Isle of Gold by Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson

Author:Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson [Grant, Maxwell & Gibson, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1939-08-18T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XII. HIDDEN STRATEGY

CLINK BRACKELL sprang the surprise. It came as a pair of his mobbies were starting toward the door. Clink stopped them short with a snarl.

"D'you lugs think you're going out the front?" he demanded. "Not a chance! That's the way we're heading,"--he thumbed toward the window--"the whole lot of us. What's more, it's time to be getting started."

The Shadow sped a quick glance upward. The fire escape went one floor higher, but that didn't help. It stopped outside a window that was probably latched on the inside. To break the glass would make too much noise; to jimmy the sash would require too much time.

Nor was the roof properly reachable from that exposed landing just above. The Shadow might be able to make it in time to wage battle from a secure position, but he would certainly be spotted. Therewith, he would reveal his presence to the crooks.

Thinning the ranks of Clink's mob was a privilege that The Shadow was anxious to reserve until a later date. He preferred to have them dwell secure at their new hide-away near Freeport. At any cost, he must find a way to leave his present position without the crooks guessing that he had been around.

Though he hadn't a definite plan to solve the present dilemma, The Shadow was on the move, down the fire escape. The nearer the ground, the better; but he hadn't forgotten the lookout at the bottom. That fellow would be sure to make trouble when The Shadow arrived, enough to let the mob know exactly what was up, unless some odd chance intervened.

Halfway down the metal steps, The Shadow halted. He still might find a way from his predicament. The odds were very much against it, but if the right break came, his delay would be repaid. That was why The Shadow lingered by a second-floor window that was too tightly locked for immediate service.

As he waited, he could hear the lookout pacing below, while the clank of footsteps above his head told that the first of Clink's tribe were beginning their journey from the room.

Thirty seconds more!

If a certain event didn't occur within that space of time, The Shadow would be in for a battle that he didn't want. A drawn automatic was in his fist, but he still hoped that he could use it for a special purpose that would solve his immediate position.

Twenty of the seconds were gone, when the opportunity arrived. It came in the shape of the patrolling police car, poking along the side street. Nosing up beside a parked car, one cop applied the brakes, while the other leaned out to take the parker's number.

Shoving his automatic forward, The Shadow pressed the trigger.

That bullet did more than cross the patrol car's bow. It clanged the chromium-plated radiator, ricocheted with a sharp crackle. Instantly, one officer sprang to the curb, while the other thrust his face from the patrol car's door. The first cop was drawing a revolver as he looked toward the old hotel.

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