Shadow 159 - The Dead Who Lived 10-01-38, The by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street and Smith
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

RAKING bullets whined above The Shadow’s head, to spatter the wall of the bedroom. Those slugs ripped away the single floor lamp that illuminated the room. Darkness came; the machine gunners no longer had hope of picking a target. They halted their useless fire.

They were to regret their move. A gibing laugh came from the window; with it, the quick flashes of an automatic. Uncannily, The Shadow was picking out human targets against the dim background of the garage roof.

Huddled figures sprawled; others dragged them away, beneath the shelter of a low parapet. That gun crew was clearing out; the luckier crooks were hauling the machine gun along with their wounded pals.

Arlene hadn’t realized how the fight had gone. It was the first time that she had witnessed The Shadow in battle. Fearing for her rescuer, Arlene dashed to the apartment door, yanked it open, to call for aid. A man from the hallway blocked her. She whipped back at sight of a pointed revolver.

Springing into the room, the fellow grabbed her, pulled her out into the hallway, toward a flight of stairs at the back.

Before the crook could do murder, he heard the laugh of The Shadow. It came from the door of the apartment. Looking across Arlene’s shoulder, that last invading thug spied the cloaked avenger.

The Shadow could not see the glowering face beyond Arlene, but he spied the hand that clutched the girl’s neck. It was a hand he recognized, for it lacked a second finger. Moreover, it had a jagged scar that ran almost to the wrist.

That hand belonged to a crook named Bosco Treff. Oddly, it was to save its owner’s life.

The Shadow wanted a living thug, who could tell the name of the leader who controlled the ill-assorted band that showed up everywhere. Cobber Lokum had died too soon. Bosco Treff was going to live a while.

Bosco did what The Shadow expected. He responded to The Shadow’s challenge by flinging Arlene aside. With the same move, Bosco whipped back into the darkness of the stairway, to take aim. The Shadow saw the glimmer of the revolver in Bosco’s one good fist.

Already aiming, The Shadow squeezed the trigger of his automatic. The bullet clanged Bosco’s gun; it should have ricocheted to crack the thug’s wrist. Bosco’s hand chanced to be twisting when the slug arrived. His gun jounced from his numbed fingers, but he received no wound.

Madly, Bosco dived for the stairway. Again, he was fortunate. The Shadow aimed for his shoulder, not his head. Stumbling, Bosco pitched far enough ahead. The bullet barely grazed his coat. The Shadow followed, sweeping Arlene along with him.

There was safety in that closed stairway; much more than in the lighted hall, where some forgotten hoodlum might pop into sight.

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