The coffin moved. A bump as it dropped, his oblique position, and the crunch of wheels on gravel told the Agent that he was now on a baggage truck, moving forward. Then the truck stopped and a moment of silence followed, until he heard the train get under way again, wheels screeching, engines puffing. Men’s voices came indistinctly. The Agent used his microphone once more. He’d planned this. It worked as well inside as out. But the speakers were only baggagemen.
An auto rumbled up. The coffin was moved again, carried to the auto, shoved inside. “X” realized he was now in a van. A long, jouncing ride followed.
It lulled the Agent dangerously close to sleep. He fought to keep awake. But his lids felt strangely heavy, and it was only the van’s squealing stop that roused him. A man spoke close to the coffin.
“Catch hold — easy now.”
The truckman’s voice, but it was answered by another that made the Agent tense suddenly, as it directed, “This way, boys — careful!”
He’d heard that voice before!
The coffin was carried forward, bumped down. “X” heard the soft wash of water, retreating feet. The coffin was stationary once more, but there was a rocking motion. Voices came from a distance, a woman’s among them. He could not distinguish words.
More minutes passed. Then came a pulsing roar of sound that almost split his eardrums. He quickly tuned the amplifier down. Listening tensely he identified the roar. Those were airplane motors. He was in a plane again! But that hissing slap of water against a hulk — it must be a flying boat or seaplane. The hissing stopped. He felt a long sweep upward, the dizzy rocking of the air.
More than ever now he was conscious of the stuffiness inside the casket. Lethargy seemed to have him in its grip. The microphone slid from his fingers.
Something warned him suddenly. Desperately he tried to rouse himself. But he slipped back. His throat felt dry. His tongue seemed huge in his mouth. The roar of the strange plane’s motors was like a roaring in his own head.
A tingling sense of horror spurred him to new effort — but no effort could rouse him from the lethargy now. He was slipping down — down — and he couldn’t move. Then at last the awful realization came into his numbed brain. There was a lingering drug inside the coffin — remnant of the drug that had held Suzanne Blackwell in its grip. But now it was too late. Agent “X” fell helplessly into a black pit of unconsciousness.
Chapter XXI
AGENT “X” awoke as from a terrible nightmare. He awoke with horror clutching at his throat. His mind was filled with a sense of appalling catastrophe. He had not anticipated the drug in the coffin. Luck had been against him. He had been outplayed at every turn. Now the last hand had been called — and he had lost. There was coldness on his face. The airplane’s engines no longer sounded in his ears. In their stead a voice was speaking. It was a taunting voice, harsh, inhuman as the scrape of metal. It was the voice of the man in the green mask.
Agent “X” opened his eyelids slowly. He was still lying in the coffin and fingers were poking at his face, exploring his disguise. Over him a man’s head hovered. He saw the startling hue of poisonous green. He saw lips moving; heard harsh words clearly now.
“This is a pleasure,” the green-masked man was saying, “and a surprise. I hope you have slept well — Elisha Pond. I hope your bed was comfortable. I hope you liked the trip.” A chuckle followed the words.
The Agent lay silent, too stunned to speak. This was no nightmare. It was reality more terrible than any dream.
“The coffin’s perfume — was it not pleasant?” the harsh voice taunted. “Very clever, Agent ‘X’! You gallantly rescued a fair lady in distress. But in doing so you got into distress yourself. Shall we call it that?”
The cold gray light of dawn shone in “X’s” eyes. He was staring up at the sky. He was on a ship’s deck. Still he did not sit up. He was seeking to clear from his brain the fumes that had knocked him out. The green mask’s voice continued.
“It has been an exciting game, Agent ‘X.’ I appreciate the clever moves you’ve made. You freed your blonde friend from the island. You gave my Malay colleagues a pleasant chase. Even when they thought they’d burned you, you had the laugh on them. And then — just how did you trace the coffin? That would be interesting to know. Perhaps you’d like to tell me.”
The man laughed again. “You can afford to talk now. The game is ended. You have lost. We can chat like old friends, until—”
The laugh that came now was as sinister as death. Looking into those eyes behind the green mask Agent “X” read his doom. But before he could speak another voice sounded — a woman’s voice close by. The Agent swiveled his eyes and saw the sinuous dark form of Lili Damora.
“Don’t trouble him, Ito,” the woman from Budapest said. “I can tell you how he traced the coffin. He found Karl Hummel in my apartment. It was my fault. I forgot about the fool’s having that undertaker’s card.”
The green-masked man bowed. “Very pretty, Agent ‘X.’ Your deductive faculties are good. You played me closely all the way. How unfortunate that in the end you were one move behind!”
“Don’t gloat, Ito,” Lili Damora admonished. “It is such frightfully bad taste.”
“But it pleases me to vanquish a worthy adversary,” the green-masked man replied.
Secret Agent “X” stared keenly now. “Ito,” Lili had called Green Mask. That was Japanese! “X” spoke for the first time.
“You were in doubt, too, about the plans until you tortured Ferris Blackwell.”
“But I hit upon the truth at last. And you are still in doubt.” The green-masked man laughed with grim amusement. “Is it not a pretty game, Lili? Let us show him how very close to the plans he is.”
Green Mask clapped his hands. Like sinister wraiths, four brown-skinned Malays moved out of a hatchway and glided up.
“Get up,” Ito said to Agent “X.” “You see where you are — on board my ship. And I have my friends with me. You know their tricks by now, I think.”
Agent “X” rose slowly. He saw the Malays facing him, knives in their hands.
“Perhaps,” said Ito, “I can’t convince them that this is the man who cheated their god, Tuan. Your disguise was too good for that. But they will be glad to kill at a word from me. Let me show you now where the plans are.”
ITO crossed to the coffin that “X” had vacated. He reached between the lining and the frame, drew out a long envelope. He held it up an instant. Then he shoved it in his pocket.
“I was careful to the last, you see. I paid a compliment to your secret service. If I should be caught I didn’t want the plans found on me.”
The Agent adopted the same suave manner as Ito now.
“And what do you intend to do with me?” he asked.
“Compliment you still further,” said Ito. “Flatter you with death. If you were not so clever I might let you live. But I shall be courteous. You may choose one of several ways. You had a taste of Kep-shak. Would you like to complete the experience?”
Lili Damora shivered slightly and spoke with a note of contempt.
“Can’t you be civilized, Ito? Why not shoot him as I shot Otto? It is so much easier and quicker.”
The green mask turned on her quickly.
“Did I ask for your advice, dear lady? You know how I hate Americans. And I have a right to speak since my father was one. Don’t try to cheat me of my fun. If you don’t like my ways go below!”