A volley of lead pursuing the men hammered glass out of the door! Glancing bullets screamed and chopped at the rich lobby decorations!
The car engine continued to roar. The machine flashed past the front of the great building and sped rapidly away.
After that, silence fell — proving the gunmen had fled.
The 2 men who had plunged through the door now picked themselves up. They grinned wryly at each other.
One was a huge elephant of a fellow with a severe, puritanical face. His fists were enormous even for one of such bulk. Each seemed composed of at least a gallon of flinty knuckles.
The other man was slight of build with a somewhat unhealthy-looking complexion. He had a nervous, intense air.
The big man was Colonel John Renwick — more often known simply as ‘Renny’. He was an engineer of ability and fame. More than once, foreign governments had paid him fabulous fees for his services as a consulting engineer.
‘Major Thomas J. Roberts’ read the business cards of the pallid man. Scientific circles knew him as one of the most skilled living men in the field of electrical research. He was a “Wizard with the Juice”. He answered to the nickname of ‘Long Tom’.
Renny and Long Tom were 2 of the 5 men who were Doc Savage’s associates.
They turned their grins on Doc when he appeared.
“What was the trouble?” Doc asked. His voice was pleasant yet powerful.
“Search me!” Renny thumped in a tone that was like thunder gobbling in a cavern. “We came back from eating and saw several suspicious-looking birds hanging around outside. We started over to take a squint at them and they turned loose the fireworks!”
“What became of Johnny and Ham?”
Johnny and Ham were 2 more of Doc’s 5 aides.
“I guess they’re outside,” Renny said soberly. “They were both trying to get behind the same fire plug, the last I saw of ‘em!”
Doc Savage stepped to the sidewalk.
Near the corner, 2 men were arguing. They had their faces shoved in close proximity and their arms gestured heatedly.
“There they are,” Renny grunted. “Squabbling over who saw that fire plug first! You see, none of us had guns.”
Doc approached the pair.
‘Johnny’ or William Harper Littlejohn — an archaeologist and geologist with few equals — was an exceedingly tall and gaunt man. His bony shoulders resembled a clothes hanger under his coat. He wore glasses, the left lens of which was a thick, powerful magnifier. Johnny’s left eye had been rendered useless in the World War. Needing a magnifying glass in his work, he found it could be conveniently carried as a part of his spectacles.
Johnny scowled amiably, grumbling: “Listen, Ham. I didn’t mind you trying to hog the fire plug. But I do object to being gouged with the blasted sword cane!”
“I got to the plug first!” snapped “Ham”.
‘Ham’ was a dapper, wiry man, quick in his movements. His attire was sartorial perfection. The way Ham wore his clothes was a delight to the hearts of tailors. He was one of the most astute lawyers Harvard ever produced. His business cards read: “Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks”. Quick thinking had earned him the high military commission.
Ham now sheathed the sword-cane which had caused the dispute. It became an innocent black walking stick in appearance. Ham was never without it.
“What I can’t understand is why that gang started shooting with no warning!” he grumbled.
V — Arctic Bait
Johnny examined a scratch on his gangling arm where Ham’s sword-cane had accidentally pricked.
His wordy exchange with Ham had been entirely good-natured. It was the usual thing to argue with Ham, who had a caustic tongue and liked nothing more than a verbal tiff.
Only one man could get the best of Ham in an argument and that was ‘Monk’ — the remaining member of Doc’s group of five. Monk was not present.
“Got any idea what’s up?” Ham asked Doc.
The giant Bronze Man produced the 2 envelopes which had been in Bandy Stevens’s money-belt.
“These may give the answer.”
He explained about the body in the skyscraper corridor as the elevator lifted them.
“The dying man screamed a name just before he expired,” Doc finished. “It was ‘Nate Raff’.”
“I never heard that name before,” Renny declared. “Have you fellows?”
The others shook their heads.
Doc moved the body of Bandy Stevens from the corridor floor, placing it on the inlaid office table. Before doing anything more, he called the authorities and gave the story of what had happened.
“I am taking charge of the affair,” he told the police.
The official at the other end expressed satisfaction. Doc Savage and each of his 5 aides held honorary commissions of high rank on the New York police force. As a result of services rendered in the past, the police had standing orders to give the Bronze Man every cooperation. To these orders, they adhered rigidly.
The phone conversation terminated, Doc pronged the receiver. He ran a paper knife under the envelope flaps.
A letter dropped from one, a sizable bundle of paper from the other.
The men gathered around, eager to learn what the documents had to disclose. Their backs were to the large window. They gave no thought to that, however.
Only one skyscraper nearby was tall enough to furnish a vantage point from which an observer could see into the room. This structure lay within rifle shot. But the windows of Doc’s office were of bulletproof glass.
No danger seemed likely to reach them from the nearby building.
Had Doc or his men turned powerful binoculars on the tower of the skyscraper a few blocks distant, they might have detected something of interest.
This tower — thrusting upward not unlike a candle — was equipped as an observation point. By payment of a small sum, anyone could have the privilege of surveying the city from the lofty perch at any hour of the day-or-night.
Nickel-in-the-slot telescopes were mounted on the platform to permit patrons a better view of the metropolis spread out below them.
Buttons Zortell and one of his hirelings had their eyes jammed to these telescopes. They were getting an excellent view of what happened in Doc Savage’s office.
“The scheme is workin’,” Buttons chuckled. “Them hombres will never guess the truth.”
“Yeah! We’ve got ‘em goin’!” the other man agreed.
“Small thanks to you!” Buttons snapped.
“Aw-w… whatcha beefin’ about?”
“About the boner you pulled down on the street a while ago, you sap! When Doc Savage’s 4 men walked toward us, it was you who started throwin’ lead!”
The man reddened angrily. “I figured they had tumbled to our game.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t think they had. They just saw us standin’ there like a bunch of spooky mavericks and come over to see what ailed us.”
“We made a mistake in hangin’ around there.”
“You’re tellin’ me!” Buttons snorted irately. “What a mess of bum shootin’ we done! I don’t think we even nicked anybody!”
“Them fellers moved like they had been shot at before,” complained the other. “They popped out-of-sight like prairie dogs.”
“Havin’ ‘em bump into us didn’t do any harm after all, I guess,” Buttons said in a speculative tone. “In fact, it fits in fine with the rest of my scheme.”
Several seconds of silence followed while both men concentrated on watching the tableau in Doc Savage’s office.
“They’re sure takin’ their time readin’ that letter!” Buttons muttered.
His companion laughed uneasily. “Are you plumb certain you didn’t make a mistake an’ stick the genuine papers back in the envelopes?”