The Avenger 32 - The Death Machine (13 page)

By taking a dozen steps to the left Early got out of the yellow glare of the headlights and into the darkness beyond. He stayed there for several minutes.

The other two men waited, silent.

Finally Early stepped back into the light, asking, “How’d it happen?”

“She took one of the motor launches,” said Benson, “in order to get away. I followed in a second boat. There was an old abandoned scow drifting by, and when the girl turned to fire at me she ran into it.”

“You’re certain she’s dead? I mean, it might be some trick she’s playing.”

The Avenger slowly shook his head. “There’s no doubt about it.”

“And I thought I’d saved her life,” said Early.

The fog came sweeping across the grassy fields of the park. The branches of the trees were shrouded in it. The day was ending in a grey muffled twilight. Foghorns were calling. The few cars driving through Golden Gate Park made faint swishing sounds on the roadway surface. Far off and unseen, a horse was galloping along a bridal path.

Don Early, wearing his wrinkled tan raincoat, was standing beside a small lake and watching a single white swan glide across its misty surface.

“Sir?” said an anxious voice behind him.

“Don’t worry, Willis, I’m not going to jump in.”

Young Willis joined him at the water’s edge. “They told me you’d come out here.”

“Something come up?”

“A few things,” said the agent. “Dr. Gruener has decided to talk. Looks as though we’ll get a list of all the other men involved in this attempt to ruin the Vermillion Project.”

“Gruener wasn’t the top man.”

“Fairly close to it on this operation, it seems, and he’s provided us with the names of two men who were his superiors,” said Willis. “Gruener seems to be another one of those agents who was planted here years ago.”

“A brilliant man, as they say.”

“Brilliant doesn’t mean you can’t go wrong.”

“Very true, Willis.”

“Didn’t mean to sound . . . Anyway, there are some other things you ought to know. A search of the Macri winery brought forth a book listing a good many of the lesser foreign agents in the Bay Area.”

“Round ’em up.”

“That’s being taken care of, sir.” Willis tried to give the impression he was interested in the activities of the swan.

“What else?”

“Well, there is . . . there is one other thing.”

“Yeah, so tell me.”

“They’ve found Miss Dennim’s body. It had been carried out toward—”

“Don’t need the details.”

Willis said, “There is . . . we haven’t been able to locate any relatives of Miss Dennim. Do you happen to know—”

“I’ll check into it. If there aren’t any next of kin, I’ll see her buried.”

“Shall I leave you here, sir?”

“I’ll ride back downtown with you. I came out here on foot.”

“On foot? That’s a long walk, sir.”

“Yes, it is,” said Early, turning away from the water.

Smitty held up the hotplate by its cord, the way you might hold a dead mouse by its tail. “What’s this dingus doing in my suitcase?”

“Excelsior!” said his uncle. “We’ve found it.”

“It ain’t ‘excelsior,’ it’s ‘eur’. . . aw, skip it. Here.” He tossed the thing across his hotel room.

Snatching the hotplate out of the air, Dr. Heathcote said, “I’m deeply indebted to you, Algy, since I’d given this up for lost. Now I am assured of an eggnog wherever I roam.”

“Long as you can find any eggs to buy.”

“Shouldn’t be too difficult to come up with a perfectly tasty substitute for eggs. I may turn my attention to the problem once my current lecture tour is completed.”

The giant said, “Stay right here a minute, Unc. I got to go talk to Dick Benson.”

“Give him my best wishes, and assure him I stand ready to aid the cause of Justice, Inc. whereever and when—”

Smitty was out in the hall, striding toward Benson’s door. He knocked.

“Come in, Smitty.” Benson’s luggage was packed, the two suitcases at the foot of the bed being the only sign he’d ever been in the room. “We’ll be taking off at midnight. The fog is due to lift by then.”

“Good, that’s what I come over to ask you about.” He circled the room. “I wish my suite looked like this. That uncle of mine . . . he’s got eggshells, muffin crumbs, a monkey wrench and twenty feet of copper wire lying around on the floor.”

“Dr. Heathcote’s remaining on the West coast, isn’t he?”

“Boy, he better,” said Smitty. “Yeah, fortunately he’s got a bunch of lectures coming up. Beats me why anybody’d pay to listen to him gab.”

“Sometimes we’re too close to our relatives to appreciate their virtues.”

Smitty gave a snort. “Well, leastways we got the death machine mess cleaned up.”

“Yes, I understand Early’s agency and the FBI will be rounding up the entire death machine crew.”

“Early tell you that?”

“I have other sources of information,” said the Avenger.

“Been thinking about Early,” said the giant. “Sure was too bad about him sort of falling for that Dennim dame. I guess he’ll get over it.”

“People usually do.”

Smitty didn’t say anything for a moment. “Cole mentioned something about us all having dinner tonight over in Chinatown.”

“We’ll meet Cole and Nellie there in an hour.”

“He’s with her, huh?”

“Nellie wanted to do some window shopping.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t have tagged along anyway. Getting Unc out of my hair and out of my room is an all-day job. Okay, I’ll see you in about an hour.”

Back in his own room Smitty discovered the hotplate was again packed in one of his suitcases.

Nellie reached out to tap the gong lightly.

It gave off a prodigious bong.

“I don’t believe, princess, I can carry that gong if you decide to add it to your purchases.” He had a package up under each arm, a shopping bag in each hand.

The little blonde took a few steps back from the hanging gong. “Wouldn’t look good in my living room anyway.” She moved along a narrow aisle of the Chinatown curio shop. “Oh, that’s a handsome Buddha.”

“You already have a Buddha here someplace.”

“Not in that position. And this one looks like it’s made of ivory.”

Cole caused his nose to twist from side to side. “The heady scent of incense in this emporium is commencing to tickle my nose, Nell,” he announced. “What say we move out into the fresh air?”

“Oh, that’s much too expensive.” She’d lifted the possibly ivory Buddha to read the price tag on its underside. “What did you say?”

Cole sneezed. “Or words to that effect.”

“Yes, we might as well be going. Should be nearly time to meet Smitty and Dick.”

Temple bells tinkled as they stepped through the doorway.

Grant Avenue was foggy. The fresh produce in the street bins was speckled with beads of mist. A very old Chinese smiled at Nellie from his shop doorway. “Nice silk kimono?” he inquired.

“That’s unlikely,” she said.

Across the street five-white-suited sailors on leave were arguing under the marquee of a Chinese movie house.

“The bistro we seek is down this next alley,” said Cole.

“What?” Nellie had drifted over to a window and was looking at trays of fresh pastry. “I wonder what that funny yellow one is.”

“That’s the sponge they use to clean the windows. Now come along, pixie.” By shifting his assorted bundles and bags; he was able to free one hand. He used it to take hold of her arm and urge her onward.

“I guess I’ve shopped enough.”

Cole nodded his agreement. “By the way, Nell, I wanted to mention before we joined the others how pleased I was by your conduct on this case.”

“Oh, so?”

“Yes, I think we got along well as a team, showing the same spirit of cooperation which the United Nations displays,” Cole went on.

“That was on
this
case,” Nellie said.

Smitty peered out between the blinds of the Justice, Inc. office. “Now that’s more like it,” he said, gesturing at the morning outside. “Manhattan’s got lots of buildings, and they’re right close together. That’s really terrific.”

“What the sudden liking fer the city?” asked MacMurdie.

“Some of the places I was in out in California,” said the giant, “what you call your wide open spaces I guess, started giving me the creeps.”

“How was that conference of yours anyway?” Josh wanted to know.

“Huh?”

“The radio electronics conference you went out to San Francisco to attend,” said the black man. “How’d it turn out?”

“Geeze.” Smitty rubbed at his head. “I forgot to even go to the darn thing.”

“Ye had other things on yer mind?”

“We sure as heck did, and it was all on account of that uncle of mine. Boy, what a guy to be named after.”

Cole Wilson came breezing into the office. “Well, well, you’re looking almost your old self, Mac,” he said, taking a chair next to the Scot.

“Mon, I always hae been m’old self. ’Tis only ’cause Richard is in an over-protective mood that I had to stagnate here,” said Mac. “I’m fit as a fiddle.”

“Don’t excite yourself,” cautioned Cole. “Did you take my advice about pepping up your drugstore windows whilst I was away? Out in San Francisco I saw one thriving pharmacy which boasted a neon stomach in its front window. Then in each side window were displayed—”

“Josh,” said Nellie when she came popping in. “Don’t keep me hanging any longer. What did you and Rosabel name the twins?”

“Well, we finally decided on—”

Richard Benson came into the room. He was frowning. He sat down behind his desk, watching the other Justice, Inc. members and not speaking.

“You look as though the landlord has just evicted us,” said Cole. “Except that you’re the landlord, so it must be something else weighing on your mind.”

“Nothing very dire,” said the Avenger. “Merely something unexpected.”

“Another job already?” Smitty asked.

Benson nodded. “Yes,” he said. “This time, though, I’ve been asked to tackle it alone.”

“Are the rest of us being snubbed?” said Cole.

“It’s not that,” said Benson. “I have to go to South America and talk to a young woman.”

“Must be more to it than that,” said Mac.

“This particular girl has just been smuggled out of occupied Europe, one step ahead of the Gestapo. She has some valuable information. I’m to contact her and get that information.”

“Sounds pleasant enough,” said Nellie. “A trip to South America and a rendezvous with a pretty girl . . . She is pretty, is she not?”

“Very much so.”

“Do you,” asked Cole, “have a snapshot we might all feast our eyes on?”

“No, there are no recent pictures of her available.”

“How come you know she’s a looker, then?” asked Smitty.

“I knew her once, several years ago.”

Nellie was watching his face. “I don’t think we better ask any more questions about her.”

MacMurdie cleared his throat before inquiring, “And when do ye leave, Richard?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Well, best of luck to ye and have a safe journey there and back.”

The Avenger did not reply.

They came running out of the marble hall, tramping down the stone steps. They shouted, waved their arms. In their hands they carried cameras, notebooks, microphones.