X-5 City of the Living Dead by Brant House

Author:Brant House
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Disguise of Death

JAZZ poured from the radio once more. Agent “X” quickly turned it off. He ascended the stairs and knocked at the Garwicks’ door. His battle with the spreaders of the sleeping death had begun. But there were strange details yet to be worked out.

Mr. Garwick admitted him to the room where his wife was sitting on a chaise longue, her face drawn and pale. The manner of both parents of the dead boy showed that they were ready to place complete confidence in Secret Agent “X.”

“Doctor Preston,” said Garwick, “I’ve told my wife everything you told me. She is just as anxious as I am that these murderers be caught.”

“I’ve just heard our call broadcasted,” said “X.” “Unless I am mistaken we won’t have to wait long for results.”

“Suppose the man does call,” said Garwick. “What will you tell him? When his assistants get David, they’ll realize at once that they’ve been tricked. We might conceivably catch them, but the real heads of this crime ring will get away.”

Agent “X” nodded slowly. Garwick, he could see, had a shrewd analytical brain.

“You’re going to be amazed and perhaps skeptical of my plan,” he said softly. “I intend to pose as your son and let the criminals take me away instead.”

“Good God!” Garwick’s exclamation was one of sheer astonishment. “Why, man, you can’t possibly succeed! The criminals must have seen a dozen pictures of my son. His picture has often appeared in the social columns of the Branford papers. You can’t fool them. They’ll only kill you and escape.”

The Secret Agent held up his hand. “I ask you to have faith in me, Mr. Garwick. I know something about disguise. I’m going to gamble that the criminals will think I’m your son.”

“You mean that you’re going to make up as David?” Mrs. Garwick’s voice held a quaver of amazement and disbelief. Her face had grown a shade whiter, too, and “X” sensed that this would mean an added ordeal for her. He spoke gently:

“It’s the only way, Mrs. Garwick.”

“You’ll never succeed!”

Victor Garwick was pacing the floor nervously now, clenching and unclenching his hands. Agent “X” was tense. He couldn’t tell these people about himself; couldn’t reveal that the face they thought was his own was an elaborate disguise. That would shatter the belief in him that he had managed to create.

“Let’s go downstairs,” he said. “When this man calls, Mr. Garwick, I want you to let me answer him. The thing is too close to you. Your emotion might give you away. Let me make whatever arrangements are necessary.”

“But supposing,” said Garwick, “this man is some one who knows me—some one who would recognize my voice! A strange voice answering for me would cause suspicion at once and wreck all our plans.”

Agent “X” faced the two. There was a strange gleam in his eyes. His lips moved. “This is Victor Garwick speaking,” he said. “Yes, I sent out the radio broadcast tonight. I am willing to consider your offer now. My son is—”

Mrs.

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