Kenneth Robeson - The Avenger 18 by Death in Slow Motion

Author:Death in Slow Motion
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-02-20T15:23:10+00:00

So then he found himself shortly in a bed near the one in which Smitty mountainously protested. And up in the big top-floor room, The Avenger walked back and forth from front to rear with eyes so terrible that they made even Nellie shiver a little and with that in his tread which suggested a powerful animal, caged for the first time in its existence.

Smitty stricken?and now Mac. Two of his men afflicted with this thing, as terrible as it was bizarre, and for which no cure had been found. Two of his aids doomed slowly to waste away and die, unless this mystery could be solved.

The fact that, at present indications, the whole rubber industry in the United States might be paralyzed was of less importance to Benson personally than the distress of his two comrades.

“Josh! Rosabel!” he called.

Josh and his pretty wife came to the desk. The Avenger’s colorless, terrible eyes drilled them.

“Josh, Rosabel, Nellie?please go to the rear-house again. Josh, you will follow the pickpocket, Johnny the Dip, if and when he comes out. Learn all you can about him. Rosabel, do the same with that bookkeeper. Nellie, watch the woman living there. Get every detail possible concerning those three and radio me when each leaves the place?if they do leave it. But don’t any of you go inside! It is increasingly certain that Mac and Smitty caught this thing inside. So you three stay clear.”

He didn’t finish his thought. Which was: “If anybody is to go into what seems more and more to be a house of death, it will be I!”

Full night, now. And that alley was as black as the inside of a bomb. And it gave you the same breathless feeling of impending disaster that being inside of a bomb would give.

Nellie Gray was as indomitable as any man; but no man, knowing what The Avenger and his band now knew, could have lurked in that alley unafraid. She felt a tendency to, shiver as she stood behind the outthrust corner of a tumble-down garage, up the alley from the rear-house.

Josh and Rosabel had been with her, a while ago. The three had taken that spot, even though it was some distance from the rear-house. From there you could see, silhouetted against dim light from the street, anyone leaving the shabby shack and heading for the alley entrance.

Three had left, in the hour and three quarters since they arrived.

First, Old Mitch himself had trudged out, carrying his ragged bundle with the sticks and string dripping from one end. Nellie had reported it to The Avenger over the tiny radio at her waist.

Then a dapper figure, twenty or twenty-five minutes later, had slid from the door next to Old Mitch’s. Johnny the Dip. Josh had slipped after him, reporting first to Benson.

Finally, long later, a figure, limping from a twisted leg, had emerged and gone up the dark lane to the street. That exit had been radioed to Bleek Street, and Rosabel had gone silently after it.

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