquarters?” The Shadow asked.

“Yes sir. Gate One is not far.”

The Shadow sat alert. If he knew the methods of CYPHER, and he did only too well, there would be tight and efficient security methods employed around the first gate. They would have the approaches under surveillance without a doubt. The Avenger hissed to his CYPHER driver.

“Stop before we are in sight of the gate!”

The man blinked, hesitated as if his mind was in a battle between the suspicion such an order gave him and the power of the Shadow that controlled him. Finally he nodded.

“Yes sir!”

Moments later the green car came to a halt. The Shadow looked around. There was nothing in sight but the thick forest of trees, the steep mountainsides, and the empty road that went around a sharp curve ahead.

“First gate is just around the curve, sir!” the CYPHER man said.

“Remain here!” The Shadow commanded.

“Sir!”

The Shadow slipped from the green car and plunged into the dark forest of trees. In the gloom he climbed rapidly upward toward a faint line of lighter black that showed where the top of the mountain was. He reached the top and stood among the trees looking out. What he saw was a vast yet narrow valley set deep among the mountains. All around the crest he stood on, which he now saw was only the crest of a low ridge, were the towering bare peaks of the great mountain range. Sweeping valleys loomed in the dark. With his night sight he could see the mountains and the valleys as clear as other men could see them in the day. At first, even with his night sight, this was all the Shadow saw.

Then he saw what he had been looking for since the moment he had begun his investigation of the sabotage.

It stood in a deep and narrow side valley off the main valley between the mountains peaks. A narrow side valley hidden from all sides. It was heavily camouflaged. There was a moveable roof, now pulled back, but that could be extended in the day. There were camouflaged buildings set into the base of the mountain around it. Even The Shadow had difficulty seeing it, and in the day, camouflaged, it would have been almost totally hidden unless someone were specifically looking for it.

It was a giant rocket!

The largest rocket The Shadow had ever seen.

It stood on its launching pad, its gantry attached. And at its tip that towered so high above the ground was an unmistakable space capsule! !

A space capsule of the type intended to land somewhere and not simply orbit! ! !

The Shadow had found the reason behind it all. Someone was launching a private rocket! !

Someone who did not want the United States or The Soviet Union to reach the Moon!

A secret Moon shot! ! !

The Shadow’s fiery eyes blazed in the dark. Now it was all clear. The Avenger stared out across the valley to the tall rocket. It was a design he had never seen—bigger and heavier.

A powerful space vehicle. And already the fuel tanks were vaporizing in small clouds at the base.

The rocket was ready to launch! The Shadow could see that much, his scientific knowledge confirmed it, but he could not be sure of exactly how soon it would go. But it would be soon, and there was no time to waste.

He turned in the night and glided swiftly back down the ridge to the waiting green car. He climbed into the car and his mind was made up. There was not time to make his own way through the CYPHER defenses and find a way to stop the rocket and bring the guilty to justice.

There was no time to find Margo, Stanley and Harry and free them on his own. He ordered the CYPHER soldier.

“You have captured Lamont Cranston. There was a fight and one man is dead. But you captured Cranston and have brought him to contract headquarters as instructed. You will remember nothing else. We will drive to the first gate and when you arrive you will be in command of yourself, you will tell them about Cranston, and you will forget everything else.”

The CYPHER soldier nodded and started the green car. It drove slowly around the curve and for another quarter of a mile. There the road ended in a dead end at the base of a high cliff. The driver blew his horn. From all around lights blazed on. The black uniforms of CYPHER emerged from the forest and hills all around the car. The seemingly solid wall opened and a tall man in the black uniform of a CYPHER Group Sub-Leader stepped out. It was the same man who had captured Margo, Stanley and Harry. The Sub-Leader walked warily to the green car. He peered in. Then he smiled at the figure he saw sitting beside the CYPHER Soldier.

Lamont Cranston sat where The Shadow had been moments before!

The wealthy socialite had his hands bound with a thin cord of the type carried by every CYPHER soldier. He glared in a kind of fear at the Sub-Leader who looked in the car window at him. The Sub-Leader nodded to the CYPHER soldier. His automatics were in the pockets of the CYPHER man.

“Good work,” the Sub-Leader said. “He came easy?”

“No,” the soldier said. “There was a fight. Number nine is dead. Eight is unconscious back on the road. But I got him.”

“You sure did,” the Sub-Leader drawled. His cold eyes looked at Cranston. “You were careless, Mr. Cranston. After your lady friend warned you and all. Very careless.”

Cranston feigned ignorance and anger. “What the devil is all this? Who are you people?”

The Sub-Leader turned away. “Save it all, Cranston. You think we’re amateurs? You think I’m not briefed on you? You know who we are, and you know what it’s all about. Now you just sit back and be calm because you’re going to join your friends!”

The Sub-Leader made a gesture. Two more CYPHER soldiers piled into the rear of the green car and the car drove off through the gap in the seemingly solid cliff wall. They entered a dark tunnel, and then emerged on the far side on a road that was no more than a narrow track that wound down the mountainside into the small valley. They drove across the valley floor and were stopped twice by carefully hidden guard-posts—gates two and three! At gate two the driver who had brought Cranston, and the other two soldiers from gate one were replaced by new CYPHER

men. As the soldier had told Cranston, he was not cleared to go beyond the first gate. Cranston could not help admiring the efficient security of CYPHER!

At last the green car was driven up to one of the four low, camouflaged buildings that blended into the cliff face. The great rocket towered less than a half a mile away down the narrow and hidden canyon. Even as Cranston watched, men worked feverishly around the towering space vehicle. There was no way of telling how soon the rocket would blast-off, but it was clear that it would not be long. Cranston knew that there was little time to stop what was happening as the CYPHER guards marched him into the building. Inside the building he was pushed along a dim corridor until he knew that he was deep inside the mountain itself. He was turned into a side corridor. A door was opened. Cranston was flung inside where he sprawled on the stone floor in the complete and silent darkness.

The door clanged shut.

Silence.

Cranston sat up slowly. He rubbed his eyes and peered into the black as if he could see nothing—an act in case anyone of CYPHER were watching, which he was sure they were. He pretended to be able to see nothing. But he saw everything clearly.

He saw Margo, Stanley and Harry Vincent seated against the wall in the dark. Cranston sat up. Margo, her eyes accustomed to the dark, saw him now.

“Lamont! How …”

Cranston’s eyes warned her to silence. “Yes, Margo, I’m afraid they outwitted me. I’m sorry. It looks like we’re all in the same boat now. Did you see the rocket? It is almost ready to count down from the look of it. We have to find out just what it is, what they plan to do with it! There is little time.”

The words were innocent enough, but Margo and the others understood what Cranston, or The Shadow, was telling them—that he had allowed himself to be captured so that he could get to the rocket and the people behind it as fast as possible. Margo took up the cue quickly.

“But how, Lamont? We are helpless here!”

Cranston feigned despair. “We have to find a way out! We must learn what is going on!”

There was a sudden low laugh that came from nowhere. A voice that spoke from the stone walls of the cell. Cranston’s eyes flashed for an instant. He had been right, of course, they were under secret scrutiny from some hidden point in the walls. The voice spoke hard and yet muffled.

“You will never know, Cranston. Bring them out!”

The door suddenly opened again and five guards entered. They made no sound. They herded Cranston, Margo, Stanley and Harry Vincent out at gunpoint into the dim corridor again. They marched the four agents along many dim corridors deep inside the mountain. The march seemed to go on for a long time. Until at last they were pushed out into a gigantic room carved out of a natural cave inside the mountain.

The room was lighted as bright as day. The four blinked in the light.

On long rows of chairs they saw what looked like an entire CYPHER battalion. Hundreds of men in black uniforms with the white circle of CYPHER on their breasts. Every one of the men in black was turned to look at them.

One man in the grey tunic and slim blue trousers of a CYPHER General Staff Leader stepped toward Cranston and the others. The gold circle of CYPHER glistened on his breast. He wore the insignia of a Section Director, and the old insignia of a General in the Brazilian Army. He held a long, official paper, and his finger pointed straight at Cranston.

“Turn! Face the court!”

Cranston and the other turned and looked at the other side of the bright room.

Five men in the grey tunic and blue trousers of CYPHER’S High Command sat on a row of raised thronelike chairs. Their cold faces stared at the four prisoners. The Section Director who had commanded them to turn spoke once more.

“Court-Martial is in session!”

To Be Continued Tuesday at...
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THE SHADOW: DESTINATION MOON Chapter 12

(You can read the previous chapter HERE!)
12

In the late afternoon Idaho sun the security guards marched Colonel Derian across the open ground in front of the plant to a State Police car that waited just inside the open gate. Three troopers stepped out, took the prisoner inside the car, and one of them signed for the prisoner in full view of Bryan, Max Ernest and Professor Farina, not to mention many of the workers at the plant.

In the shadow of a bush set against the facade of the plant building. The Shadow watched. He saw J. Wesley Bryan and Farina looking around. Even at the distance he could read their lips clearly—they were wondering where Lamont Cranston was. But there was not time now for The Shadow to resume his alter-ego and still follow the State Police car.

The Shadow had to follow the state police—there was something very wrong about the police car.

The Shadow could not place what was wrong. In itself that puzzled the hidden Avenger—his powers and instant recall should have made him know what was wrong if something was wrong.

The only explanation was that there had been something that he had seen in a flash and that was gone too quickly for even The Shadow to have it permanently impinged on his memory. It was not the car itself, that was a completely authentic State Police car. It was not the uniforms or the manner of the three troopers who had hustled the Colonel into the car the instant he arrived, and climbed in themselves. Their actions and manner had been exactly as The Shadow would have expected.

But it was something that The Shadow had seen in a split second and then lost. The Avenger knew the powers of his mind, and if he had felt that something was not right, then he would follow the State Police car. And he had not an instant to waste. Already Rogers was leaning in to say some final words to the state troopers. The Shadow bent quickly over the small radio-ring on his left hand.

“Stanley, are you here?” The Shadow intoned in a low voice.

Instantly the soft voice of the chauffeur-bodyguard-agent answered. “Here, Chief. I followed your instructions and am now within sight of the plant in the hired car. I can see the State Police car.”

“Good, Stanley. Proceed on Plan One to a point three hundred yards to the right of the gate on the road. There is a large boulder there that comes to the road.”

“Roger,” Stanley said.

The radio ring on the left hand of The Shadow went silent. The Avenger watched the State Police car move off slowly to the gate. He turned, and, crouched low, made his way to the right in the shelter of the bushes along the wall of the plant. At the corner there was a hundred feet of open parking area before the beginning of a line of trees that bordered the high fence. The Avenger looked back and saw that everyone was watching the police car as it went out the gate and turned right toward Lewiston. With the speed of a shifting shadow he bounded across the open area and vanished into the rows of trees. No one saw the sudden black shape, and moments later he was over the high fence and at the boulder beside the highway.

The State Police car came past already driving fast.

Moments later, the police car barely out of sight around the first curve of the twisting highway, a small green car appeared from the same direction also driving fast. As it neared the boulder it slowed and the door on the right swung open. In a single bound The Shadow was in the car, the door was closed, and the car raced on after the State Police car.

“Faster, Stanley!” The Shadow commanded.

Stanley pressed down on the accelerator and guided the green car expertly around the tortuous curves of the highway that wound through the mountains and the deep pine forest. The chauffeur-agent of The Shadow was an expert driver, and the small green car clung to the curves like a racing car.

“They’re going awfully fast for a trooper car,” Stanley said.

“Yes, Stanley,” The Shadow said.

“There they are!” Stanley said as the police car came in sight ahead on a short straightaway.

“Drop back and do not let them guess we are after them,” The Shadow commanded.

Stanley eased the green car back and drove so as to have an occasional glimpse of the police car ahead as it vanished around the curves. In his seat The Shadow opened a map. It was a map of the area. The fiery eyes of the Avenger studied the open map closely.

‘There is no crossroad for ten miles, Stanley,” The Shadow said, his voice quiet and efficient now. “There is only one major crossroad between here and Lewiston. Where is Margo?”

“Probably on her way from Lewiston with Harry Vincent, Chief,” Stanley said. “Harry reported in that he found no private flights out of Salt Lake City, but he did locate the trail of the staff car. It was sighted on the road up toward Idaho. Harry lost the trail. When he reported in, Margo told him to meet her in Lewiston like you ordered.”

“Good,” The Shadow said.

The Avenger bent over his ring. In the glow of twilight and fading sun the black-garbed figure looked like some great ancient symbol of justice where he sat in the green car. His eyes burned intensely as he spoke into his ring radio.

“Come in, Margo!”

There was a silence, and then the calm voice of The Shadow’s number one agent. “Margo here, Chief.”

“Where are you?” The Shadow demanded.

“On the road from Lewiston with Harry Vincent,” the voice of the beautiful woman said.

The Shadow studied his map. His long finger with the glowing red fire-opal girasol on it traced a back road. “Margo, have you passed the small hamlet of Broken Cliff yet?”

“No, Chief.”

“When you reach the village you will see a mountain dirt road. Take this road and drive as fast as possible on it to where it intersects the highway south. Report to me when you reach that point.”

“Yes, Chief,” Margo said quietly, and the radio went silent.

The Shadow sat back and his eyes glowed as he rode in the grim and silent chase. Stanley guided the small green car in a steady chase of the police car ahead that appeared and vanished and appeared again as the two cars drove as fast as they could on the winding highway. The chase continued for the ten tortuous miles. Then there was a long straightaway before the Lewiston highway intersected the highway toward the south.

“Fall back!” The Shadow commanded.

Stanley slowed and let the police car draw away. The Shadow watched intently. If his suspicions were correct, the police car would not go straight on to Lewiston. He watched, his fiery eyes concentrating on the distant police car that moved through the rapidly fading mountain twilight. Then he suddenly leaned forward like a hawk about to pounce down from the sky.

The police car slowed—and turned onto the highway that led to the south!

“Go past, Stanley,” The Shadow commanded.

Stanley drove the green car past the intersection. Not fifty yards up the highway to the south the police car was parked! The Shadow smiled grimly as the green car drove past at full speed and was soon out of sight of the police car. They had, as he had expected they would, stopped to be sure that the green car was not following them. Now, with the green car speeding past without a hint of slackening its pace, they would not be suspicious.

“Stop now, Stanley.”

Stanley brought the green car to a silent halt.

“Turn back carefully and follow them along the south highway but out of sight.”

Stanley turned back and drove to the crossroad again. The police car was gone.

“Now fast!” The Shadow commanded.

Stanley nodded, and the green car leaped forward and raced along the southern road. The twilight grew ever more purple as Stanley and The Shadow raced on in pursuit. Some ten more minutes passed as The Shadow studied his map with growing concern. Then his ring radio suddenly spoke.

“We are at the highway now, Chief,” the voice of Margo said.

“Good!” The Shadow responded. “In about ten minutes a State Police car will come toward you, probably going very fast, with four men in it. Block its path and capture it if possible. Be careful, they are well-armed. You will probably need your weapons. You will find Colonel Derian in the car, Margo. He is on our side. Whatever you do, do not let them pass!”

“Yes, Chief,” Margo said.

The radio became silent again. The Shadow peered ahead. The chase went on. Then, suddenly, Stanley spoke. “There they are!”

The State Police car was driving fast. As the green car with The Shadow in it came into sight, the police car suddenly began to drive even faster!

“They’ve spotted us now,” Stanley said.

“Catch them!” The Shadow commanded.

Stanley pushed the accelerator to the floor and the green car tore ahead on the winding highway. It swayed and slewed as Stanley fought it around the curves. But they could not gain on the police car. The troopers drove as wildly and expertly as Stanley, and the police car held its lead. The Shadow’s fiery eyes were grim as he watched the chase. Minutes passed and still they did not gain.

“I wish I had our car, Chief” Stanley said. “We’d catch them then.”

“Keep trying, Stanley, but do not lose them in any event!” The Shadow ordered.

Stanley nodded and pushed the small green car as fast as it could go. Slowly, on the curves, they began to gain. But so slowly that it was hardly noticeable. Then both cars entered a long straight stretch with a deep ravine on the left of the highway. The police car began to pull away!

On the straight road it was faster than the green car. Stanley hung on. The police car went around a curve, swaying wide above the yawning abyss of the mountain ravine in the fading twilight.

The green car of The Shadow followed around the curve. Stanley gasped aloud.

“Chief!”

The sight that met the eyes of The Shadow seemed for a split second like a frozen tableau.

The police car hurtled down the road. The ravine yawned dark to the left. The light of day was fading in a purple mountain haze. And directly ahead of the police car as it hurtled forward was another car! Two people, a man and a woman, stood beside the third car with guns in their hands.

Perhaps it was the deepening twilight. Or just the speed of the police car. But it was obvious that the driver of the police car, perhaps watching The Shadow’s car behind him, did not see the third car or the armed man and woman until he was almost on it. Perhaps the driver of the police car simply misjudged his ability as a driver. Whatever the case, the police car, hurtling like a bullet along the narrow highway, sped straight at the third car that blocked the road, and did not turn until the last minute. It then turned a fraction and tried to drive past between the ravine and the blocking car. It did not make it.

The police car struck the front fender of the blocking car, slewed for a breathless instant, and went far out into the empty space above the yawning chasm of the ravine.

Faint above the roar of his own motor The Shadow heard the despairing screams of the men in the police car as it fell through the purple twilight into the dark night of the bottom of the rocky ravine. There was a rending, tearing, horrible crash.

Then silence.

A small explosion and a burst of flame at the bottom of the ravine.

Stanley brought the green car to a halt in front of the third car where Margo and Harry Vincent stood looking down into the ravine at the licking flames from the crushed police car.

Where the smashed. police car lay at the bottom of the ravine there was no sound but the faint noise of flames licking at metal. Small tendrils of fire crept from the car out into the brush of the rocky chasm. The car had hit, bounced twice, and come to rest leaning at a tortured angle against a giant boulder. Nothing moved in the glare of the fiery flames that burned the smashed and twisted metal. An arm hung out the front window. A body lay fifty feet away smashed against aboulder. Here, at the bottom of the deep abyss, there was only death and darkness and the licking flames that crackled with the intense heat.

Then the night itself moved.

A looming shadow passed across the lighter sky far above where the road was on the mountainside.

The Shadow stood beside the wreck.

He glided to the body that had been flung out. It was one of the troopers and he was dead. The Shadow returned to the flaming car. His powers resistant to the heat, he peered into the crushed interior. The trooper with his arm out was dead. The Shadow looked into the rear seat and saw Colonel Derian. The Russian had died the violent death he must have known would come to him someday—but Derian could never have guessed that he would die in a car crash on a lonely highway in Idaho!

The Shadow’s eyes suddenly glowed—the fourth man was not in the car.

The black-garbed Avenger began to search. His night vision gave him a clear view of the bottom of the ravine. He found the fourth man within minutes. The man, a trooper, had been flung out of the car at the first crash and lay fifty feet up the side of the rocky hollow. The Shadow floated swiftly to him. He bent over—The man was not dead! Dying, but not yet dead.

The man moved his lips weakly, his eyelids fluttered in pain.

The Shadow bent low, forcing his powers deep into the dying brain. The man moaned softly, squirmed as the cloud rolled into his bare consciousness. The Shadow had no choice. He must know who these troopers had really been.

Because he knew now what he had seen in a brief flash at the plant of Federal Cybernetics as the troopers took Derian away—it had been the face of this man on the ground!

A brief, split-second sight of the face of this man. A face his memory had known—the face of the phony Colonel described by Harry Vincent! This was one of the men who had been outside the Utah Base when the Moon rocket had failed! One of the men who had killed Major Oates in the grounds of the Soviet mansion!

That is what he had seen that had made him sense that something was not right about the supposed State Troopers! They were not troopers.

“Who are you?” The Shadow said as he bent low over the dying man.

“Who do you work for? What is your mission?” The Shadow demanded.

The dying man groaned.

“I command you to tell me who you are!”

The dying man’s eyes suddenly opened. Flat eyes, near death and clouded by the powers of The Shadow, but the disciplined eyes of a man who obeyed commands, and who had now been commanded. His lips moved, his body seemed to try to move to attention.

“Group … Group … . .” the man tried to force out, tried again. ” … Group Leader … Ten

… Leader Ten … CYPHER Command Base … Idaho … . .”

And the man was dead.

The Shadow stared down in the night. His fiery eyes blazed up in anger.

CYPHER!

Again CYPHER!

The eyes of The Shadow flashed in the dark of the ravine where the flickering flames of the burning wreck played across his hawk-like features. He stared down at the dead man.

CYPHER!

Then it had all been the evil organization that offered its services of death and destruction and violence to anyone who paid it. He should have guessed. The skill and efficiency of the actions, the coldly deadly performance. It was all clear now.

CYPHER.

Once more The Shadow was faced with the ruthless band of renegades from a hundred Armies; the bitter militants of a hundred countries, West and East, Communist and Capitalist, who had turned against every country; the secret Army that believed in only force and power, and sold its services to any bidder! Once more it was CYPHER the black Avenger must stop, and he turned now and vanished again into the night.

Behind him the four dead men lay silent, the flames licked at broken metal and flickered in the empty ravine.

Ahead of him there was CYPHER—and whoever had hired the evil organization.

Because CYPHER never worked for itself. Behind CYPHER there was someone who had hired the evil Army.

The eyes of The Shadow burned as he thought of whoever had hired CYPHER this time. As he moved slowly back up the side of the ravine he thought about the guards at the Federal Cybernetics plant—CYPHER men, of course. But who had hired them, and who knew that they were CYPHER? Who … “Chief! !”

The voice slashed through the night. Margo’s voice. From the ring radio on The Shadow’s hand.

“It’s CYPHER! They … “

Silence.

The Shadow listened, but there was nothing more. Up on the road where the last light of twilight was still visible there were sounds, the sound of many feet.

The Shadow began to climb swiftly up the side of the steep ravine toward the last light above.

To Be Continued 
Monday...Right Here at...
HERO HISTORIES
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The Shadow
Circle of Death
by James Patterson and Brian Sitts

THE SHADOW: DESTINATION MOON Chapter 7

(You can read the previous chapter HERE!)
7

The Shadow peered in the window with a sinking feeling. Had the shots been for Margo? Had he waited too long? Had the desire to solve the sabotage cost Margo her life? The questions whirled in the mind of the black-garbed Avenger. Then his mind clamped down its control, focused its powers, and analyzed the facts.

The shots had come from in front of the house. Margo would certainly not be killed before she talked unless Colonel Derian had made a mistake, and Derian was not the kind of man who made mistakes. And even as The Shadow watched the scene inside the office of Misygyn, he saw that it could not be Margo who had been shot.

The two armed guards who had been with Margo ran into the office with their pistols drawn.

They had panic on their faces, their eyes were wild with apprehension until they saw Misygyn.

They also saw General Rogers and covered him with their guns. Misygyn waved them off.

“No, you fools, outside!” the diplomat said. “The shots came from outside! Find out what has happened! Are the others still here?”

“Yes, Excellency,” one of the armed guards said.

“He has gone to find the source of the shots,” the second guard said, obviously referring to Colonel Derian, but not wanting to mention the name or presence of the Colonel in front of Rogers.

“Help him!” Misygyn snapped.

The diplomat was obviously agitated, disturbed. The Shadow watched the heavy-set man pace the office. And he watched General Rogers who sat now quiet and composed in a chair as if he had no interest in the shots at all. In the midst of the chaos and pandemonium, Rogers remained calm and apparently unconcerned. The Shadow’s eyes glowed. Either Rogers had iron control, or he actually did not care about the shots.

The two armed men turned and ran from the room. At the window The Shadow moved. With the guards out searching for who had fired the shots, and with Derian and Vaslov alarmed and busy, it was The Shadow’s opportunity to free Margo. The black-shrouded figure glided away through the night toward the darkened windows on the far side of the mansion.

The Shadow moved soundlessly, a wraith of shadow in the dark, unseen and unheard by the guards searching the grounds to see who had fired the shots. But there was another wraith in the night. Only the super-power of the black Avenger’s hearing and vision in the dark revealed this second silent figure that moved through the grounds like a tiger stalking some jungle for its prey.

The Shadow heard the delicate footsteps and became an immobile shadow, a part of the night itself.

Colonel Derian passed within five feet of the black-garbed Avenger. The cobra-like face of the secret police officer was rigid with intensity as he looked and listened, an ugly pistol with a silencer in his hand. Derian moved without a sound, without a crackle of twigs or a movement of the air as he passed. The tall, cadaverous Colonel was an expert at stalking, and only The Shadow could have seen or heard him as he passed in the night and moved off toward the distant wall of the grounds. A feeling of cold remained long after the Colonel had passed.

When all was still again, the sound of the search by the guards moved far away to the other end of the spacious parklike grounds, The Shadow moved again toward the dark side of the mansion. His black-garbed figure was no more then the passing of dark air. He knew now that Colonel Derian and the two armed men were out in the night—but he had not seen Vaslov. His fiery eyes watched for the small, wiry scientist as he reached the dark windows of the mansion.

He neither saw nor heard the spy-scientist. Was Vaslov the victim of the shots? Or was Vaslov lurking somewhere to watch? Alert, The Shadow silently opened a window on the dark side of the house and vanished inside.

In the small, windowless, and soundproof room far below the office of Misygyn, Vaslov paced the soundless cork floor and listened for any further sounds from outside. He heard nothing in the soundproofed room. He had heard the shots, but not in this room. He had been upstairs with Derian when the shots split the night. The Colonel had sent him down to get the guards, to send the two guards up, and to take their place.

“This could be some attempt to rescue the woman,” Colonel Derian had said. “Be alert down there. Let no one into the room except myself. You know the signal.”

That had been ten minutes ago—ten minutes that seemed like hours to the nervous Vaslov.

The scientist was not suited for this work—which was why he had been a “sleeper” agent, a man who could pass all scrutiny in his assumed identity and work until it was time for him to become the active spy. He was a scientist who was also a spy, not a spy who was partly a scientist, and he was not happy with the demands of espionage. But it was his job, and he paced the silent room and watched the woman prisoner.

Margo, as Dr. Freda Talent, was seated on a heavy straight chair. It was a strange, macabre-looking chair: thick and heavy, with straps that held her wrists down on the heavy arms, and straps for her feet and neck. It looked like the electric chairs used in execution chambers. This chair, too, had wires attached and electronic controls. Margo, as the middle aged woman scientist, sat calmly in the chair, but small beads of sweat on her face showed that her calmness came only by an effort. Alone in the windowless and soundless room, she felt for the first time abandoned.

Vaslov paced and looked at his watch. The nervous scientist-spy held a pistol.

Margo sat in silence.

No sound came from anywhere.

The light in the room was feeble.

There was only one lamp to dispel the windowless gloom. A green-shaded bulb that hung from the ceiling and swayed hypnotically back and forth in a slow arc.

Neither Margo nor Vaslov saw or heard the outer door of the room open and close. There was a faint rush of air. Vaslov turned but saw nothing. The scientist blinked, stared, but the door was closed and he saw nothing and no one. Margo, too, had felt the sudden touch of moving air. She, too, saw nothing. But she knew who had entered the room. Her eyes were bright as she waited.

Vaslov looked at her. He saw her face. He was about to speak when the eerie laugh shattered the silence of the hidden room.

Vaslov whirled, his gun ready. “Who is it?”

The Russian scientist-spy blinked. He saw nothing. There were only the gloomy shadows in the empty and silent room.

“Who laughed? I heard a laugh!” Vaslov cried, his frantic eyes searching.

Vaslov whirled to Margo. “You heard? There was a laugh! I know someone laughed!”

Margo said nothing. Vaslov turned again, searched the gloom of the room with his frantic eyes. He turned back to Margo. He took her by the shoulders. He shook her.

“I heard it! You hear? I’m not going crazy! I heard a laugh. Someone is in this room! I’m not going crazy!”

Margo looked up coldly. “Where? Where is someone?”

Vaslov stared at her cold face. He looked all around and saw nothing. He looked back at Margo. Suddenly he reached out and slapped her face.

“Liar! You know! You… .”

The laugh of The Shadow came again, eerie and cold. The deep voice of the Avenger filled the room.

“Do you hear me, Vaslov? Or is it all a dream? Are you hearing a real voice, or are you going insane? Be sure, Vaslov!”

The small, wiry Russian crouched now, pointed his gun toward the gloomy shadows of the room. “I hear you! I hear a real voice! Don’t move or I will kill you!”

The laugh was mocking. “Can you kill what you cannot see? If I am real, why do you not see me, Vaslov?”

The Russian screamed. “I will see you! There, you are there!”

Vaslov fired into a dark corner. The bullet whined and bounced in the small room, luckily missing everyone. The laugh of The Shadow mocked the small scientist.

“I see you! I see you!” Vaslov shrieked in terror.

The scientist-spy pointed his gun at the corners of the room. He blinked and peered ahead, his gun pointing but not firing because he could still see nothing. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head that seemed to be growing thick. He rubbed his eyes with his left hand against a haze that seemed to be filling the room, a mist that rolled slowly into his brain, a cloud that fogged his vision. He could not seem to think.

“I … I … will … see you!”

Vaslov rubbed frantically at his eyes. Then his movements slowed. He shook his head, but it was a slow and weary shaking as if he knew now that he could not dissipate the cloud on his brain. He smiled as if now he did not want to escape the warm cloud that enfolded his mind.

Then, suddenly, as his will ceased to be his own, he saw the two fiery eyes that seemed to glow and burn through from the gloom of the hidden and silent room. He saw the eyes, and the hawk-nose beneath the wide brim of a black slouch hat. He saw the red fire-opal girasol on the long finger of steel, and the great black cape that flowed and blended into the dim gloom the room.

Vaslov smiled.

“I can see you!”

“Yes, Vaslov, you can now see me. But you cannot harm me. You are under my power, Vaslov, the power of The Shadow!”

Vaslov nodded. “Yes.”

“You will hand me your pistol, and you will sit on the floor,” The Shadow commanded.

Vaslov handed his pistol to the long hand of The Shadow, and sat obediently on the floor. The Shadow glided across the small room to Margo. He freed her and she stood up.

“For a moment I thought … . .” Margo began.

“I would have been here sooner, Margo, but there was much to hear upstairs,” The Shadow said.

The Avenger turned his great black shape to the seated and silent Vaslov. “Tell me what you were doing at Federal Cybernetics!”

“It was my job. They asked me to report anything unusual. I found the ledger. There was too much. I reported it.”

“Why do they want to know about anything unusual at Federal Cybernetics?” The Shadow demanded.

“Sabotage,” Vaslov said. “The project has failed many times. Derian came about the sabotage.”

“Yes, the sabotage,” The Shadow said softly. “How is it being done? How do they… .”

The cloaked Avenger stopped. His keen ears had heard the sounds far beyond the soundproofed room. Sounds that no one else could hear. Someone was walking toward the entrance down from upstairs to the cellar where the hidden room was located. The Shadow would not be trapped in the small room.

“Quick, Margo, to the door,” The Avenger snapped, and he turned his eyes toward the seated Vaslov. “You will not remember this. You will not remember me. You will say that Margo escaped by overpowering you!”

Vaslov nodded. “She overpowered me, yes. She took my pistol.”

The Shadow’s eyes glowed and without another word he turned and glided to the door. He opened the door with his powers and led Margo out into the dark cellar. The Shadow and Margo faded into the far reaches of the vast cellar. The door from above opened. Colonel Derian came down quickly and strode across the cellar to the door of the hidden room. The Colonel swore!

The door was not locked!!

Colonel Derian tore the door open and strode into the hidden room. He did not close the door behind him. Where they stood in the darkness of the cellar Margo and The Shadow could see the tall Colonel standing over Vaslov like the swaying shape of a coiled cobra. They heard the voice of Vaslov.

“She escaped. Took my gun. She attacked me by surprise.”

Derian’s voice was as cold and hard as a glacier. “She could not! How could she escape the chair?”

There was a pause. Then Vaslov said, puzzled. “I don’t know. She… she … must have had

… help. I … she overpowered me. She took my gun. She … . .”

“Who helped her?”

“I don’t know. I … I …”

“She could not have escaped!” Derian said. “Not without help, and you are the only person here.”

“I … . .” Vaslov began. Then his voice rose high. “No! No!”

The silenced shot echoed through the cellar. Vaslov was silent. In the room Colonel Derian stood with his pistol smoking in his hand.

The Shadow touched Margo and the two agents of justice crossed the cellar and went silently up the stairs.

Five minutes later The Shadow was again at the open window of Misygyn’s office. Margo had gone to the road where Shrevvie waited in the taxi. The Shadow’s fiery eyes watched the office through the window. General Calvin Rogers sat alone in the exact spot where The Shadow had last seen him. Rogers was smoking a cigarette and calmly reading a Russian periodical.

A moment later Misygyn came back into the office. The stocky diplomat stalked to his desk and sat down facing Rogers. The General looked up at the Russian. Misygyn stared at Rogers and his face was suffused with anger.

“We found a body, General!”

Rogers seemed to tense. “A body? What about who did the shooting?”

“No, we did not find the killer. But we found the body.”

Rogers leaned forward. “Is that supposed to be some kind of threat, Excellency?”

“Yes, a threat!” Misygyn thundered. “Do you know what body we found? Out there inside our walls? On our grounds? Do you know?”

Rogers said nothing. Outside the window The Shadow was beginning to understand what the shots had been.

“Oates!” Misygyn stormed. “We found the body of Major John Oates of your Central Intelligence Agency! On our territory! Did you think we wouldn’t know?”

“Oates?” General Rogers said slowly.

“You thought I did not know Major Oates? Yes, I know the Major. Now he is dead—shot on Soviet territory! Spying! What was he spying for, General? What was he up to?”

“How should I know?” Rogers said calmly.

“Liar!” Misygyn thundered, putting on a fine act of outraged anger. “Major Oates was not out there, secretly, for the game of it! He was spying! Why? What did he want?”

“I have no idea. So you killed, eh? That… .”

“That was our right! He was trespassing! I will lodge a formal protest!”

“How will you explain the murder of Major Oates?” Rogers demanded. “That will cause trouble, Misygyn.”

“Trouble? We have his body! On our grounds! A spy! There are rules about that, Colonel, and you know it! I will lodge a very strong protest. And I will include you!”

“Me?” Rogers said.

“You think we are fools? Obviously your ridiculous visit was to create a diversion, to cover for Oates, to keep us busy while Oates sneaked onto our grounds and prepared to spy! Well, you have been caught! Oates has been killed, as he should have been, and we know your duplicity! I do not think America will want it known that they send CIA men to spy on foreign diplomats in their own houses!”

“Nor will your Government want it known what Oates was looking for—the evidence of your sabotage of Project Full Moon! If you protest, we will protest and bring your sabotage out into the glare of day, Misygyn!”

Misygyn blinked. “Our … sabotage? So, that is your idea, eh?”

“It is! And you have been warned,” Rogers snapped.

Misygyn did not answer for a moment. Then the heavy-set diplomat stood up. He motioned curtly toward the door out of his office.

“You will leave now, General. I order you from Soviet territory! You will be hearing from me concerning Major Oates when I have my instructions. Meanwhile, his body remains here! Is that clear?”

Rogers stood up angrily. “Very clear! Rest assured I will make my report, and you will be hearing from us!”

Without another word, General Rogers turned on his heel and stalked from the office. The door closed behind him. Misygyn stood there for a moment. Then the side door opened and Colonel Derian came in.

“I know why Oates was here now,” the tall Colonel said. “The woman has escaped.”

“Escaped?” Misygyn said. “From you?”

“From Vaslov. I shot him,” Derian said. “He was either a traitor or a fool. I cannot risk either.

The woman is gone, we have searched the grounds. She must have had help. Oates was probably not alone!”

“And Rogers diverted us!” Misygyn said. He looked at Derian. “What now, Colonel?”

“Now I will take charge myself. The information Vaslov got is most interesting. I think I will take a trip.”

“A trip? Where?” Misygyn asked.

Colonel Derian turned away. “That you do not need to know. You will act as my contact with Moscow. For the rest, I will handle it alone.”

Colonel Derian left Misygyn alone and staring at the door. Out in the night The Shadow glided quickly away from the window and disappeared into the darkness.

Some minutes later Lamont Cranston suddenly appeared in the road outside the walls of the Soviet mansion. He walked quickly to the official car of Rogers. He lighted a cigarette and waited, his hooded eyes impassive. Down the road in the shadows the taxi waited with Margo and Shrevvie hidden inside. Cranston had been there only seconds when the iron gate opened and General Calvin Rogers stepped out. The General was now obviously shaken and furious.

“Cranston! They killed Oates!”

Cranston pretended shock. “Oates? I heard the shots, but I had no idea! They killed him?”

“I don’t know who killed him! But he is dead,” Rogers said angrily. “Where were you?”

“At the rear of the house. I saw nothing. I tried to get inside, but the only open window was in the office you were in. I left after the shots and tried to see what had happened, but I saw nothing. Except their guards. They almost caught me, so I came out.”

Rogers nodded. “The damned bad part is that there’s little we can do! Oates knew the risks.

He must have become careless, the fool! The Russkis are within their rights, damn them. Oates was trespassing.”

“How did Misygyn take your warning?” Cranston asked. Rogers laughed bitterly. “Oh, he denied it all, but he knows something. He knew all about Full Moon, and he knows more about the sabotage than he’ll admit. No, I have no doubts now that they are behind it all.”

“Will they stop now that they know we know?”

Rogers was thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I think so though. They won’t want it made public. And we’ll have to keep it quiet, even about Oates. I’ll report to the President, of course, but I don’t think even General Broyard should know. In a way we made a bargain—they stop and we keep quiet. The important thing is Project Full Moon. It must remain secret, and its whole fate depends on everything being kept quiet now.”

“Then you think the next shot will succeed?” Cranston said quietly.

“I hope so, Cranston. I think they’ve been warned. Now I must go and report. You can make your way back all right?”

“Of course. You go ahead,” Cranston said.

Rogers nodded and climbed into his car. Cranston stood in the shadows at the edge of the road and watched the big official car disappear. Then he turned and walked quickly to the taxi where Margo and Shrevvie waited. The small taxi driver and agent of The Shadow was excited.

“Boss, who was shot”’ Shrevvie asked.

“Major Oates, Shrevvie.” Cranston said. “Why?”

“I was on watch right after the shooting,” Shrevvie explained, “and I saw two guys come over the wall! They came real fast. They ran off into the woods over there, and I heard a car start up way back, probably on another road. I never heard it drive up, so they were probably inside all the time!”

“Russians?” Cranston snapped.

Shrevvie scratched his jaw. “Maybe, but they didn’t look like it to me. I mean, why would Russkis come running over the wall so fast to get away?”

Margo nodded. “Shrevvie has a point, Lamont.”

“Yes, he does,” Cranston said slowly.

“Besides,” Shrevvie said. “I think I recognized at least one of them. I mean, I recognized his description—he fits one of the men Harry Vincent saw in that staff car near the NASA Utah Base after the moon shot failed!”

Cranston was silent. His eyes flashed once with the fire of The Shadow. Then he climbed into the taxi beside Margo. He spoke sharply.

“There is something wrong in all this, Shrevvie. I think it is time for The Shadow to investigate that office and secret closet in the laboratory of Federal Cybernetics!”

Shrevvie nodded. The taxi drove off quickly in the night and turned back toward the west and the distant plant of Federal Cybernetics.

To Be Continued on Tuesday, at...
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Please Support Hero Histories
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The Shadow
Circle of Death
by James Patterson and Brian Sitts

THE SHADOW: DESTINATION MOON Chapter 4

You can read the previous chapter HERE!

4

In the hazy and shifting shadows of the hidden blue-lighted room nothing seemed to move at first. A room that did not officially exist, it was one of the concealed complex of rooms behind the elegant offices of Lamont Cranston Enterprises in the Park Avenue office building high above the city of New York. The Headquarters of the organization of The Shadow, the heart of the Avenger’s far-flung battle against all evil, the complex of secret blue rooms was unknown to anyone but the immediate members of The Shadow’s small army. Now silent and empty, a space of dim blue light without walls or ceiling, it suddenly echoed to the voice of Margo Lane.

“Margo reporting. Come in Control Central. Agent Lane reporting from Federal Cybernetics.

Come in Chief.”

There was a faint sound.

The blue shadows seemed to swirl and darken.

The black-shrouded shape of The Shadow appeared as if from out of the light itself and glided in silence to a small, compact communications console that emerged from the hazy blue light.

The cloaked Avenger bent over the instrument, his piercing eyes fiery above his scythe-like nose.

The fire-opal girasol glowed blood-red on his long finger as he touched the controls of the console. His voice was low and strong.

“Report!”

The distant voice of Margo could have been in the blue room itself.

“All laboratory routine normal until some half an hour before work ended. At that time J. Wesley Bryan entered the office of Research Director Max Ernest. They talked, I could not tell exactly what about. By reading lips I gathered they discussed the failure of Full Moon; and the necessity to complete it as soon as possible. Bryan appears especially anxious to have Full Moon succeed. After they talked a few minutes, Bryan used a double key to enter a closet marked Storage. One of the keys was in Ernest’s safe, the other Bryan carried on his person. Bryan went into the closet and did not return for some time.”

The Shadow’s eyes snapped. “A closet? Could you determine what is actually behind that door?”

“No,” Margo’s voice said, “but from what I read on their lips I would guess that it is some kind of private laboratory.”

The Avenger was silent for a moment. “Bryan is a known scientific genius, it would be probable that he would have a private laboratory of his own. He would also probably keep it locked. In itself it means little, Margo. Still, we will have to investigate that secret room.

Proceed.”

Margo’s voice continued its calm report. “Soon after Bryan went through the door, Professor Stanley Farina visited Dr. Ernest. Again …”

The Shadow said, “Farina? Did you read their conversation?”

“Partly,” Margo said from the dim and silent locker room, her voice coming softly into the blue room where The Shadow listened. “They spoke mostly about the failure of the shot at Utah Base. Farina appears confused, he insists it is sabotage. Ernest is not sure. The discussed the possibility of Lamont Cranston being involved. Ernest appeared to know Cranston quite well.”

“Who suggested Cranston as a possible saboteur?” The Shadow asked.

“The first suggestion seemed to come from Dr. Ernest,” Margo said where she sat bent over her ring in the dim locker room.

“Go on,” The Shadow said.

“After a time Dr. Ernest suggested that he and Farina go to check the fuel control production line to be absolutely sure that all was well and functioning correctly. Farina agreed, and they left the office. By this time the entire laboratory had emptied and been shut for the night. I waited until the Women’s Locker Room had cleared, and then took up position at the door to observe the laboratory. After a short time, Bryan came out of the door marked Storage. He opened the safe and wrote in a book. He returned the book to the safe and left the office. He stopped to examine and adjust an experiment in the lab before he went out of the lab… .”

In the hazy blue silence of the hidden blue room high above the city, The Shadow listened closely to the report of his Number One agent. His eyes flashed as she described the appearance of the wiry scientist, and his searching actions. When she reached the part where he photographed the pages of the ledger, The Shadow interrupted again.

“He seemed excited?” The Avenger asked.

“Yes. Excited and a little puzzled. He seemed to feel that he had discovered something important but was not sure what it was.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“Only that his name is Otto Reigen, he is a senior scientist. His record shows that he made a recent trip to Germany. In fact he only returned a few days ago,” Margo reported.

“He photographed the pages but did nothing else?”

“Nothing else,” Margo reported.

“And you have examined the book and the pages he photographed?” The Shadow continued.

“Yes.”

“What did you find?”

There was a short silence from the distant locker room. Then Margo’s voice again entered the blue room of The Shadow. “The book seems to be a record of the materials used in some experiments by type and quantity, and a report of various shipments made from the Hempstead laboratory and plant. I have no idea why Reigen found them interesting or important. It seems that he picked pages more or less at random to photograph.”

“You have no idea what is so important about the ledger?” The Shadow asked grimly.

“No,” Margo said. “Except for one peculiar thing. Many of the shipment entries seemed to follow the receipt of materials for experiments by exactly a week.”

In the blue room The Shadow became silent for a time. His glowing eyes were bright with thought. His black-cloaked figure was motionless in the haze of blue. At last he bent over the communications console again.

“I must look at that book myself, Margo. Also, I would like to get into that locked storage closet. I will come to join you now. While I am on my way, try to find out if the storage closet can be entered without difficulty.”

“I’ll be waiting for… “

Margo’s voice stopped. In the blue room The Shadow adjusted the controls of the console.

But there was nothing wrong with the equipment. Margo’s voice came again almost at once. Her voice was suddenly low and urgent.

“Someone is in the locker room with me! I can hear them!”

“Be careful, Margo!” The Shadow hissed softly. “Sign off and take cover. Now!”

“Right,” Margo whispered from the distant locker room. “I can hear them. I think … Too late! It’s …”

The console went silent.

In the blue room The Shadow waited.

The silence seemed to hover thick and deadly. There was no more sound from the console.

The Shadow touched a button on the communications unit. A new voice answered at once.

“Agent Shrevnitz.”

“Proceed at once to the Federal Cybernetics plant at Hempstead,” The Shadow commanded.

“You can be there in five minutes. Watch for Agent Lane disguised as a blonde woman of fifty.”

“On my way,” the new voice answered at once.

The console was silent again. For a long minute The Shadow remained motionless in the haze of the blue room, his fiery eyes glowing with anger and a certain worry. Then his great black-shrouded figure whirled and glided away across the room. The next instant the blue room was again silent and empty. The Shadow had vanished.

The highway that runs outside the fence of the Federal Cybernetics plant and laboratory in Hempstead is a dark concrete road lined on all side by thick trees and bushes. It runs straight east and west and is heavily traveled. Just after dark a New York city taxicab drove up toward the main gate, went past, and vanished from sight among the trees along the highway. As soon as it was out of sight from the gate, the taxi pulled off the road and stopped in the shadows of the tall trees. The driver got out and moved quickly toward the fence around the Federal Cybernetics plant.

The driver was a small, dark man who wore the work clothes, leather jacket, and peaked cap of the New York taxi driver. He reached a spot at the fence from where he could see the front and side doors of the main laboratory building. There he crouched hidden and waited, the plastic badge of his trade catching the faint rays of light in the night. He did not have long to wait.

Almost as soon as he crouched, a black car drove up to the side door of the main laboratory building. The car stopped. A man got out and opened the rear door. As if on signal two more men came out of the laboratory building’s side door. Between them they held the arms of a blonde older woman. The woman limped noticeably as she was walked toward the waiting car.

In the bushes outside the fence the taxi driver came alert. The woman was pushed into the rear seat and one of the two men got in with her and closed the door. The other two men got into the front seat of the black car. The car moved off toward the main gate. The taxi driver watched as the car stopped at the main gate. The guards approached the car. After a brief talk, a presentation of badges and passes, the guards waved the car through the gate. The taxi driver ran for his hidden cab.

The driver reached his taxi just as the black car came into sight on the highway heading west.

The driver jumped into his cab and, when the black car had passed far enough ahead, pulled out of the trees and fell in line behind the black car. The taxi driver was an expert at trailing—this was clear all the time during the long chase far out on Long Island to the east of New York.

Twice the black car abruptly changed direction, taking roads that brought it east and north toward the North Shore of the island. Each time the taxi maintained its contact without being seen. Once, the taxi driver saw the black car turn onto a cross-island highway and did not follow it at all! He continued on the highway to a second turn-off. There the driver turned and drove smiling until he reached a point where this road intersected another north-south road. He stopped his cab and waited. A few minutes later, as if on signal, the black car appeared and went past.

Grinning, the taxi driver again took up the chase. His detailed knowledge of the highways of Long Island had given him the certain knowledge that the black car had to pass the point where he waited. In this way, with the skills of the trained pursuer, the taxi driver followed his quarry through the night.

The black car continued to drive slowly and carefully so as not to attract any attention. It drove east and north until it reached a secondary highway that ran along the North Shore and the calm water of Long Island Sound shining in the rising moon. The taxi driver continued to follow, but fell back now and bent slightly to speak into his dashboard.

“Agent Shrevnitz reporting to Control Central.”

The crisp and neutral voice of Burbank answered from the blue light of the control room in the complex of hidden rooms high above Park Avenue. “Report, Agent Shrevnitz.”

“Picked up car with Margo in disguise at Federal Cybernetics. Three men. Now driving along coast road east of Oyster Bay in the direction of Port Jefferson. There is no major turn-off for ten miles.”

“Very good,” Burbank said simply.

The hidden radio went silent. The taxi driver, Shrevnitz, continued his careful pursuit. The black car went on at its sedate pace, attracting no attention, clearly unaware of the cab behind it.

The moon was higher now above the trees that lined the rocky coast of the North Shore, its light reaching across the placid water of the Sound like a glittering path of silver. They passed through a few small villages, and on all sides of the road there were lights in the houses were people went about their evening pleasures unaware of the silent chase going on along the road. At a point some two miles west of Port Jefferson the taxi driver suddenly cocked his head to listen and looked up into the moonlit sky. There was a noise—the sound of a helicopter engine high up. A shadow passed across the moon like a great black bird flying. Then it was gone. But the driver smiled again and nodded to himself. The chase continued through Port Jefferson. The helicopter was gone. A mile beyond Port Jefferson, on a dark and secluded section of the road where there was a deep dip and the black car ahead was, for an instant, out of sight, a tiny red light flashed once at the side of the road among a thick shadow of trees. The taxi driver slowed his cab. He passed the spot at ten miles an hour. There was a faint sound, a movement of the air inside the taxi.

“Catch them, Shrevvie,” a deep voice said.

The taxi driver, Shrevvie, did not look around but stepped on his accelerator and drove fast up over the crest and out of the low spot in the road. For a time he drove with no thought but to make sure the black car did not escape. He did not look at the figure that now sat in the back seat of the cab—the black-garbed shape of The Shadow.

“There they are, Chief,” Moe Shrevnitz said.

“Good,” The Shadow said. “Continue to follow carefully.”

Shrevvie now looked back. “You made it fast. I heard the chopper go over.”

The Shadow’s eyes blazed. “I was standing by at the helicopter, Shrevvie. Margo is in danger, and I do not yet know why or who has her.”

“There was three of them, Chief. Foreign-looking types. They got out of the Federal Cybernetics place with no trouble, so they all must be known there.”

“It seems that way, Shrevvie,” The Shadow said grimly. “The question now is are they associated with Federal Cybernetics, or are they some outside unit that has infiltrated the company? From their actions it would seem that they are not part of the company. It would be more logical for members of the company to keep Margo at the plant.”

Shrevvie nodded. “Yeh, that would figure, Chief. Do you figure it’s good or bad?”

The Shadow’s eyes flashed. “If they are outside spies of some kind, it might be a break in the problem we face. It could be a good lead for us to the saboteurs. They are at Federal Cybernetics for some reason, Shrevvie.”

“Yeh, and they looked mighty anxious to get Margo out. The way I figure… .”

The Shadow’s voice was low and quick. “They are turning off, Shrevvie!”

Shrevvie immediately returned his attention to the road. The black car had turned into a narrow side road. It vanished among thick trees that lined the narrow macadam road. Shrevvie turned the taxi after the car. The small agent of The Shadow drove skillfully and carefully along the side road among the thick trees. He reached down now and pulled a small lever under the dashboard of the taxi. Instantly the sound of his engine fell almost to nothing—a faint purr that was muffled in the night and could not be heard for more than fifty yards. Even when it was heard it sounded more like the sound of wind in trees than the sound of a car engine. The taxi crept on along the narrow road.

“There, Chief,” Shrevvie said softly, and nodded ahead.

The black-top road straightened suddenly and led past a long and high stone wall. A tall iron-work gate was set in the wall. The gate opened and the black car went through.

“Stop now!” The Shadow snapped.

Shrevvie stopped.

“Drive off the road and out of sight,” The Shadow commanded.

Shrevvie drove off the road and the taxi faded into the trees and shadows. Ahead the tall gate had closed again. The Shadow, in the back seat of the taxi, concentrated his powers. He listened.

He smelled the air. His keen night sight studied the wall. His burning eyes stared ahead toward the gate.

“There are no guards on the gate,” The Shadow said softly. “It must be operated from the house. I can see the gables of a large mansion behind the wall. It is some kind of estate. There are dogs loose on the grounds, I can both hear and smell them. Otherwise all seems quiet. The car we have been trailing just parked at the rear of the mansion. They got out and have taken Margo into the house. They were expected, the door was opened for them.”

Shrevvie listened to all that his Chief could see and hear and smell while he, Shrevvie, could hear and see and smell nothing, and marveled again at the powers of the secret black-garbed Avenger. There was nothing that could escape The Shadow when he concentrated his powers.

“What do we do, Chief?”

“You remain here on guard, Shrevvie,” The Shadow said. “You can observe the road in both directions, and you can watch the gate at the same time from this spot.”

“And you?” Shrevvie asked.

The eyes of The Shadow flashed fire. “I am going over the wall, Shrevvie. I will release Margo and learn who these men are and what they are up to!”

“What about the dogs?” the small taxi driver said.

The laugh of The Shadow was low. “Dogs will not stop The Shadow, Shrevvie. Not animal dogs, nor human dogs!” The low laugh echoed in the dark night and the next instant Shrevvie was alone in the silent taxi parked among the trees outside the wall.

The Shadow was gone.

Something seemed to move in the night at the top of the wall. A vague shifting of light no one could have seen unless they were looking for it, and even then it seemed no more than a motion of the shadows of the night.

To Be Continued on Tuesday, at...
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