The raid was off. Flight was the only course. But Skeet had a quick task to perform. Stooping, he loosed the gas masks from his dead comrades. He seized their unused bombs. The work was quick. Within a half minute, Skeet had gained these objects. He scudded along the hall, heading for the stairway inside the building.
The Shadow broke suddenly away from the strange sight which his eyes commanded. He swung out into the hall. He saw the unmasked raiders, their bandannas tumbled above their heads. Swiftly, he started in pursuit, knowing that someone must have escaped. Skeet had reached the stairs before The Shadow arrived. His pursuer heard his footsteps pounding downward. The Shadow followed.
Whistles were shrilling round about the apartment building. Barking revolvers; shots outside. Spud’s outfit had spotted the arrival of the police. They were taking it on the run. As Skeet came plunging down into the gloomy lobby of the apartment building, the front doors swung open and half a dozen policemen arrived face to face with the fleeing mobster.
Revolvers spat. Skeet ducked back. The gas masks went bouncing down the steps. An officer sprang for them, recognizing what they were. The others fired wildly. Then Skeet chucked a bomb. It burst in the center of the lobby.
Bluecoats became rigid. The stooping man held his position; the others toppled, all save one who was just within the door. He wavered sideways and stood leaning in crazy fashion, revolver leveled, finger on trigger.
Skeet scudded forward. He grabbed the gas masks and sprang toward the door, just as The Shadow arrived at the head of the stairway. An automatic barked. Its shots, clipping downward from an angle, was deflected by a brass bar just above the door. That bit of luck saved Skeet’s life.
A taxicab was standing in the street. Skeet pounced into it and rammed a revolver against the driver’s neck. The cab shot away as The Shadow reached the door. A radio patrol car was rounding the corner. The Shadow waited as it swung in between him and the cab. Revolvers barked from the patrol car; then came a burst of greenish smoke.
The car went skidding across the street and smashed against the wall, just as the cab rounded the corner. Skeet had tossed another bomb. The men in the patrol car had passed out instantly. They were seated rigid in their wrecked car.
Skeet had eliminated the police squad. He had stopped the patrol car. For the moment, no other forces of the law were near. The Shadow took that opportunity to make his own departure. Swiftly, he glided across the street and chose a darkened spot between two buildings.
A SINISTER laugh sounded through the gloom. It carried no mirth. The Shadow had held the winning hand tonight; yet his efforts had not brought the full success he should have gained.
Men of crime were still at large. Shattered hordes would rise again. More grim work lay in The Shadow’s path. The fading laugh, however, carried a foreboding note.
Strategy had served The Shadow well. He had used the unexpected to defy the gas bombs and strike down the raiders. His methods of surprise were not yet ended. The Shadow could foresee new ways with which to quell the rising foe.
He would not wait for men of crime to strike. The next thrust would be The Shadow’s own. After that would come the settlement. With underlings eliminated, The Shadow would force the hand of the master who had designed this evil game.
CHAPTER XVII
THE BIG SHOT DECIDES
ON the following morning, Wolf Barlan was seated by the window of his living room reading the torrid details of last night’s raid. An involuntary snarl came from the big shot’s lips. Wolf knew that crime had failed; he could not, however, understand all that had happened.
The latch of the door clicked softly. Wolf looked up and gripped a short-nosed revolver that he carried in the pocket of his dressing gown. The door opened. It was Spud Claxter. The mob leader had a duplicate key to the apartment.
“What’s the idea?” quizzed Wolf, as soon as Spud had closed the door behind him. “I told you to stay away from here, didn’t I? Say—”
“It’s all right, Wolf,” interposed Spud. “I used my bean. Nobody followed me here. Listen, Wolf — I couldn’t give you all the low down over the phone. I had to get here, to tell you about last night.”
“Yeah? Well, what’s the dope?”
“The Shadow again.”
“The Shadow? Where did he horn in?”
“That fight up in the hall. The news hounds got it from the police that some of the guests must have put up a battle. But that wasn’t the lay at all.”
“Shoot it, quick.”
“Here’s what happened,” explained Spud. “Skeet and the five guys with him were over in the empty apartment. They got the signal all right. From the inside man. It meant to come in five minutes, if there wasn’t no other sign. That was it, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. That was the dope I had you pass to Skeet. Go on.”
“Skeet sends the boys out ahead. Back in the empty apartment, he knows there’s something wrong. The last of the crew chucks one of the bombs.”
“In the hall?”
“Yeah. He heaves it from the door of the empty apartment. Then comes shots. This guy uses his rod. It was Zug. Skeet seen him fire. Then comes another shot. Zug pitches flat. Out in the hall. So Skeet slams the door.”
“Yellow, eh?”
“Yellow nothing. Didn’t he see Zug toss the bomb? Skeet knowed it was some sniper out there, shooting from where the gas couldn’t get him. He figures The Shadow, so he waits. When he does sneak out, the gas is done. The four guys are lying in the hall. Door of the apartment is open. Skeet knows they must have heaved a bomb in there, because there’s no noise.
“He sees the steel door of the fire tower and figures it was from in back of that The Shadow does the sharpshooting. No sign of The Shadow no longer. So Skeet moves quick. He snatches the masks off them dead gorillas and takes the couple of bombs they got left. He heads down the stairs in a hurry.”
“Where were you all this time?”
“Outside, laying back, with gorillas all around the apartment house. I spotted the bulls coming up. I knowed there was going to be trouble. Some tip-off. So I busted loose with my gat. Give the boys the alarm. I beat it over to the coupe and made a getaway.”
“The others?”
“They was quick. Put up a running fight and took it on the lam. Nobody scratched. But wait’ll I tell you the rest about Skeet. He heaved another bomb in the lobby, square into the middle of a lot of cops. Knocked them out. Grabbed a cab; plugged a bomb into a patrol car. Made his getaway.”
“Did anybody see him work?” quizzed Wolf.
“Only the taxi driver,” replied Spud, with a grin, “and Skeet fixed him right. Picked a place to drop off and told the guy to slow down. Just as Skeet slid from the cab, he laid another bomb in the front seat.
“Boy! That cab goes right through a traffic light, hits the curb, and busts through a plate-glass window. Traffic cop goes piling over to give the driver blazes. Finds him sitting at the wheel, stiff as a board.”
“That meant another mug for the hospital. The taxi driver was the only one that saw Skeet use the bomb. It gave Skeet a chance for an easy getaway besides. I met him over at the hideout. He slipped me the whole story.”
WOLF had risen. He was pacing back and forth, recalling all that Spud had related. The big shot was tabulating losses, considering consequences. Spud watched him hopefully. He started to speak once or twice, but caught himself each time. When Wolf spoke, his tone was analytical.