X scarcely knew when the truck had come to a halt. The coffin was lifted and carried somewhere. Outside, a vague mumble of voices seemed far away. X was gasping now, knowing that he gasped without result. The air in the coffin was exhausted. A red mist shot with brilliant lights floated before X’s eyes. Some crumbling substances struck the lid of the coffin and boomed dully in the Agent’s ears. The first shovelful of earth….
He knew that he was dying. He would be dead before the grave was filled. He would be buried with Sam Rubens. The name fairly shrieked in his ears. By sheer strength of will, he forced back Death’s grinning face.
His hands, which had been close to his sides moved like unfeeling appendages already dead. But they still moved—moved over the blood-soaked garments up the corpse on top of him, seeking for something he dared not hope was there. The scene within Zero’s courtroom flashed across his mind. He saw Rubens, terrified but fighting to the last—trying to get a gun out of his pocket.
Another shovelful of earth. Life so close. Death so eager. His numb fingers touched something with a strengthening chill about it. The butt of an automatic. In spite of his cramped position, something superhuman within the Agent dragged on the butt of that automatic.
He got it clear of the pocket. The red lights were flashing angrily before his eyes. His heart was racing desperately. He raised the automatic. His finger reached the trigger, dragged on it impotently. Now!
The flash and the crash together was in effect something like the sudden discharging of a huge thunder cloud. And before his senses had completely cleared, X pulled the trigger again.
Somewhere, some one was shouting. Two silver gray eyes looked down from above—two clean holes drilled through the coffin lid. Fresh air raced into that narrow house where life and death had struggled in hand-to-hand conflict.
Some one shouted: “He’s alive!” A spade thudded into the grave. Hurried footsteps pattered away. Then silence. The gravediggers had been frightened away. For a time, X waited in silence. Then he fired again. This time he was rewarded. Again feet hammered the earth. Footsteps came closer. A voice said:
“Must be grave robbers. Nobody would have a funeral at this time of the night.”
“I heard shots,” another man whispered. “And that looks like a new coffin.”
X shouted: “Open up this coffin! I’m not a ghost yet!”
“What’ll we do, Mike?” a voice whispered.
“We’ve got to open the thing,” a tremulous voice replied. “If there’s anybody alive in there, they won’t last until morning.”
A man dropped beside the coffin. With much grunting and straining, the coffin was lifted to the surface. Some one put the spade beneath the edge of the lid and snapped the lock. Hesitatingly, the lid was lifted. X shoved the body of Sam Rubens to one side and sat up, the automatic still in his hand.
The rescuers were speechless.
X looked around. He thought that he had never seen such a welcome sight as the twinkling stars. “What cemetery is this?” he asked.
One of the men found his voice. “This is Irvington. Who’s—what’s that—that—” the man pointed helplessly at the corpse.
X ignored the question; asked: “Either of you got a car?” Irvington was twenty miles or more north of New York.
“Sure. Mike and I were just driving home when we heard your shots coming out of that grave. Saw men running away from here.”
“Which way did they go?” X asked eagerly.
“Can’t say. Just scattered in all directions.”
Agent X stood up. “I’m going back to the city right now. How much is your car worth?”
“How much—huh?” gasped the man called Mike.
“Your car. I’ll give you exactly what you paid for it new. I’ll send you the cash in the morning.”
“The hell you will!” growled Mike. “That car don’t amount to much, but I’d never part with it on a deal like that. You look like a bum to me.”
The automatic in the Agent’s hand came into prominence. “I’ll trouble you for your keys. You will receive the money for the car tomorrow.”
“Look out!” cautioned the other man. “He’s got a gun!”
“Ain’t I looking at it,” muttered Mike. “The key is in the ignition lock. But I’m warning you, I’ll tell the state police about this.”
Agent X smiled. “If you wish.” And with a wave of his hand, he sprinted across the cemetery toward the parked car. A minute later, he had turned the nose of the car south and was pressing it to its best speed.
Chapter VIII
DAY OF DOOM
THE following day was one of disappointment for Agent X. The Hobart and Bates groups were assigned to scour the city and vicinity for any sort of a building that might have contained the domed chamber in which Zero had held court. Up to seven P.M. the search had brought no results.
At six thirty, an odd report came from Harvey Bates concerning a special meeting in charge of Grover Mace which was to be held in the auditorium of Civic Hall. Important public officials would be there and the general public was to be invited. The purpose of the meeting was not announced. Commissioner Foster, Bates reported, had received a mysterious note which referred to the meeting. Bates quoted the message just as Timothy Scallot had reported it to him. X read the transcription:
“I note that the general public has been invited to the meeting tonight. Am sorry that I will not be able to attend in person, though probably the meeting is of greater concern to me than to John and Mary Doe. However, I shall send a representative, and his name shall be Death!”
Emperor Zero.
Bates related that he had received practically the same tip through a number of sources.
Half an hour later, X received a communication from Jim Hobart. The energetic private detective had taken a plane and scoured the countryside for a building which might have contained Zero’s domed courtroom. And he had made a startling discovery. In Westchester County, was an old, rundown estate of the Dewarren family. It had been deserted for some time; but what had attracted Hobart’s attention to the place was that part of the house had been turned into an astronomical observatory. The elder Dewarren—Clyde’s father who had died some time ago—had had considerable enthusiasm for star gazing.
“And,” Hobart concluded, “the dome of that observatory sticks out like a sore thumb when you’re up in a plane. It’s the only place of its kind, not in use, within a hundred miles.”
X thought a moment. A raid was out of the question. It could only result in needless loss of life, inasmuch as Zero would not hesitate to use Cartier-site gas to defend his headquarters. One man might be able to gain entrance where a squad of police would fail. On the other hand, the mysterious tip which Bates had received demanded X’s immediate attention. He felt that it was all important that he should attend the meeting at Civic Hall.
“Hobart,” he said, speaking into the phone, “I want you to take the fastest car you can get your hands on and go up into Westchester to that Dewarren estate. Keep hidden, but keep close tab on anybody going in or out. I’ll join you sometime later. Don’t move until I get there.”
X hung up and immediately began to work on one of his stock disguises—that of an ordinary middle-class citizen who might attend the meeting at Civic Hall without attracting attention.
The auditorium of the hall was entirely surrounded by a balcony which, when the meeting opened, was deserted. As a matter of fact, the main floor was by no means filled to capacity. There were a number of people in the audience whom X knew—Betty Dale, Inspector Burks, Smith, and others. Grover Mace, the mayor, Police Commissioner Foster, and other men of note occupied the platform.
After a short introduction by the mayor, Grover Mace rose to speak. And at that moment, X noticed that somewhere above the great hall an airplane motor was throbbing.
“The city, my friends,” began Mace abruptly, “is faced with a grave disaster which we believe may be remedied by floating a new is
sue of civic bonds. In the face of this financial crisis, we find that the treasury is forced to raise the sum of a million dollars in the short space of two days. Efforts to meet this financial crisis have been going on secretly for some time, inasmuch as we did not want to alarm the general public.
“But we now realize that without public cooperation we shall not be able to raise the money. I regret that the nature of this financial crisis may not be divulged at the moment.”
Some one in the audience spoke up. “You don’t think we’re going to loan the city money and not know what it’s to be used for, do you?”
MACE shook his head. “Nevertheless, my lips are sealed. I think that I have, in my own small way, been a help to the city. I have never been interested in politics, and I think that the public should know enough to trust me implicitly in this matter. My own private fortune as well as that of one or two others has gone into the fund. We find that we are still something less than a million dollars short of the three million which is required.”
Somewhere in the hall, a window-pane crashed. Then another and another. A patter of feet on the balcony above. All eyes turned toward the balcony. Women screamed. Men started from their seats. Inspector Burks yanked out his .38 and suddenly let it fall from his fingers. He must have realized how useless it would be against that terrible destroying force which hovered over them.
Leaning over the balcony, like so many hideous gargoyles, were half a dozen of Emperor Zero’s bat-men. And each of them carried a cylinder of Cartier-site gas.
“No need for panic!” a voice rang out from the balcony. “Police interference would only precipitate disaster. Is Secret Agent X in the audience? If he is, and will voluntarily hand himself over to Emperor Zero’s representatives—no lives will be lost. If he refuses, we shall be forced to destroy every life within these walls. Which of you is Agent X?”
Secret Agent X did not hesitate. As he stood up, an excited murmur rippled across the auditorium. “I am the man you want,” he said. And conscious that all eyes were upon him, he walked toward the rear of the auditorium. Steadfastly, he approached the group of bat-men who waited for him at the door. Zero had spoken truth when he stated that Death would represent him at the meeting. X knew that the slightest effort of resistance on his part would only end in stark tragedy.
At the door, talonlike hands seized him. Sudden stinging pain shot through his arm. And at the moment before unconsciousness struck, X heard an involuntary scream that he was certain came from Betty Dale. Then he knew nothing more for an incalculable space of time.
The first thing that X was conscious of was a taunting voice calling him through darkness.
“Not awake yet, Agent X? This is Zero calling you.”
The Agent’s eyelids peeled back from aching eyes. He was in semi-darkness, lying on the floor in a tiny, barren room closed by a heavy iron door. He was utterly alone, yet he could have sworn he had heard a voice.
“Hello, Agent X,” came the voice again from directly above him. “Can you hear me? I’m quite a long way off, you know.”
“Yes,” replied X weakly. “I hear you.”
“Do you know where you are?” asked the voice of Zero.
“Yes. I am in your headquarters on the Dewarren estate.” It was a haphazard guess that had evidently struck the mark.
“Right, Agent X. Though strictly speaking that is not my headquarters. I have seldom been there. The steel figure in the council room is my representative. Zero, it is called. The name is extremely appropriate. It is a part of my machine through which I speak by means of a number of telephones. So even though you may have discovered the location of the building which you are in, and even though it should be raided, my work would go on.
“For months, I have operated my gigantic machine by remote control. Only one person knows my true identity, and it was entirely through Countess Savinna and Dr. Nells that my organization was built up…. And do you know why I brought you here?”
“I suppose,” replied X, “that you still think that I will aid you in your schemes.”
ZERO chuckled. “And so you will—in other schemes. This particular job is nearly completed. In bringing you here, I have saved you the agony of destruction by Cartier-site gas which shall wipe out every sign of life in New York.”
“That is absurd,” said X calmly.
“Do not judge rashly, Secret Agent X. You do not realize the vastness of my organization. Many of them are fanatics, believing that I am the chief of a great Nihilist movement. A few others are simply hired criminals. But all have worked unceasingly in planting cylinders of gas at strategic points throughout the city. Even in the subways, cylinders of Cartier-site have been concealed. A touch of my finger on a switch will annihilate the city. So complete is my network of electrical connections that annihilation is inevitable.
“The zero hour fast approaches—and the three million dollars which I have demanded as a price of saving the city has not been forthcoming. Extortion is my game—not fanatical destruction as so many of my Nihilists believe. All has been perfectly planned. The city officials, fearing panic, have been forced to keep my demands a secret so that even you could not learn of it.”
“And I suppose,” X said, “that the tip which I received about Death visiting Civic Hall tonight was merely to force me to be there so that you could take me prisoner.”
“Correct, with the exception of one detail. I did fear your interference. But about the time element. Nearly two days have passed since the meeting at Civic Hall. Even though you should escape from your prison, you would have no time to hunt me down before the hour of destruction.
“You must excuse me now, Agent X,” the voice went on. “Naturally, I shall be busy for a while. But when I move my organization to other fields, I look forward to your able assistance—voluntarily or involuntarily!”
There was a faint pop above X’s head as the connection was broken. Looking up, he could see a small conical reproducer fastened in the ceiling. So Zero communicated by means of telephone. And with this knowledge, added to the store of facts he had collected in his investigation, Agent X felt that Zero was something more than a mere unknown shadow. He began to take on definite form, and in X’s mind’s eye he could clearly see the face of the person behind the gigantic extortion plot.
No sooner had Zero rung off than X began to take stock of his situation. He had evidently been searched before he had been thrown into the prison cell and his pockets were completely empty. His make-up was intact and he still wore his own clothes. His groping fingers eagerly felt along the lining of his coat and detected that which his searchers had failed to find, so carefully had the material been concealed.
X got to his knees, stripped off his coat, and ripped a hole in the lining. Carefully sewn in place were two square cloth envelopes. These he gingerly removed. Tearing off the corner of one of these cloth envelopes with his teeth, he approached the cell door. Through the small opening in the corner of the envelope, he emptied the contents into the keyhole.
In a similar manner, he emptied the contents of the second envelope, this time standing at arm’s length from the door. The two envelopes contained chemicals that though harmless when separated, united with such violence that terrific heat was generated. This compound, of X’s own formulating, was similar in action to what welders know as thermite.
As soon as he had emptied this second bag into the keyhole, he sprang to the far side of the room. There was a brilliant flash of blinding silvery light. The lock of the door actually became incandescent, and a cherry-red glow covered a large portion of the panel.
As soon as he was able to see clearly, X sprang to the door and gave it a powerful kick. The lock, having been entirely fused of the heat of the reaction, allowed the door to swing wide open. Sparks flew in every direction as the heated door clanged against the wall.
X SPRANG through the opening, looking right and left. The corridor was completely deserted. He turned to the right and came upon a
door that was partially open and which led into the domed chamber where Zero held court. The copper torture ovens which had contained Zero’s unwilling councilmen had vanished. Save for the steel figure on the dais, the room was empty.
Zero had said the thing was an electrical machine by which he communicated with his men. Possibly, it was a part of the vast electrical network which Zero claimed had the power to wipe out New York. X moved up the dais steps toward the fearsome monster. He walked entirely around it and the chair in which it was placed. No signs of wires anywhere. He rested his hand on the ponderous shoulder of the steel giant and pushed. The thing rocked.
He exerted all his strength and the thing toppled over to crash from the throne. Beneath, in a cavity in the chair bottom, was what appeared to be a huge electrical junction block where hundreds of wires joined metal binding posts. A cable led up through the hollow figure on the floor, probably to some sort of reproducer located in the thing’s head.
X paused. Somewhere in the building, he heard the mutter of excited voices and the tramp of many feet. Undoubtedly some of Zero’s men had discovered that X had escaped.
The Agent leaped from the dais and hurried to the main door of the room. He closed and locked it from the inside. Then he turned to another door which he remembered led to Dr. Nells’ laboratory. He opened it to find the room empty.
He entered the laboratory, picked up an iron ring stand from among other pieces of apparatus, and raced back to the council room. He tossed the ring stand across the row of binding posts on the junction block. There was a blinding blue-white flash as the entire communication system was shorted.
Angry fists were pounding on the door of the council room. The shout: “Agent X has escaped!” rang throughout the building.
Secret Agent X - The Complete Series Volume 6 Page 8