Black Star's Subterfuge/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
AT BAY.
NEARER and nearer, louder and more insistent came the voice.
"Boss! Boss! Wake up, boss! Aw, boss, can't you wake up?"
Verbeck recognized the voice as that of Muggs, but it seemed he was in darkness. And then, rapidly, things cleared. His head whirled again, but this time consciousness was returning to him instead of leaving.
"Try to sit up, boss! That's the stuff!"
Now Muggs had an arm around his shoulders and was urging him to bend forward. Verbeck sighed and opened his eyes. He was in the darkness, on the ground between sidewalk and curb.
"Why—what" he gasped.
Memory returned to him with a rush. He struggled to get to his feet, and Muggs aided him, and they staggered toward the walk. The Black Star's headquarters—Riley held prisoner—the chalk trail—the vapor gun! Verbeck remembered all, and was roused to action.
"One moment, Muggs—I'm dizzy," he complained. "Just let us stand here a minute or so, then we'll get busy!"
"When I came to, you were dead to the world, boss. Ain't it the deuce? Where do you suppose them headquarters are, eh? And how are we goin' to get Riley out?"
"Things aren't as bad as they seem, Muggs. I know a thing or two."
"Did they shoot that stuff at you as soon as they put me to sleep?"
"They did, Muggs, but it didn't take effect."
"Wh-what's that, boss?"
"I fought them, Muggs—held my breath. I pretended to be unconscious, and they carried me to the taxi. They didn't put me to sleep until just before we were taken out of the cab. I got caught off guard then."
"Boss! You—you"
"Exactly, Muggs! I've an idea where the Black Star has his headquarters. Come along—I'm all right now. We've got to hurry to the house!"
Side by side they hurried down the street, went around the corner, and so came to the old Verbeck place. Once inside the gate, they ran at top speed to the front door, unlocked it, hurried inside. Muggs snapped on the lights; Roger Verbeck rushed to the telephone and called police headquarters and asked for the chief.
"Hello! Chief?" he said. "This is Roger Verbeck."
He was fighting to keep the note of excitement from his voice, for Verbeck knew the chief well. Communicate excitement to the chief, and he would want to call out the reserves, make a noise, alarm every crook in the city—and so accomplish nothing.
"Listen well, chief," he said now. "And please do not interrupt—and do exactly as I say. I've been to the Black Star's headquarters. Wait—wait! Keep quiet, chief, and listen. We'll get along better if we take things coolly. Yes—I've been inside the headquarters. He had me knocked out at a restaurant and took me there. He had Muggs abducted and taken there. His intention was to let us see the place, and then send us away unconscious, and give us the laugh because we couldn't find the place again."
"But—but"
"Wait!" Verbeck commanded. "While we were there, he even let us see orders given his men. They've planned a big trick for to-night. They are going to steal a hundred thousand in gold coin at two o'clock in the morning. It is a shipment that arrived at noon to-day. Understand? Get the wheels in motion down there and find out what bank or trust company received that shipment, and have their place well guarded."
"Yes—yes, I"
"Wait! Now listen carefully. While we were there, Detective Riley showed up—I don't know how he got there. We had things going our way for a time, but the Black Star turned the tables on us, as usual. He's got Riley there now—a prisoner. ... Wait, confound you; and listen! I'm home. Muggs and I were dumped here unconscious. Get your fastest machine—I don't know where my roadster is—and come out here with two of your best men. Get here as soon as you can. Only two men, chief—if you bring any more we'll raise a racket and lose out entirely. No questions—hurry!"
Verbeck hung up the receiver before the chief could reply. That he knew, was the way to get quick action out of the head of the city's police department.
"But how are we goin' to find that place, boss?" Muggs demanded.
Verbeck held up a hand for silence. He was pacing back and forth across the room, his brow wrinkled, head bent, cracking his fingers nervously. Two—five—three—eight Were those numbers correct? Had Verbeck returned to consciousness with the right numbers photographed on his brain? Two—five—three—eight—and then the corner he knew and had identified!
He'd have to reverse the numbers, of course. From the corner, eight blocks to where the taxicab had made the turn, then three blocks to the next turn—but which direction? Ah, the chalk would tell if it could be found!
In a few words he explained to Muggs what he had done, and that the chances for success were slim. The small pieces of crayon might be gone. They might have to retrace their steps a score of times. And every minute was precious. It was after ten o'clock now. They'd have to find the Black Star's headquarters within a short time to catch him there. Undoubtedly members of the band would report at a late hour to get final instructions regarding the theft of the gold. If only several of them could be captured—if Riley could be released before harm befell him! But there'd be no time to waste!
Down the street came the shrieking of a siren!
"Now curse the chief for a fool!" Verbeck cried. "Two-thirds of the city will know we're on the trail before we've gone two blocks. It is our game for the Black Star to think we have no idea where his headquarters can be found, that we were dead to the world when we left to be brought here!"
Muggs swung the door open as the police machine stopped before the gate, and the chief and two of his men charged up the walk toward the veranda. Verbeck met them at the top of the steps.
"Listen!" he commanded. "Let's have no noise! The slightest alarm may spoil our plans. I'll tell you what I've done."
He spoke rapidly, clearly. He told what had transpired in the Black Star's den, about Riley, how he had remained conscious, and left the chalk trail. He kept murmuring the numbers he had to remember until Muggs handed him a pencil; then he wrote the numbers on his cuff.
"No siren!" he ordered. "Drive to the National Building corner first. That's where we take up the trail."
"I've got men busy telephoning," the chief reported, as the machine darted down the boulevard. "If there's a bank or trust company got that gold shipment, there'll be a crowd of police in their building within half an hour. And if we get the Black Star and some of his men"
"Muggs and I have spotted two of his men," Verbeck said. "Muggs can identify the one who abducted him, and the chauffeur. And I got a good look at the one who rode in the cab with us, though I couldn't identify the chauffeur very well. But you can lay a wager right now, chief, that those men will receive a roll of bills each and be sent out of town at once. The Black Star, you understand, knows we have seen them. Their usefulness for him is at an end."
"Here's your corner!" the chauffeur cried.
Verbeck stood up in the machine and looked around him, then glanced at his cuff to be sure he was making no mistake.
"Drive south eight blocks," he ordered, "then stop."
The machine sped away. The destination was reached. Verbeck sprang out and looked around at the pavement. He gave a glad cry and ran toward one curb. There in the street was a white blotch, where the heavy wheel of some vehicle had run over and crushed a piece of chalk.
"You see?" he cried. "A moment now!" He looked at his cuff again. "Three blocks this time—but in what direction, I do not know. I didn't have a chance to see very well, remember. All I know is that the taxi made another turn three blocks from this corner."
They went toward the west first, and on the third corner searched without success for the bit of chalk. There was a small searchlight on the car, and with it they swept the pavement for a hundred feet in every direction. They found no trace of chalk.
They went to the next corner, thinking Verbeck might have made a mistake counting the number of blocks, and again they searched without reward. Back to the first corner they hurried, and this time went to the east. Before they had searched the third corner there less than a minute, Verbeck found what they sought. The chalk had not been crushed here, but here it was, close to the curb.
Verbeck consulted his cuff again.
"Five blocks," he said. "It must be five blocks north or south. We know the place we want to find is in the manufacturing district somewhere, so the best guess is south."
Again the machine dashed down the street. Once more they descended and searched the pavement. Muggs, the chief, the two detectives from headquarters joined in the search. The chauffeur operated the searchlight and flooded the street with brilliance. There was no sign of chalk.
"Down another block—maybe you made a mistake," the chief said.
They hurried to the next corner. It was nearly eleven o'clock. Unless the chalk could be found, they would have no direct trail to follow, and a systematic search of the manufacturing district would take hours, and put the Black Star on guard.
Five minutes' search convinced them there was no chalk on this corner. They got into the machine and turned back to the last corner where they had found the chalk.
"I'm sure I counted five blocks," Verbeck said. "Perhaps it is in the other direction."
"I've got it!" one of the detectives cried. "See that private alley? You counted that. It's the fourth corner instead of the fifth."
They stopped on the fourth corner. There was a blotch of white on the pavement—the police machine itself had made it by crushing the chalk as it passed.
"Now what?" the chief demanded.
"Two blocks," said Verbeck. "And that's all I could remember when I regained consciousness. Two blocks to another piece of chalk, and after that a considerable run without a turn. We'll have to go blind until I see something that recalls the locality."
Two blocks they journeyed at top speed, two blocks to the east—and there they found the bit of crayon in the middle of the street. Once more Verbeck stood up in the car and looked down the intersecting thoroughfares.
"Try that," he said, and pointed to the south again. "Drive slowly."
The machine went on. Block after block they passed, while Verbeck searched the side of the street, trying to spot some building he remembered. And then he saw a one-story empty building, with boarded windows.
"Stop!" he ordered. "To the curb! I remember this. We're within two blocks of the place! We'll leave the machine here and go ahead on foot."
Only the chauffeur remained behind. Verbeck led the way, with Muggs at his side, and behind came the chief and the two headquarters detectives. They passed the first corner, and then Verbeck began walking slower, watching the curb line, glancing at the gateway of every factory fence.
"There!" he whispered.
He pointed to the curb, to the chalk smeared on the walk there, where he had ground it with his heel as they were putting him into the taxicab.
"This is the place!" he said, and led the way to the gate. There were the crosses he had marked; they were at the end of the trail!
The building was small, and stood in the middle of the lot, with the fence entirely around it. It did not communicate with another building, and was easily surrounded.
"There's the door they use," Verbeck said. "Through a hall, down half a flight of steps to another hall in the basement, a few steps along that, and you come to the door of the room that holds the Black Star."
"What do you consider the best plan?" the chief asked.
"It is bright moonlight—we can see every square foot of the yard. Suppose your two men keep near the fence and watch the sides of the building. You, too, chief. I'll take Muggs and enter. We'll go prepared for trouble and try to spring a surprise. We'll get into that room some way, and there'll be action as soon as we do. You'll just have to guess from anything you hear whether it'll be best to remain outside on guard or enter the building to help."
"But Riley" the Chief began.
"I suppose he is in there, unless he has been taken away by some of the Black Star's men. If he is there, we must rescue him, of course, so he can aid us."
"Better let me send in a call"
"No!" Verbeck interrupted. "We can do that later, if it proves necessary. A surprise, swift action by just a few of us, may turn the trick. A bunch of reserves would alarm the gang. If we do not do that, we may be able to pick up several of them if they come to report or receive orders."
"All right," the chief replied. "You go on in with Muggs, and we'll watch the outside and be ready to make a rush if you need help. You're armed, of course?"
"I'm not—I forgot. Neither is Muggs. The Black Star relieved us of our automatics and failed to return them."
The chief stepped to the curb and signalled the distant chauffeur, and the headquarters automobile came to them swiftly. The chauffeur handed his automatic to Verbeck, and Muggs received a revolver that was in the machine.
The chief and chauffeur were to hold the gate. A detective slipped along the fence in each direction, keeping to the shadows, trying to get to a post where two sides of the building could be watched. Verbeck spoke softly to Muggs, and they stepped out into the bright moonlight and started walking swiftly across the yard toward the little door.
Verbeck had but one fear—that the Black Star, his plans for the night's crime completed, had left the headquarters and gone to whatever place he called home. There would be nothing to do then except watch the empty nest. But, if the Black Star and some of his men were in the building
A flash of flame came from one of the windows. A bullet whistled past Verbeck and Muggs, and struck the fence near the gate.
Another flash of flame—another bullet!
"Get out of that moonlight!" they heard the chief shriek.
On another side of the building there was a shot from a window, and one of the detectives replied to it.
Verbeck and Muggs dashed back to the fence and got in the shadows. More shots flashed from windows. The Black Star, evidently, was in his headquarters with some of his men, at bay, forgetting his abhorrence of violent methods, giving battle in an effort to escape the police he had scorned.