Secret Agent X - The Complete Series Volume 5

by Paul Chadwick

  Raising his voice, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Thoth! Thoth! I am going to escape!”

  Chapter VI

  A STRANGE ALIAS

  “X” WAITED a moment and repeated his cry, knowing that it must bring some one. Then in a few seconds he saw feeble rays of light which brightened suddenly as a man stepped around the corner. “X” shrank into the shadows. The man paused and cursed huskily. Then he did exactly what the Agent had expected him to do: he tried the door of the mirror room, found it unlocked, and opened it. “X” sprang from his hiding place, his gas gun ready. Startled by the sound of the sudden movement behind him, the man turned from the torture chamber to bump against the nose of the Agent’s gas gun.

  “Put your hands up and get back in there!” “X” commanded softly.

  Raising his hands, and the electric lantern he carried, the man stepped back into the room of mirrors. “X” followed him into the room and closed the door. His voice was an icy, even tone as he said:

  “If you value your life, you will do exactly as I tell you.”

  The man gasped. “You ain’t one of the slaves!”

  “X” looked down into the thin, emaciated face with the twisted lips and broken nose. The man’s skin was slightly yellow as if he had been suffering from jaundice. He aimed his gas pistol on the man’s face. “You’re Mark Voinoff, aren’t you?”

  The man’s eyes goggled. “You know me? You must be a dick.”

  “I am not a detective.” Then “X” asked: “Who is Thoth?”

  The man shook his head. “No one knows. You gotta believe me, mister!”

  “Where is this place?” asked “X.”

  Again Voinoff shook his head. “No one but Thoth and a couple of the high-ups know that. We’re all blinded before we’re brought here or taken away. To try to find a way out of this place would drive a guy crazy!”

  Agent “X” could well believe that. “How did you happen to hear me calling?”

  “My room is near here. I heard yelling and thought I’d take a look.”

  “You are employed by Stanley Heidt?” asked “X” quietly, trying to take the man off his guard.

  “Not any more. I used to run rum for him. But I don’t work for him any more since he’s gone highbrow unless—unless—” Voinoff’s lips snapped shut.

  “I understand.” “X” nodded his head slowly. “Now, are all of Thoth’s slaves victims of this snatch racket of his?”

  “Nope. Some of them are the men who Thoth hired to fix up this place. He didn’t want them to talk so he fixed ’em. They’re as nuts as the others. They’re mostly blind, too. Thoth gave them an extra dose of that ray that blinds you before you get in this place.”

  “How are the victims snatched? Drugged first, then kidnapped?”

  “Yeah, then fixed up so they look like you after they’re brought here. Only, I think you’re a phony. Maybe you’re that guy called ‘X.’ If you are, Thoth’ll fix you for sure when he catches you. And don’t think you’ll get out of here!”

  “X” prodded Voinoff with his gas pistol. “You’ll pass through that door and lead me to your room at once.”

  “What you think you’re goin’ to do?”

  “Get on!” “X’s” voice rang with an authority that few were able to resist.

  Voinoff turned from the torture room and led off down the twisting, turning, branching passage. Before a steel door, he paused.

  “Your room?” asked “X.” “Open it up. And this better not be a trick.”

  THE man obeyed. They entered a room, lighted by an electric globe and containing a small bunk and a chair. It was entirely without windows.

  “Now,” said “X,” “you’re through!” Voinoff must have seen the Agent’s finger tightening on the trigger of the gas gun for he uttered a shriek that finished in a low moan as the powerful anesthetizing gas carried him into oblivion.

  Then Agent “X” took from the inner pocket of the skin garment, his compact make-up kit. The face of Voinoff would be quite easy to reproduce, and after listening to the man talk, “X” would have no trouble in imitating his voice to perfection. He was more than glad to remove the make-up material that had made his features like those of a Neanderthal.

  It required him but about ten minutes to change his face so that it resembled Voinoff’s and to discard the fur garment for Voinoff’s suit. Then he carried the unconscious Voinoff to the bunk and stretched him out on it. Tying up the man would only have been an unnecessary precaution, in as much as the gas would keep the mobster unconscious for from six to eight hours.

  “X” had no sooner transferred his special equipment to his pocket than he heard a knock at the door.

  The agent hurriedly threw the bedclothes over Voinoff and went to the door. He opened it only far enough to thrust out his head. It was then that his make-up was given an exhaustive test; for he found himself staring into a powerful electric torch held in the hands of a man that he could not see.

  “Thoth wants to see you about a job,” a smooth voice spoke. “Come along with me.”

  Sure of himself, the Agent followed the masked man into the corridor, having carefully closed the door of Voinoff’s room behind him.

  The room into which he was led was a large one. Several of the Thoth slaves were squatted on the floor. In addition, there were three underworld characters whom “X” recognized as men formerly interested in rackets. Thoth himself was there, pacing slowly back and forth in the room, light gleaming on his ornate mask.

  As “X” and the masked man who had accompanied him entered, Thoth stopped and turned in his tracks. The slit eyes in his grotesque mask were full upon the Agent. There was no sign of suspicion in them—only cunning and cruelty. Evidently, the Agent’s cry from the door of the Room of Ugliness had been heard only by Voinoff.

  “Voinoff,” came Thoth’s muffled voice, “the board of directors of the Garrison National Bank is holding a special meeting tonight, as you know. You will take four of the slaves to their offices in the bank building and force members of the board to admit you into the vault of the bank. All arrangements have been made. You should find considerable money on hand in the bank. But more important than that, bring Mr. Cole, president of the board, back with you. He is the type of a man we are looking for and he will pay us a handsome ransom. Make sure that you yourself run no risks. You understand?”

  “X” nodded. He understood the malformed slaves were to be made to take the risks. It mattered little whether they lived or died.

  “How do you know,” asked “X” respectfully, “that this time the slaves will not revolt and refuse to do your command in as much as you are not going with them?”

  “A perfectly unnecessary question,” replied Thoth. “The slaves know that when they have acted according to my wishes over a period of time, they will be returned to normal health and mentality.”

  AGENT “X” understood. The Neanderthals, deformed in body and mind, were thoroughly unscrupulous, willing to do anything that Thoth told them to do under the belief that they would some day gain freedom in full from the mysterious blight that made them what they were. Freedom and normalcy would be the reward of their servitude. But could Thoth give back what he had taken away? “X” doubted it.

  “There is not the slightest need for hesitation, Voinoff,” said Thoth irritably. “You and I have been over this plan recently. You should know it by heart.”

  “X” nodded. He was taken to a little adjoining room where once again he faced the electrical device that had been used to blind him when he had first entered Thoth’s headquarters.

  He understood that this device was an advance type of electric ray, similar, in its power to blind, to the ordinary copper arc, but of much greater power. The masked man who seemed to be Thoth’s lieutenant watched “X” narrowly. This time there was no attempt made to clamp his head in the machine. He was evidently supposed to face the copper electrodes voluntarily. If he closed his eyes against the penetrating ray,
the masked man would be certain to notice it. Then the Agent’s deception would be at an end.

  In a bantering tone “X” said, as he approached the machine, “Some day somebody will close their eyes when you turn on the juice and go out of here so as to learn just where this dump is!”

  The masked man laughed. “I hardly think anyone would be that foolish. One man tried it. Thoth performed a little operation that prevented the unfortunate man from ever trying it again. Thoth removed the man’s eyelids!”

  “X” saw that there was nothing to do but face the electrodes. What if Thoth had detected some tiny flaw in “X’s” make-up? How easy it would be for the monster to blind “X” first then play with his helpless enemy as a cat would play with a mouse. Perhaps for the first time since he had undertaken this task, he realized how formidable his enemy was.

  The masked man touched a switch. Blue-green lightning flashed between the electrodes, seeming to pierce the Agent’s very brain. Then came the hopeless dark, the long stumbling walk through dizzy corridors, led by a hand he could not feel. As he had entered, so he left the presence of the mighty Thoth.

  At length, the rope which had been used to lead “X” from the Thoth headquarters was released. Without a word, the mysterious person who had led him out walked away. Agent “X” groped about, his hands encountering nothing. But gradually, his sight returned.

  He found himself in a large garage and apparently alone. In the center of the floor stood a light delivery truck. “X” walked over to the truck and opened the door slightly. Inside were four Thoth slaves as yet unrecovered from the blinding effects of the ray. “X” hastily locked the door of the truck. Evidently, Thoth had given exact instructions to Voinoff as to how the proposed robbery was to be performed. But Agent “X” had quite a different plan in mind. He quietly opened the door of the garage, got in the truck, and started it.

  It was eleven o’clock as “X” drove down the street to the nearest police station, parked the car of mad killers near by, and entered a drug store. There he phoned the precinct police station and informed the desk sergeant that he would find a truck load of Neanderthal men in a closed truck not more than half a block away. Then he hung up without giving any name, and hurried from the store to his nearest hideout.

  THE EVENING of the following day found Agent “X” once more in the office which he had leased under the name of A.J. Martin. On the desk in front of him was a stack of medical books most of which related to disorders of the ductless glands. A young woman who was a member of the Hobart staff, sometimes acted as secretary to Martin. It was she who had obtained these special books for him. All that day “X” had been engaged in a fruitless search of the city, trying by the costly method of trial and error, to locate the headquarters of Thoth.

  Unchecked and apparently unworried by the deceptive trick “X” had played upon him, Thoth had continued his fiendish work. Yet another mysterious disappearance that looked like the work of Thoth had been reported to the Bureau of Missing Persons. This time it had been a wealthy broker. In other quarters of the city bestial attacks by the mad Neanderthal men had been reported as well as crimes involving daring robbery. “X” knew that very likely the disappearance of the broker was only one of several such kidnapings that had occurred that day.

  For always Thoth was careful to pick his victims from those living alone in the world—victims that ordinary kidnapers would have not known how to bleed. By what process Thoth had reduced his victims to such pitiable deformities, he had yet to learn. That was the chief reason for the medical books upon his desk.

  As he put aside one book to pick up another, a surprised expression crossed the face of Agent “X.” The book he had just picked up was entitled, disorders of the endocrine glands by Dr. Alexis Yan. Charities Hospital! The Agent jerked a telephone to his desk and hurriedly called a number.

  “Hello, Hobart,” he said shortly when he had been put through to Jim Hobart. “Get me some information about Dr. Alexis Yan of the United Charities Hospital. This is urgent!” And “X” cut the connection only long enough to permit Hobart to hang up. Then he called Harvey Bates. Bates, always within reach of the phone, answered immediately.

  “That information from T.S. come through yet?” he demanded, referring to Timothy Scallot, the Bates operative who was employed at police headquarters.

  Bates replied: “T.S. reports that Commissioner Foster is negotiating with an informer who offers to sell knowledge concerning the identity of Thoth.”

  “And the name of this informer?”

  “It has been kept a secret. Only Foster knows it. Foster is trying to protect his informer.”

  No sooner had “X” hung up than Jim Hobart called. His information regarding Dr. Yan was somewhat sketchy. As a matter of fact, little was known of the doctor’s past life except that he had been forced to leave Russia because of hideous biological experiments in which he had attempted to crossbreed man and monkey.

  Closer investigation of Yan was imperative. However, the foremost idea in the Agent’s mind was to learn the name of Foster’s informer. Accordingly, “X” set about changing his make-up with the greatest possible speed. The commonplace features of A.J. Martin were transformed into a face that boasted a prominent nose, cleft chin, and high cheek bones. A change of toupees and sandy hair had become coarse, black hair. From a metal file, “X” took counterfeit credentials which proclaimed him Detective Sergeant Manning of Chicago.

  Half an hour later, these forged credentials admitted him to the office of the police commissioner.

  Having gravely examined the credentials which “X” handed him, Foster extended his hand to shake the hand of the man who claimed to be Sergeant Manning. He passed cigars. “X” accepted one, bit off the end and lighted it. For a moment, he puffed in silence. Then Foster spoke abruptly:

  “Nothing but a matter of the gravest importance could have occasioned your coming to New York on the spur of the moment, sergeant. Suppose you tell me all about it.”

  “X” shifted the cigar to the other side of his mouth. His long fingers drummed on the commissioner’s desk. Foster looked annoyed.

  “Well?” urged the commissioner.

  “Of the greatest importance, sir,” said Agent “X.” “We have been watching with considerable interest the activities of this Thoth who has been terrorizing your city during the past weeks. I understand that you at last have a lead to his identity—a stool pigeon who offers to sell you information.”

  FOSTER was greatly puzzled. He leaned across the desk and examined “X” with the most careful scrutiny. Agent “X” returned the commissioner’s gaze solidly enough. Nevertheless, he was not unaware of the dangerous position in which he had placed himself. He had outwitted the brilliant Foster upon so many occasions that he knew the commissioner would be extremely wary.

  “It’s beyond me, Sergeant Manning, how this information ever reached your ears. Naturally, we have most carefully guarded our proposed plans, in the campaign against this criminal.”

  “You do not deny that what I say is perfectly true—you are about to purchase information concerning Thoth?” .

  Foster nodded slowly. “You have stated the matter exactly. You see, we have made absolutely no headway toward cleaning up this business of strange disappearances and monster-maniacs. Any information about the fiend who is behind it all must not be overlooked. Admitting that I have been negotiating with an informer, may I ask just how this concerns you?”

  Agent “X” exhaled smoke. “Commissioner Foster, it would be to your interest to tell me the name of the person from whom you propose to buy this information. You see, there are always so many charlatans who readily agree to sell information that they do not possess, that I must warn you—”

  Foster sprang to his feet. “Sergeant Manning, I cannot believe that your superior sent you to ask any such absurd questions! Actually, your question implies that we are not capable of attending to our own business! You may rest assured that I am cer
tain of the reliability of the source of this information for which I am willing to pay. As to naming the informer, that is beside the point. I am unable to see how you can assist us in this matter, and of course we can take no risk that would jeopardize the life of our informer!” Foster sank back into his chair, his eyes flashing angrily. “If that is why you came here,” he said more quietly, “you may consider our interview at an end.”

  Agent “X” smiled deceptively. Placing both hands on the desk, he stood up and leaned forward. “Commissioner Foster,” he said softly, “I have no intention of leaving this office until you have given me this information—voluntarily or involuntarily. I must have it.”

  The commissioner’s lips drew in a thin, firm line. “You would threaten me, sir? Just who are you, sir?”

  “X” did not reply at once. He drew from his pocket a flat black metal box. Foster stared at the metal box; and as he stared, his eyes started from their sockets and his jaw slowly dropped. From the metal box on his desk came a rapid ticking sound as sinister as the click of a death watch.

  “Good Lord!” Foster breathed. “Are you mad? That—that’s a bomb!”

  Agent “X” smiled slightly. “Your powers of observance are a credit to the department you represent, commissioner,” he whispered. “Yes, that is a bomb. And unless the information which I desire is forthcoming immediately, I shall be forced to blow up police headquarters and everyone in it. You see, the name of the informer in whom you rely is a matter of life and death to me.”

  Foster’s lips moved mechanically, “You—you are—”

  Agent “X” nodded. “Yes, I am the man you are seeking. The credentials which deceived you were forged. I am the man.” “X” drew himself up proudly. “I, Commissioner Foster, am Thoth!”