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

by Graham M. Dean

  Chapter XXII THE LONE STRUGGLE *

  All thoughts of escaping in the car vanished from Bob's mind on theechoes of the shot, which meant that his uncle had been discovered, thathe was a target for gunfire from the guns of their pursuers.

  The young federal agent swung about in his tracks and started back downthe street, stumbling over the piles of debris as he raced forward,forgetful now of any danger to himself and thinking only of his chance tohelp his uncle protect the precious paper which was in his possession.

  From the vicinity of the stalled taxi cab guns were barking steadily nowand Bob paused.

  The scarlet flashes marked the night and the sharp reports from the gunsrang back and forth between the high-walled street. Bob counted threeguns in action, all directed toward a darker mass near the far end of thestreet.

  Then another gun joined in the fusillade, this time from what apparentlywas a pile of debris and from its heavy roar Bob knew that it was hisuncle's automatic.

  Merritt Hughes, who had made his way cautiously toward the far end of thestreet, had been discovered just before he could make a final break tosafety. After the first shot from the guns of his pursuers, he had takenrefuge behind a pile of bricks and concrete slabs, where he was ready tomake a determined resistance.

  If he could stand off the attack for several minutes, a swarm of police,attracted by the gunfire, would descend upon them. But the men in thestreet were shooting carefully and spreading out, attempting to encirclehim and force his surrender. They were moving rapidly, dodging so quicklythat it was almost impossible to single them out in the shadows or toflip an accurate shot at them.

  His ammunition was confined to the one clip in his gun and a spare clipin his coat pocket. It wouldn't last long in an encounter with threegunmen and every shot must be made to count.

  A close shot, which struck a slab of concrete, threw a fine cloud of dustinto his eyes and blinded him for the moment. He wondered about Bob andwhether he had been able to make his escape. If he hadn't before this,now surely, with all of the firing, he would be able to escape from thestreet. Perhaps he would even be able to lead the rescuing police whichhe felt sure would come soon.

  But Bob, at the other end of the street, had his own ideas about thepolice and the need for a hasty rescue.

  He paused in his mad dash down the block. Unarmed, he would be no matchfor the gunmen who were attempting to surround his uncle and obtain thepaper.

  A new plan formed in Bob's mind and he turned determinedly and headed forthe car. It was a large and powerful sedan with a motor under its hoodthat equalled the power of a hundred and twenty horses.

  There was no one in the car and Bob slid into the driver's seat. Thedoors were unusually high and heavy and he guessed that the car wasbullet proof.

  Bob reached for the headlight switch, then thought better of it, andmeshed the gears into low. He tramped on the throttle and the motorroared into action. With a lurch the heavy car plunged off the pavementand into the street which was undergoing repairs.

  Bob would have liked to have used the headlights for they would haverevealed the menace of hidden mounds of dirt and bricks and otherconstruction materials, but to have switched them on would have made thecar too easy a target for the gunmen.

  Looking ahead, Bob saw the flashes of gunfire cease, as though the menwho had been pulling the triggers were surprised and alarmed at theapproach of the car.

  Then there was a spurt of flame and something smacked hard against thewindshield. He saw the glass shatter, but it did not break, and it gavehim new confidence in the knowledge that the car was protected againstbullets.

  Now there were more flashes of crimson ahead of him and bullets spankedagainst the car. The glass of a headlight shattered into a thousand bits.

  The big machine rammed into a pile of bricks and stalled. They were onlyhalf way down the block and Bob reversed quickly and backed the car away.With a sharp flip of the wheel he skirted the obstruction and once moreroared ahead, the car gaining speed as it went along in second gear.

  The roar of the motor was so loud that it drowned out the explosions ofthe guns.

  Bob, watching for some sign of his uncle, thought he saw a form flittoward the side of the street, but he couldn't be sure.

  The car bounced in and out of a ditch, the wheels spinning franticallyand finally gaining enough traction to send it ahead once more.

  The windshield, which had been struck four times, was a maze of shatteredglass, and Bob could see only dimly the light which marked the end of thestreet. It was impossible to discern anything ahead of him and he turnedon the headlights. It didn't matter much now, for the car was too large atarget to miss.

  But the lights failed to come on. Some bullet had probably clipped thewires, and Bob, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, hung ongrimly as the big car bounced along the uneven street.

  There was a jarring crash and the big car, its wheels still spinningfutilely, came to a stop. Bob was knocked against the steering wheel andhis head reeled from the shock.

  Dimly he heard someone jerk open the door and he tried to rally hisdulled senses and put up a resistance, but a rough hand reached him andseized him by the shoulders. He was conscious that a light blazedsuddenly in his face.

  "It's the kid!" cried the heavy voice. "I'll search him. Get the otherguy!"

  Bob was jerked from the car and dropped to the ground. Once more theflashlight blazed, this time shielded behind a pile of bricks, and heavyhands went through his pockets.

  As his head cleared, Bob realized his situation. Resistance right now tothe search might give his uncle a few more precious minutes and Bobsuddenly doubled up his knees and aimed a heavy kick at the man who wasbending over him.

  The maneuver caught the other unaware, and he stumbled back against thepile of bricks. The flashlight, dropping to the ground, went out.

  "Give me a hand, over here! The kid's busted my flashlight," called theman Bob had kicked.

  Then it felt as though a ton of beef had suddenly been dropped on him forthe man who had captured him was trying to make sure that Bob would notsquirm away from him. Just to make sure, he fell heavily on the youngfederal agent and Bob cried out in pain as the breath was forced from hislungs.

  From the distance came the shrill siren of a police car.

  "Hurry it up, over there," a voice called. "We've got to make a break outof here."

  "Did you get the other guy?" demanded the man who was almost smotheringBob.

  "Not yet."

  On the echo of those words there came a shot and a cry.

  "We've got him!"

  Bob attempted to throw off his assailant, but a thousand stars seemed todescend upon him, police sirens mixed in with roaring motors and blazingguns and in spite of his efforts he dropped into a jumbled sleep.