Doc Savage: The Ice Genius (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage Book 12) (44 page)

Renny used the rifle’s hard stock to bang the unprotected skull of the Japanese Marine. “That settles you,” Renny rumbled, seeking a fresh victim.

Monk had found another Marine, and lifted him up bodily, spinning him overhead until his rifle went flying. Then the hairy chemist threw the unfortunate man to the ground and commenced jumping up and down on his spine. The Japanese made little lamb bleats every few seconds until he ceased to move or make sounds.

Ham Brooks was moving among the Mongols, slipping the tip of his sticky blade into unwary ribs. Every time he pinked one, the victim released a leaky sigh and collapsed into a disorderly pile.

One Japanese Marine got the drop on Long Tom Roberts. The pallid electrical wizard had become entangled with a pair of Mongols, and was relentlessly hammering their faces into rawness. Despite looking so feeble as to belong in a sanitarium for invalids, Long Tom was extraordinarily violent in a bare-knuckled brawl.

Seeing this affront to Japanese military dignity, the Marine rushed over. Screaming
“Banzai!”
he shot down one struggling Mongol, then bayoneted the other twice. Withdrawing the bloody blade, he then pointed the rifle muzzle at Long Tom.

Long Tom understood very little Japanese, but he got the idea when the man hissed,
“Jishu! Jishu!”

Having no choice in the matter, Long Tom lifted his hands in surrender.

Renny was the first to notice this. “Holy cow!” he bellowed. “A Jap captured Long Tom.”

Monk and Ham turned their attention that way. And saw that Long Tom was on the verge of being shot in cold blood.

Renny attempted to lay his gunsight on the Japanese Marine when he felt something cold and sharp digging into his back.

“Please to drop rifle, Renwick-
san
,” purred Prince Satsu.

Renny’s long face grew longer. Reluctantly, he lay down the rifle. He then did an unusual thing. He smiled. That meant the big-fisted engineer was close to tears.

Prince Satsu had managed to overcome Timur. The Iron Khan staggered back and was sitting on his throne, breathing heavily. It could not be seen whether he was wounded. There was no evidence of blood.

Seeing the grimness of the situation, Monk and Ham hesitated. They wanted to fight. They did not wish Long Tom or Renny to be killed. The latter impulse dominated their thoughts.

At that moment, the big Mongol who had chased Doc Savage into the building emerged, dragging Johnny Littlejohn by the hair. In his other hand was his sabre. It dripped copious amounts of gore.

When they saw this, Monk Mayfair let out a roaring groan and Ham Brooks joined in with a sharp exclamation.

“The bronze devil is dead,” boomed out the big Mongol, “for I have slain him with my own blade.”

“Americans, you will surrender now,” purred Prince Satsu in a smugly self-satisfied tone.

Chapter LXVII

EVIL ALLIANCE

MONK, HAM AND LONG TOM were marched over to the spot where the big Mongol had deposited bedraggled, insensate Johnny Littlejohn.

Someone fetched a bucket of dirty waste water, and hurled its contents at the wordy archaeologist’s tangled frame.

After a few buckets of this watery abuse, Johnny shook his shaggy head and looked up and about. His battered features lacked all expression. One half-closed eye was purple.

He finally saw his comrades and asked a croaky question. “Where is Doc?”

Prince Satsu answered that. “The bronze American is dead. He will trouble us no more.”

Johnny looked to his friends for signs the Japanese was lying. The downcast expressions on the faces of the others told a far different story.

Johnny buried his head in his hands and said, “It is my fault. All of it. Every drop of blood is on my hands.” His long linkages of finger-bone shook.

No one offered any words of comfort. For there were none.

Prince Satsu then marched over to Timur Khan, who sat heavily in his chair, winded and seemingly helpless.

“My offer to you,” he said stiffly, “still stands. What is your answer?”

Tamerlane got control of his breathing, and glared feral hate in the direction of the Japanese. But he recognized the reality of the situation.

“If you give me an army,” Timur croaked, “I will conquer all of China.”

“An appropriate force will be raised and placed at your disposal,” promised the Prince.

“This army must be composed of Mongols,” barked Timur gruffly. “No warriors are more fierce than those in whose veins run the blood of my ancestors.”

Satsu said, “You will get your Mongols, but you will accept others as well. Men who can drive tanks, wield modern military rifles, and fly warplanes.”

“Then it is done,” intoned Timur Khan.

Pointing a trembling finger in the direction of the great Mongol warrior who had defeated the mighty Doc Savage, Tamerlane demanded, “What is your name?”

“Arslan,” said the hulking worthy.

“Your mother named you after a lion,” said Timur, “but she should have named you after a mountain. For I have never before beheld a warrior so large as you.”

Inclining his head in a gesture of respect, Arslan said formally, “It is my honor to serve the Khan of Iron.”

Then, turning his attention to Doc Savage’s men, Timur grunted, “Your chief is no more, so it is no longer necessary to keep you alive as a club to hold over him. You will now be killed.”

To this, Prince Satsu made a sudden objection.

“My Emperor is at war with the country from which Doc Savage hails,” he said quickly. “Now that Doc Savage is no more, his men must be taken to Tokyo as prisoners of war.”

Timur spat contemptuously. “Prisoners? The Iron Horde does not take prisoners.”

Prince Satsu added, “A handsome ransom will be paid for them at the conclusion of the war, no matter who is victorious.”

“Such a ransom must belong to me!” thundered Timur.

“Consider it a gift from my Emperor. But I must take charge of them, to ensure their survival against that glorious day of victory.”

Timur grunted, “So be it. They are yours. I expect gold in return.”

The surviving Japanese Marines surrounded Doc Savage’s beaten men at bayonet point.

“Things are looking grim, brothers,” rumbled Renny.

“You said it,” muttered Monk.

“Looks like our luck has finally run out,” agreed Long Tom sourly.

They were marched to the decrepit
godown
where Johnny Littlejohn had originally been imprisoned. Johnny was prodded along with them. He looked as miserable as a cat that had been caught in a long rainstorm. His head hung low, his eyes were squeezed shut in pain, and his skeletal shoulders sagged like broken rafters.

When the door was slammed shut and locked tight, they were left alone in the darkness. In that gloom, no one spoke a solitary word.

They were prisoners of war, with no hope of rescue.

OUT in the town square, Prince Satsu was conferring with Timur Khan.

The Japanese was saying, “Our aircraft cannot long remain in this province. If it is spotted by Chinese warplanes, they will bomb and strafe us. We will convey you and what remains of your army into Japanese territory. It is there that we will work to raise for you a new army, a new Golden Horde.”

“I will not lead men made of soft gold, but hard iron,” Timur retorted rustily.

The Iron Khan surveyed what remained of his Mongols, and the look in his shaded eyes was unpleasant to see. He did not speak for a long time.

“I do not like you, Japanese prince,” he said at last. “However, I live to fight, to wage war, and since my destiny is to conquer, I will go with you so that I may once again scourge the Chinese nation with my new Iron Horde.”

Prince Satsu nodded gravely. “It is settled then.”

As they made preparations to evacuate the Chinese town, Timur Khan ranged about the town square, carrying his battle mask and helmet under one arm. He was clearly looking for something.

Finally, he found it. The sought object was a small casket, cunningly carven, its lid closed tight.

Seeing this, he gave it a kick. The box went flying, and out of it emerged a howl of surprise and fear. For the toy coffin contained a tiny man.

“I see you have survived this latest skirmish, Oracle.”

“Go to hell,” said the miserable voice from the box.

Turning to the big Mongol named Arslan, Timur ordered, “Pick him up and take him with us.”

Without a word, the imposing warrior padded over and picked up the box. He studied it with curious eyes for several moments, and apparently seeing no harm in it, lifted the lid.

The Mongol had something of a poker face, but it collapsed when he saw what lay within the container. His intensely dark eyes went a little wide, and his lips parted. From those lips escaped the beginnings of what might have been a whistle, but the sound went unheard, for the man sealed his mouth instantly.

“What are you staring at?” growled the voice from the box.

The monster Mongol said nothing. The sight of the figure in the box might have frozen his tongue.

The remnants of the Iron Horde were sullenly picking up their scattered sabres and other personal items, when out of the building in which Doc Savage had been slain emerged a tattered figure.

It was no less than the giant Mongol who had called himself Arslan. He staggered into the presence of Timur Khan, gasping, “I fought with the bronze devil. He tore away from me and escaped.”

This manifestation struck all tongues momentarily dumb. In all the turmoil, no one had seized the opportunity or possessed the presence of mind to investigate the body of the slain Doc Savage that supposedly lay within.

Timur Khan shivered where he stood, and his teeth chattered when he demanded, “If you stand here, then who is—?”

All eyes went to the spot where the other giant Mongol stood holding the teakwood box containing Cadwiller Olden.

But that worthy had evaporated.

Chapter LXVIII

BODYGUARD

FURIOUSLY, TIMUR KHAN ordered his Mongols to seek out the mysterious giant who had stolen off with the teak box containing his personal oracle. They hastened to comply.

The Iron Khan walked jerkily up to the big Mongol, who stood in what amounted to his underwear.

“What is your true name?” he demanded gruffly.

“Ondor, Oh Khan of Iron.”

“You say you fought with the brazen devil?” Timur croaked out.

“Yes, sire. And I would have bested him, too. But he seized me by the neck and performed sorcery on me, for I was immediately robbed of my senses, recovering only now.”

Timur glowered fiercely. “Normally, I would behead any soldier in my army who failed in his duty. But a man who is a physical match for Doc Savage harbors the promise of becoming a great warrior.”

“I thank you,” said the Mongol, bowing reverentially.

“You will remain at my side, Ondor. From now on, you are my bodyguard. And if you prove your prowess in battle, you may become my next general.”

The Mongol bowed more deeply, murmuring, “I will serve you to my dying breath.”

“If not beyond that hour,” croaked Timur.

Prince Satsu bustled up and spoke nervously. “We must retreat to the airplane without delay, great Khan.”

The cold iron countenance swiveled, and burning yellow orbs fell on the Japanese dignitary. For Timur had restored the fanciful battle mask of meteoric iron to his face. He was no less ugly for that gesture.

“I will not depart this place until the bronze barbarian’s head is laid at my feet and his cold brains scooped out of his skull,” intoned Timur. “Which I will do with my bare hands.”

“Is not his bodiless head sufficient?”

“No,” spat Timur. “For the bronze infidel boasted that his brain was his sword. I will crush those brains under my boot heels, as I intend to reduce China to helplessness. We will depart when my will has been done. Not before.”

Nervously, Prince Satsu cast his gaze into the Chinese skies, a pained expression on his normally inscrutable tea-colored features.

Chapter LXIX

SURPRISE VISITOR

IN THE
GODOWN
where Monk Mayfair and the others sat in abject darkness, consumed by bitter defeat, the rattling of the door snapped them out of their profound funk.

“Company,” growled Monk.

Renny was the first to jump to his feet. He bounded to the portal, making mammoth fists. He peered through a crack in the door, returned to the others in haste.

“It’s that big bruiser who did for Doc Savage,” he thumped.

“My lucky day!” grunted Monk in a low voice. “I want a crack at him.”

Hastily, he and Renny stationed themselves on either side of the door and awaited events.

The door came open and the big Mongol stepped in like a shadowy mountain in motion.

Monk and Renny piled on, fists poised to strike.

What happened next, they never fully comprehended. Their fists collided with one another, producing painful results. It was as if they had taken a swing at an Oriental phantom.

Miraculously, the big ghostly Mongol had evaded their attack, and stationed himself off to one side with a gliding ease.

Getting themselves organized, Monk and Renny charged again.

They were stopped as if by a stone wall when the Mongol said quietly, “We have no time for this.”

The combative pair skidded to a halt so fast it took a moment for surprise to catch up to their features. The well-modulated tones of their visitor were ones that they recognized immediately.

Monk said it first. “Doc!”

“Yes.”

The others scrambled to their feet, their faces lighting up, joy popping up in their eyes.

“But we saw that big Mongol drive his sword into you,” blurted Ham.

Doc explained, “You only thought you did. By maneuvering, I allowed his blade to slip between my arm and side, then exerted pressure, clamping the sword tight. Employing that leverage, it was no great feat to pull my attacker toward me, and out of view. We struggled, during which I managed to render him unconscious. While all the fighting was going on outside, I swapped clothes with him, and smeared some of his own blood on his sword to make it appear as if he had been the victor.”