“You are taking care of me,” she whispered, snuggling soft, wet hair against his cheek.
“No, Betty. It isn’t right. I’ve failed three times tonight. I lost the most fiendish criminal who ever lived. I don’t know who he is. And now you’re here—”
“Where I would rather be than anywhere else!” Betty laughed almost gayly. “Why, pretty soon the water will rise far enough so we can swim to the top. Don’t you know where we are?”
“Somewhere in that old abandoned drainage system that runs along the river front,” “X” replied. “Thoth must have had the central portion of it converted for his own use. By now, I think we must be nearly out of the labyrinth part of it. But the water’s nearly up to your shoulders!” “X” raised Betty a little higher.
“We can swim for it in a minute,” said the girl cheerfully. “You know I can swim like a fish.”
And as the flow of water steadily increased, “X” knew that they must swim. If only the water did not stop flowing at such a level that they could reach neither the top nor the bottom. There was no telling how long they would have to wait for help.
SUDDENLY, Betty cried out, “I’ve found something! It’s a pipe sticking out of the wall!”
“X” groped for Betty and followed her wet arms until he, too, encountered the pipe several feet above the water’s level. It stuck out about two feet from the wall, he judged.
“Can you swim away a moment, just over to the wall?” asked “X.” “I may be able to get up on that pipe and reach the top of the pit.”
“Try it,” Betty urged.
“X” had no trouble in mounting the pipe; and when he had balanced himself upon it and reached out his arms full length, he could reach the edge of the hole. The edge was wet with the continual flood of water that was pouring down the passage, but there were rough, jagged pieces of stone and wood that seemed fastened solidly enough to offer good hand holds.
“Can we get out?” asked Betty.
“We can try.” “X” lowered himself until he was astride the pipe. “Give me your hand, Betty.”
“If I could only see you!”
“Feel along the surface of the pipe. Now get as close to the wall as possible.” “X” guided her with his hand, then pushed himself to the outer extremity of the pipe. In a moment he had lifted her from the water. But on standing up, Betty could not reach the edge of the pit. For both of them to stand upright on the pipe required some delicate balancing, but they managed nonetheless. Grasping Betty about the waist, he raised her slowly until she was able to crawl over the edge.
“I can hear voices!” called Betty. “Someone’s coming!”
“X” thrust up his arms and seized the rough stone edge. In a moment, he was beside Betty. Some one was shouting, “Miss Dale! Where are you?”
Betty called back.
“Sounded like Kaxton,” muttered “X.” “And am I dreaming, or is that a light?”
“It’s a light!”
Splashing hand in hand through the water, “X” and Betty hurried toward the ever nearing light. The passage ahead was filled with men with lanterns and flashlights. Old Thaddeus Penny, holding to the arms of Bert Kaxton and Inspector John Burks were foremost in the group. Behind them were Stanley Heidt, Damon Preston, and Thornton Beem as well as a large number of members of the police and fire department. “X” and Betty were surrounded.
“Get Miss Dale out of here as fast as you can!” ordered Inspector Burks to one of his men.
“X” gave Betty’s hand a quick squeeze that was an au revoir as she was taken from his side. Ahead of him, he could see firemen piling bags of sand into an opening in the side of the passage, damming the flow of water.
Burks was giving orders to his men to proceed cautiously, keep together, and take all prisoners alive if possible. Then pushing through the police and getting in the way in general was Stanley Heidt. Thornton Beem and Damon Preston followed him closely. Heidt’s eyes sought out Agent “X.” He fairly pounced upon him, seizing his hand in both his great paws. “Your name’s Robbins, Thaddeus tells me.”
“X” NODDED bewilderedly. Heidt’s broad, ugly face was split with a smile. Yet there was a teary look in his eyes as well.
“Got to thank you, Mr. Robbins,” he muttered awkwardly. “Marjorie says you were the one who got her out of that fiend’s clutches. Marjorie is my daughter. Thoth had been threatening to kidnap my daughter if I didn’t bring pressure to stop the police from interfering in his dirty game. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t strike back at a man I couldn’t see.
“That Sari Saphari was his envoy. I went to her apartment to try and buy off Thoth. Then, when I wasn’t bringing any pressure against the police, not that I didn’t try hard enough, Thoth made good his threat. He kidnaped my daughter. Then this evening I went to police headquarters with the whole thing.” Heidt clapped Preston on the shoulder. “Sorry, old man, about the way I acted the night of the Marcus party. I didn’t want you to offer a reward or do anything else that would encourage anyone to interfere with Thoth. I was afraid for Marjorie!”
Preston smiled. “Never mind, Heidt. I understand.” And taking “X’s” hand, he shook it gravely. “My congratulations, sir. Kaxton was telling me that you are the man of the hour.”
So the strange blonde girl whom “X” had rescued was Heidt’s daughter. To Agent “X,” that explained many things—Heidt’s attitude, and Betty’s capture by the Thoth slaves. The Neanderthals had been sent to Heidt’s house to kidnap Marjorie Heidt. Evidently, they had not found her at home. At the moment when they would have left the house, Betty had put in her appearance.
Both Heidt’s daughter and Betty were blonde and nearly the same build. To the dull-witted victims of Thoth, there would have seemed to be little difference between the two. They had kidnaped Betty by mistake. Then later, Thoth had managed to get hold of the real Marjorie Heidt.
Perhaps the fact that Heidt had been threatened also explained why Thornton Beem had shot the gas pistol from “X’s” hand the night of the Marcus party. Beem was in Heidt’s employ. Heidt might have ordered him to see that no one interfered with Thoth or the Neanderthals.
“X” glanced in the direction of Thornton Beem. The tall private detective’s jaw worked constantly, punishing chewing gum. His cynical eyes rested for a moment on “X’s” face. Then he turned away.
Suddenly, Inspector Burks and some of his men came running back up the passage. “Lower part’s flooded,” he shouted. “Kaxton says there was a mob of crooks down there. They’re finished now. It’ll take a week to pump that water out of there. You, Preston, Heidt, and that private shamus, get out of here! You’re just in the way. Kaxton, you take that blind man and get out! You—” Burks great hand dropped on “X’s” shoulder—“look a hell of a lot like Bill Ziek to me. Kaxton says Thaddeus Penny calls you Robbins. I don’t give a damn who you are if you helped those people get out of here! Know anything about this place? Used to be an old drainage system that the city engineers condemned about five years ago. Looked like an opening to an upper gallery of some sort back there. Know anything about it?”
“X” nodded. “I believe Thoth had his own personal headquarters on a higher level than the rest of the system. He may have managed to escape from there to the outside.”
“Look out!” It was Damon Preston who uttered a terrified cry. Knocking over a detective, he sprang up the passage. Almost at the same instant, “X” saw the occasion for Preston’s alarm. A brick had fallen from the roof of the passage. In another moment, a veritable avalanche of masonry followed. Half a dozen police were struck to the floor by the falling brickwork. Some were knocked unconscious. Others quickly scrambled from the debris.
Burks swore, gave harsh orders to his men to clear away the masonry and help the injured.
“Look!” Thornton Beem shouted. He was pointing at the opening that yawned in the ceiling. Police searchlights picked out a second passage directly above them.
“Kaxt
on, Heidt, Preston, and Beem!” roared Burks. “I told you to get out of here. Want to get hurt?”
KAXTON and Heidt joined Damon Preston, obediently retreating up the passage. But Thornton Beem had other ideas.
“Try and keep me out of this!” he shouted defiantly. “I’ve got a private investigator’s pass signed by Commissioner Foster. If I can get my hooks on that reward for nailing Thoth, you’ll have a sweet time stopping me!”
And in another moment, he had climbed the pile of fallen masonry, seized the edge of the opening, and pulled himself up.
“Idiot!” snarled Burks. “He might have pulled the whole works down on top of us!”
A stalwart policeman was standing beneath the opening, his hands linked in front of him, ready to give a leg-up to Inspector Burks. In another moment, Burks had scrambled through the opening. His beefy face re-appeared in a moment. “You, Robbins!” he hissed at “X,” “we may need you. Come along. And three of my men. Move!”
“X” quickly gained the upper passage where Burks waited.
“Ever been up here?” Burks asked in a whisper.
“X” shook his head and gave silent assistance to one of Burks’ men who was just coming up. Then the sound of footsteps coming down the passage. Burks beamed his flashlight. It centered on the face of Thornton Beem. The private detective whispered, “Can that light, Burks! There’s something directly ahead. I can see a light in the side of the passage. Maybe someone there.”
“Right!” whispered Burks. “Easy now. Don’t give anybody a chance for a get-away.”
It was Beem who took the lead, working his way along the passage quietly in the dark. In a moment, he turned, whispering almost in “X’s” ear, “Light ahead.”
They rounded a corner and suddenly came upon an open door. A small room beyond was lighted but empty. Along one wall was a row of switches, probably those used by Thoth to fire his dynamite charges that had resulted in flooding the lower passage.
Beem, Burks and Agent “X” tiptoed across the room toward a half-open door. Thornton Beem pushed the door slowly open. The trio held their breath.
There was a man in that room—a tall man standing in front of a desk, back to the door. On the desk was the ornate mask of Thoth.
Suddenly, the man whirled around. His right hand whipped up toward his shoulder and snatched out an automatic.
There was a dull plop. A surprised look came over the tall man’s face. His fingers, peeling away from the butt of his gun, clawed empty air as he pitched forward to the floor.
Beem, Burks and “X,” closely followed by the three detectives, hurried into the room. “X” saw a tiny whisp of oil vapor dribbling from the nose of Beem’s Haenel pneumatic pistol.
“Nice shooting, Beem,” commended Burks. “He’d have made trouble for us in a minute.”
Burks turned the man over. Squarely between the eyes was a small, round hole, drilled by the spool-shaped slug from Beem’s gun.
Agent “X” looked down at the face of the man still in death. It was the face of Count Vencelli! The square mustache on his upper lip was twisted slightly in a wry smile. “X” picked up the mask on the desk and turned it over. A small rubber cup made to fit perfectly over the nostrils was connected to a small square tank. The mask had been made so as to serve as an effective gas mask. Thoth had anticipated the interference of “X” and had been prepared for the anesthetizing gas.
“Here’s something,” called one of Burks’ men. He was bending over the desk looking at a small square of paper. Burks straightened up from the body of Count Vencelli and looked at the object of the detective’s attention. “X,” too, glanced at the piece of paper. It was sealed with the gold seal of Thoth.
“It’s a note,” declared Burks. “And from Thoth!” Aloud, he read:
“Thoth still lives.”
A strained chuckle passed Burks’ lips. “Oh, he does, does he?” He glanced down at the inert form of Count Vencelli.
Thornton Beem, cracking gum, was leaning against the desk, breaking his Haenel gun to insert another slug. His eyes were frigid.
There was a far-away, thoughtful look in the eyes of Agent “X.” “Yes,” he whispered to himself. “Thoth still lives!”
Chapter XIII
“YOU ARE THOTH!”
NEARLY a week had passed since the inundation of Thoth’s headquarters and the shooting of Count Vencelli. Newspapers still abounded with the copy concerning the dreadful scourge of Thoth and his Neanderthals who had terrorized the city. Each day brought fresh discoveries of bodies as water was pumped from the old river-front sewer where the monster had dealt in his terror-traffic.
But in the United Charities Hospital was an excitement of a different sort. An enterprising group of men, headed by Damon Preston had been canvassing the town for the past year, soliciting funds for equipping what was to be the greatest bacteriological laboratory in the world. The quota had been reached, the laboratory built, and equipment was being set up.
The same paper that pictured Thornton Beem beside his new super-car that he had purchased with part of the reward money for bringing Thoth back dead, also contained a tiny item headed:
UNITED CHARITIES LAB NEARS COMPLETION
As a matter of fact, all workmen had left the laboratory with the exception of a single, overalled electrician who was finishing up a few floor sockets. Crouching beside a monstrous Berkeley-Saunders centrifuge that was mounted on a broad steel base, the electrician was hard at work. Now and then Dr. Yan, the bald little director of the hospital would bob into the laboratory to rub his hands gleefully and ask how the work was coming.
The electrician was a sober man with a strong, hard-bitten face. He had few words for Dr. Yan—only an occasional grunt.
As the laboratory clock neared four, Dr. Yan came in again, clinging to the arm of Damon Preston.
“Is the job nearly done?” inquired Preston eagerly.
“Yes, the job is nearly done,” the electrician sighed. From his kit, he took out a long electric cable that branched to many tiny wires. This he connected to an odd-shaped box which in turn he plugged into one of the floor sockets.
“What’s that cable for?” demanded Dr. Yan, stooping over the electrician.
The man in overalls did not answer at once. Instead, he straightened up, lighted a cigarette and sauntered to the door.
“Look here, you’re not quitting before the work is done?” demanded Dr. Yan.
“No, doctor,” replied the workman softly. “Before I leave, the job will be done. It will be a good job, too.” The electrician closed the door of the laboratory and locked it. When he turned around facing the doctor and Damon Preston, there was a deadly-looking pistol in his hand.
An oath dropped from Preston’s lips. Dr. Yan uttered a frightened squeal.
“Now, to finish!” came the electrician’s sinister whisper. “Hands up, both of you!”
Both men obeyed. “What is this? A hold-up?” Preston asked.
The electrician shook his head. “No. And I beg pardon for contradicting the learned doctor who called that peculiar looking thing I just connected a cable,” he said mockingly. “If you have been reading the accounts of the Thoth affair in the papers, you may have heard of an electric lash. That ‘cable,’ gentlemen, is an electric lash!”
“Quick, Yan!” Preston hissed. “Your gun! This man is Thoth!”
Dr. Yan made an effort to get out his gun. But it was scarcely out of his pocket before the electrician fired. The well-aimed slug knocked the small automatic from Yan’s fingers and left them nerveless.
“I have,” continued the electrician’s mocking voice, “upon occasion, called myself Thoth, Mr. Preston. However, I am simply known as Marklay, your electrician. Fortunately, this splendid laboratory is soundproof. None will hear the screams of my victim—the real Thoth, the most inhuman fiend who ever lived!
“At last I have tracked him down. Count Vencelli was not Thoth. He was merely, as Donna Magyar was, a lieutenant of
the master criminal. Perhaps he returned to Thoth’s office in an effort to make off with the loot of all the terrible Thoth crimes. I am not sorry that Vencelli is dead—but he was not Thoth!”
“The—man is mad!” stuttered Dr. Yan.
“What made it so difficult for me to track down Thoth, was Thoth’s clever ability to divert suspicion. That was the chief reason for his threatening Stanley Heidt. He knew that Heidt’s bulldozing methods of trying to enforce a hands-off policy would undoubtedly attract suspicion. It was for that reason that Thoth held Marjorie Heidt as a threat against Heidt—not because he feared the police. The police were powerless to cope with Thoth, for they battle with hardened criminals, not mere things that do not deserve the name of man.
“AFTER I had talked with you, Dr. Yan, I was certain that the information and drugs for producing the dreaded artificial ostectis came from this hospital. You were the greatest authority on endocrine gland disorders in the city. But which of you was the man who directed the hideous soul-snatching racket? That I learned only a few nights ago.”
“What do you mean?” asked Preston fearfully.
“I mean that nature never combines the qualities of a hero and a coward in the same man. Only once did I call myself Thoth. Upon that occasion, I was in Police Commissioner Foster’s office. I threatened to blow up the headquarters building if Foster did not give me certain information. Foster is a brave man as are most of those associated with the police; yet Foster feared that I would carry out my threat. Only one man in that office had the magnificent courage to attack me.
“Courage, Preston, that is what I thought at the time. But when a few nights later, I saw you save yourself from a few falling bricks in the passage of Thoth’s headquarters at the expense of the safety of another man, I knew you were fundamentally a coward. I knew that you knew that I was bluffing that day in police headquarters. How did you know I was not the dreaded Thoth? Because you, Damon Preston, were Thoth!”
Secret Agent X - The Complete Series Volume 5 Page 49