Doc Savage: The Secret of Satan's Spine (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage Book 15) (21 page)

“Tuck spotted something,” he told Worth. “Two passengers are wearing queer rings on their right hands. Might be gold. Might not. He thinks we should keep watch for anyone wearing a similar ring.”

Don Worth considered this. “Sounds like some kind of token by which each one of these gang knows the other.”

“Which, if we find more of them, it would certainly be,” agreed Mental. “For bands of gold might signify a band of another, older order.”

“Exactly what do you mean?”

“Seafarers of the most unsavory sort also once wore gold bands. But in their pierced ears.”

“Pirates, you mean,” Worth mused.

“Gold hoops in the ears would be a dead giveaway,” nodded Mental placidly. “On the other hand, finger rings would attract no special attention.”

They went searching for passengers wandering about the ship, sporting such rings.

They had very little luck, until they encountered B. Elmer Dexter, scrubbing a deck.

Seaman Dexter listened to their recital and commented, “An enterprising individual would start knocking on cabin doors and see who answered.”

Don Worth thought carefully. “This might arouse suspicions.”

Seaman Byron added, “It might also be poking the proverbial hornet’s nest.”

“Why don’t I try one door?” suggested Dexter, “and if I strike pay dirt, we can take this to the Skipper.”

It sounded like a reasonable proposition, so Don Worth said, “Go ahead, Dex. But be careful.”

“I will be as cautious as a butler waking up a banker for his breakfast in bed,” he vowed.

B. Elmer Dexter went off to B Deck and counted off the numbers on the stateroom doors. He had already memorized some of the cabin numbers belonging to passengers suspected of belonging to the Diamond gang. So he selected one at random. Cabin Seven-B.

Giving the door a sharp rapping, he waited patiently until a voice called gruffly from within, “What is it?”

“Routine cabin inspection,” announced Dexter.

“Inspection? Inspection for what?”

“A few passengers are smelling gas. We think there’s a leak. Need to enter.”

The passenger door swung open.

“Make it snappy,” said the passenger, a heavy-faced man with a shaggy mop of sandy hair that made one think of Tarzan of the Apes. He wore smoked glasses, which concealed the color of his eyes.

B. Elmer Dexter had no inkling that this was Diamond, but he did not like the looks of him. He made a quick circuit of the cabin, sniffing with his nose, and trying not to be suspicious about where he directed his gaze.

He managed to pull off that part of the gag, not lingering long on anything, not even when he spied a diamond-studded golden hoop lying on the modest dresser that looked for all the world like a woman’s oversized earring.

But when Dexter’s eyes went to the reddish-gold band on the shaggy-haired passenger’s right hand, and became fixated upon it, the man stiffened.

“I’ve sailed on ships half my life,” growled the passenger suspiciously, “and I have never heard tell of a gas leak on any boat like this.”

“Experimental gas cargo aboard,” returned Seaman Dexter, tearing his gaze from the golden ring. “Hush-hush stuff.”

Stepping before the door, blocking it, the shaggy man said casually, “You seem to fancy my ring. I noticed you keep staring at it.”

“I couldn’t help but notice it. Usually a wedding ring is worn on the other hand.”

“This isn’t a wedding ring.”

“I can see that now. It’s just a plain gold band.”

Stepping forward, the passenger asked smoothly, “Would you like to see it up close?”

Seaman Dexter started to say yes, but thought better of it. His head was nodding up and down, but suddenly it went from side to side as he got his tongue under control.

“I don’t smell any gas here,” he decided, “so I had better continue on my rounds.”

“I’m mighty proud of this ring,” said the other, continuing to block the way out. “Stay a minute, won’t you? Let me tell you how I came by it.”

Seaman Dexter thought that he might as well humor the fellow, and then vacate the cabin.

“Sure.”

“Ever hear of a spot called Hy-Brasil? It’s a round island near the Azores, not far from a shoal called Porcupine Bank. Rabbits live there. Big black ones.”

The fellow’s right hand came up, fingers spread out, displaying the ring as if to allow the setting to be examined. But there was no stone or setting.

Dex bent down to examine it, and was struck by the gold’s peculiar luster—if it was in fact gold.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” prompted the shaggy one.

“Very,” said Seaman Dexter.

“I found this ring on Hy-Brasil. Rumor has it that it once belonged to a wizard who lived long ago. Talk is he would wear it on his finger or in his ear, according to his prevailing mood. I guess he was part pirate, or something.”

Talk of wizards and pirates was getting to Dex, who was not getting anywhere in his cabin search. “Well, thank you. I had better be running along.”

“Don’t let me hold you up,” said the passenger, suddenly turning his hand into a fist and driving it into Seaman Dexter’s open face.

The punch rocked Dexter, head backward, and the force of it knocked him out.

WHEN B. Elmer Dexter woke up, he was sprawled on the bunk, and there was no sign of the cabin’s occupant.

The cabin lamp was still on, but it was impossible to tell how late it was, owing to the blacked-out portholes.

Getting shakily to his feet and finding his knees wobbly, Seaman Dexter started to make his way to the cabin door. He discovered that his mouth was very dry, so he redirected his course to the washroom where he poured a drink of cold water and downed it in three gulps.

He noticed the statuette sitting on the porcelain sink.

The figurine stood about eight inches tall, and cut from some clear crystal. It was carved in the form of a regal-looking man attired in some flowing garment that reminded him of costumes worn by the ancient Greeks.

It looked like a work of art, and not a simple knickknack. When Dex reached out to examine it, the surface felt unusually cold to the touch. He had a momentary impression that it was actually cut from ice, and not crystal. The coldness of the statuette was not that of frozen matter, but something that had been refrigerated. Of course, there was no refrigerator in the small cabin. Nor was it cool enough to chill the thing. The contrary; the night was quite warm.

Turning the figurine over in his hands, Seaman Dexter wondered why it was so cold. Nothing logical came to mind, so he replaced it.

Stumbling out onto the deck, the first thing Dex noticed was a moon riding high in the sky, and the second was how hot and humid the still air was. He immediately began perspiring.

Moving through the ship, B. Elmer Dexter located Mental Byron first, and relayed what had happened.

“We were wondering where you got to,” Mental remarked. “Figured you got carried away in your door knocking.”

“Diamond slugged me cold,” said Dex miserably.

“How do you know it was Diamond?”

“I didn’t—at first,” confessed Dex. “But I noticed a thing like an earring on a table. A gold hoop with a small diamond set in it.”

Mental Byron lost his perpetually placid expression. His rugged features became fixed. Dexter mistook this facial paralysis for confusion.

“Don’t you see?” blurted Dex. “He wears a diamond earring. What modern man does that? He’s gotta be Diamond himself!”

“Like an old-time Caribbean pirate!” exploded Mental. “I knew it! He’s probably double bunked with one of his crew now. But now we know that there are at least three men wearing those strange gold rings. That probably means that everyone sporting one is a Diamond gang member.”

B. Elmer noticed one unfamiliar passenger loitering near the bridge. He seemed to be watching the officers coming and going as they reported to the Skipper.

“I sure hope this doesn’t cause Diamond to step up the pace of his operations, whatever they are,” he murmured.

“Let’s see what Don has to say,” Mental advised.

They tracked Donald Worth down to his bunk, and excitedly filled him in.

“I think this is something I can take to the Old Man. Come with me, Dex. Mental, keep an eye out on deck.”

Don Worth had to request permission from the Chief Warrant Officer to speak with the Skipper. The urgency of his request, combined with the bloody nose of Seaman Dexter, melted all resistance.

Captain McCullum was taking his supper in his private quarters and, after hearing their knocking, gave them curt permission to enter.

Entering, Seaman Worth stood before a modest table, and said, “Pardon, Captain. There has been a serious incident. One of the crewmen was slugged by a passenger.”

Captain McCullum gave B. Elmer Dexter’s battered face a hard look. “Who did this to you, son?”

“I don’t know the passenger’s name, sir. But I was walking past Seven-B and I thought I smelled something like gas. When I knocked on the door, the occupant let me in, but I didn’t smell anything. I was making excuses to leave, and he slugged me. When I came to, he was gone.”

The ship’s master consulted a copy of the passenger list which was cross-indexed to the cabin numbers.

“According to this, the passenger assigned to that cabin is named Joe Cannon. Describe him for me, Seaman.”

“Heavy-set, hadn’t had a haircut in months. I couldn’t see his eyes due to dark glasses. Tough manner.”

“I think,” said the Skipper, laying down his fork and pushing away his tray, “I would like to pay a visit to that cabin. Follow me, men.”

McCULLUM was the take-charge type. It was naval procedure to requisition an armed guard before investigating a situation such as this. But the Captain believed in the force of his personality and his ready fists—not necessarily in that order. He led the march to Seven-B personally, Bosun Worth following in his wake.

The cabin was not locked. He threw it open, and they stepped in.

The stateroom was unoccupied.

“Search it,” requested the Captain.

They did so, but it appeared as if the cabin had been picked clean.

“He must have relocated himself into the cabin of a friend,” suggested Don Worth, hoping that this would inspire the Skipper to begin rounding up suspicious passengers.

Instead, Captain McCullum turned to Seaman Dexter and asked, “Did you notice any belongings when you woke up, seaman?”

Dex started to shake his head, then he remembered the crystal statue in the washroom.

“I went to the washroom for a drink and saw that there was a statuette of a man in there.”

Don Worth was closest to the washroom. He looked in there and said, “I don’t see any statuette.”

Seaman Dexter drifted over, and said, “It was right there on the sink.” But when his eyes went to the porcelain top, they widened. “There it is! It’s still sitting there.”

Don Worth frowned in a puzzled manner. “Where? I don’t see it.”

Dex stabbed out an imperative finger and said, “You’re looking straight at it! It’s right beside the washbowl. Can’t you see it?”

Don Worth took a look at the spot being indicated and then back to B. Elmer Dexter, his eyes wondering.

Witnessing this exchange, Captain McCullum shouldered in, and took a look for himself.

“What are you talking about, Boats? It’s sitting there as plain as day.”

Don Worth became blank of face. Stepping into the washroom, he took three steps, suddenly froze.

“What is it?” asked McCullum. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“The statue,” he croaked out. “I see it now. But—but it wasn’t there a minute ago.”

“What’s the matter with you, Bosun Worth?” barked the Captain. “You usually have your head on straighter than that.”

Don Worth flushed. Then he stepped back to where he originally stood. Although he kept his eyes on the statue throughout, when he returned to his original stance, it was no longer visible.

Stepping aside, he invited, “Take a look at it from this angle, sir.”

McCullum obliged, and the eyes in his weathered face began expressing their shock.

“It’s gone!”

Seaman Dexter took his turn and agreed that, when observed from a certain angle, the crystal figurine seemed to have vanished.

“I am remembering now,” he muttered, “that when I picked it up, the thing felt as if it had come out of an icebox.”

Entering the washroom, Captain McCullum took up the statuette in both hands, and felt its every inch.

“Cold as ice! Even in this humidity.”

Don Worth changed his mind about suggesting that the Captain round up the passengers for questioning. Instead, he said, “That does not seem to be an ordinary statue. Perhaps this is something Doc Savage can explain.”

Captain McCullum was grimly silent for nearly a minute. His gray eyes narrowed, and Don Worth, who had gotten to know him very well, realized that the Skipper was suspended on the horns of a personal dilemma.

His professional pride was blocking him from accepting the suggestion at face value. But the longer he held the weird figurine, the more its eerie coldness seemed to seep into his finger bones.

Finally, McCullum was forced to put it down. He looked at his hands for a long time. They were chilled to the bone. Literally.

Immersing them in warm water took the coldness out of his fingers. Then he dried them on a towel and, using the towel, gingerly picked up the statuette.

“Let’s take this thing and your story to Doc Savage,” he bit out.

Following close behind the skipper, Don Worth and B. Elmer Dexter swapped satisfied grins.

Chapter XXIV

THE UNCANNY FIGURINE

DOC SAVAGE LISTENED to the accounts of Captain McCullum, Boatswain Worth and Seaman B. Elmer Dexter in an absorbed silence.

The crystal statuette was placed on a modest table, and the bronze man studied it as he listened.

After Dex recited his account of being knocked out by a long-haired passenger, Doc pulled his gaze away from the statue and asked, “What did this man look like?”

“Dark, heavyset and tough as nails. Oh, he also wore a strange looking ring. It resembled a wedding band, but it was on his right-hand middle finger, and it was golden, but kind of reddish, too. I didn’t recognize the metal.”