DONEGAN PREPARES
IT was Friday evening. Flash Donegan was glum as he sat in his dim apartment. He stared at the wall of the room, and swore feelingly. For Flash Donegan was not pleased with the way matters had been going.
Some one tapped at the door. Flash recognized the sound. He called out, “Come in!”
The door opened, and Dip Riker entered. Flash greeted his underling with a snarl.
“It’s time you showed up!” he growled. “Fine egg you are! Don’t stand there gawking. Get in here and sit down. I want to talk to you.”
Dip obeyed. Despite the fact that he felt himself the equal of Flash Donegan, the wolfish gangster knew that he was at fault. Something had gone wrong last night.
Dip had not yet learned what it was. He sat down and tried to meet Donegan’s glare, but failed. Dip shifted uneasily In his chair.
“You caused plenty of trouble,” said Flash accusingly. “If you’d stuck to your job, we’d be all right now. Why didn’t you trail that guy Vincent?”
“I did trail him, Flash,” protested Dip. “But you know I’ve got to be careful. It would have been all off if he’d spotted me. I couldn’t stick too close to him.”
“You weren’t doing any good by being in a speakeasy,” retorted Flash. “You should have been sticking close to the hotel. Last night was the big night and you — asleep!”
“It was an accident, Flash,” responded Dip. “Honest. I thought a guy was goin’ to slug me, an’ I started to pull my gat. Then a whole mob lit on me. I was in a bad jam, Flash.
“There was a guy there helped me out. Say, Flash” — Dip was seeking to arouse enthusiasm — “there’s a bird we can use, any time you need him. Cliff Marsland. He’s an ace. He’s a friend of Pete’s—”
“Don’t talk about that now,” broke in Flash. “I’m not figuring on who I’m going to get with me. I’m wondering how I can get rid of mugs like you. Think that over!”
Dip Riker did think it over. He sat silently, watching Flash from the corner of his eyes. Rebukes were not to Dip’s liking; but he could furnish no retort.
At times, he was on the verge of speaking, but invariably thought better of it. Flash did not reopen the conversation.
Twenty minutes passed, and Dip began to wonder why Flash Donegan had summoned him here tonight. Certainly they were gaining nothing by silence.
Dip wanted to talk, but every time he opened his mouth, the sight of Flash stopped him. The smooth-mannered racketeer was in an evil humor. Dip had no desire to further arouse his ire.
There was another rap at the door. Flash growled in response. In came Lance Bolero. Flash motioned the tawny gunman to a chair.
Bolero looked at Dip Riker. He sensed the situation. Like Dip, Lance was not anxious to talk.
But Flash Donegan was demanding now. He acted as though he had two miserable offenders before him. He was ready to denounce the pair. He chose Lance Bolero as his victim.
“So you botched it last night, eh?” he quizzed. “Marty’s on the shelf, eh? Serves him right for not doing what I told him. You’re to blame, too. Why did you let that guy get away? You’re yellow!”
Bolero’s eyes blazed; but he managed to control himself. A crafty look appeared upon his face. He knew what Flash expected. Excuses. Bolero began on another tack.
“You’re talkin’ about last night, are you?” he demanded. “Well, that’s what I came to see you about. Last night.
“You gave me an’ Marty a bum steer. That’s all. There’s only one way a guy can figure it. You were givin’ us the double cross!”
FLASH DONEGAN was on his feet, threatening. His fists were close to Bolero’s face. Lance did not quail. He was willing to meet Flash any time.
“You’ll take that back,” growled Flash.
“Maybe you’ll take back what you said,” retorted Lance.
“You called me a double-crosser!”
“Well, you said I was yellow!”
Dip broke in with a raucous laugh. The scene appeared to be amusing him.
“Quit actin’ like a couple of punks,” he said. “There’s no use in callin’ each other names. What’s the matter with you tonight, Flash? You don’t give a guy a chance to say nothin’. Be yourself!”
Flash Donegan turned away, disgruntled. He realized that there was common sense in what Dip said; at the same time, he could not forget the bungling that had destroyed his plans.
One reflection, however, persuaded him that he should not be too hasty. It was not Lance Bolero who had done the greatest bungling. Marty Jennings had been the principal offender.
Swinging, Flash looked at the men before him, turning his gaze from one to the other. He finally centered on Bolero.
“All right, Lance,” he said quietly. “Let’s forget the argument. Maybe I’m wrong. Give me the low-down on why the job flopped last night.”
“It was that phone call, first of all,” said Lance, feeling easy now that Flash was mollified. “We were on the job all right. The guy an’ the moll went by — they gave the signal — leastwise the guy did.
“Then the snooper showed up. We grabbed him. Marty called you, like he was supposed to do. When he got through talkin’, Marty told me that you wanted to meet us—”
“Marty’s crazy!” roared Flash indignantly.
“That’s what I thought” agreed Lance pleasantly. “I was for bumpin’ the guy right away. But Marty said we were goin’ to wait for you at Howley’s. That’s where we went — like he told you when he called up.
“When we got there, he climbed out of the car to look around.”
“A fool idea,” interjected Flash.
“That’s what I told him,” insisted Lance. “It gave me the heebie-jeebies. Then I figured I could tie the can on the foolishness. The guy we nabbed was tied up in the back of the car. I pulled my smoke wagon an’ was all set to give him the works.”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
“I would have. Only a guy pops up from nowhere an’ grabs me. If Marty had been in the buggy with me, we’d have been all right.
“But the guy gets my gun, an’ when I heave him out of the car, he gives me a twist, an’ I land on the back of my head. I was knocked cold, Flash.”
“So was I,” interposed Dip.
“Shut up,” growled Flash. “Lance has got an excuse. You haven’t! Go on, Lance.”
“I got one shot in,” continued Lance. “Just one, before I got socked. But the shot didn’t do no good, except to wake up Marty, wherever he was.
“While I was lyin’ cold, he tried to plug the bird. But the guy got him instead. An’ away he goes, in the bus.”
“Well, you didn’t do so bad, Lance. Marty was to blame. He’s out of it from now on.”
“You’re right he’s out of it!” Lance agreed. “He’d be pushin’ up posies, if I hadn’t been there. I got him off in a taxi an’ took him to a medico who don’t ask questions. He won’t be back on the job for a month.”
“We can do without him,” said Flash.
“Yeah?” There was a peculiar significance in Lance Bolero’s tone that made Donegan stare. “Maybe you could do without me, too. I’m not workin’ shorthanded — not after what I found out. I talked to Marty while he was groanin’ in the cab.”
“What of it?”
“Well, I found out who it was that got him.”
“Who?”
“The Shadow!”
FLASH DONEGAN stared hard at the speaker. Dip Riker did the same. An expression of unbelief appeared on Flash’s face. The racketeer’s lips formed a sour grin. His countenance changed, however, when he looked at Dip Riker.
The evil-faced gangster was white. His eyes were those of a hunted creature. The mention of that one name — The Shadow — had struck terror into his heart.
Flash Donegan became uneasy when he witnessed his henchman’s fright. He looked again at Lance Bolero. He saw that the swarthy gunman was as perturbed as Dip.
“The Shadow!” Flash attempted to echo the name with ridicule. But the hushed tone of his voice was ominous.
He laughed shortly; then added: “Somebody’s put one over on you, Lance. What did this guy look like?”
“I didn’t see him,” responded Bolero. “I grabbed him — but it was dark. There ain’t no ordinary guy can break my strangle hold, Flash. I never run into a bird like this one, before.
“When I came to, I was wonderin’ what had happened. Then, when Marty spilled his story, I knew who it was, all right!”
“I’ve heard a lot of fool talk about this four-flusher they call The Shadow,” said Flash, in an even tone. “But I always thought it was punks who were scared of him. Not gorillas like you fellows claim to be.
“Great stuff! Falling for a lot of hokum—”
“Listen, Flash.” Dip was talking earnestly. “Lance ain’t handin’ you no hokum. If Marty Jennings said it was The Shadow, he ain’t foolin’. Marty’s seen him before.
“He ain’t the only one I know that’s seen him. If we’ve crossed The Shadow, it’s goin’ to be tough for all of us. I’m tellin’ you!”
“He’s a bad actor,” declared Lance. “There’s a lot of fellows that ain’t around to tell what happened to them, after they tried to buck The Shadow.”
Flash Donegan was impressed by these statements. Secretly, he had felt fear when he had heard Lance Bolero’s revelation. His pose of unconcern was merely affected to keep his henchmen from becoming more alarmed.
“What did you find out about this guy Vincent?” Flash questioned Dip. “What was his game? Where’s he from?”
“I figured him for a dick,” replied Dip. “Couldn’t get anything on him.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what he’s doing,” declared Flash. “He’s working with The Shadow, that’s what! He must have got there ahead of The Shadow — up at the warehouse.
“Well, The Shadow got him out of a jam, but he won’t do it again!”
FLASH began to pace the room, talking in a low voice, as though expressing thoughts to himself. There was a purpose in this action. He wanted to fill Dip and Lance with confidence by giving them an idea of their own importance.
“The Shadow, eh?” Flash was sneering. “Tough guy? Well, he’s not tough enough for us. If he’s what they say he is, he’ll be back up there, snooping.
“It won’t do him any good tonight. He couldn’t crash that gate without a charge of dynamite. But we’re not going to let any chances slip. We’re going to get The Shadow!”
He gazed at his henchmen impressively.
“We’ve only been watching there when something was doing,” he continued. “But from now on, it’s every night. Marty’s on the fritz. That means there’s only two of you. Dip can’t be there all the while.”
“I gotta pal,” began Lance.
“We need more than one,” declared Flash. “I’m getting up a mob, boys. It’s going to be curtains for The Shadow!
“Now you two keep mum. Be sure of the gorillas you get. Take on some bozos that are quick with the rod, and not afraid to use it. I don’t care who we have to bump off — so long as we get The Shadow.
“Remember, I’m slipping you fellows some extra gravy, and I’m counting on you!”
“How many rods do you want?” questioned Dip.
“Four. Besides you two,” was the answer.
“I’ll get two,” asserted Lance Bolero. “I’ll have Tony Caprona and Gringo Butz on the job tonight. They were goin’ to join up with Bush Holman’s crew, before Bush got bumped off. I’ll have them tonight. Tony an’ Gringo, both.”
“How about you, Dip?” asked Flash. “I’m interested now in this guy you were telling me about.”
“Cliff Marsland? He’s an ace, Flash. Just came in from Chi. He’s a killer. Smooth with the rod. He’s worth any two guys—”
“Get him, then. Find another guy besides. Keep on the job from now on. You take charge, Lance — up there. You’re to keep me posted, Dip, like you’ve been doing.
“And look over these rods that Lance is getting. Tell me if they’re O.K. Any guy that looks suspicious — give him the works.”
The two gangsters nodded in unison. Flash Donegan waved them to the door. When they were gone, the smooth-faced racketeer took a bottle from behind the table and poured himself a drink.
“So The Shadow’s in this, eh?” he growled. “Well, it’s going to be too bad for The Shadow. I know his game.
“The Shadow works alone, as a rule. That’s what they say. Well, I don’t work alone. When I need a mob, I get one. That’s what The Shadow’s up against — a mob!”
Flash poured himself another drink, and stood grinning with the bottle in his hand.
“Even Dip and Lance don’t know,” he said in a low voice. “Even they don’t know what this racket’s all about. If they don’t know, The Shadow isn’t going to know. The Shadow — a big shot — nix!” Flash laughed his contempt.
“I’m backed by a bigger guy than The Shadow! A guy that’s bigger than The Shadow ever thought of being. Let him come on — The Shadow. We’re ready for him!”