Chapter VII SIRENS IN THE NIGHT *
As the echoes of the shot died in the room, Bob realized that he had beenfoolish in throwing the inkwell. It had unduly alarmed the other man andplaced his own life in jeopardy. The slug from the gun had come muchcloser than Bob wanted it to.
There was only one consolation. The shot should attract the attention ofthe guards on duty in the building and within a minute they should be atthe door, battering their way in. Against superior numbers Bob felt thatthe intruder would not put up a resistance with gun play.
Bob stared at the windows. The head and shoulders of the unknown haddisappeared and the distant noises of the street were clearer now,drifting in through the broken window.
Merritt Hughes should arrive at almost any minute and Bob felt that thewise and sensible thing now was to play as safe as possible and await thearrival of help.
Crouched down between the desks, he was in a position to watch the filewith the radio documents and he knew that if they were molested he wouldfight with all his strength to protect them.
As the seconds passed into minutes Bob felt his muscles tensing and hisnerves becoming tighter.
There was no sound in the room; there had been no sound since the echoesof the shot had died away. Had his missile disabled the other man; hadthe shot been fired involuntarily? They were questions he couldn'tanswer.
Why didn't a night guard appear in the corridor outside? Bob believedthat he would have risked a call for help if anyone passed. But strain ashe might, he could hear no one outside the door.
Then Bob broke into a cold sweat. The man who had fired the shot wasalmost beside him.
Bob had been so intent upon listening for some sound in the corridor thathe had failed to hear the unknown crawling toward his own hiding place.
Bob sensed, rather than saw, what was happening. He could hear the steadybreathing of the other and he held his own breath. Would the man crawl ondown the room toward the doorway or would he turn in between the deskswhere Bob had sought shelter?
The dark blob that was the other's head and shoulders appeared betweenthe desks and Bob waited for an agonizing interval. Then the figure movedon and Bob could breathe once more.
That had been a close call.
Then came another sound that brought Bob back to the alert. There was thefaint shrilling of a siren.
Was it a fire alarm? Bob listened intently. No, it was sharper, morepenetrating. A police car. That was it!
It was evident that the other man had also heard the night alarm for Bobheard a muffled exclamation. He doubted if it was an alarm turned in byhis uncle for his protection, but at least it was enough to alarm themarauder and Bob's muscles snapped back to steelly tension. He had goneso far now that he had no intention of allowing the other to escape atthe last minute.
The steady wail of the siren drew nearer as down on the avenue thespeeding machine dashed through traffic lights and skidded past othermachines which were pulling over to give it the right of way.
The siren rose to a crescendo and then died to a wail as the police carswayed to a stop somewhere below and Bob knew then that rescue was near.His uncle, feeling the need for quick re-enforcements, had evidentlycalled on the Washington police and commandeered a cruising radio car.
From somewhere out of the darkness came a low, deadly voice.
"Listen, kid, this spot is getting tough. Give me the key to this door orI'm going to turn this gun loose and it will be just too bad if I getyou. I've got plenty of extra clips and I'm going out of here on my feet.Give me that key!"
Bob knew there was no time to lose for there was a ring of panic in theother's voice and you never could tell what a panic-stricken man woulddo.
The desks afforded little protection from a barrage of bullets and Bobquickly edged his way out from behind them and in between two steelfiling cases. While these were not intended to be bullet proof, at leastthey were much better than oak desks.
"Did you hear me?" called the voice from near the doorway. "Give me thatkey."
Bob slipped his hands into his pockets, and pulled out a key ring. Thekey to his own room was somewhat similar to the one that fitted the doorof this office. He quickly detached this and tossed it toward the door.
He couldn't afford to cry out now for he knew the man near the door wouldshoot. The key fell on the floor and he could hear the frantic efforts ofthe other to locate it. Then came a gasp of relief from the unknown andBob heard him fumbling at the keyhole, trying to insert the key and turnit in the lock.
There was a sharp cry from the man at the door.
"You've tricked me. Give me the right key. Give it to me!" The voice wasnearing a hysterical pitch and Bob smiled grimly.
The man couldn't stand the dark and the certain knowledge that outsidemen were speeding toward that very room, men who would shoot first andask questions afterward.
Bob wondered whether tossing another key would again trick the man at thedoor.
Before he could decide there was a stab of flame in the blackness and abullet crashed through the desks where he had been hiding.
"Come on; give me that key!" The voice was hysterical now, a scream thatcut through the room and echoed out the shattered window.
Down below another police siren was ebbing as a second car pulled up atthe curb and disgorged its load of armed men, who rushed into thebuilding to follow the lead of the first detail.
Bob faintly heard elevator doors clang open. It would be only seconds nowuntil they were at the door, beating their way in.
By this time Bob's eyes were well accustomed to the darkness and he coulddistinguish the shadow of the man crouched near the door, listening nowto the pounding of the police as they charged up the long corridor.
"Bob, Bob! Where are you?"
It was Merritt Hughes and Bob thrilled at the voice of his uncle. Thendismay filled him for he knew what would happen if they broke down thedoor and charged into the room for a trapped man is always dangerous.
Fists beat against the door and two ribbons of flame streaked from thegun, the bullets crashing through the door and out into the corridor.
Bob couldn't help shouting a warning.
"Keep away; he's desperate!"
The answer to that was another shot into the desks where he had beenhiding and Bob knew that the man felt sure he was still hiding there.
There was a sudden silence in the corridor and Bob knew that his uncleand the police were conferring on the best way to break into the room. Ashe listened he saw the man near the door moving, backing down into theroom where Bob was hiding and if he kept on coming he would pass within afoot or less of Bob.
Bob felt his muscles tightening and he breathed deeply. If he could onlydisable the unknown, it would solve what promised to become a highlydangerous situation.
The man was coming noiselessly, in his stocking feet, his head cockedtoward the door where he listened for some further move.
A yard, two feet and now only inches separated them. Bob was ready. Hishands shot out and caught the other man in a steelly grasp that choked aninvoluntary cry from him. At the same time Bob kicked with all of hisstrength. The blow caught the other man behind the knees and Bob couldfeel him crumpling.
The gun, which he had feared the most, clattered to the floor and theywere on equal terms, ready now to fight hand to hand.
As they fell the other man twisted about and Bob knew that his adversarywas no weakling. He could feel the muscles of the other man's armstightening and a short, sickening blow that started at the floor caughthim on the chin.
Bob was weak all over for a moment, an interval just long enough to givethe other a chance to collect his wits. Then Bob was at him again, hisarms held in close, his fists raining blows like a trip hammer. They werehard, fierce jabs that would have rocked an ordinary man to sleep in lessthan ten seconds. He heard the other gasp as a right caught him in themidriff, but
he came back for more.
Fighting in the dark was dangerous business. A wild blow might send hishand crashing into a steel case or against a desk and his knuckles mightbe broken but it was a chance Bob had to take and he slammed away with awill.
Suddenly the man went limp. Bob caught him, fearing a ruse, and shot homeone more hard right. Then he knew that the other was out--out cold, andhe suddenly went weak himself.
Fists were beating against the door.
"Open up, open up!" It was Merritt Hughes' voice.
Bob managed a reply.
"Coming," he called. "Just a minute."
"You all right?" demanded the federal agent, but Bob was too weak andtired to reply.
Somehow he managed to dig the key out of his pocket and with tremblingfingers he found the keyhole, inserted the key and turned the lock. Thedoor burst open to reveal Bob standing on wavering legs, and MerrittHughes caught him just as he collapsed.
Agent Nine Solves His First Case: A Story of the Daring Exploits of the G Men Page 7