Realizing fully what he was doing, X sprang from the closet. “Hold your breath!” he shouted. “Get to the window!” And at the same time, he threw himself upon Inspector Burks’ back. Both of his hands came up, slapped across Burks’ nose and mouth to clamp out that sweet-smelling, deadly vapor that had instantly spread throughout the room.
The two detectives wheeled around, saw that some one was apparently attacking their superior. Both snatched for their guns; neither drew them. Instead, they were simultaneously seized with a paroxysm of coughing. But that was not long lasting. Marble-eyed, tongue lolling, they staggered grotesquely. They were like men who had dropped through the gallows trap, who had broken the hangman’s rope, kicking, strangling, clawing at strictured throats—men who had been hanged without gallows or rope.
And all the while, Inspector Burks fought furiously to break that hold X had upon him. It would have meant death to Burks had X released him. Burks was one of the few men who might have hoped to match the Agent’s strength. He bucked and squirmed, but teeth gritting, breath locked, X struggled to save the very man who would exert every effort to send him to the chair.
With an almost super-human effort, X shoved Burks ahead of him into the next room. There was an air shaft there and inch by inch X forced Burks toward it. Then he kicked Burks legs out from under him and the two collapsed in front of the grating of the air shaft.
“Get a good breath,” X ordered. “The gas dissipates in a short while.”
But as soon as he was released, Burks sprang to his feet. He stood there, half suffocated by the grip that had saved him. He spluttered, glared, got red in the face. From his position, he could see into the office he had been forced to leave. The real Sergeant Keegan was just opening the door. Burks drew his revolver, leveled it at Agent X. “Well, Mr. X,” was all he said.
CHAPTER IX
Burks Pays Off
NO one on the police force knew that the herald of the strangling death wore widow’s weeds, so the killer had had little trouble entering police headquarters. While some may wonder at the fact that the woman in black no sooner reached the inspector’s office but what “she” turned around and went back, no one understood the purpose of that brief visit until the two detectives in Burks’ office were found to be gas-strangled corpses.
The killer went down headquarters steps, voluminous skirts dragging, jumped into a waiting car with a celerity that might have aroused suspicion, and drove away.
Yet no one took any notice of this dark disciple of sudden death except Harvey Bates. Bates had been charged by Agent X to carefully check Fay October’s movements. But until that morning he had been unable to find the girl. It was only by chance that he had stumbled upon her shortly after she had left the river-front shack. Immediately, Bates sensed that the girl was ill at ease. She wandered aimlessly for a time before she seemed to make up her mind to act. Then she had taken a cab and Bates had followed.
The girl’s destination was evidently police headquarters. The cab stopped in front of the building and Bates, who was following in his own car, saw that she hesitated to alight. But about that time the black-dressed killer left the building. Bates immediately forgot all about Fay October. He felt positive that under the circumstances, Agent X would want him to turn his attention on this masquerading killer. He had no idea what had been the result of the killer’s visit to headquarters, but he was certain that no good had come of it.
Heart pounding with excitement, Bates got his car rolling again and tenaciously followed the zig-zag trail set by the murderer. The killer seemed to be in no great hurry, and for that very reason Bates suspected some sort of a trick. Nor was it long before he discovered just what that trick was.
The killer drove deliberately into a traffic jam. Bates nosed his car in a few cars behind his quarry, only to discover that he was caught in a lane of traffic that couldn’t move. The line of cars to Bates’ right was in motion, being routed to the right at the next corner. Bates saw the raven-black figure of the killer get quickly from his own car and climb into a taxi that was just getting into motion. Bates knew, then, that he would have to sit quietly and watch the murderer get away.
A glance in the rear-vision mirror told Bates that he was effectively bottled up from behind with not more than a foot to spare. Bates suddenly thought he saw a way out. He threw the car into reverse, let the clutch bang in and sent the car back to crash against the bumper of the car behind him. The car behind him rolled back about five feet before it tangled with the next car. There was much horn tooting, explosions of profanity and angry glares. But Bates twisted his front wheels and sent the car plunging forward and to the right.
Ahead, all traffic had been stopped, but the taxi with the killer inside had just squeezed around the corner. There were three cars between Bates and the intersection. A traffic policeman was coming out from the curb with his summons book in his hand. There remained no clear lane except the sidewalk. Just as the traffic officer began his tirade, Bates stepped on the gas, bucked the curb and rolled onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians uttered shouts of terror and scattered before this apparent maniac and the juggernaut he drove.
At the corner, Bates jounced from the curb, scraped fenders with a car going east and at the same time sighted the murderer’s taxi. Nothing could have stopped Bates then. The taxi was moving rapidly, but Bates steadily crept up on it. As the traffic thinned out, Bates slowed down. The taxi turned south on Jackson Street, went two blocks farther toward the river and stopped.
Bates stopped a respectful distance behind. The killer got out, paid the fare, and moved off up the street with a dismal fluttering of black skirts. Four blocks more and then the river front. Bates was following too closely, he knew, but he feared that the killer would enter some building, shed his disguise, and come out again. So complete was the killer’s disguise, that Bates feared that he would never be able to identify the man beneath it.
The killer entered the office of a small warehouse. From his position, Bates had no way of knowing that the warehouse and its office had long been deserted. Bates went to the long, low, frame building that jutted out over the water and adjoined the warehouse. The door yielded after a moment of knob-twisting, and Bates went inside. The small front room was fitted up like an office. There was a telephone on the desk and the place was unoccupied. Bates picked up the phone, called a number that was listed in no phone book—his own secret office. One of his own assistants would be on duty to take his message and relay it to X as soon as possible.
But even before the man in Bates’ office could answer, something cold and hard was pressed into Bates’ back. “Put that phone down,” ordered a chill voice.
Bates’ heart sank. Slowly, he replaced the receiver and set the phone down on the desk.
“You didn’t know that the building next door was connected with this one,” the chill voice jeered. “You didn’t know, my great fly, that you had walked into a spider’s web. You didn’t know that I knew you were following me. Do you know that you are going to die and that Agent X will die with you?”
Bates set his teeth. He might be going to die, but not without a fight. His heart was pounding as though in a frantic effort to get in as many beats as possible before the last. Bates clenched his fists, pivoted. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped. “You!” he gasped.
Then suddenly, the floor deserted him, fell away as a secret trap swung downward. Bates fell into blackness that became oblivion as his head struck the wood floor beneath.
BACK in police headquarters, X saw no possible way out of the predicament his generosity had placed him in. Burks, armed and squared off in front of him, had the whip hand of the situation. There was but one door leading from this inner office and no window that he could possibly use for an exit. Keegan was only the first to come into the outer office. There would be others, and the slightest alarm would bring many more.
But there was something wrong with Burks. His broad face was the picture of bewilderment and rage,
but the gun in his hand was shaking—something that X had never seen a gun in the hands of Burks do.
Suddenly, Burks shouted over his shoulder: “Get out, Keegan. And close the door after you. Get out and stay out until you’re called. Guard that door and let no one leave or enter.”
“But, inspector—” Keegan started to object.
“Did you hear me?” Burks roared. And Keegan meekly did as he was told.
Burks gestured toward the outer office with a slight movement of his head. X stepped into the outer office, his hands raised above his head. Burks nudged X, on the point of his gun, to a small door at the rear of the room. The inspector’s face was red, but there were odd white circles around his eyes. His teeth were clenched, the muscles of his jaw quivering.
“They’re guarding the door, Agent X,” Burks said in a crackling whisper. “The other door. Unless you’re very unlucky, there’s no one outside this door. I’ll give you two minutes start before I take after you.” Burks was actually panting. His lips moved, laboriously getting the words out. “You—you get the hell out of here before I change my mind and put a bullet in that damned clever brain of yours. I’m a fool—a colossal fool. But I’m not an ungrateful fool.”
Agent X said not a word. He realized fully what the payment of the debt was costing Burks. Burks, who had grown up among policemen, who had struggled year after year to develop every faculty that would aid him in becoming the successful, respected official that he was, was deliberately failing to do his duty. And duty, as Burks saw it, must have been far dearer than life. X simply bowed his head, opened the door and left the office by the back way.
Burks crossed the office woodenly, and sank into a chair before his desk. He stared dully at the dead men on the floor. Then he ground his teeth and looked at his watch. Two minutes he had given Agent X. Had he been too generous? The man always seemed to move like the wind. Outside the office, sounded the excited muttering of voices. Burks paced the floor impatiently. Never before had he known the eternity of two marked minutes.
As soon as the second hand of his watch approached the meridian for a second time, Burks grabbed his hat and sprang to the door. Keegan was there with several other detectives. They all seemed to heave a sigh on seeing Burks. Burks looked Keegan squarely in the eye. “You’ll take care of Saunders and Kelly”—indicating the two victims of the killer’s gas bombs. “Poor devils. It was that fiend and his poison gas again.”
Keegan nodded. “I’d swear I saw somebody else in there with you—somebody that looked enough like me to be my twin brother.”
“Have your eyes examined,” Burks growled, and started off across the hall.
When he had gained the front of the building, Burks looked right and left. There were plenty of people around. Any face might be one of the thousands of faces that Agent X owned or freely borrowed. Burks turned to a cop who was standing in the door. “Did you see Keegan go out about a minute ago?”
The man replied in the affirmative. “Went down the street that way,” he pointed. “A girl passed him, sir. He seemed to take notice of her. He turned and followed her, grabbed her arm. They talked together a moment, then he hailed a cab and told the driver to drive to the Linden Café, or something like that.”
Burks frowned. “Linden Café? Never heard of it.” But he started out on his strange quest, hunting the game he, himself, had liberated two minutes ago.
CHAPTER X
Water Trap
AS X, disguised as Keegan, had hurried from police headquarters, he had noticed Fay October walking along the sidewalk approaching the building. X had turned, caught the night club lady by the arm.
Fay’s deep, dark eyes had passed slowly up the tall figure to meet the bright, compelling eyes of Agent X. “I must see Inspector Burks,” she said tonelessly.
“Yeah?” said X, in imitation of Keegan’s voice. “Well, you’re coming with me. I’ve got to talk with you.”
“No,” she persisted. “I will talk only to Inspector Burks. This is very important. You see, I know the murderer of John Jonalden. I want to talk, but I’ll only talk to Burks.”
X had been forced to think quickly. He knew that Burks would be as good as his word and follow as soon as the allotted two minutes was up.
“Burks isn’t in the building now,” X told her. “But I’ll take you to him.” Then he had hailed a cab and ordered the driver to take them to the Lynn Café—the place incorrectly referred to as the Linden Café by Inspector Burks’ informer.
The Lynn Café was a quiet place with an excellent reputation. X had chosen it for two reasons: first, the air of refinement about the place would not provide Fay October with any reason to suspect trickery; second, it was conveniently located near one of the Agent’s hideouts.
X engaged a tiny, private dining room, told the girl to wait and he would send Inspector Burks to her. Then he hurried to his hideout, changed both clothes and makeup. Since he had been frequently called upon to impersonate Burks, it took him but a short time to alter his appearance. He was back with Fay October before fifteen minutes had passed.
The lunch he had ordered for the girl was untouched, but the ashtray on the table was filled with cigarette butts. She heaved a sigh of relief when the man she supposed was Burks put in his appearance.
“You wanted to see me, young lady?” X demanded. He sat down opposite the girl.
Fay October nodded. “But we’re not going to stay here. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you the man who directed the kidnaping of John Jonalden and later murdered him. He is the man who has been the brains of plenty of other crimes, too, I have been told.” She got up, ready to leave, but X gently forced her back into her chair.
“I go on no wild goose chases. Or if I do, I like to know more about the goose I’m chasing. How do I know you’re on the level?”
“You don’t,” Fay admitted calmly. “Play square with me and I’ll do the same with you. I’m taking a big risk.”
X nodded. “Say, I know when to keep my mouth shut. You don’t think I got to be an inspector without meeting a stool pigeon now and then? But maybe you don’t have any information. How do I know you’re not leading me into a trap? There’s a lot of men who would like to see me dead. Suppose you tell me just who kidnaped Jonalden.”
“All right,” she agreed. “The Turney brothers were in it. They acted as guards for Jonalden. They weren’t nuts about the job from the very first. But the big boss was careful to see that Jonalden never saw anybody but the Turneys and one or two of the old Turney gang. The Turneys did the actual kidnaping just as the big boss told them to do.”
“What about the woman who lured Jonalden into their hands?” asked X.
“I don’t know anything about her,” Fay October answered hastily.
The Agent’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll leave her out of it. The Turneys did the kidnaping. The Turneys guarded Jonalden until the ransom was paid. Now, who collected that ransom? Who killed Jonalden?”
“The big boss,” she replied. “He killed Jonalden because he got scared. The Turneys didn’t want to get mixed up in murder, so the big boss did it himself. He got the ransom money, gave us each—I mean gave the two Turneys each a grand. He kept the rest. After the murder, the Turneys got scared. They framed Lizio for the job.”
“The boss, as you call him, wasn’t in on the framing?”
She shook her head. “That’s why he’s alive today—I guess.”
X nodded. “You guess. What do you think?”
Fay October didn’t answer.
After a moment of scrutinizing the girl, X nodded. “I believe you’re thinking just what I’ve thought for some time. Now, just one thing more: who is the big boss?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Oh, it sounds crazy, but I don’t know who he is. I’ve never seen his face. It’s always veiled. The Turneys knew his name. They had worked with him before.”
“And you don’t know him?”
“I have never seen his face,” s
he repeated. “But I can, and will, take you to him.”
“In just a minute. One more question: who is the other woman?”
FAY OCTOBER looked surprised. Then she smiled wryly. “I suppose it’s very elementary, my dear Holmes, but why do you ask that?”
“Because,” replied X gently, “you love this man. Oh, perhaps you haven’t seen his face. You love the glamour and mystery about him. You’ve been proud to be—shall we be blunt about this?—to be the moll of a big shot. And now the big shot has looked at another woman. That’s the only motive behind this desire to give me information. Now, who is the other woman?”
“It’s not entirely that, Mr. Wise Guy. Oh, I’m a first class dope, but I feel sorry for the girl. I’m no softy, but this girl’s a nice kid. Works on one of the newspapers. Just can’t think of her name right now—Betty something.”
For a moment, Agent X sat like a man of stone, so shocked was he by this announcement
“You’ve heard of this Secret Agent X?” Fay October went on. “Well, this X has been making it warm for the big boss. The boss kills anybody he even suspects of trying to track him down. He’s out after X, and he saw X and this reporter girl together. He thinks the reporter is X’s girl friend. He’s got hold of her. He won’t hurt her until after he’s used her as a decoy to get hold of Agent X. After he’s removed this X, Lord knows what becomes of the girl. Might be better for her if he killed her.”
Agent X scarcely heard what Fay October was telling him. He knew the girl was trying to put herself in the best light. He knew that she was insanely jealous, knew that no desire to help Betty Dale had led her to make this statement. It would not have surprised him in the least if this was all a trap to snare him—a trap deceptive because Fay October’s statement was so blunt. Yet, she had really told him nothing that he had not known or guessed, except what she had told about Betty.
Secret Agent X - The Complete Series Volume 7 Page 9