The Shadow 009 Mobsmen on the Spot by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1932-04-03T22:00:00+00:00

"Nix on that," replied Nipper. "I may want it in a hurry when I come back for it. If you can't give me space down here, I'll pull out." He began to reverse the truck.

"Don't be in a hurry," argued the garage man. "I'll fix you up on this floor. Go back there—over by the far wall, near the corner." He indicated the place. "Back your truck in there. Here, wait until I fix you up with a claim check."

Nipper waited after he had put the truck in its place. The attendant was gone. The little gangster reached beneath the front seat and found a wire. He pushed it into a plug in a box at the side of the truck under the seat.

"I got an idea what this is for," he chuckled. "I oughta known all about it when Cliff said to drive easy comin' down. Guess I'll buzz Dave an' see how he an' Patsy made out."

Nipper made his telephone call from a near-by drug store, after he had left the garage. Dave answered.

He said that Patsy was with him.

They had had experiences similar to Nipper's. The other trucks— both old, much-used vehicles—had been stored in the garages designated.

IT was more than an hour after Nipper had gone from the New Era Garage before men began to put in an appearance at the old building on Eighth Avenue.

They came through a side door, where they were admitted by a hard-faced watchman. They passed behind rows of parked cars. They entered the office at the rear, where they found Ernie Shires awaiting them.

Killer Durgan's mob was assembling for action. The room was not a small one. Three benches had been brought in, and there was ample room for the dozen men who had arrived.

They represented various types of the underworld. Every one of them bore the appearance of a hardened mobster. Some carried scars of conflict. All wore expressions that were pleasing to Ernie Shires.

This was a picked crowd! There would be effective work tonight!

"Let the coppers try to bother us," muttered Ernie, as he surveyed the group. "Coppers. Bah! If any one else shows up—well -"

His soliloquy was interrupted by the arrival of a group of men. Big Ben Hargins was here with his dock wallopers.

Ernie's crew of mobsmen looked like pygmies beside this gang of huskies. They were the most notorious terrorists of all New York— these huskies who kept the racket going where the ships unloaded.

First-class sluggers, all of them!

"Hello, Ben!" exclaimed Ernie, rising from his chair. "This fixes us. We're all here, now. Waiting for the blowoff!"

"How soon?" questioned Ben.

Ernie looked at his watch.

"About fifteen minutes," he said in a low voice. "I've got the three jobs timed. There's a guy waiting to hear the first one. He's going to call me here.

"Then we start. We'll be doing our work while things are hopping up in the Bronx."

"How far apart have you set them?"

"About five minutes. Good timing mechanism, too. Tested. Ought to click pretty close to the dot.

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