THE SPIDER-City of Doom (20 page)

Kirkpatrick glared at him. "Damn it, Dick," he said. "I trust you, but I wish you'd tell me what it's all about before I risk my neck in this fool hop."

Wentworth spun to face him. "It's a long chance, Kirk," he said. "A damn long one, but it may trap the Master. Until we do that, not a man or woman in this country is safe. We beat the gangsters today, but now that the steel-eater has demonstrated its ability to destroy guns, nothing will be immune to attack. They could strip the treasury itself. An enemy equipped with the secret of the steel-eater could sweep us off the earth."

Kirkpatrick agreed, still angry and plucking at his spike-ended mustache in irritation.

Wentworth strode out into the open, set his teeth as the bite of the fresh wind from the sea cut into him, and pushed his heavily-coated body into it until he stood by the stringpiece, staring grim-eyed at a small speck that showed above Governor's Island and winged rapidly toward them. A man strode to him with a package. "From Professor Brownlee, sir."

Wentworth nodded curtly, took the package in both hands. Kirkpatrick stood beside him with his fists rammed into his pockets. "All right," he said. "McSwag is the key. Now what?" He had to raise his voice to make it audible above the whip of the wind and the sullen boom of waves against the stone bulkhead.

"It proves," Wentworth said dryly, "that the Master has been abroad since McSwag was beaten the first time."

"But how do you know he's aboard the
Britannia?
"

Wentworth's lips twisted stiffly. "Because the
Britannia
was attacked," he said.

Kirkpatrick's oath was inarticulate, but he dropped his questioning. He saw that Wentworth did not intend to give the explanation yet and he stared at the seaplane, circling now to a landing on the rough waters.

"He can't make it!" Kirkpatrick muttered, the words sucked from his lips by the wind. But the pilot did make it, and seven hours later, Wentworth duplicated his feat on long sliding billows beside the
Britannia,
kept the plane taxiing there until a hoist boom dropped a hook that lifted them to the decks. He carefully unwrapped the package he had received from Brownlee and thrust the glittering gun it contained in his belt.

The British captain, dour-faced above a heavy white mustache, was stiffly indignant at this further delay to the
Britannia'
s
progress, already slowed by storm and the brush with the pirates. Nita and Anse Collins met Wentworth in the captain's private cabin, but to his eager questions they responded only with shakes of their heads.

"I reckon I don't know exactly what's up," Anse Collins said slowly, "but I didn't see a soul throw anything overboard." Wentworth nodded, keen eyes on the tall deputy's face.

"Alrecht is on board," he said, "but he's in disguise. Nita, I think we'd better hold a council of war in your suite. Anse, get Nancy and Briggs. Ram Singh's already down in the suite. Come on, Kirk."

Wentworth strode down to C deck where Nita had taken a cabin. His head was up, but inwardly he was worried. He had counted a great deal on trapping the Master by his talk of the "key" to the situation, a reference the Master would have understood meant the key to the safety deposit-box he had shared with O'Leary Simpson. He had hoped the Master would throw it overboard, but the Master had outguessed him, had figured that his feint was precisely that.

At the door of Nita's cabin, Wentworth was halted by a page boy in a neat short-jacketed uniform who proffered a small silver tray on which lay an envelope. Wentworth glanced down from it to the boy's face.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded swiftly.

"It was on the desk when I returned from a call, sir," the boy reported.

Wentworth nodded, thanked him, took the envelope carefully and slit it open. Within was a single sheet of paper. There was one sentence on it.

 
If you find me, this ship sinks
and two thousand people die.

—The Master

Wentworth grinned crookedly at the message and passed it over to Kirkpatrick. "Our bluff worked partly," he said. "We at least forced the Master to admit his presence. Do you believe me now?"

Kirkpatrick said quietly, "I always believe you, Dick."

As they entered Nita's suite, Ram Singh rose from beside a bunk where a motionless figure lay. His eyes glinted as they met his master's and he swept a salaam almost to the floor. He did not speak. Wentworth glanced only cursorily at the man on the bunk, who, face turned to the wall, seemed utterly indifferent to the visitors, but Kirkpatrick crossed and stared down at him. There was a tap at the door and Nancy came in with Briggs and Anse behind her. Briggs was carrying a thick portfolio of leather, puffing a black cigar. "Can't get away from my work," he spluttered. "Carrying it with me. Figuring on a new skyscraper. Take place of Sky Building."

Wentworth clasped his hand warmly. "That was splendid work you did wiping out that ship load of pirates."

Briggs' curiously contradictory face with its keen eyes above van Dyke and imperial wrinkled with good humor. "Did a bit of killing on your own what I hear."

Wentworth smiled, amazed that Briggs had been so interested in his activities. He waited until the small talk stopped, until the people in the room were watching him seriously.

"The Master is aboard," he said, and watched the smiles wash themselves off the faces of Briggs and Nancy, saw Anse Collins' sharp blue eyes flicker and chill. "He says that if I find him, he will destroy the ship."

Briggs puffed excitedly on his cigar. "Must find him," he barked out, his voice going loud. "Find the steel-eater gas."

"Quite so," agreed Kirkpatrick. "But how? Remember, if we fumble at all, we and two thousand others die."

Wentworth was standing erect, his hands idle at his sides, his head thrust forward aggressively. "We are not without a clue," he said briskly. "I had deduced that the Master was abroad, and other deductions led to that. His presence on this ship confirms them all. The Master was a cautious man. He covered every step of his work, protected himself behind a dozen shields." Wentworth described swiftly how he had got his money through O'Leary Simpson, how he spoke always through a mouthpiece whom he never saw personally.

"When a mob became too powerful for him to handle," Wentworth went on, "he dropped a clue to police or to the
Spider
and had it destroyed."

He paused, looked swiftly about the faces in the room. There was keen interest on the faces of the men. Nita was calmly confident, a slight smile on her full red lips, her blue eyes on his. Nancy Collins was frightened. She alone of those in the room seemed to sense the peril that overhung them . . .
If you find me, the ship will sink . . .
Wentworth knew that was no idle threat, knew that the Master was fully capable of fulfilling his threat, knew that he would have means at hand. He need only release his steel-eater, and not all the labor of the entire crew could save the
Britannia
from plunging downward through the black waters, her hull shattered fragments of gray powder that had been steel.

He turned toward Kirkpatrick, "Kirk, I had a talk with Beatrice Ross. She was thoroughly chastened after her imprisonment. But more than that, she was eager to get back at the
Spider.
She told me about his crashing in on McSwag's hideout that night. She said that the way Baldy proved his identity to the gangsters, when the
Spider
came there in Baldy's disguise, was to have one of the gangsters
feel his bald head!
"

Kirkpatrick's hard blue eyes were upon him. Anse Collins was breathing heavily through his mouth and Briggs' cigar had gone out again. Wentworth met Nita's eyes and shook his head slightly.

"Baldy really was bald. Otherwise, the fact that the
Spider's
apparently bald head was false would not have been a factor in determining which was the real Baldy.

"The Master never did a thing when he could get someone else to perform for him . . . that is if there was personal danger involved," Wentworth continued. "He tipped off McSwag's raid on the Funsdall bank!"

"The hell he did!" This from Kirkpatrick.

"Remember, an acid-burned body was found near the bank?" Wentworth asked. "That was the tip-off. The day before that, he had revealed through the attack on the
Britannia
that the weapon used was acid gas!"

Kirkpatrick's blue eyes were dubious. "But the
Britannia
might well have been destroyed without a trace, without a survivor to tell of the acid gas."

Wentworth shook his head slowly. "No Kirk," he said softly. "I think that if Briggs had not supplied the way out, the thing would have been accomplished in another way. I think the Master intended the destruction of the yacht and all aboard, just as he contrived McSwag's downfall. But these are minor points; what I am pointing out is the caution of the man. Invariably, he used some one else to destroy the hirelings for whom he no longer had any use." He paused and drew a deep breath, looked again over the six whose eyes were riveted to his face.

"The Master was so cautious that I think there is one time when he did not use anyone else, one time when it would have been more dangerous to use some one else than to do the thing himself. I do not believe he trusted any man sufficiently to use him as a mouthpiece, even though all communications were supposed to be by telephone. Baldy has not been spotted in New York despite a most intensive search since the night the McSwag mob was wiped out by the
Spider
and Betty Briggs was freed." He smiled tightly at Nita. "An hour after you sailed, my dear."

Kirkpatrick broke in sharply. "Hell, you mean . . . ." Wentworth nodded. "That the Master and Baldy are one and the same man!" There was startled silence.

"Alrecht may be bald for all we know," said Wentworth quietly.

He stepped quickly to the motionless figure on the bunk, whipped aside the covers and bent over the man.

"Are you bald, Alrecht?" he asked.

"Alrecht!" Kirkpatrick exploded the word, sprang to the bunk and stared down at the prisoner. "But you said you were bringing Butterworth back from England!"

Wentworth nodded. "Quite," he admitted. "But you will remember that this Butterworth never visited his people in Kent, that he made deposits in Alrecht's name, that all trace of Alrecht vanished when Butterworth left the country."

"You mean Butterworth and Alrecht are the same man, too?" Kirkpatrick was incredulous.

"No," Wentworth was smiling thinly down at the indignant face of the lawyer, across whose mouth were strips of gagging adhesive tape. "I only mean that Alrecht went abroad on Butterworth's passport after the picture on it was altered for him. I mean that Butterworth is undoubtedly dead and I suspect that it was his body, burned by acid to prevent identification, that was found beside the Funsdall bank. The Master ordered his elimination, undoubtedly ordered from abroad, to betray McSwag."

Wentworth leaned over and stripped off the adhesive and Alrecht immediately began to splutter out indignant words that sounded rusty. Wentworth caught his hair in both fists and yanked vigorously. The hair did not come loose and Alrecht howled with pain.

"I didn't think he could be the Master," Wentworth said quietly. "But he knows who the Master is. The Master was blackmailing him, probably had his evidence placed somewhere ready to be released in case of his death. That would protect him. The Master was a coward."

"Alrecht knows who the Master is?" asked Kirkpatrick softly. He was standing directly over the bunk and slowly he took off his belt, fingered the buckle. "There should be a way of making Alrecht talk."

WENTWORTH turned carelessly away from where Alrecht lay, glaring up at Kirkpatrick. He nodded slightly to Nita. It was more a movement of the eyes than of the head. At the same moment, he barked staccato Hindustani words at Ram Singh. The Hindu took two swift strides across the room and seized Briggs' arms. Nita stepped up behind him and, wrapping her fingers in his long hair, yanked fiercely at it. There was a moment of struggle, of panted curses, then the hair came free and revealed an egg-shaped bald head.

Wentworth's gun was in his hand. "W. Johnson Briggs," he said sharply, "you are Baldy.
You are the Master!
There is other damning evidence against you, too. We will find, I think, that you left the
Berengaria
before she sailed, then overtook her by fast boat while she went down the bay. You had to see McSwag once more before you sailed."

"He did do that!" Nancy Collins cried out. "He said it was business."

"Also," Wentworth said. "I am sure that Alrecht will now confirm that he saw you open the box in which O'Leary Simpson placed Bessmo money."

"He did," said Alrecht grudgingly from the bed. "But I didn't know what it meant. I only knew he was afraid when I recognized him."

Wentworth was grinning tensely, eyes watching Briggs with keen attention. "There were two other circumstances which pointed to you, Briggs," he said. "From the description by Ram Singh of Baldy, he smoked a cigarette like a man used to cigars, that is, Baldy wet the entire end of the cigarette with his lips. And you smoke cigars, Briggs.

"Furthermore, the man who got something on the contractor O'Leary Simpson, who got his secret specifications and held them over him to force his cooperation in buying Bessmo stock, must necessarily have been someone connected with the building trade. And you were, Briggs. Then there was the matter of Baldy's big head, and your own as evidenced by that picture of your daughter wearing your hat."

"This is all utter nonsense," Briggs protested hoarsely. "How could I possibly profit from all these murders?"

"That's the simplest part of it," Wentworth told him curtly, "and the fiendish part of it, too. First you got a cut of all the money seized by the criminals with the use of this gas steel-eater that you stole from Jim Collins. Second, you profit from contracts for the rebuilding of skyscrapers, for you are a leading architect of such buildings. Third, you would take in millions through dividends from the Bessmo Corporation, whose stock you held through O'Leary Simpson. Is that a full enough picture, Briggs? Or shall I give more . . . ."