Agent Nine Solves His First Case: A Story of the Daring Exploits of the G Men

by Graham M. Dean

  Chapter XX ON A LONELY STREET *

  Uncle and nephew stared at each other across the litter of dishes and fora moment neither was able to speak.

  "Bob, Bob, how did you get mixed up in this thing? What have you done?"There was anxiety and agony in every word that came from the lips of thefederal agent.

  Bob's eyes widened.

  "But surely you don't think I took this? I couldn't have done that."

  His uncle waved his hands impatiently.

  "No, no, Bob. Of course that wasn't what I meant. I spoke hastily. You'reclean enough in this thing. What I want to know is how did that paper getinto your coat pocket and how long has it been there."

  "I only wish I knew," retorted Bob, the color surging back into hischeeks.

  He stared steadily at the paper on the table before him. It wasincredible that it could have been in his coat pocket all during the longhours of the frantic search for it. Yet it must have been, for there hadbeen no opportunity for anyone to slip it into his coat recently.

  "I think the discovery of the paper in your pocket explains themysterious attacks which have been aimed at you," said his uncle slowly."Certainly it was the reason for the rifling of your room and the attemptto kidnap you this morning. What a dumb-bell I was not to have guessedsomething like this before. It's as plain as day now."

  "I wish I could see it that way," replied Bob, shaking his head.

  "The paper has been in your pocket ever since you encountered thatmarauder in the office last night. During the tussle he slipped it intoyour coat pocket when he realized that his capture was inevitable."

  "That sounds plausible," agreed Bob. "Why didn't I search my ownclothes?"

  "Because that was the last place in the world we would have surmised thatpaper had been hidden. What chumps we have been." The federal agent lookgloomy.

  "Well, I guess we might as well get going. We'll report this directly tothe chief and see what he has to say about it."

  "Will he be on the job during the evening?"

  "When a case like this breaks he practically lives in his office. He'llbe there all right."

  They left the restaurant, secured a taxi, and drove rapidly toward theDepartment of Justice building.

  Bob, catching the reflection of lights behind them in the mirror at thefront, looked back.

  "Someone's following us," he said.

  The federal agent turned quickly. There was no mistake. A car severalhundred feet to the rear was making every turn their own machine took.

  Merritt Hughes leaned ahead and spoke to the driver.

  "We're being trailed. Step on it. I'll take care of any officers who tryto stop us."

  "Nothing doin', mister. I'm not getting myself into trouble. We'restopping right here."

  The driver slammed on the brakes and swung his car toward the curb, but acurt command from Bob's uncle stopped him.

  "Get this car under way. I'm a federal agent and I'm in no mood to haveyou playing any tricks. Wheel this buggy for the Department of Justicebuilding and make it snappy." At the same time he thrust the littleemblem of his office under the driver's nose.

  The motor of the taxi roared as the driver tramped on the accelerator andtheir vehicle leaped ahead, widening the distance between the car whichwas trailing them. They took a corner so fast the tires screeched inprotest and Bob wondered whether the other machine would be able to makethe turn.

  Looking back he saw the car swing wildly, veer toward the far side of thestreet, and finally straighten out in pursuit of them.

  "You seem to spell 'trouble' with capital letters," said the federalagent as he joined Bob in peering out the window. "Maybe you'd bettergive me that paper. They know you've got it and if we get in a jamthey'll try and get it away from you."

  Bob handed over the paper and his uncle slipped it into a small leatherportfolio which he carried in an inside pocket of his coat.

  The taxi swung wildly around another corner and the brakes screeched as astring of red lights barred their way. The street was undergoing repairs.

  The driver of their vehicle jammed on his brakes just as the pursuingmachine lurched around the corner.

  "Keep on going!" cried Bob's uncle, grabbing the driver by the shoulderand shaking him roughly. "Keep on!"

  It was a command the driver dared not disobey, and their car leaped aheadonce more, aimed straight at the first of the red lights.

  Their headlights revealed a wooden barrier, but there was no stopping nowand the taxi crashed into the stringers. Several red lights were bowledover as the barrier went down. Then they were bouncing along over theuneven paving, the wheels dropping into deep ruts.

  Bob turned and looked behind them. The pursuing car had stopped at thebarrier and he could see men leaping out. It was evident that theyintended to pursue the chase, even on foot.

  "I'm wrecking this car," cried the taxi driver in protest as they strucka particularly deep rut.

  "Keep going; don't worry about the car!" cried Merritt Hughes. "We've gotto get out of this trap."

  The engine of the taxi groaned in protest of the punishment which it wasundergoing, but it labored on, dragging the heavy vehicle out of one holeand into another.

  Bob kept his eyes on the pursuers, who were now plainly revealed in thelights from the other car. They seemed to be gaining on the strugglingtaxi.

  "We'd better take a chance on foot," he warned his uncle.

  "It's only a little ways to the end of this construction work. If we canget that far, we'll soon outdistance them," replied Merritt Hughes. "Ifwe get stalled, make a break for it. Don't worry about me. Once you getclear go directly to the Department of Justice and report in person toWaldo Edgar."

  "But we'll have a better chance together," protested Bob.

  "No. We'll go it alone," his uncle decided. "That will confuse them andone of us is bound to get away."

  "But how about the radio secret?"

  "We've got to chance that. But remember that you are the one they'll beafter. Maybe that's putting you on the spot, but I've got to do it now.It's our only chance."

  The headlights of the taxi showed the end of the construction work. Asmooth street was less than 100 feet ahead of them, but Bob thought theremainder of the distance they must go looked even rougher than thatportion of the street they had negotiated so far.

  He looked behind again. Several dim shadows, the men chasing them, weredodging down the street. He doubted if they were gaining now.

  The taxi dropped into a deep rut and the engine groaned. The drivershifted gears with a clash that racked the entire car and the wheels spunin the rut. Then they shot into reverse, but the wheels couldn't climbout.

  "We're stuck!" cried the driver. "I'm unloading."

  With a single motion of his hand he struck the ignition switch and themotor, overheated and steaming, sputtered and died. The headlights alsowent out and Bob saw the now dim bulk of the cab driver leap away fromthe car and vanish.

  "Get out, Bob. Duck and keep low. Make for the side of the street. Here'swhere we separate."

  The order was accompanied by a firm shove toward the door and then Bobwas rolling in the street, for he had missed his step and fallen. Heheard the door on the other side of the cab open and knew that his unclehad made his escape at least for the time.