Doc Savage: Death's Dark Domain (18 page)

“Knock it off!” Long Tom yelled back. “Some of that shrapnel could wing us.”

Monk cut loose with a final punishing blast and slammed the door shut.

The rumbling tail wheel was lifting off the tarmac by now. Immediately, they were
vaulting into the lowering sky.

Monk and Long Tom hastily took seats.

“We sure fixed their wagons,” chortled Monk.

“Yeah, that we did,” said Long Tom, slapping his thin hands together, signifying a
job well done.

“There’s only one problem,” murmured Ham, climbing the plane.

“What’s that?” wondered Monk.

“I think we just declared war on Egallah.”

Monk placed his homely face to a window, looked back and saw the ruin that was the
military air field.

“If we did,” he decided, “we won, hands down.”

Ham frowned. “But they’re the one with the blackness machine we’re trying to recover.”

“We’ll worry about that later. We found Long Tom, got him busted loose—”

Long Tom flared up. “What do you mean—got me loose?” snarled the irate electrical
wizard. “Who had the shocking coin?”

“True. But you couldn’t have broke out all by your lonesome. It took Ham and me to
haul you out of there. We had the getaway plane, don’t forget.”

“Glory hog,” accused Long Tom.

Monk shrugged carelessly. “Anyway, we’re free and clear. Now we gotta find Doc.”

“So where do we look for him?” asked Long Tom reasonably.

The expressions on the faces of Monk and Ham plainly told that they did not have an
inkling.

“This,” grated Long Tom, “is going to be complicated.”

AS IT TURNED out, Doc Savage found them.

Driving in the direction of the military base, the bronze man spotted the explosions.
These were hard to overlook.

His eyes went to the titanic eruptions and he recognized from their violence and the
extremely black color of the resulting smoke that they were created by the high-explosive
demolition shells from one of his superfirers.

So Doc was not greatly surprised when the bronze amphibian lifted into view, angled
off, and picked up a heading in his general direction.

The direction of flight was not perfectly aligned with Doc’s route, however. He braked,
jumping for the side of the road. Normally, he might have employed his pocket radio
transceiver or a smoke grenade to attract attention. But he had none of these on his
person.

So Doc collected several very large stones and arranged them in the grass so that
they spelled out a word.

D O C

It might work, or it might not.

To insure that it did, the bronze man rushed back to the waiting car and found a spare
can of gasoline and some matches in the glove compartment.

Pouring the gas over the arranged stones, Doc rasped the match alight and set fire
to the stones. They erupted into leaping yellow tongues, like fiery devils dancing.

That seemed to work. The plane overflew the burning stones, turned and wobbled its
wings. That was a signal that they had spotted him.

Doc pointed up the road. The pilot obligingly veered in that direction.

Returning to the sedan, the bronze man drove along, seeking a stretch of road where
the aircraft might land safely.

One showed itself a mile up the thoroughfare. Doc pulled over to the shoulder of the
road to signal that they attempt a landing.

The landing went well enough, Doc recognizing the sure hand of Ham Brooks at the controls
from the way the wings held steady as they settled down prior to touchdown.

The amphibian coasted to a halt and Doc approached, Fiana Drost draped in his arms.
He had scooped her out of the passenger seat.

Long Tom popped the hatch open.

A flicker of surprise crossed the bronze man’s usually impassive countenance.

“Hi, Doc. I just broke Monk and Ham out of jail. Don’t let them tell you different.”

“What was all that commotion a minute ago?” asked Doc.

“Explain later. We practically decimated the Egallah air force back there.”

Doc nodded. The bronze man handed Fiana Drost up. Long Tom reluctantly accepted the
woman and the bronze giant climbed aboard.

Locking the door behind him, Doc charged for the control cabin.

“Where’d you find her?” asked Monk, jerking a thumb at Fiana Drost, whom Long Tom
had deposited on a seat, strapping her in for safety’s sake.

Doc replied, “In front of a firing squad.”

“Must be firing squad day in Egallah,” declared Ham.

Doc let the comment pass for the moment. He seized the controls and booted the craft
around and into the wind.

The big bird took off with a remarkably short amount of runway. Doc made it look easy.
The high wing possessed superior aerodynamic lifting power.

CLIMBING to cloud level, Doc Savage said, “Your story, please.”

Long Tom went first, filling the bronze man in. He began with his encounter with the
mysterious Countess Olga on board the
Transylvania,
her subsequent vanishment, as well as that of Emile Zirn, who also vanished for a
time.

“But I smelled a rodent,” Long Tom concluded, “and picked up his trail. All I got
for my pains was to be chloroformed in the dark and abducted to Egallah.”

Doc Savage listened to Long Tom’s account in silence, then requested, “Describe Zirn.”

“Smooth faced sort,” Long Tom said. “Average height. Continental clothes. Nothing
special.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Emile Zirn we encountered,” Ham mused. “Besides, he is
now dead.”

“How did he die?” asked long Tom.

“An invisible monster pulled him apart, then cut his throat,” said Monk carelessly.

Long Tom looked to the hairy chemist for signs of humor, and found none.

“The Emile Zirn we happened upon in Ireland,” added Monk, “claimed that he was the
same guy who vanished off the liner.”

“Ridiculous!” Long Tom snapped.

“I take it you never located that missing reporter, Simon Page,” inserted Ham.

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Long Tom said querulously.

Doc Savage asked, “The smoky residue that followed the apparent deaths of Zirn and
Countess Olga. You say it was gray in color?”

“Right.”

“Not black?”

Long Tom shook his head vehemently. “No. I was told that it was black by witnesses.
But when I saw the stuff, it was gray.”

“Sounds like the electron-stopper,” Ham murmured. “Men turn black as coal, and fall
apart in a haze of the same hellish hue.”

Doc Savage reserved comment.

“There was another thing,” added Long Tom. “Just before he disappeared, that queer
music was coming from Zirn’s cabin. There were sounds like a typewriter, too. But
when the cabin was searched, no typewriter was found. Not even a radio. I heard the
same combination of sounds coming from that hotel room on Pristav, where I was waylaid
before I could barge in on that Emile Zirn.” Long Tom rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.
“Come to think of it, Zirn carried what looked like a portable typewriter case when
he disembarked the liner.”

Doc Savage regarded the slender electrical wizard steadily.

“Was there anything unusual about the sounds coming from the supposed typewriter,
Long Tom?”

“Only that the typist—whoever he was—rattled away like nobody’s business.”

Monk muttered, “Wonder what the connection could be?”

“Search me,” said Long Tom. “But if you want my opinion, that weird music didn’t sound
like anything that any broadcast station would ever put out over the air.”

“Do you think that the infernal melody had anything to do with Zirn’s disappearance?”
wondered Ham.

“I don’t know what to think,” admitted the pale electrical wizard.

Monk and Ham next told their tales, placing great emphasis on Fiana Drost’s apparent
transformation into a human bat, and her subsequent escape.

“You could be describing the things that waylaid me in that Pristav hotel I trailed
my Emile Zirn to,” reminded Long Tom.

“What did they look like, Long Tom?” Doc inquired.

Long Tom scowled. “It was darker than the inside of a bat,” he said, “but the things
that attacked me felt and smelled like old leather.”

“Anything else?” pressed the bronze man.

“Yeah. They flapped like pelicans when they fought.”

Monk glanced back to the slumbering Fiana Drost.

“Don’t look now,” he said, “but that dark-eyed dame back there may be kin to them
leathery horrors.”

Long Tom puckered his sour face. “If what you said about her turning into a devil-bat
is half true,” he said, “I vote we dump her out and let her find her own way home.”

Doc Savage took all this in stride. He asked no further questions, but seemed very
thoughtful as he piloted the thundering amphibian.

Doc recited his experiences last, from awakening in an Egallan hospital room, his
subsequent escape, and his discovery and rescue of Fiana Drost from a firing squad.

“It was fortunate that a part of my training is to imbibe minuscule portions of chemicals
that might be expected to be used against me by enemies, thereby building up my tolerance
against such attacks,” he concluded by way of explanation for his swift recovery against
the sedative that had been used to overcome him.

They sat in silence for a moment, digesting it all.

“The action ain’t let up once since we hit town,” Monk offered at last.

That was an understatement, to say the least.

Doc Savage spoke up. “Now that Long Tom is safe, our next job is to recover the darkness
machine stolen from my Fortress.”

Monk grunted, “That’s gonna be tough, since it’s in the hands of the Egallans. They
already turned it on us once.”

“Or did they?” Ham ventured. “Do not forget, we were attacked while flying over Ultra-Stygia—which
is Tazan territory.”

“Ham has a point,” Long Tom added. “In espionage, secrets can change hands overnight.
It’s possible that the Tazans stole it from Egallah.”

Monk grumbled, “Or maybe that double-dealin’ snake, Baron Karl, is holdin’ out on
his iron-fisted dictator.”

“During that time,” Long Tom elaborated, “they tried to talk me into helping them
figure out a defense against the darkness. I overheard talk that Baron Karl was nowhere
to be found. They were very worried about him.”

Doc Savage asked sharply, “You say Baron Karl never turned the device over to Prime
Minster Ocel?”

“That was the trend of the talk,” Long Tom added glumly.

Ham turned to Doc. “What do you think?”

Doc Savage advised, “I brought along sufficient funds to purchase the dark-making
device, if we can obtain a fair hearing from whoever has possession of it.”

“And if not?” wondered Ham.

“Then we will take it by force, if necessary.”

Monk grinned broadly. “I got me a feeling that we ain’t yet seen half of the action
that lies ahead of us.”

“Amen,” said Long Tom. It sounded as if the puny electrical wizard was looking forward
to it, which conceivably he was since he had been cooped up in a military prison over
several days.

Doc stated, “Since it is unsafe to remain in Egallah, we will fly on to Pristav.”

“Do you reckon we’ll be welcomed there?” asked Monk.

“Inasmuch as we appear to be returning one of their spies alive,” sniffed Ham, “I
fail to see why not.”

All eyes went to Fiana Drost asleep in a cabin seat. She was wearing an outfit of
plain homespun cloth, which might conceivably have been her prison garb. In repose,
she looked beautiful, in a glacial way.

Monk decided to check her for bat wings. He found none. He brushed her very dark hair
off her ears next.

“What are you looking for?” demanded Ham.

“Pointed ears like a bat or the Devil might have,” said Monk. “But she ain’t got either.”

“Check her tongue,” drawled Ham. “Maybe it has a fork in it.”

Monk decided against that examination. He reclaimed his seat, drew in a deep breath
and let it out slowly.

“It’s just hit me,” he said.

Ham eyed him warily. “What did?”

“We were almost stood up before a firin’ squad back there. And I was gonna have a
last meal of bread and water.”

“So?”

“It reminds me that I’m hungry. When we get to Pristav, I’m having me a steak.”

“Out here, it might have to be a venison steak,” reminded Ham.

“Venison will do,” Monk decided, smacking his lips noisily. “Just as long as it’s
red and raw.”

LANDING in the Tazan capital proved to be a surprisingly simple and uncomplicated
affair, given their previous experience with the seemingly supernatural darkness.

Doc Savage flew a direct line to the coastal seaport of Pristav, while Ham Brooks
handled the radio.

“I have a high official of the government,” Ham reported.

Doc instructed, “Request permission to land.”

Ham did so.

Back crackled the reply.
“What is your business in our country?”

Doc told Ham, “Inform them that we are returning a native, who was recently a prisoner
of Egallah.”

Monk grinned. “That ought to do the trick. Right, Habeas?” The pig grunted happily.

Ham related that to the government official, then listened to the response.

“Who is this lost person?”

“She calls herself Fiana Drost,” Ham replied.

There was a short pause, during which noisy static rushed and hissed.

“We will be pleased to receive Miss Drost,”
the official said promptly.

“It’s all set, Doc,” reported Ham, turning off the transceiver.

Doc nodded, adjusting the controls for approach.

Monk turned to the seat behind him where Fiana Drost dozed. He grinned.

“Boy, is she gonna be surprised to be home safe.”

As it happened, Fiana began stirring. She blinked sleepily and unfolded herself.

“Where are we?” she asked, sleep draining from her thick voice.

“Approaching Pristav airport,” imparted Ham.