Shadow 269 - The Golden Doom 07-01-43, 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

HE struck near the spot where the foam of Shrevvy’s splash was still boiling. He went down, kicking fiercely to gain depth.

His outstretched hands moved swiftly under water as he saw the dark, wavering splotch of Moe’s face. He caught Shrevvy by the hair. Then his grip shifted to Shrevvy’s belt.

He could feel the heavy weight of the scrap-metal chunk. It was dragging them both relentlessly down. Both The Shadow’s .45s were gone now. In their place was a short-bladed pocketknife with an edge like a razor.

The Shadow slashed fiercely. It was impossible to see Moe’s tight bonds, impossible almost to breathe. The ears of The Shadow were filled with strange, bubbling thunder. The weighted body of his agent had dragged him far below the surface. It was sucking him swiftly downward to the muddy bed of the East River.

But the desperate knife slashes of The Shadow put an end to the peril of burst eardrums and water-drowned lungs.

There was an upward lunge of Moe’s body as The Shadow felt the chunk of scrap iron fall away. Both men rose to the surface almost as rapidly as they had sunk.

The Shadow kept a tight hold on his agent as they broke the surface. He saw Moe’s tightly compressed mouth gasp wide. Shrevvy sucked air into his bursting lungs. The Shadow, too, filled his lungs with precious air.

He still held the knife. Reaching under water, he slashed at Moe’s helpless wrists. Moe was able to paddle weakly alongside The Shadow.

An instant later the roar of a powerful engine warned The Shadow that the peril of death had only been temporarily averted.

Sam Romine had witnessed The Shadow’s dive after Shrevvy. Leaping to the speedboat’s wheel, he had swung the craft around in a wide circle. He was heading back at express-train speed toward the spot where the wet heads of Shrevvy and The Shadow showed darkly above the black surface of the East River.

A machine gun made horrible, hammering echoes. Slugs whistled toward the spot where The Shadow and Shrevvy had been treading water.

The bullets kicked up white patches of spray. They found no target of flesh and blood.

Moe, warned by The Shadow’s cry, had dived!

Both men plunged as deep as their upturned legs could force them. The Shadow swam under water, away from Moe. His intent was grimly protective. The instant their heads showed again above the surface, the roar of the machine gun would blast. The Shadow hoped to direct attack from the weakened Shrevvy. More resourceful, he intended to offer himself as a target for those flying pellets of death.

He let himself rise to the surface before all the air in his lungs was exhausted. He could see the murder boat circling erratically nearby. The beam of its spotlight fingered the dark surface of the water to pick out the head of a victim.

The Shadow saw the bright circle of light skim toward him.

He prepared to dive.

But the roaring spurt of lead from the cruiser seemed to be poorly aimed.

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