He said, “What kind of safe is this? Don’t forget I’ve been in stir for five years, and I’m a little rusty. Five years is a long time to be out of practice.”
THE Skull’s vermilion-gloved hand waved impatiently. “I have allowed for all that. I chose this job with that in mind. The safe is an old model, and should be child’s play for an old hand like you — rusty or not rusty.”
“X” remained silent, thinking swiftly. There must be some way out of the dilemma. He started at the Skull’s next words.
“It is the safe of a man named Harrison Dennett, in his home at number 363 Willow Street. He’s the subway construction man. Have you heard of him?”
“X’s” face showed no sign of recognition of the name. “We hardly hear about people like that in jail.”
“That is true,” the Skull said almost banteringly. “It would have been peculiar if you had heard of him, would it not? Now, as to the job. Dennett is much more than a mere construction man. He is a large scale real estate operator. But his wealth is tied up in real estate, and he has met with many — er — setbacks, on the subway job, so that he is very low on cash at this time. He has been offered loans from various sources, but on terms that would practically take the subway contract away from him.”
“X’s” mind raced back to that conversation at the Bankers’ Club. Dennett had felt then that some one was placing obstacles in his path, trying to ease him out of the contract. It seemed, from the Skull’s remarks, that Dennett’s intuition had been correct. The Skull was planning another coup against the construction man.
The Skull went on. “Dennett has one source from which he can raise money without losing control of the subway contract. That is by pledging as collateral two matched pearls which he owns, and which are worth a cool half million dollars.”
“X” had heard of those pearls, had actually seen them one day, when Harrison Dennett was showing them around at the club. They were a pair of gorgeous stones with a bloody history attached to them, dating back to Florentine times. No ordinary thief would have dared steal them, for they were well-known to connoisseurs of gems throughout the world, and would have been impossible to dispose of.
The Secret Agent listened closely as the Skull continued. “I have information that Dennett has arranged to secure a loan on these gems, that he has taken them out of his safe deposit box and put them in the safe at his home till tomorrow. I want those two pearls. You will open the safe and get them while Gilly watches for you.”
Now it was out. There could be no doubt as to the Skull’s intent. He wanted to deprive Dennett of the only hope of doing without a loan. And it was up to Secret Agent “X” to get those pearls. He must commit an act which would ruin Dennett in order to gain the confidence of this master of crime. And then came the next problem — how to open a safe. He was not a Fannon; he would need tools.
The Skull was saying, “It’s a Roebler Safe Company box, series of 1927, model 42. You should be familiar with that model. It was in use before your — er — enforced retirement. The servants are taken care of for the night, and I have arranged it so that Dennett will be away. You will have a clear field. It shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes.”
“X” hesitated, then decided to make an effort to get hold of tools. Without them he faced defeat.
“I’m afraid it would take me much longer than that. The Roebler boxes are tough nuts. And my fingers are stiff. Maybe I ought to have some tools.”
“Tools?” the Skull’s voice carried an edge of sudden suspicion. “You don’t want tools. This isn’t a nitro job. You’ve got to use your head and your ears and your fingertips. Aren’t those the tools of your trade?”
Gilly, who had been standing silent, snickered. “Tyler never used tools. An’ I thought you was better than Tyler.”
“X” snapped at him impatiently, “Tyler was in practice!” Then he turned toward the Skull. “Look here, boss, if you let me get a bag of tools I’ll guarantee a hundred percent job. You’ve got to make allowances for me — the first job in five years.”
“What kind of tools would you want?” the Skull asked. His voice was low, dangerous. “And where do you have to go to get them?”
“I have a friend in Chinatown from whom I used to borrow tools. I can get a full set from him in no time. He’d still remember me.”
“Tell me what things you need, and I will see that you are supplied. There is no need for you to go to this friend in Chinatown.”
“X” thought quickly. He wanted other things besides implements for opening a safe. He had come here bare of weapons, without any of the clever devices that had stood him in such good stead in the past. And lucky it was that he had done so, for the strict search to which he had been subjected would have revealed them, betrayed them.
Now he felt that in order to cope properly with the Skull, he must be properly equipped. Not only that, but the particular instrument he had in mind which might aid him in opening the safe in Dennett’s house was one of his own devising, an instrument which could not be procured in any store. Its very possession would brand him in the eyes of the Skull as being more than an ordinary safe breaker, for it was a product of a high order of mechanical skill and scientific knowledge.
It was imperative that he gain permission to go for them himself.
“These are special instruments,” he said. “My friend is the only one I know of who can supply them.”
“All right,” said the Skull. “Give me his address and I will send for them.”
“He would never give them to anybody but me. I have to go myself. It would take less than a half hour.”
“I wonder, Fannon,” the Skull said softly, “if you really need these things, or if you are not scheming some way of escaping.”
“X” concealed the sudden alarm he felt at the Skull’s uncanny instinct. This man, whoever it was behind that ghastly fleshless mask, was far too fiendishly clever to be handled in any ordinary way. “X,” keen student of psychology that he was, set himself to sell the Skull the idea of going for the tools. He assumed an appearance of hurt surprise at the motive imputed to him by the Skull.
“Why would I want to escape? Didn’t I come here of my own free will in the first place? And then, even if I did escape, where would I go? I’m wanted for murder — for killing Colonel Delevan in the army car. You can’t fool around with the government. They’d get me, all right, and I know it. I need you to protect me; I’d be crazy to try any stunts.” He paused, then said eloquently, “All I want is a chance to make good.”
And suddenly, surprisingly, the Skull capitulated. “All right, Fannon,” he snapped. “You can go for them. But Gilly goes along — and at the least sign of treachery, Gilly will empty his gun into you. Is that clear, Gilly?”
“You bet, boss. Seven slugs in the guts!”
“X” was distrustful of the sudden change of mood in the Skull. Had he really been convinced by “X’s” eloquence? The Agent doubted. The Skull was playing a deep game here, and it suited his plans to seem to acquiesce. There would no doubt be a trap somewhere along the line that would have to be met.
“X” asked, “What about Nate Frisch and those other men in the outside room? Are they coming with us?”