“Ritter could, with the drug, turn leaders of industry and finance against each other. He could start a hate campaign that would fill the country with dread. The man who had that drug in his possession would become a sort of hate master.
“Ritter could start fights in important circles of the United States, then step in with the antidote and make peace by injecting the fighters with it. This would bring him national acclaim and, since election time was at hand, the presidency of the United States. It is needless to comment on what kind of a president he’d be, after getting into office by such methods.
“Ritter had Morel and his drug taken from the Maine laboratory. But before using it, he wanted to see for himself how it worked.
“He tried it on rabbits in that Scarsdale house. The result was that when Lila went near there later with her dog, the rabbits attacked the dog and actually tore the life from it.
“He tried it on pigeons at the library. That was why he was present at the time — to watch the effects. They were perfect, from his point of view. You all saw how the pigeon I brought from the library acted in the laboratory.
“Just before he was taken, Morel had injected guinea pigs at the Maine laboratory, which explains the attack on you, Lila, and you, Smitty.
“There were other times he used it, aside from the use in his presidential plans. He fed it to the rats in Kinnisten, and to the townspeople, probably in the water supply. The result almost took the lives of Mac and Nellie. And, of course, several captains of industry and finance have felt the effects of the drug — and the antidote — though they still don’t know it.”
Smitty nodded. It all sounded watertight to him. But, as nearly always was the case with the criminals Justice, Inc., fought, there was no proof of anything. Such men were too clever to leave loose ends.
“So what do we do about it?” he said gloomily. “We can’t let this thing succeed and let Ritter get into the White House.”
“No, we can’t allow that,” said The Avenger, eyes like ice in a polar dawn. “There is one thing we can do, of course. But it’s a last resort. It is rather extreme, even for Justice, Inc.”
How extreme it was, they were breathlessly to discover a little later.
CHAPTER XVI
Death for President!
The way to the White House was clear for Edwin C. Ritter.
The papers had it all. Ritter for president. A grateful nation wanting to reward the man who had straightened financial and industrial tangles before they could become serious; a man with the ability to be a great peacemaker in a warring world.
“Yes, the way is clear for Ritter,” said Smitty. He shook his head. “But, my gosh, we simply can’t allow a thing like that!”
They all looked at The Avenger.
Dick Benson had said that there was one last thing they could do to stop this. One last resort, though he had added that it was a great risk to take, even for Justice, Inc.
The little band wanted to hear that last resort, now.
The Avenger’s almost colorless eyes were as coldly brilliant as pale jewels. He nodded his head.
“We’ll have to do it,” he said.
“Do what?” asked Nellie.
“Kidnap Ritter.”
It fell among them like a bombshell.
Kidnap Ritter!
Why, here was a man whose name at the moment was known around the world; who was the biggest figure in America. Kidnaping him would be like stealing the Statue of Liberty. And the Statue would be much easier to keep hidden than Ritter.
The implications of the thing kept growing in their minds.
“Suppose,” said Smitty, “we snatch the guy, and then get caught at it? And even Justice, Inc., would have to jump to keep ahead of all the police in the country.”
“We’d get the death penalty,” said Dick calmly.
“What good would it do if we did get him?” asked Nellie.
“We could keep him till we’d cleared up this affair of the hate serum and had definite proof to offer the nation,” said The Avenger.
“If we couldn’t clear it up?”
“Then we’ll just hold him till after the election,” said Dick Benson.
“He’d know precisely who was responsible and could turn us all in to the cops,” said Mac dourly.
“Yes,” nodded The Avenger, face as calm as ice, eyes unreadable.
“And that would mean the chair,” said Mac.
“Yes.”
“So when do we start?” boomed the giant. “If we win, we expose this political plot for the deadly thing it is. If we lose, we keep a murderer out of the White House, anyway, but go down on the records as criminals with the whole country raving for our deaths. But either way we save the country a great disaster. So — when do we start?”
Obviously, the others all had the same thought.
“We’ll start immediately,” Dick said. “There is no reason for delay. Ritter is at the Hudson River place. Josh contacted me a little while ago. I’ll speak to Josh again and see how things are out there.”
He stepped to the big master radio, moving as always with the fluid speed that spoke volumes about his lightning muscular co-ordination.
“Josh. Benson calling. Josh.”
“Yes, Mr. Benson.”
Josh’s voice was low. Evidently he was speaking into his tiny belt radio from some spot where he didn’t dare make too much noise.
“You’re at Ritter’s place now?” asked Dick.
“Yes. I’m up in a buttonwood tree about twenty yards from the house. Can’t talk any louder than this. Men all around. Can you hear me all right?”
“I can hear you. What are these men, Josh?”
“Guards,” said Josh.
“And there are a lot of them?”
“Twenty or thirty, I’d say. Tough-looking customers.” There was a pause. Then: “There are three cops and a squad car at the road gate detailed especially to guard Ritter.”
Smitty and Mac looked at each other and shook their heads at that.
“All right, Josh,” said Benson. “We’re coming out. Stay on duty.”
The Avenger turned to his aides, who had heard all Josh had to say.
“Ritter had a hunch something like this might be tried,” mused Mac.
“Naturally,” said Dick. “So he has gathered all his forces around him.”
“But that gang of his… er… eliminated itself back at the Vermont farm,” said Smitty.
There was no need to answer this. Thugs who can handle a gun are a dime a dozen. It would be easy for Ritter to hire a new gang, importing them from a distance so that they wouldn’t be known to the police detailed to watch his place.
“Those cops,” said Mac. “We can’t fight police, Muster Benson. We’ve always worked with the police.”
“We won’t fight them, now,” said The Avenger. “Come on.”
Dick took a big seven-passenger sedan. It was the largest and most heavily armored of his fleet of cars. It weighed nearly ten thousand pounds, but you wouldn’t know it; it looked like any other big sedan. Only the tires gave it away, with a careful study. The tires, slightly bigger than they should have been, were truck tires.
Mac sat in front with The Avenger. Smitty and Nellie were in the back. Josh would be in there on the return trip. And, with luck, Ritter. But there was still a vacancy.
“Cole ought to be with us,” sighed Smitty. “Was he any different last time you looked at him, chief?”
“Still in the coma,” said The Avenger, spinning the huge car through traffic as though it had been a motorcycle.
“Where do we go with Ritter?” asked Nellie. “We can’t go back to Bleek Street. It’s too well-known that Bleek Street is our headquarters, and there’s too much chance that something may go wrong enough for us to be linked up with this.”