The Story so far:

     The Shadow stepped back to let the police take the hoodlum Frank "the Snake" Earl, turning his attention instead to the Case of Mavis Martin, a spiritualist cheating the rich. But Earl broke free from the trap and massacred both the police and those of his own men who had been caught in the trap, blaming them for his near capture. Now the Shadow felt compelled to find Earl and turned the case of Mavis Martin over to another.

      With the help of Margot Lane the Shadow, in his guise of Lamont Cranston, introduced young socialite Morgan Willis to a strange little man called Mr. Maxwell. Maxwell turned out to be the Magician “the Mysterious Audini” incognito and at the height of a Seance he tripped a “ghost” and revealed to Morgan’s heart-broken Aunt Agatha the truth.

      After getting a clue on Earl’s whereabouts from a seedy underworld Doctor the Shadow knew Earl was recuperating by the sea. As fate would have it, and unknown to the Shadow, the hideout by the sea was the very same Seagate house that Mavis the Mystic had just been foiled in her attempt to seize.

      Mavis told Earl, hiding in the spacious servant quarters of the house, of her being exposed, expecting him to find a new hiding place. But Earl was not about to leave, he had made other plans. He was arranging for a bootlegging ship to use the cove behind the house and thus gain both capital and an escape route to Canada.

      Mavis felt trapped into helping Earl but trying to avoid more bloodshed managed to set up a ghostly situation designed to scare off Morgan Willis and his Aunt. It backfired. The Ghostly apparition of the House ghost “Captain Black” was played by Earl himself and faced by Morgan brandishing a gun he killed Morgan with a Cutlass.

      And now the Shadow’s attention would return to Seagate house.

 

"Ghost Cove"

Written by Joe Nemec

5

Tested in Flames

      The Shadow knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men ... but he cannot know everything, he cannot see the future. He is a Master of Men ... but Fate laughs sometimes at us all, he cannot be in two places at once. Fate has given him a choice and like a shell game asked him under which choice will he find the evil he seeks to destroy. Should he follow the still hot trail of a killer who has Tommy gunned down nearly two dozen men or shall he pursue a Mystic Charlatan who preys mostly on rich old women?

      It would seem a clear choice. He settles with the Mystic and pursues the killer. But Fate has tricked him, the one evil lies hidden beneath the other, the Mystic has hidden the fugitive killer. Even with his agents to help him this choice has had deadly consequences. While the pursuit seems to be coming to a close, the Shadow has nearly tracked down Frank Earl, evil has had a free hand and cut down one man that tried to stand in their way.

      All will be known to the Shadow as it inevitably must, but before then fate will put two of his most valued agents into deadly danger.

      It was a beautiful sunny day, a deep blue sky with white clouds pushed along by a cool sea breeze. Considering that the Willis family was one with a long history on Long Island, the funeral of Morgan Willis was small and plain but peaceful.

      The Shadow in his guise of Lamont Cranston was paying his respects to the son of Cranston’s late friend and so was not out of place. Most of those who attended were old women, friends of the deceased’s Aunt Agatha. What was slightly incongruous was to see here the young face of Margot Lane, but then she had known the Late Morgan Willis since childhood. Some of the old biddies attached a romantic significance to her attendance but no one could claim any actual knowledge.

      Beside Agatha sat a slim woman in a thick black veil that hid her face, but the shadow knew her to be Mavis Martin the phony mystic. Beside her were another man and woman, no doubt assistants in her racket. They weren’t openly keeping Agatha from her friends but they kept a sharp eye on everyone who talked to her.

      Lamont paid his respects to the grieving aunt but she barely acknowledged him. As he turned to sit, he heard her mumble “It was good of you to come, Mr. Cranston. Thank you.”

      He turned and bowed slightly to Agatha but she did not look up.

He made his way to the chairs by the grave side and sat seemingly accidently by Margot Lane.

      They did not speak for a long while, then Margot sighed “The last time we’ve met involved Morgan. That Mr. Maxwell you introduced to him, did he do him any good?”

      Lamont looked down “I thought he had. I thought he would make short work of Mavis Martin and her tricks.”

      Margot carefully, so not to be suspicious, studied the woman in the black veil. “Lamont, do you believe Morgan’s death was an accident?”

      Lamont looked steadily ahead. “Thanks to Mr. Maxwell Mavis was out ... Morgan dies and now Mavis is back. I wish I could say it was just a coincidence and I believed her innocent but ... “

      Margot put her head in her hand.

      A cold voice seemed to emanate from Lamont Cranston. “Be strong Margot. Help make Mavis pay for her crimes.”

      She sighed and sat straighter. “Before you arrived, I broke down a bit when giving my respects to Aunt Agatha. She seemed to come out of her trance to comfort me. She’s invited me to Seagate House for the weekend.”

      Lamont blinked “Over Mavis’ objections?”

      Margot nodded “Yes. I wasn’t going to accept but ... “

      ”Go” intoned the cold voice. “And keep an eye out.”

      She nodded vaguely.

      But the cold voice warned her “Don’t go out of your way to spy on her or Mavis. Just watch and listen. Help this poor woman as best you can because I fear she is in great danger.”

      Just how much danger both Agatha and Margot would be in the Shadow did not yet know ... but soon all the truth would come out in a furious storm.

      Cliff Marsland had counted on the seedy looking Yerks to find him work. The Shadow had asked Marsland to see if he could get in with a gang bringing Bootleg into the city. But Cliff had heard nothing from Yerks and now he found the underworld chiseler standing at the bar at Zack’s buying drinks for his friends. He had a roll of bills he was showing off.

      Cliff moved to Yerks and when Yerks turned the smile on his grizzled face dropped. Yerks tried to smile again and raised a glass to Marsland “Hey, Cliff how’s about joining me in a drink?”

      Marsland’s face was stony but Yerks brought a shot glass up to him. Cliff growled and hit the glass and it spilled across the floor.

      The bar fell silent.

      Marsland slapped Yerks across the face. “I told you I needed a job and you left me out.”

      Yerks was trembling he hadn’t a chance if Marsland started on him in earnest.

      Cliff’s blood was boiling, he’d not just missed a job he’d not gotten in where the Shadow had asked him to and all because of a weasel like Yerks. He grabbed the lapels of Yerks' soiled jacket.

      Yerks squealed “What gives, Cliff? What’d I do to you?”

      Marsland’s nose was in Yerks' face. “I waited for you at 5th and 11th and what did I get? The air. While you, have enough jack to treat your friends. What do you think I should do about that?”

      At that, two rough looking men rose from a table and stood beside Yerks. Marsland looked at them darkly. Probably two who did get work from Yerks' connections and now didn't like their meal ticket being threatened.

      The bar was filled with an electric excitement. Two more had stood up to back Yerks, probably just for choosing sides than interest in Yerks. The depraved fun of an all out battle of fists, bottles and chairs. Now Marsland faced four big men.  He looked at them appraising them but still holding onto the sniveling Yerks.

      It was Cliff who was the heavy here. Nearly all in that bar were one step from starvation. Those who did find work worked harder knowing they were just one step from being back where they started. This was deadly business and to the people in this bar Cliff was in the wrong causing trouble for them all.

      He probably would survive the four against him but he saw there was no use in it. He let Yerks go and turned and left the bar. He could hear laughter behind him. “The big Gorilla.” Yerks said now that the threat was over and he could pretend to be brave.

      Cliff stood in the adjacent alley shaking with rage over his humiliation. But he wasn't through with Yerks and the others, not by a long shot. Most didn't care for Marsland but those who didn't like him at least respected his size and strength. But if some of the worst sort no longer feared him he'd suffer for it sooner or later.

      Long hours went by with him just standing against the dirty wall of the alley. By now he'd been forgotten. The hour was late and if Yerks and the others still had any business left they would soon be out of the bar and about it.

      This was shady stuff, to stand lurking like this, to not stand up to them in the bar and instead to lie in ambush for them in an alley? It was not in Cliff's character to behave that low no matter what people thought of him. But if he wasn't going to ambush them what could he do?

      It was past midnight when Yerks and two of his defenders came out into the street. They were a little unsteady but not such that they wouldn't be ready for work. And they were walking with purpose, there was still work they were going to. They crossed the street and Cliff swallowed some of his unspent anger. He had to have his wits about him. He was too big and not subtle enough to hope to tail them unseen so he had to try another route, try another street that paralleled them and hope not to lose them.

      The plan worked up to a point. When he dared look around a corner to make sure he hadn't lost them he nearly gave himself away. They had chosen that side street and were standing just as few yards away beside a car talking to the driver. They got in and Cliff punched at his hand in frustration, if they drove off he'd lose them. He'd gotten nowhere and nothing to show for it, nothing to tell the Shadow.

      The car lurched, moved out and turned the corner Cliff had been looking around. Cliff stood back into a doorway hoping not to be seen, though he knew it may not matter any more at this point. The street lamp briefly lit up the interior of the car and Cliff got a look at the driver. He knew that guy, he was a fence who usually worked out of an old warehouse across town.

      The car disappeared in the distance but Cliff had something he could at least try. It would be a long walk to the warehouse district  with possibly nothing there in the end, they might be going somewhere else entirely, but he took that chance and started walking.

      After an hour of walking through silent dark streets Cliff came to the warehouse district. As the hours had gotten later Cliff wondered if he hadn’t just made a fool of himself. He was clutching at straws rather than come up empty handed for the Shadow. It had been a simple assignment and he’d failed, he’d have to face that. Here beyond midnight, all was silent except for the wind through the dusty streets. He’d likely just end up walking the long walk home till near dawn.

      Finally, he stopped and laughed at himself, not for being a fool, but for being so hard on himself. He’d followed the slim guess but it had paid off, before the warehouse on the corner stood the car he’d seen Yerks and the others drive off in.

      Now what was he going to do about it?

      He’d have to find a way into the warehouse. He circled the building, walking through trash strewn alleys, until he found a back door. It was nailed shut but there was also a window, the kind they used in factories that had a metal frame that swung up, it was unlocked and would be wide enough for him to crawl in. But how to yank it up and not have the metal squeak and rasp? He did his best, and he thought it had been quiet enough, the room beyond was deserted and dark, the door to the rest of the warehouse closed. He climbed in.

      The room was a pool of darkness and with his first steps he stumbled over a crate. He held his breath listening. Then he nearly jumped, the window he’d had to struggle to get up suddenly closed with a bang as loud as a gunshot. As he turned in surprise to look at the window his own shadow suddenly appeared on the wall before him, the door to the warehouse had opened. He turned to face the light and found himself looking down the barrel of a silvered revolver.

      It was held in the hand of the thin-faced blonde man who fenced stolen merchandise named Graber, and behind him stood the two toughs from the bar and Yerks.

      “It’s Marsland” grumbled Yerks.

      “Come out of there. And keep your hands high.” barked Graber in a weaslely high voice, the others smiled at Marsland’s predicament. They knew him but they wouldn’t at all mind watching Graber gun him down.

      Marsland obeyed, put his hands up and walked out of the back room, but he looked for an opportunity to turn the tables. This seemed a night of nothing but bad luck.

      The warehouse beyond was half in darkness, lit only by the yellow light of a kerosene lantern on a crate. On the warehouse floor at Yerks’ feet were a scant twenty crates, hardly enough work for the couple of hangers on Graber had pulled in with Yerks help. But beyond them in the half-darkened warehouse there was another gang of half a dozen men. They were packing up a haul of furs. The other gang looked up darkly at Marsland with a tension that spoke of danger or worse.

      The leader of the other gang, a man with broad shoulders and a bowler hat, came over. “What’s this, Graber? Caught someone snoopin’?” he said angrily.

      Graber blinked, intimidated, his aim on Marsland wavered as the other man blamed him for Cliff’s appearance.

      “What are you waiting for, you lily?” the other man growled, he raised his own big revolver toward Marsland “Ice the rat!”

      In a blink of the eye the muzzle of the black revolver would’ve barked and taken Marsland’s head off but there was another report which seemed to echo in the warehouse. The broad-shouldered man’s hand seemed to explode with blood. He gasped and fell to his knees cursing in agony.

      In that brief moment of confusion, that Marsland couldn’t explain, he knew lay his only hope, he jumped forward and battled with the two hoodlums from the bar. Graber and Yerks fell back. The other gang scrambled up from their work, breaking out their guns, one of them pulled up a doubled barreled shot gun.

      The first from the other gang leveled his gun at Marsland but Cliff tossed a crate top that spoiled his shot and moved in with a roundhouse blow that took the hoodlum off his feet. But a second crook managed to move in behind Cliff and hit him behind the ear with the barrel of his gun. Marsland went down. He hit the concrete floor on one knee struggling not to lose consciousness. In a moment he would’ve again faced a merciless execution but the impact of another shot from nowhere, hit the gangster. He jumped off his feet and flopped back cold onto the floor with a solid thud.

      Voices rang out in surprise, now they knew for sure someone else was in the warehouse. The leader with the demolished hand struggled up and found the breaker switch that put the main lights on.

      The flaring light revealed an apparition out a crooks nightmare. On a pile of boxes in one corner a great black cloaked shape stood over them holding out two seemingly oversized .45 Automatics. The revelation drew from the apparition an icy laugh. The crooks gasped, they were facing The Shadow.

      Cliff didn’t wait, in that hushed instant he regained his feet, put his knee into the torso of one crook and two-handed a blow at another’s neck. The Crooks came out of their stupor and the crook with the shotgun raised it at the black figure. He never lived to aim the shot. He was tossed aside by hammering shots from the Shadow’s big guns. The roaring shotgun blast fired wild, breaking one of the crates with the bootleg alcohol. His body fell back and over the crate with the Kerosene lamp, the lamp fell and shattered on the warehouse floor. Flames exploded up, catching on the crates that held the furs and spreading to the spilled alcohol.

      Panic now filled the warehouse. Every exit had two or three crooks straining to make it out. The Gang leader with the shattered hand had tied off the blood with a handkerchief and barked at his men to keep order and not to lose their booty to the growing flames but to no avail. He too dared to stand up to the Shadow and turned to aim his gun at the shape but instead of it still standing on the boxes in the corner he found himself face to face with the eagle eyed apparition. One solid punch from a black gloved hand and the gangster lost the gun and his bowler hat. Another and he staggered back against the wall. The Shadow would have laid the leader out cold in another punch but instead he dodged back. Graber the fence, in a fury, swung a fire axe and buried it in the wall planking not six inches from the Shadow’s head.

      The little man threw himself on the Shadow like a screeching demon. The Shadow grabbed the man’s wrists and pulled him off tossing him sprawling across the floor. Down there amongst the flames the fence’s sleeve caught fire and the little man losing all his senses jumped up and ran screaming from the building only stopping to drop and roll himself in the dirt and debris of the alley.

      Marsland was still up dealing with the hoodlums with his fists but suddenly took a bullet in the shoulder. He clutched at it as his arm burned in pain and searched about for the source of the shot.  It was Yerks, he had picked up the silvered revolver the fence Graber had dropped and was clicking off shots at Marsland, they buzzed past his head like angry bees. “Die! You Bastard!” screamed Yerks but his aim was bad. “You brought him here!” It was not true but did Yerks see that the Shadow had acted to protect Cliff?

      The flames were growing, the lights over head had sputtered out shorted in the holocaust only to be replaced by the hellish red glow of the flames. In the inferno two crooks who no longer saw a way out were locked in combat with the Shadow to make sure to take him with them from this world.

      A beam fell from above, it took out a screaming Yerks but it also blocked Marsland’s last escape route. He turned to aide the Shadow, determined to go down with his leader. But the Shadow had already freed himself from the battle. Cliff joined the Shadow in the center of a circle of flames and the Shadow pointed up. “This way.”

      There was a chain block and tackle tied to the wall above the pile of crates where the shadow had first been revealed. They scrambled up the pile and faced a wall with a broad glass lattice window. In a moment the Shadow had released the chain and called to Cliff. “Hold on to my shoulders!”

      Cliff marveled at what they were attempting, if the shadow could bear both their weights for a swing, they would still have to pass through flames to hit a window that was so heavily braced and thick as to be nearly a glass wall. But there wasn’t time for doubt, he held on for his life and the swing ended in a lacerating crash and a fall through cold air to tumble onto the concrete sidewalk beyond.

      Cliff scrambled up, wobbling, nearly stunned helpless from the double impact of glass and concrete but he was also out of the burning warehouse and on his feet again. The Shadow was also up and alert and listening. A fire bell was ringing in the distance, a firebox alarm had been thrown and soon this spot would be the focus of police and firefighters.

      In the brief moment that Cliff and the Shadow now faced each other on the street before the warehouse, in the flickering firelight as the last of the warehouse went up like a house of straw, Cliff began to apologize to his leader for his having bungled his assignment. Only to be cut short with cold laughter. “On the contrary ...” the cold voice remarked “It’s I who haven’t worked quickly enough. That our paths crossed shows you were still close on the job. But in that warehouse’s office you so unceremoniously entered through the window, at least I finally found the information I needed.”

      Marsland blinked as he realized what The Shadow was saying. “You’ve found Frank Earl’s hideout?”

      “Yes, but too late for one man and, without realizing it, I’ve sent a woman who trusted me, into that snake’s hideout before me. Now I can’t even barge in there in full battle to face him because she would be a likely first casualty.”

      Cliff wasn’t sure what he meant. “If there’s anything I can do ... ”

      The Shadow strode off through the dark alleys as the fire bells signaled the arrival of fire trucks turning onto that street. He strode to a black car hidden on a side street with Cliff at his side. “As always” toned the voice of the shadow “... you give more than required. More than I’d considered asking of you. But if you would ... you might very well be able to help me save a comrade of yours.”

      And a brave and pretty one at that thought the Shadow trying to puzzle out his next attack. They needed to act fast to save the life of Margot Lane who at this moment spending a night of danger at Seagate House on Ghost Cove in the hidden lair of a Killer.

To be continued...

 

This Story Copyright 2001 Joe Nemec