The Avenger 35 - The Iron Skull (11 page)

The Avenger sat. “You’re more preceptive than I gave you credit for being.”

“Yes, I am one of the most brilliant men you are ever likely to meet,” he said. “In fact, since you are going to die shortly, I am the last great man you will encounter in this life. If there is indeed a hereafter, however, you may—but I stray.” He flung the half-eaten apple back into the fruit bowl. “You have done an excellent job of impersonating that foolish Nevins. However, you were not thorough enough. I know how that can foul a man up, since I must research very carefully to create my completely lifelike robots. It is quite often the little details which do one in.”

“Missed something about Nevins, did I?”

“You apparently did not spend much time with him, Avenger,” said the Iron Skull, laughing. “If you had, you would have realized that the poor fool is an asthmatic and burdened with numerous allergies. His respiratory equipment is much less useful than the type I have perfected for my robots. Nevins could never have walked five miles on a chill day like this without suffering a serious attack of asthma. Yet you came in here not breathing hard at all. Furthermore, he has a very severe allergic reaction whenever he might chance to eat an apple.”

“Like Adam, I’m betrayed by an apple,” said the Avenger.

The Iron Skull laughed again, his dry metallic laugh. “You are an intelligent fellow, Avenger,” he said. “It is too bad we meet in wartime. I have no other course to follow . . . I must kill you.”

The door into the black corridor slammed open, and faint light spilled in from far above. Three guards emerged, the lead man carrying a flashlight as well as a revolver.

As he moved to click it on, Cole, who’d been stationed just to the left of the door, tossed the glass pellet he’d taken from his heel.

The pellet smashed at the feet of the guard. Seconds later he was engulfed in a billowing cloud of dense blackness. A blackness more deep than that of the unlit cell corridor.

The gas, which had been dreamed up by MacMurdie, mixed with the oxygen in the air to produce what the Justice, Inc., teammates liked to refer to as an instant blackout.

“Hey!” shouted the man with the flash. “This don’t make no—”

Smack!

A fist connected with his chin.

The fist was Mac’s, the blow powerful enough to knock the big guard down.

The swirl of blackness was still growing. It went rolling through the doorway and wrapping itself around the other two guards.

“Turn on your light, for crying out loud!” one of them hollered.

“It’s on,” said his companion.

“Baloney! How can it be—”

Whop!

Josh’s fist that time. And it took care of guard number two.

That left only one man. Cole and Mac teamed up to floor him. Then they relieved the three unconscious heavies of their weapons and lights.

“This way,” said Cole. “I’m an old-timer in the highways and byways of Herr Skull’s domain.”

He led them the way he’d been led on his visit to the Iron Skull’s parlor.

Before they reached that level, another guard showed up in their path. “What in blue blazes do you guys think you—”

Smack!

Whop!

Mac delivered the former, Josh the latter, blow.

The guard collapsed.

“Hold it a second,” urged Cole. He was frowning in the direction of the room the guard had just emerged from.

It was a large room, furnished in the same turn-of-the-century style as the den. Hanging from the Tiffany chandelier was a loudspeaker.

“Since I admire you,” the voice of the Iron Skull was saying, “I will show you my laboratory before I kill you, Avenger.”

“Most thoughtful of you,” said Dick Benson.

“Whoosh!” said Mac. “Some skurlie’s aiming to do in Richard!”

“None other than the Iron Skull,” said Cole. He snapped his fingers. “Mac, you and Josh get back down there and truss those goons up good and proper. Might as well gift-wrap the lad we just met in the hall, too. And let our other cellmates out, but be careful with our chum Macauley.”

“Aye, he’s nae a lad to be trusted. But we ought to get in and save Richard before—”

“I’ll handle that,” said Cole, grinning. “And at the same time prove that Richard isn’t the only one who can do impersonations.”

“Splendid, isn’t it?” asked the Iron Skull, indicating the large laboratory.

“This is where all your robots are constructed?”

The Iron Skull wheeled off toward a worktable on which was stretched out an uncompleted mechanical man. “It will do no harm if I tell you something about my operations,” he said, “since you will not live to pass on any of my secrets. Yes, this is where I work.”

The Avenger surveyed the long white room. Standing in various positions around the room were the finished robots. He recognized likenesses of two other members of the anti-rocket project. And also a mechanical replica of Cole Wilson. “I assume you’ve had to abandon your plans for substituting your automatons for the project men,” Benson said.

“That project will never succeed,” the Iron Skull told him. “My original scheme will have to be modified to some extent . . . I can guarantee you, however, that within a few months missiles directed from my homeland will fall on major American cities.”

“I seriously doubt that.” The Avenger had noticed another robot at the far end of the lab. “This one must be intended for yet another scheme,” he said, moving closer to it.

Chuckling, the Iron Skull rolled along behind Benson. “I would appreciate your comments on this fellow especially,” he said. “You recognize, of course, a very important member of the Roosevelt cabinet. I will be substituting him shortly for the actual man. Am I correct in thinking you know the man personally?”

“Yes, I’ve met him on a few occasions.”

“Is this robot of mine convincing? You would take it to be the man himself . . . that is, if you met him under different circumstances?”

The Avenger hesitated, stroked his chin, and studied the robot. “Well . . . yes, probably so.”

“I sense a . . . what’s wrong with him?”

“Oh, nothing, really,” answered Benson. “No, he’ll fool people who don’t know the real man very well.”

The Iron Skull said, “What do you mean? You must realize that every robot I turn out
must
be perfect. Now, tell me, what is wrong?”

“It’s hard to pin down.” Benson shrugged. “As you were remarking earlier, simple physical resemblance isn’t enough . . . is it? Every man, even a pretty dull one, has an aura. You simply haven’t succeeded in capturing that with this man.”

“How can you suggest that? I did every bit of work on this particular specimen myself. Hours, long dreadfully boring hours, of newsreel film were studied. Not to mention numerous transcriptions of radio speeches. The biographical material gathered and pored over was enormous. Yet you tell me he is not convincing.”

“Maybe no one else will notice.” The Avenger moved toward the aisle where the Cole Wilson robot stood. “You did a little better with Cole here. Although it’s—oh, well, I might as well keep my criticisms to myself.”

When the Avenger was standing between the Cole robot and the approaching Iron Skull the robot winked once.

“Ah, I realize now what you have been attempting, Avenger,” said the Iron Skull. “A bit of propaganda, a little war of nerves to distract me. Ha . . . well, it will not work. I cannot be—”

“Trouble!” came a voice from out of a speaker hanging from the ceiling. “The prisoners have broken out! They’re running—”

The voice was abruptly halted.

“Due to circumstances beyond your control,” said the voice of Josh Newton, “this broadcast will now cease.”

“What?” cried the Iron Skull.

“Looks like,” said the Avenger, “the walls are tumbling down.”

“Nonsense!” He began to peel off the glove that sheathed his metal fingers. “I will put a stop to this. But first . . . I will take care of you for good and all, Avenger!”

“Guess again, old chap.” The Cole Wilson figure produced a pistol and aimed it at the seated Iron Skull. “The flesh-and-blood parts of you can still be damaged by a bullet. Drop that lethal hand of yours back down to the arm of a chair.”

“How dare you order me around? I created you, you—”

“If I had the time, I’d be insulted,” said Cole. “I’m the real McCoy . . . or the real McCole, as the case may be. Your nuts-and-bolts Cole Wilson was tossed in a closet before I cleverly assumed his place.” He gestured with the gun he’d borrowed from one of the guards. “Now, please, follow my instructions.”

“Never!” Suddenly the Iron Skull rushed ahead in his wheelchair. The force of his charge tipped the Avenger over into Cole.

“Oops!” remarked Cole as he fell down and smacked into the wall.

The Avenger sprang to his feet. “There he goes!”

The Iron Skull was rolling toward an opening which had materialized in the wall.

Sprinting, Benson went after him.

Seconds too late.

The Iron Skull rolled into the corridor beyond and the wall panel slid shut before the Avenger could reach him.

Benson pulled up short. “Damn,” he said.

“There’s a switch behind that medicine cabinet over there,” said Cole. “Saw one of his underlings use it while I was pretending to be Bozo the Robot.”

“He must be able to control it from his chair as well.” He moved rapidly to the switch and threw it.

The wall slid open again.

“Shall we both give chase?” asked Cole.

“Stay here and lend a hand to Josh and Mac,” said the Avenger.

“Aye, aye, sir. Need a gun?”

“I still have Mike and Ike. The Skull never got around to searching me. I’ll meet you above ground. I think that’s where he’s heading.” The Avenger stepped through the wall.

Josh stuck his head, cautiously, into the lab. “Is that you, Cole, or only a reasonable facsimile?”

“You, too? Can’t you tell the vivacious living breathing Cole Wilson from a canned imitation?”

“Once you opened your mouth, sure.” He crossed the threshold. “What happened to Dick?”

“They went thataway.” Cole pointed at the seemingly blank wall.

“And the Iron Skull?”

“He, too, passed through the wall, with our very own Richard in hot pursuit. How did the rest of you chaps make out?”

“We got the situation well in hand, took care of just about everybody,” said the black man. “Turns out that Kessell guy’s pretty good in a brawl, used to box in college, he says. But Macauley . . . well, we had to tie him up.”

“It could just be, Joshua, that Macauley is the weak link on the project,” Cole said. “That is, the chap who’s been Herr Skull’s source of information.”

“No doubt about it, the way he tried to sabotage us. I figure the Skull stuck Macauley down there to act as a spy on the rest of us. It’s an old prison camp trick,” said Josh. “You know, after we sprung him loose, he tried to shoot Mac.”

“Definitely not cricket.” Cole flicked a thumb in the direction of the cabinet member robot. “Recognize that chap?”

“Hey, it’s—”

“Exactly. Herr Skull has been planning to place his little handiworks in even higher positions.”

Josh said, “Don’t think he’s done it yet, maybe?”

“Not from the way he talked when he was bragging to Richard. Although, there are a couple of fellows high up in Washington right now who well could be made out of tin and wire. We’ll have to let Don Early nose around.”

“I guess he could replace just about anybody. These robots of his are damn good.”

“Oh, I don’t know. The Cole Wilson one seemed rather a dull chap.”

“Whoosh,” said MacMurdie as he came striding in, rubbing his leathery hands together. “All the skurlies are trussed up, and there’s nae a man jack left to oppose us. ’Twas a good fight we put up.”

“So I hear,” said Cole. “Richard is at the moment trailing our host up through the labyrinthine ways which he figures will lead us out of the underground.”

“You’re talking o’ this Iron Skull berkie? I ne’er met him yet,” said the Scot, “and here I’ve been a guest of his for several days.”

“He’s not the politest of chaps.”

“My knuckles are starting to hurt now,” said Kessell as he came into the laboratory. He was massaging his right hand. “You probably won’t believe that I used to be a middleweight. Going to have to start exercising again. Did pretty well, though.”

“Aye, that you did.”

Josh told Cole, “We can leave all these guards and such, plus friend Macauley, down here. Let the FBI or Don Early’s agency come and cart ’em off.”

“Yes, that’s a sound plan,” said Cole. “Anything where someone else does the heavy lifting is a sound plan. What say we step into the wall and see about making our way up to the earth’s surface?” He walked over and flicked the concealed switch.