Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 121 - Death Token

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DEATH TOKEN
by Maxwell Grant
As originally published in "The Shadow Magazine," March 1, 1937.
Many were the lives that could be bought with this insignificant French
silver franc piece - so many that The Shadow stepped in to pierce the secret
of
its murderous buying power of death!
CHAPTER I
BATTLE IN MANHATTAN
FLOODLIGHTS showed the Queen Mary, docked at her Hudson River berth. On
the pier, dwarfed beneath the towering sides of the mammoth liner, two customs
officers were inspecting a long, flat express box. The lid was open; the
officers thumbed through documents, and checked with a typewritten statement.
"Contents as represented," declared an officer. "Documents for delivery
to
Mr. Courtney Radbard. Duty-free."
He replaced the papers, clamped the box shut and affixed a seal. He gave
the key to a frail, bespectacled man who had witnessed the inspection. The
frail man entered a cab; two stewards put the steel box in after him.
That taxi was spotted before it had gone three blocks. Two men saw it
from
the front seat of their parked sedan. They recognized the bespectacled
passenger.
"That's him, Leo," grunted the man at the wheel of the sedan. "John
Sideling, Radbard's secretary."
"Tail him, Beak," responded the other watcher. "Up to where the outfit's
waiting. Solo will give the tip-off. We'll block from in back. We're going to
snatch that tin box!"
The sedan started forward. Two of the most dangerous crooks in Manhattan
were on Sideling's trail.
Leo Jebbrey called himself a big-slot. "Beak" Hadlett was his lieutenant,
when they worked together. The law had often linked that pair; therefore, they
were seen together only when big crime was afoot. To-night, a third crook was
working with them.
Leo had mentioned the name "Solo," and only one crook in New York carried
that nickname. He was Solo Juke, a lone wolf by reputation. Evidently, Solo
had
foregone his one-man methods to team with Leo and Beak.
Passing lights showed Leo Jebbrey craning through the windshield of the
sedan. Long-faced, with drawn cheeks and squinty eyes, Leo watched every jolt
of Sideling's cab. Beside Leo, Beak Hadlett displayed a flattish countenance,
marked by a wide, bulgy nose. Handling the wheel, Beak kept close to the taxi.
In the rear seat of the sedan were three hoodlums, all with ready guns.
They were looking forward to the task of pumping bullets into their coming
victim, John Sideling.
On Tenth Avenue, a coupe shot into sight beside Sideling's car. Its
driver
was Solo Juke, darkish and sullen, a curl on his thick lips. The waiting crook
had also spotted Sideling. He was cutting in ahead of the cab; his coupe
served
as a signal.
A touring car nosed from a street that was partly closed to traffic. It
swung straight across in front of Sideling's cab. The taxi driver jammed his
brakes, not knowing what the touring car intended. He learned quickly.
Doors slung open. Four thugs piled from the touring car. Brandishing
revolvers, they made for the stalled cab.
Sideling saw them from his window; he gulped and dived to the floor. A
thug yanked open the cab door; saw Sideling crouched, clutching the steel
express box. The triggerman aimed his .38 straight between the huddled
victim's
eyes.
One-shot alone was needed to end Sideling's life; that bullet, however,
was destined to be long postponed.
A STREAMLINED taxi roared suddenly upon the scene, arriving as if from
nowhere. Driven by a reckless jehu, it cut in past the sedan, which had
stopped
fifty feet behind Sideling's cab. Leo Jebbrey and Beak Hadlett saw the
arriving
vehicle; but it passed them like a whizzing streak, before either crook could
realize that it had trailed them from the pier.
The thugs beside Sideling's cab jumped away, to avoid the hurtling
juggernaut that was almost upon them. All but the one gorilla who held
Sideling
covered. He was close enough to the step to avoid the path of the surging cab.
His job was to finish Sideling.
He hesitated only long enough to throw a glance at the headlights of the
approaching cab. An instant later, his eyes were again toward Sideling; the
killer's finger was ready on the trigger.
That moment's interval changed the climax.
A gun spoke from the half-opened door of the onsurging cab. Despite the
fact that the driver was jamming the brakes, the marksman in the rear seat was
perfect with his aim. Flame speared for the thug who threatened Sideling. With
the blast came a solid slug that found its target.
The would-be killer jolted; spilled sidewise on the running board of
Sideling's taxi.
Three other hoodlums saw their companion drop, his gun unfired. For a
moment, the streamlined cab blotted further view, as it came almost to a stop.
Then, as if responding to a command, the driver gave it the gas.
The cab careened upon the curb, sped past the stalled touring car.
Finding
the avenue's paving, it wheeled suddenly to the right, through the partly
blocked side street that had been the touring car's lurking spot. Thugs aimed,
to fire after the departing cab. A warning shout told them that they had
picked
the wrong target.
The cry came from the man at the wheel of the stalled touring car.
Leaping
to the street, he was whipping out a revolver, to aim for a spot beside
Sideling's cab. The streamlined taxi had discharged a passenger as it passed.
The marksman who had clipped the first thug was standing ready to deal with
further foes.
Crooks saw him, blocking the cab door, protecting the huddled man within.
Between them and Sideling stood a shielding fighter, a being clad in black.
His
very garb betokened his identity. The rescuer from the night was The Shadow.
THAT first shot should have told crooks who it was that had intervened.
They no longer were in doubt, however; they recognized that cloaked form, with
eyes that glowed beneath the brim of a slouch hat. They saw the muzzles of
formidable automatics, unlimbered for action, looming from gloved fists. They
heard a peal of strident mockery: The Shadow's taunting laugh that predicted
disaster to all whose ways were evil.
A gunshot answered The Shadow's challenge. It came from the driver of the
touring car. A bullet whistled past The Shadow's shoulder. A gloved fist swung
to deliver its response. One .45 boomed before the gunman could fire again.
The
hasty thug sprawled beside the front wheel of the cab. Even while the attacker
was falling, The Shadow swung to meet new marksmen.
Stabbing quick shots toward the curb, the cloaked sharpshooter clipped
the
thugs who had heard their pal's quick cry. They were busy with their triggers
also; but they were no match for their dread adversary. The Shadow, as always,
seemed immune to the bullets that clanged the cab behind him. Thugs were too
panicky to realize that the charm lay in their own haste. Crooks of their ilk
invariably fired too soon, when they encountered The Shadow.
One rogue floundered; the others took to their heels, one clutching a
crippled arm, his companion clapping a wounded gun hand to a thick-lipped
mouth. Others could fight The Shadow; not they. One was scurrying for a
darkened doorway; the other was heading for the protection of stacked ash
carts
on the curb.
Just as he had swung away from one falling attacker, so did The Shadow
forget these crippled foemen. He sensed further battle; to meet it, he wheeled
toward the rear of the cab. His big automatics started a new barrage, and a
timely one, toward the sedan where other foemen lurked. The Shadow was in time
to meet another surge.
Killers had piled from the stalled sedan. They were loping forward, the
trio from the back seat. Close behind the gorillas came Leo Jebbrey and Beak
Hadlett, as anxious as their followers to overwhelm The Shadow. Confident that
the previous battlers had winged The Shadow, the newcomers expected a kill at
close range. Before they reckoned what was coming, the situation was reversed.
Flame leaping from The Shadow's guns sent the attackers fleeing. The
withering blasts were accurate; partly protected by the oblique position of
the
cab, The Shadow could not be reached by answering shots.
Leo and Beak were caught flat-footed as they saw their underlings
stagger.
With one accord, the two leaders dived back for the protection of the sedan.
As
they reached it, they saw The Shadow coming in pursuit.
Victor in the short-lived fray, The Shadow had opportunity for a complete
triumph. Leo and Beak were as good as finished; in flight, they could not have
rallied to withstand The Shadow's wrath.
It was a lucky aftermath that saved them: the timely aid of a partner
who,
as yet, had not figured in the battle.
SWOOPING down the avenue came Solo Juke at the wheel of his coupe. Solo
swung wide around the touring car, passed the taxi and pulled up beside the
sedan.
Leo grabbed for the open window beside the driver's seat. Beak made a
long
dive atop the closed rumble seat. Solo yanked the wheel, gave his car the gas.
With the sedan protecting it against an immediate rear attack, the coupe sped
southward down the avenue.
When The Shadow had sprang wide of the sedan, far enough to gain the aim
he wanted, the coupe's tail-lights were twinkling a full block away. The range
was too great for gunfire, at the speed the car was traveling. Leaders in
crime
had made their get-away.
A motor roared behind The Shadow. Turning, the cloaked victor saw
Sideling's cab jolt backward; then swing forward around the stalled touring
car. A few moments later, the rescued cab was speeding northward, taking the
opposite direction to the one that the last crooks had chosen. Sideling had
rallied sufficiently to stir his driver into action. The secretary was
speeding
to safety with the express box from the Queen Mary.
Police whistles were blasting from near-by streets. Sirens were
delivering
an approaching wail. Alone in the avenue which traffic had cleared and
avoided,
The Shadow waited less than a single second. Satisfied that he had
accomplished
all that was possible, the cloaked fighter swept swiftly toward the blockaded
street. Reaching its darkness, he found the streamlined cab that had brought
him to the field of battle.
A whispered laugh marked The Shadow's prompt departure. Though
ringleaders
of crime had made their getaway, their attack had been frustrated. That was
sufficient for the present. Their band thinned, those crooks would make no
immediate trouble. Later, The Shadow would find two of them with ease, Leo
Jebbrey and Beak Hadlett.
It was through a partial check on the affairs of those two rogues that
The
Shadow had gained his inkling of tonight's crime. Solo Juke had appeared as an
unexpected outsider; but The Shadow was sure that he would find the lone wolf
later, along with Leo and Beak.
One fact was certain. In saving Sideling, The Shadow had rescued a
hapless
man whose death had seemed certain. The Shadow had never seen Sideling before;
therefore, he had not learned why crooks had sought the man's life and tried
to
gain the property that Sideling carried.
That was something that The Shadow would soon discover. When he learned
the truth, he would be due for a surprise. For behind the massed attack on
Tenth Avenue lay hidden causes that The Shadow did not suspect.
Through this campaign that, so far, involved no more than crude attack,
The Shadow was due to meet a master-criminal whose ways were those of subtle
strategy.
CHAPTER II
THE SHOW-DOWN
SOON after the Tenth Avenue fray, Sideling's cab arrived at a secluded
brownstone mansion; the home of Courtney Radbard. The cab was expected; two
brawny servants came from the house and took the express box indoors.
Sideling gave the cab driver a twenty-dollar bill, with the remark:
"Say nothing about to-night's occurrence. My employer detests notoriety,
and should not be inconvenienced."
A third servant, beefy-faced and quizzical, was waiting when Sideling
entered the house. He asked:
"You ran into trouble, Mr. Sideling?"
"None at all, Moshart," replied Sideling. "We were delayed by heavy
traffic near the pier."
The two were standing in a large hallway. The place looked like a museum,
with magnificent hangings, huge furniture of ebony and teak, large Oriental
vases. Across from the doorway was a huge statue of Apollo that weighed fully
a
ton; for it was eight feet tall and made of solid bronze.
Mounted on a three-foot pedestal, the Greek god towered like a giant. The
statue's size was matched only by the grand staircase beyond it. Sweeping
upward on a long curve, the stairway displayed broad marble steps flanked by a
massive marble rail.
Sideling went through a large, gloomy library; he passed the returning
servants who had carried the express box. The secretary reached the back of
the
library and knocked at a bulky door. A heavy voice ordered him to enter.
Sideling stepped into a small room to face his employer.
Courtney Radbard was seated behind a mahogany desk, upon which rested the
steel express box. Past Radbard was a large, modern safe, wide open. On the
far
wall of the room was a closed door that led to the rear of the mansion.
Radbard was heavy-built, wide of shoulder. His face was broad and rugged;
his jaw firm as iron. His eyebrows were overlarge; their bushiness was
noticeable, because of the sharp eyes that glistened from beneath them.
Radbard
was dressed in brown; the color matched his eyes, his brows and bushy hair.
His
complexion, too, was brownish. His tawny skin, plus his crouchy pose, gave him
the appearance of a lion.
"What happened, Sideling?"
Radbard's rumble told that he had guessed that trouble had occurred.
Sideling recounted all that had happened. Concluding, the secretary said:
"At least, the express box is safe. Shall I open it, sir?"
Radbard thrust a tawny paw across the desk, clamped it on the express box
with the comment:
"Leave the box exactly as it is."
Leaning back in his chair, Radbard sat silent, while Sideling stood by
and
watched him. Five minutes passed. There was a rap at the door from the rear of
the mansion. Radbard commented:
"We have visitors, Sideling. Admit them."
THE secretary unlocked the door. Three men filed through and calmly
seated
themselves, while Sideling watched with strained expression. The first two who
entered were Leo Jebbrey and Beak Hadlett. The third, slouching behind them,
was Solo Juke.
The very crooks who had tried to murder Sideling and carry away the
express box were visitors in Courtney Radbard's home!
Leo Jebbrey squinted toward Radbard, and decided to open the
conversation.
"We hear Sideling got into a jam," gruffed Leo, "while he was coming up
here from the dock."
Sideling shot a look toward Radbard, to indicate that the visiting crooks
were the men responsible. Radbard ignored his secretary's glance. Calmly, he
remarked:
"Bad news seems to travel fast."
"It does," asserted Leo, "especially when The Shadow is hooked up with
it.
He was the bimbo who smeared those mugs!"
"Tell me about these 'mugs,' as you term them. Who were they, Leo?"
"I don't know. But they were after this tin box of yours."
"Why should they want it?"
Radbard's question came with velvet purr. It brought a stare from Leo.
The
crook thudded the desk with his fist.
"It's time for a show-down, Radbard!" snapped Leo. "We're all in the same
racket. We've shipped swag across the Atlantic, to big-shots on the other
side.
We've expected them to pay for it, with jewels that we can unload here. Stuff
that they've snatched.
"That's why you're in the deal. You're a big shipping man. You can handle
the shipments. You say the sparklers haven't been coming through. Maybe not;
but we've seen some rocks that look like foreign stuff. What I want to know
is,
did they come from Pierre Lebrunne. If they did, who fenced them?"
Leo Jebbrey was savage in tone; it made Beak Hadlett restless. Looking
toward Solo Juke, Beak saw the lone wolf puffing a cigarette. Beak reached for
a cigarette of his own. Meanwhile, Radbard turned to Sideling, with the order:
"Summon Mademoiselle Lebrunne."
Sideling went out through the library. Returning, he was accompanied by a
girl of remarkable beauty. Her hair was jet-black; her attire dark. Her
complexion was remarkably clear, its whiteness a contrast to her dark hair and
eyes. The perfect mold of her features made Leo Jebbrey eye her with an
appraising stare, which Beak Hadlett duplicated. Solo Juke looked
disinterested.
"This is Celeste Lebrunne," introduced Radbard, alone rising from his
chair. The shipping magnate gave a courteous bow. "Tell us, mademoiselle, why
you are visiting in New York."
"Because of my brother, Pierre," replied the girl, in English. "He wishes
that his plans be properly completed."
"You hear from your brother frequently?"
"Yes. Pierre's last letter came today."
"Did it contain a message for me?"
"Yes, Monsieur Radbard. Pierre has said that you must wait some time
longer, before he can send any of the jewels."
RADBARD bowed again. Sideling ushered Celeste out through the library.
Radbard faced his visitors; his expression indicated that he had given proof
sufficient. Leo Jebbrey stared sourly, then gestured toward the express box on
the desk.
"Some lugs were after that," reminded Leo. "Guess they found out that you
get express boxes regularly from Europe."
Radbard pointed to the unbroken customs seal. He produced the key to the
express box, gave it to Leo, with the comment:
"Open the box."
Leo inspected the seal. Satisfied, he unlocked the box. He brought out
claim sheets and insurance policies; then studied the empty box. He thumbed
the
documents and replaced them.
"You win," growled Leo. "No sparklers in this layout."
Smiling, Radbard produced a box of cigars from his desk drawer. He helped
himself to one; noting that Beak and Solo were smoking cigarettes, he ignored
them and offered a cigar to Leo.
The squinty-eyed big-shot took a cigar and thrust it in his pocket,
watching Radbard on the chance that the magnate was simply trying to divert
attention.
"Our agreement stands," declared Radbard, in his heavy tone. "You will
hear from me when the jewels arrive. Lebrunne will find a method to convey
them
safely to America. Meanwhile" - Radbard's tone was hard - "we must take action
against the person who attacked Sideling to-night. Whoever instigated that
attempt must die! Do I have your agreement?"
Leo Jebbrey met Radbard's gaze, and grunted: "Sure! I agree."
Hearing Leo's statement, Beak Hadlett nodded. So did Solo Juke. Radbard
waved to the rear door. Sideling opened it.
"Be cautious about future visits," remarked Radbard, dryly. "I prefer to
have you come here separately. However, such a reminder is hardly necessary. I
feel quite sure that all three of you will not come here together in the
future."
AFTER leaving Radbard's, the three crooks headed for a large apartment
house, owned by Leo Jebbrey. Once there, they were in their own domain. The
doorman was a husky thug, garbed in uniform. So was the elevator operator. On
the fifth floor, the trio was met by an ex-pug called "Hustler," who served as
Leo's inside guard.
Leo led the way through a room stocked with cheap art objects: taborets,
vases, imitation statuettes and drapes. It was Solo's first visit; as they
walked through the room, Beak whispered to him:
"Leo thinks this junk is the real McCoy. My guess is that he's a sucker
to
buy the stuff."
Going through a short passage, they reached a billiard room where two
blocky hoodlums in shirt sleeves were shooting pool on a full-sized table,
beneath the glow of a green-shaded lamp. Leo gestured the bodyguards through a
far door. As soon as they were gone, he began discussion.
"Radbard's a fox," gritted Leo. "He showed us up for a bunch of monkeys,
having that box waiting for us."
"Radbard is wise," put in Solo. "He knows it was your idea, Leo, trying
to
rub out Sideling and snatch the box."
"What if he is wise?" demanded Leo. "It's time he knew I wasn't
satisfied.
He's supposed to be smart. If he is, why hasn't he brought in that swag?
Lebrunne has it ready to ship."
"You heard what the French moll said," remarked Beak. "She'd know. Pierre
sent her over here to keep things on the up and up."
"Yeah?" quizzed Leo. "Maybe Radbard's bluffing the mademoiselle. Maybe
Lebrunne made a deal to ship to Radbard without his sister knowing it. Having
the moll there at Radbard's is meant to kid us. That's all!"
Leo brought out the cigar that Radbard had given him. He gave the tip a
savage bite; struck a match and lighted the cigar. Pacing the floor beside the
pool table, Leo chewed at the end of the cigar and puffed clouds of smoke.
The three crooks had forgotten Hustler, the rowdy who guarded the
entrance
from the elevator. At that moment, Hustler was finding trouble. He saw the
door
of the elevator start to open; he heard a harsh whisper and thought that the
operator had a report. Hustler stepped close.
The door slid open. Out surged an avalanche in black. Hustler saw The
Shadow. Before the guard could yank his gun, a gloved hand caught his gun arm
with a steely grip.
Hustler wrenched away; a fist came upward to his jaw. The big thug took a
punch as tough as any that he had received during his ring career. He wound up
huddled on the elevator floor.
Beside Hustler lay the elevator operator, bound and gagged. The Shadow
tied up Hustler; he closed the elevator door and started through the garish
living room.
IN the billiard room, Leo Jebbrey ceased his angry pacing. He leaned
across the pool table, wagging his right forefinger while his left hand held
the half-chewed cigar.
"If Radbard's getting sparklers from Lebrunne," asserted Leo, "the stuff
has got to be around that joint of his. That's a sure bet, isn't it?"
"Yeah." It was Beak Hadlett who responded. "I've had a couple of guys
case
the joint, like you told me to, Leo. Every time Radbard's gone out of town,
he's
been trailed."
"While he's been gone," added Solo, "I've been in the joint. I tapped the
walls, the floors, the bookcases. Fished in those big jars; and took a gander
in that safe that Radbard likes to leave wide open. Nothing there that we've
wanted."
"The stuff's coming in, though," assured Leo. "The express box is a dud.
But we've got another bet. Luff Barrago."
Beak and Solo began to shake their heads.
"Wait a minute," argued Leo. "I know Luff's on the level. He's all for
us.
But he's the one guy who's seen Lebrunne and Radbard both. Maybe Luff knows
something."
Leo shoved his cigar in his mouth. He was standing with his back toward
the door that the trio had entered. His companions were waiting for more.
"Luff's a gambler," declared Leo, as he lowered his cigar. "He plays the
boats between here and Europe. He knows Lebrunne, and he sees Radbard every
trip. We missed him the last couple of times because he don't stay long. Even
if he hasn't brought in any swag, he may be piping news that the French moll
don't know about."
Leo's face showed a gleam, while Beak and Solo watched him. The
squinty-eyed big-shot was getting an idea, once he had started thinking about
"Luff" Barrago.
"I'll tell you the whole lay," began Leo "the way I'm seeing it, right
now; and it's close enough to be right. If -"
LEO stopped abruptly. Beyond him, the door from the passage had begun to
inch inward, its motion barely discernible by the light.
It was not that movement, however, that had made Leo pause; his back was
toward the door. Nor did the motion of the barrier cause the stares that came
to the faces of Beak and Solo. Their eyes were fixed upon something closer;
they were viewing Leo Jebbrey's face.
Over that leering countenance had come a sickly expression. Long features
had whitened; they were drawn in pain. Doubling against the pool table, Leo
pressed his hands to the pit of his stomach. With a gasp, he rolled forward,
spat a cough of agony as his arms floundered away from his body.
Leo's fingers clawed the green cloth of the pool table, then spread
rigid.
With a spasm, the crook lurched forward, half climbing the table edge. The
convulsive effort ended with a sprawl. Leo's head dropped; his face stared
sidewise from the table top.
Beak Hadlett sprang to his pal's side. Wildly, he stared into Jebbrey's
glassy eyes. Retreating, Beak faced Solo Juke, to gulp the announcement:
"Leo's croaked!"
Solo stepped to the table end, his sullen face furrowed. He looked at
Leo's dead visage; saw a greenish tinge of the lips, and the swollen,
protruding tongue. Beside Leo's rigid hand, Solo spied the fallen cigar butt.
The same ugly green showed from the clumpy tobacco that Leo had chewed.
Solo's eyes hardened. He knew how death had come. He remembered Courtney
Radbard's decree. Death to the man who had engineered the attack against
Sideling! Leo Jebbrey had himself agreed to the death sentence. He had given
his accord contemptuously; but Radbard had taken him at his word. Knowing Leo
to be the crook behind the attack, Radbard had given him a poisoned cigar.
THOUGH the case was plain to Solo Juke, Beak Hadlett had not grasped it.
Beak was a rogue who counted death in terms of knives and bullets. He had
looked for a blade in Leo's back; seeing none, Beak's chain of thought had
jumped to the possibility of a silencer-equipped gun.
Stepping to the far wall, Beak looked toward the one spot from which a
bullet could have come. He saw the door of the passage; close at hand, he
noted
that it was partly opened.
Crouching suddenly, Beak whipped out a revolver; then made a spring that
Solo Juke heard.
Solo spun about; instinctively, he reached for his own revolver, just as
Beak gained the door and yanked the barrier wide. In one instant, both crooks
forgot Leo Jebbrey and all others who dealt in crime.
Beak's sudden move had produced a revelation. It brought Beak and Solo
face to face with an enemy whom they had met before. Upon the threshold of the
opened doorway stood a figure that neither crook had expected to find in Leo
Jebbrey's lair; a cloaked foeman from whom they had fled upon this very night.
Here, in the heart of their present stronghold, the two crooks were
confronted by The Shadow!
CHAPTER III
CROOKS IN THE DARK
THE SHADOW'S arrival outside the door of the billiard room had been
anything but timely. Instead of fitting his intended plans, it had completely
ruined them. That was due entirely to a circumstance that neither The Shadow
nor the assembled crooks had expected; namely, the collapse and death of Leo
Jebbrey.
The Shadow was working solely upon the knowledge that Leo Jebbrey and
Beak
Hadlett were engaged in deep crime. Quick arrival had seemed unnecessary; for
The Shadow was sure that he could learn all vital facts after the talk was
well
under way.
That supposition had been a good one. The Shadow had reached the billiard
room at the very moment when Leo had started to summarize the whole situation
that concerned Courtney Radbard. Death had intervened to halt Leo's statement.
Thus The Shadow was too late to learn of Radbard and the French crook,
Pierre Lebrunne. He was even too belated to hear mention of Luff Barrago, the
possible link between Lebrunne and Radbard. Some information might have come
if
Solo Juke had gained a chance to express his theory of Leo Jebbrey's death;
but
that had been ended by Beak Hadlett's wild surmise regarding a silent bullet
from the door of the connecting passage.
The game was ruined when Beak ripped the door inward. In addition, the
crook's frenzied move put The Shadow in a tight spot.
Half turned in the doorway, The Shadow had his left side toward Beak.
Beak, his gun in his right fist, was aiming point-blank for The Shadow's
heart,
even before he spied his cloaked opponent.
Hesitation would have been The Shadow's finish. There was another course;
one that The Shadow might ordinarily have taken: to whip his right hand
forward, bringing up its gun. That move, however, required a half turn. In the
time lost, Beak could have beaten The Shadow to the shot.
In that instant of emergency, The Shadow chose an alternative - a
long-shot move that was his only chance. He lunged his left side toward Beak,
made a hard jab with his left hand, his fingers driving for the crook's gun.
In
one amazing clutch, The Shadow plucked the weapon and shoved it upward, Beak's
fist rising with it.
THE very unexpectedness of the move caught Beak unprepared. To Beak, it
seemed as though a grasping piston had driven up from nowhere, to turn the aim
of his pointing gun. His finger still on the trigger, Beak fired. The bullet
bored into the ceiling.
Beak was rolling backward, impelled by The Shadow's drive. Bringing his
right hand into play, The Shadow flashed a .45 automatic. At that moment,
death
seemed certain for Beak. The looming muzzle stopped, however, before it
reached
Beak's eyes.
The Shadow, half clear of his foe, was faced by Solo Juke. Beak's
backward
reel had given Solo a chance for aim, and he was taking it. That was why The
Shadow's gun halted; to cover Solo before the latter could fire.
As he aimed for Solo, The Shadow gave a mighty lunge that sent Beak
farther backward. Still clutching his revolver, Beak clattered against a chair
beside the billiard table and did a back dive to the floor. He lost his
revolver as he somersaulted; the weapon hit the wall, six feet beyond him.
Solo performed a double move. He fired while still aiming, and at the
same
time dropped below his side of the billiard table. His quick shot was two feet
wide of The Shadow; but his quick drop saved him from disaster.
The Shadow's big gun spoke while Solo was making the dive. The bullet
chipped the table edge, a scant inch above Solo's shoulder.
With long stride, The Shadow gained the billiard table. His purpose was
to
reach the other side and pick off Solo before the gunman could scramble to
safety at the far end. By eliminating Solo, The Shadow would be free to handle
Beak before the disarmed crook could regain his lost gun.
It was Solo's turn, however, to benefit from the aid of others. Just as
The Shadow reached the near end of the table, the door across the room swung
open and Leo's two bodyguards - the ones who originally had been shooting pool
- appeared.
The Shadow heard the clatter of their coming; stopped short because of
the
reinforcements. Again, he launched a swift, protective move. His left hand
grabbed the cloth at the back of Leo's coat collar. With a quick jerk, The
Shadow pulled the dead body toward him.
Guns blasted from the distant floor. They barked just as Leo's body
bobbed
upward as The Shadow's shield. Well-aimed bullets stopped short of their
black-clad target. Those whizzing slugs found lodgment in the corpse of Leo
Jebbrey.
The Shadow's mocking laugh sounded in defiant challenge amid the echoes
of
the thwarted shots.
Despite the gibe that he uttered, The Shadow knew the menace of the
situation. Cramped in close quarters, he had four enemies instead of two. They
were scattered; the billiard table served them as a bulwark. The freak
conditions gave the enemy the odds. The Shadow's only policy was to end the
advantage. He had a simple method by which he could accomplish it.
IGNORING human targets, The Shadow aimed for the large light above the
摘要：

DEATHTOKENbyMaxwellGrantAsoriginallypublishedin"TheShadowMagazine,"March1,1937.ManywerethelivesthatcouldbeboughtwiththisinsignificantFrenchsilverfrancpiece-somanythatTheShadowsteppedintopiercethesecretofitsmurderousbuyingpowerofdeath!CHAPTERIBATTLEINMANHATTANFLOODLIGHTSshowedtheQueenMary,dockedather...

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Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 121 - Death Token.pdf

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