Shadow 272 - King of the Black 10-01-43, 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

INSTANTLY events proved that The Shadow had laid his finger on the source of trouble with the rubber shipments. Crime’s hand was forced the moment the independent truck shoved up to take a load. However, the drivers of the other trucks didn’t state the fact openly.

Instead, they ganged up in trucker’s fashion. One truck poked in from an angle so its driver could complain about a dented fender. Another purposely neglected to use his own brakes; banging the rear of Cliff’s truck, he jumped out to argue that the blame was Cliff’s. Others sprang into the picture, to take sides with the gang.

Arguing that Cliff was in the wrong, they told him to get his crate out of the line. They wanted to see his papers and when Cliff showed them, he was told they weren’t in order. Truckers yelled at loaders to ignore Cliff’s truck and pile shipments into others that stood farther back. All the while, Cliff rode the tempest poker-faced, with Clyde copying his attitude.

That settled it. Since Cliff wasn’t going to move his truck, they’d do it for him. Truckers began to climb on board. Cliff swung from behind the wheel and met them with punches. When foemen popped up with monkey wrenches, Clyde produced a pair of the same appliances, handing one wrench to Cliff.

From the platform, Harry saw three husky truckmen pile into the rear of Cliff’s van, but it wasn’t necessary to shout a warning. The trio came flying out, as though a battery of mules had kicked them. Right then, Harry expected the alleged truckers to show themselves up for what they were, a crowd of crooks. But they were too smart to go that far.

Instead, one waved a signal that only Harry saw. From in and around the trucks piled a crew of men in overalls. They’d come with the trucks, but they were garbed to look like workers in the rubber factory. They piled for Cliff’s beleaguered truck, but not with fists or wrenches.

This tribe had guns.

Dropping behind the last few piles of rubber, Harry sparked a signal to Cliff and his companions. Harry’s signal was the opening shot; he delivered it with an automatic that he pulled from his hip. Harry aimed above the heads of a crooked crew, just as a warning, but he might as well have used a bean shooter for that purpose.

Guns began to blast.

Thanks to Harry’s touch-off, The Shadow’s agents were as quick with their guns as the crooks. But they should have sprung from the truck before they started shooting. Recognizing it, Cliff was shouting for everybody to jump out on the one side that offered a quick exit. The Shadow’s agents would still have been one jump ahead if they’d been able to follow the order.

What prevented them was an arriving truck that bore the name of Alliance Motor Express. Its driver, wheeling in through the gate, guessed exactly what was happening, and countermanded it. That driver was Dorgan, kingpin in the crooked work that posed as a legitimate trucking job.

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