The New Adventures of Lynn Lash

by Andrew Salmon

  “Lynn,” Al said, “This is Miss Norma Daniels; I found her locked in one of the closets in the main hallway.”

  “I was engaged to help Professor Alter with his research; taking notes and straightening things,” the girl said in a soft southern drawl. “I came back to meet him and get things organized for the move to Washington. That’s when those horrible men-“She sobbed against Al’s shoulder and he patted her on the back.

  “We have to move quickly to catch them,” Lash said. He moved past Al and the woman and headed straight to the government car.

  “You can’t leave me here,” the woman protested. “What if those men come back; or there are others?”

  “She’s right, Sir,” Gibson said. “One of us should stay with her to see that she is safe and search the house. They can call Mister Bennet to send more men out.”

  “I’m not staying behind,” Al said. “I can’t miss the story of the decade!”

  Lynn Lash ignored all their comments and removed his investigation suitcase from the trunk of the sedan. “Everyone in,” he said as he mounted a small searchlight on the side of the passenger window. “We don’t have time to stay here and I think the young lady should come with us.”

  He climbed into the passenger seat and motioned for the Fed to drive. Al was not disappointed to be in the back seat with the blonde girl.

  “How can we follow them,” Gibson asked as he started the car. “They have too much of a head start on us.”

  “They would if I hadn’t put a tracing chemical on their car,” the criminologist said. “It drops a few grains of a special mixture every few yards.”

  “But how can we see something on the road at this hour?” the girl asked from the safety of Al’s arms. “It’s so dark.”

  “That will work for us,” Lash said. He donned large goggles and pointed at the cable that ran from his suitcase to the spotlight on the door panel. “This is an ultraviolet light and it makes certain substances fluoresce under its rays. My goggles will allow me to see them unaided but this light should make them visible to you.”

  The Federal agent drove to where the intruders’ car had been. Lash switched on the spotlight. There was no visible light from the device but instantly a few glowing green spots appeared in the road.

  “I can see them!” Agent Gibson exclaimed as if he had won a prize. “And there are some more up there!”

  “I’ll flash the light ahead as you drive,” Lash said.

  “I’ll go as fast as I can, Mister Lash,” Gibson said. “Just shine it as far ahead as you can.”

  It was an easy trail at first with Richmond Terrace running parallel to the ocean and the spots of glowing green clearly visible on the little traveled roadway.

  “Seems like they are heading for the Goethals near the Arthur Kill Rail Bridge,” Al called from the back seat.

  He was right and in minutes the trail led them over the unusual bridge with its high center span and into New Jersey. The roads became more heavily traveled and it was then that Lash flipped a switch on the side of the goggles.

  “Why the goggles?” Al asked.

  “They are experimental,” the criminologist said. “The lenses amplify the faint light and will make it easier to see the glow when we get to more traveled areas.”

  “You really think of everything, Mister Lash,” the girl said.

  “I try to, Miss,” the criminologist said. “I try to.”

  The pursuit continued for almost an hour, the full moon rising to illuminate the roads when streetlights grew few and far between. The spots of green became harder to see and were almost invisible to the naked eye when the trail moved off onto more rural roads.

  During most of the trip the girl and Al spoke sparingly, with the reporter asking a few questions that got the full tale of her adventure.

  After a time the roads became rural in the extreme, dirt tracks that showed rough usage and made locating the green spots almost impossible. At last the trail ran out.

  “What now, Mister Lash?” Gibson said. He stopped the car at the side of the road leaving the motor running.

  “The last visible sign of any of the tracer was half a mile back,” Lash said as he pushed up his goggles. “Whatever is left is being soaked into the ground. “

  “There have been no turn offs so now it is anyone’s guess,” Al offered.

  “Then it’s a good vote for that farmhouse up ahead,” Lash said. “The one with the silo next to it.”

  “Shall we just drive up?” The Federal agent asked.

  “No,” Lash said, “I think stealth is the order of the night.” He slipped out of the sedan and drew his pistols. “If we are lucky Arron is in there and his safety has to be of paramount importance.”

  “What about me?” the girl asked. “I’m afraid to stay here alone.”

  “I think you had better, Miss,” the criminologist said. “You should be in no danger but it might be better to hide up in those bushes, away from the car.”

  The three men exited the car and drew their guns while the woman straightened her skirt.

  “Mister Cord,” she said. “Won’t you stay with me?”

  “It’s Al, doll,” the reporter said. “And as much as I would like to stay with you, I agree with Lynn, we will need all hands on deck for this.”

  The pretty girl pouted but nodded. “Can I have a gun at least?” she asked. “Just in case.”

  Al looked at his own pistol, not sure what to do. The Secret Service man came to the rescue.

  “A gun is a dangerous thing, Ma’am,” Gibson said.

  “I used to target shoot with my daddy,” the southern belle said. “I’ll only hit what I shoot at.”

  The government man hesitated, looking unsure at Lash who remained stoic. Gibson, almost reluctantly, said, “You’ll be safe here, I promise.”

  The belle said, “Thank you, anyway, Sir.”

  “We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Al promised the pretty girl.

  “Let’s go,” Lash whispered, “and keep your heads down; these men are proven killers.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if we called Mister Bennet for back up?” Gibson asked as the three men crept closer to the farmhouse.

  “Yes,” Lynn said. “But it would take us perhaps an hour to find a phone out here and many more before help could reach us. Better to at least be sure and assess the level of danger to Arron.”

  The three moved forward.

  “I’ve never been in a gunfight before tonight,” Gibson admitted sheepishly as they reached the black car the intruders had driven. “Is it normal to be terrified of it happening again?”

  Al smiled. “I wouldn’t want to go into a gunfight with anyone who wasn’t afraid.”

  “We all know we are closing in on a vicious and well-equipped gang, “Lash said with a grim smile. “I’m always terrified in situations like this; but one soldiers on, eh?”

  “Thanks,” the agent said and returned the criminologist’s smile.

  The three then proceeded in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Chapter Four

  The Devil in the Sky

  The car they had pursued was not the only one parked near the farmhouse. There were three other cars and a panel truck where the three pursuers could see them.

  “There may be more cars around back,” Al observed.

  “There are sure to be a lot of guys in there,” Gibson said, his voice flat as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

  “We still have to get a look inside and see if Arron is really here,” Lash insisted. “Then we can send Al and the young lady back to call for help.”

  “Why me?” Al asked. It was clear that as much as he liked the girl’s company he didn’t like the idea of losing out on a big story. “Why not just send her?”

  “Gibson is a government man, so he has to stay,” Lash said. “And besides, Al,” he whispered so Gibson could not hear, “I know you’ll get the word out no matter what.”

 
The thought that the criminologist had such confidence in him sobered the newsman. “Okay, Lynn.” He said, “let’s have a look inside and see what is what.”

  The three moved slowly and carefully toward the house, making sure to stay out of sight from the windows. There was movement inside. Several figures were active and talking, though in hushed tones so only occasional words or phrases were clear.

  “How much longer, Boss?” A gruff voice from inside the farmhouse called to an unseen leader. “We’ve loaded almost everything in the Prometheus. Everyone is ready to go.”

  The response was muffled and the first speaker was suddenly apologetic. “How was we supposed to know G-men were gonna show up before we were done? But we got everything you sent us for.”

  The reply went unheard because at that moment the sounds of gunshots rang out from the tree line where they had left Norma Daniels.

  “Oh Jehosephat!” Al was up and running back toward the car and the girl almost before the echo of the three gunshots had died.

  “Let’s go,” Lash called to the confused Federal man. “We’re no good here now.” He took off running with long, loose-limbed strides and the younger Gibson was hard pressed to keep up. Behind them the sound of the gang pouring out of the farmhouse was like the beginning of a war. There were curses and the sound of guns being cocked and bullets flying as they spotted the running figures in the bright moonlight.

  The stocky Al Cord flew like a champion runner and made it back to their car barely out of breath. The girl ran to him moments after.

  “Oh Al,” she said in a breathy voice. “These two men came out of nowhere and I screamed. They shot at me but I hid; you scared them off.”

  “Where are they?” The reporter whirled with his eyes on the woods.

  Lynn Lash ran up to the pair and grabbed the reporter. “We have to get out of here and now,” he said. “Get in the car.” He bodily picked up the petite Norma Daniels and put her in the back seat. Gibson had already started the engine.

  Lash jumped on the running board as the car picked up speed, dirt flying as the back wheels bit into the loose earth. Gunshots echoed all around them with cries of “Get em!” only to be stopped by the same gruff voice Lash had heard in the farmhouse. “You four keep them moving, we’ll get to the ship; we’ll stop them from there.”

  Gibson floored it and the sedan raced away under fire. The night was so bright from the full moon that the headlights were hardly necessary, which was good. The rough road was rutted and bumpy, and at the speed they were moving the car was hard to control.

  “We can try to outrun them, Mister Lash,” Gibson yelled as he bent over the wheel in concentration. “But you better get inside, it’s gonna get really bumpy.”

  “Just drive, Gibson,” Lash said.

  “It’s Walter, Mister Lash.”

  “Then it’s Lynn, Walter, and step on it, I’ll hang on.”

  The sound of cars in pursuit filled the air, along with gunshots. Two cars were roaring down the road after Lash and his companions.

  Lash, bent arm wrapped around the doorframe of the car, fired back at the pursuers. Al leaned out the driver’s side and pumped lead at the pursuers as well, trying to help Lash stop the pursuit.

  “Think you can lose them, Gibson?” Al called.

  “I don’t know,” the Fed said. “This thing isn’t built for speed and I’m no Barney Oldfield but I’ll give it the college try. Hang on!” The Fed suited action to word and the engine roared again, lurching forward with an extra burst of speed.

  The car rattled along making Lash and Al’s accuracy in shooting capricious, but fortunately the road was such that those in the chase cars had the same problem. Bullets whizzed by like a swarm of hornets, diving into the chasse like a hailstorm.

  The whole scene was illuminated in stark detail by the gibbous moon, making it appear like afternoon on the road ahead. It also made the shadows all the blacker so any divots in the road were hard to see.

  The three cars raced down the bumpy road, with the Federal agent swerving their car from side to side to avoid the pursuers shooting out his tires.

  “We’ll hit the main road in a bit,” Gibson called out. “I think I can lose them on a straightaway.” His voice hovered between excitement and terror, but his hands were steady on the wheel. The two cars in pursuit were falling behind now, over a dozen car lengths behind.

  “You’re doing fine, Walter,” Lash called back. Just keep it up.”

  Just as he spoke, the moon’s light disappeared and the whole road was cast in pitch darkness as if a black cloud had passed over it. Almost at once the occupants of the fleeing car began to feel their skin itch.

  The itch became insistent and then agonizing. Gibson started to lose control of the car. Norma Daniels screamed.

  Lash almost lost his hold on the car when the burning sensation under his skin became so intense that even he screamed in pain.

  “I can’t see!” The Federal agent yelled. He hit the brakes hard, and the car began to fishtail. He squeezed his eyes shut yet fought the wheel to keep control of the heavy sedan.

  Lash was thrown off of the careening car as it skidded broadside on the road, then crashed over on its side.

  The burning stopped almost immediately as the moonlight returned but those in the car didn’t see it. When the car came to a stop Gibson was thrown through the windshield, Al Cord was flung out the open window to slam into a ditch. Norma Daniels screamed as she huddled on the floor of the back seat.

  Lynn Lash hit the ground with a hard roll and was dazed. He saw his friend Al fly out of the car just before the two cars that had been chasing them screeched to a halt and disgorged their occupants.

  “Get the car,” one of them said.

  “The driver looks dead,” another called. “Head’s like hamburger.”

  “Look who we have here,” the leader of the group, a rough looking redhead said. “Lynn Lash! The boss will be happy.”

  “Well he won’t be happy with this mess,” Norma Daniels said as she emerged from the car and tried to straighten her dress. Her southern accent was gone now and her speech had a distinctly Eastern European tone to it. “You idiots almost killed me!” She looked over at the fading Lash and laughed coldly.

  “If I hadn’t fired some shots to warn you, Lash would have ruined the whole thing.” She then walked over to Lash, smiled sweetly and kicked him hard enough in the head to knock him out.

  Chapter Five

  Snatched from the Gods

  The first thing that Lynn Lash was aware of when he returned to consciousness was the sound of an engine thumping dully in the distance. The next was that he was bound hand and foot and stuck in a small featureless room. His jaw hurt, his ears rang, and he was sore all over, but otherwise all was in working order.

  “I have to stop these fiends, before they kill anyone else,” he thought. He recalled his last vision of Al and Agent Gibson, anger growing within him. He clenched his jaw and set about escaping.

  The bonds were little problem for the lithe and lanky Lash. He used a lock pick concealed in his lapel to undo the cuffs and the simple ropes on his ankles he slipped off with no difficulty.

  Then he took stock of the room. It was barely taller than the criminologist and not much wider than his shoulders. The walls were wood and canvas with a frame of aluminum.

  “That confirms it,” he said aloud. “I’m on a dirigible.”

  “Very clever,” Norma Daniels said. She stood outside a hatch and smiled. Beside her were two men with automatic weapons trained on Lash. “I should have kicked you harder.”

  Lash smiled grimly. “You did just fine; you should punt for Notre Dame.”

  “You Americans and your sense of humor,” she sneered. “I will never understand it. I told our leader that we should have killed you, but he has reasons for wanting to talk to you. Come.” She motioned the criminologist out of the room, careful to step back so as not to block the line of fire of the two guards.
Lash noted that the men’s guns were unique weapons, which, from their construction, he deduced were chemically driven and most likely fired ammunition that would not penetrate the thin walls.

  “If I am right,” he thought, “it is possible my bullet resistant undergarments might protect me.” The girl stayed well behind the three men as they made their way along a narrow passageway. The throb of the engines was clearer now and the slight vibrations of the whole walkway were constant.

  “You were at Arron’s to clear out his papers, not organize them,” Lash said. “But what I don’t understand is why you stayed behind when your confederates escaped.”

  “Those idiots panicked,” she said with disgust. “I wanted to stay and finish you and your friends off. They ran but my gun jammed, so I hid in the closet, concealed the gun and had no difficulty duping that fool of a newspaperman.”

  “And it allowed you to learn what we knew or didn’t,” Lash said. “A cold blooded and cool decision.”

  “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” she said with pride.

  “What happened to my friends?” Lash asked.

  The girl gave a derisive laugh. “We left them at the crash, they are irrelevant.”

  Lash wanted to snap back at her but knew he had to bide his time. “And I am relevant?”

  “I do not think so,” she said as they reached a hatch to a larger space. “But he does.” She gestured ahead to the control room where there were a number of consoles staffed by men in unfamiliar uniforms. It was the heart of a large airship with wide windows looking out over what was obviously the New Jersey countryside.

  Standing at a wide window of the gondola room was a tall figure with his back to Lash. He was wearing a long leather uniform coat and military cap. Holding up a hand, he waved Lash into the room without turning around. “Come in, Lash, we have much to discuss.”

  It was a familiar voice and it confirmed Lash’s worst fear.

  ‘Hello, Arron,” the criminologist said as he stepped onto the bridge of the flying ship. “I had hoped against hope I had guessed wrong.”