Wings of the Black Death Read online

  “Ah,” said the voice, “I see that you are reasonable. That is fortunate. I was about to kill the Spider, but learning his identity I remembered that he was a wealthy man— and money is very dear to me. If you would care to ransom him— ”

  “Oh yes, yes!” Nita cried.

  Evil laughter taunted her. “It will not be so simple as that. You cannot come with the police and liberate your— friend. For there is a little safety device which I have arranged to protect myself.

  “In the Spider’s pocket is a cigarette lighter that is a twin to his own in every respect save one. In this one the seal of the Spider will not dissolve when it is opened, and the secret chamber is so clumsily hidden that even the dull-witted police can discover it.”

  Nita heard that news with sinking heart. “You doubtless know,” the Black Death went on, “where you can get hold of considerable money.”

  Yes, Nita did know. There was a safe in Dick’s room where he always kept a large quantity of cash on hand against the possible necessity of flight that ever hung above his head.

  “Get this money, then,” the man ordered. “Come to the corner of Madison Avenue and Fifty-Seventh Street and walk uptown. Obey the man who meets you there.”

  Then reed-like over the phone Nita caught a faint voice as if someone shouted from a distance, and she thrilled as she recognized the voice of Dick Wentworth.

  “No, Nita! No! It— means— death!”

  A curse snarled from the man at the phone. She heard a jar, silence, then the dread voice purred once more in her ear.

  “It was unfortunately necessary for me to silence your— friend. He is unduly suspicious, and a trifle troublesome. It may be that unless you hurry I shall be forced to deal firmly with him before you can get here. In fact I can allow you only twenty minutes. Remember— ” the man’s voice rose suddenly in sharp warning— “if you bring the police, they will learn that Richard Wentworth is the Spider. They will not forget that the seal of the Spider has been printed on the brow of five of their dead comrades.”

  “Oh tell, tell me,” cried Nita, “that Dick is all right. You haven’t hurt him— ”

  Over the wires came only a sinister laugh. Nita put the telephone down with a listless hand. The anxious Jenkyns was at her elbow. “What is it, Miss Nita?”

  She told him rapidly all that she knew, and the butler, too, begged her not to go.

  “If Master Dick is captured,” he reassured her, “you may be sure he wanted to be. And if he wanted to be, he has a way out. You’d only upset his plans.”

  The girl stared at Jenkyns. Dick Wentworth never went into danger unprepared, yet his cry over the wire: “It means death!”

  She shook her head sharply. “Not this time, Jenkyns,” she said. “You don’t know what a terrible thing he is fighting, how clever the Black Death is!”

  She turned swiftly to the task she had set for herself. The weight of the automatic in her pocket swayed against her side and lent a certain comfort. From the wall safe in Wentworth’s room she took two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, made a bundle of it under her arm. Apollo followed her every footstep, claws patting on the floor.

  She looked down at him. Apollo had helped her in many a tight scrape. But how could she use the Great Dane now? Dick had taught the dog many tricks, had trained him to pretend hostility toward herself if she made a certain signal. It was an old smuggler’s trick. Frequently their jewel-smuggling pets were captured by officers who then sought to identify the master through the dog. And the man trained the animals so that they would snarl even at the hand they loved if they received a certain signal from their master.

  Perhaps it might serve her in good stead now. She spun toward Jenkyns, smiled at him.

  “Jenkyns,” she said, “we are going to do what we can to save Dick. I want you to help me.”

  “Anything, anything, Miss Nita! But I’m afraid these old hands have long since passed the time…”

  Nita shook her head sharply. “No, not that,” she said. “What I want you to do is this. I’m going to drive Dick’s roadster uptown to the spot where they want me to meet this man. I want you to get in a taxi with Apollo and follow me.”

  “When I meet someone, just let Apollo out. That is all. But in God’s name, whatever happens, don’t call the police.”

  Jenkyns smiled wanly. “Aye, I can do that, Miss Nita,” he said. “But I hate to think of you putting yourself in the hands of that awful man.”

  Nita’s hand strayed to her gun, and her sweet mouth compressed, became a straight line that was very much like the Spider’s own when he battled against odds.

  She called the dog, fastened the leash and gave it into Jenkyns’ hand. Together they left the building.

  A newsboy dashed up as she crossed to the powerful Hispana Suiza.

  “Extra!” he shouted in her ear. “Extra! Black Death kills twenty! Spider hunted! Extra!”

  Nita almost flinched from the words. The Black Death. It meant a disease to the people, a plague that hung like a pestilential cloud over the city. To her it meant a sinister voice over the wire, a criminal genius who held her lover’s life in vicious, tormenting hands.

  She flung into the roadster, with the easy competence of experience touched the motor to deep-throated life. A glance at her watch. Fifteen minutes remained of the time the Black Death had allotted!

  Her foot was heavy on the accelerator and the droning motor sped her uptown through nearly deserted streets. She parked at Fifty-Seventh and Madison and walked slowly up the avenue.

  Behind her she glimpsed the taxi that contained Jenkyns and her faithful dog, but she dared not glance back again lest she arouse suspicions and foredoom her efforts to save Dick.

  She heard the purr of auto tires, the metallic opening of a door, and a black sedan stood at the curb with motor running, its rear door open. Within, all was darkness.

  With an effort Nita kept her hand away from the gun in her pocket. Her elbow clamped tight against the package of money beneath her arm. The chauffeur sat with his eyes rigidly front, no one else was visible, but a hateful voice that Nita recognized, called softly,

  “Your car awaits, Miss van Sloan.”

  Nita forced her feet to carry her toward that yawning black interior and climbed stiffly in.

  Not until then did she glimpse the man who had called. A faint glimmer of light seeped beneath a shade and revealed a large, broad shouldered man. There was no face, but eyes stabbed at her through the slits of a black mask.

  The door slammed, and the car slid forward. Nita was very near despair. Of what use was her dog now? Of what use Jenkyns’ faithful shadowing?

  “Where is Dick?” she demanded. “I won’t give you the money until…”

  The man’s soft laughter checked her words. She knew without explanation the meaning of that ugly mirth. To talk of giving him the money when she was in his power, in the power of a man so fiendish that he had loosed the Plague upon the city!

  For a wild moment Nita considered snatching her gun, but even as she hesitated it was too late. The man’s hand closed like a metal band about her wrist, took the revolver, then deliberately searched her entire person, for other weapons.

  Nita’s face burned with humiliation, but her angry protest earned only mocking laughter. One thought buoyed her, the hope that soon she would be with Dick. It might avail no more than that they should die together. But even so she went gladly.

  It was fifteen minutes later, after many turnings, that the girl felt the car draw to a stop. The man with the mask held a gun so that she could see its glint and said softly:

  “I would advise against any outcry. I would dislike to put a bullet into your lovely body, but I should not hesitate to do so if the necessity arose.”

  He opened the door and Nita stepped out silently, found herself looking up at an elaborate apartment building.

  Her heart beat wildly. Soon now she would see Dick. Sudden fear caught her by the throat. If— if this monster had kept his word and not harmed him.

  A man walked on either side of her, and she got no opportunity to discover whether Jenkyns had followed, whether Apollo would be able to help if the need arose.

  She was whisked into the building through the basement entrance, up many flights of stairs. The masked man roughly dismissed the chauffeur then, and with fingers clamped about Nita’s arm, led her to a door. She heard the key grate. Light smote her eyes.

  She started forward, eagerly, but the hand on her arm held her back, and the man’s gloating laughter rang in her ears.

  “In a hurry, Miss van Sloan? Sorry, but I must detain you a moment.” And he held her while they walked slowly down a long hallway and entered a sparsely furnished room.

  There Nita halted. A tremulous smile lifted her lips. Dick at last! But not the Dick she had always known. The man before her was plainly helpless— and there was a despairing droop to his shoulders that spoke clearer than words of lost hope…

  CHAPTER TEN Great Apollo

  Wentworth’s wrists were handcuffed before him and another shackle about his ankles secured him to a steam pipe. His tool kit had been discovered by the Black Death and lay open upon the floor before him. Men had examined it. Tied to the bed lay Virginia Doeg, her red hair tousled, her face swollen, still in a stupor from the effects of drugs.

  Wentworth smiled slowly, deepening the taut lines of his face. His eyes seemed to grow more haggard.

  “Darling, darling,” he said, “why did you come?”

  “Scarcely complimentary to the lady, my dear Mr. Wentworth,” jeered the man behind the mask. “I marvel that she finds you so attractive.”

  Nita tugged against his restraining hand. “Oh, please, please,” she said, and, released, ran to Dick and threw he
r arms about him. For a moment she forgot all the evilness of her surroundings in the joy of being with him again. He buried his face in the softness of her hair, murmuring over and over, “Darling.”

  But Nita was not entirely absorbed in the greeting, happy as she was to be with Dick again. Her mind was working swiftly, seeking some way to help him escape. She put little credence in this man’s promise to let her ransom Wentworth. But she turned to him with seeming confidence.

  “Now turn him loose,” she said, smiling. “You have the money.”

  The man regarded her steadily through the slits of his mask and made no answer. Nita walked toward him, her eyes pleading, her hands half outstretched.

  “I have fulfilled my part of the bargain,” she said. “It is your turn to do as you promised.”

  She was quite close to him now. The beginnings of laughter shook him. He chuckled in amusement, threw back his head, and, like an uncoiling spring, Nita leaped forward, snatched for the gun she had seen him place in his pocket. The man snapped his arms about her. They were like steel bands and she was helpless. He laughed at her struggles, lifted her bodily from the floor and carried her well away from Wentworth.

  “Almost caught me napping,” he chuckled. “Ah, but I admire a brave and pretty woman.” He took her hat from her head and ran his hand through her tangled curls, tilted up her face. He laughed again. “Only the necessity for wearing my mask,” he said, “prevents me paying proper tribute to your beauty.”

  He turned toward the Spider, straining futilely against his shackles. “Perhaps,” the masked man went on softly, “when we have disposed of your— friend…”

  Wentworth forced himself to calmness. Showing agitation would merely be fuel to the flames of this man’s love of torture. He laughed shortly.

  “A petty criminal to the last,” he jeered, “pulling petty little tricks. The Black Death? You haven’t the brain to conceive such a thing.”

  Holding Nita helpless, the man turned the blank face of his mask to Wentworth.

  “And the Spider gives evidence of human emotion,” he mocked. “Imagine the Spider, the great altruist, being swayed by mere jealousy!”

  Wentworth’s face was disdainful, and in his eyes Nita caught a gleam that gave her hope. But it was only for a moment. Dick was courageous beyond all men she knew, but bravery could not break those gleaming shackles of steel that held him prisoner.

  “Just a muscle-man,” the Spider jeered, “a fool sleeping in the King’s bed, pretending to be the Black Death. Why you— ”

  And the masked man laughed!

  “Give up, Spider,” he said. “I’ll admit you’re clever. But when you try to goad me into talking, you’re merely amusing. You’ve been trying now for two hours, excepting for the twenty minutes it took to collect your girl friend, and you’ve learned precisely nothing.”

  It was the Spider’s turn to laugh. The two men glared at each other fiercely.

  “You think so?” Wentworth sneered.

  Nita remained quiescent in the man’s grasp. She could feel his anger mounting in the tightening grip of his fingers on her arms. They bit like the pinchers of the Inquisition, but she made no sound. Dick seemed to be trying to infuriate the man. If he would forget her for an instant, she might strike him from behind! She felt his fingers loosen, and relaxed her muscles for the test. A chuckle trickled from behind the mask. The steel fingers thrust Nita toward the bed, held her while he tied her.

  “Yes, you are clever, Spider,” the man said, “but not quite clever enough. It is a pity— ”

  He crouched and snarled suddenly, whirling toward Wentworth, helpless in his shackles of steel— “a pity you must die.”

  Slowly, while Nita watched with horror-widened eyes, he drew from his pocket the automatic she had tried to snatch.

  “You were right, Wentworth,” he said. “I only wanted the girl here so I could kill her with you. There was just the slightest chance that you might have struck some trail that pointed to me and confided your suspicions to her.

  “But— ” the gloating laughter cackled out, “— the Black Death leaves only dead behind. There will be no tales told.”

  He raised his gun.

  “No, no!” Nita said, “No, not that! I’ll do anything, anything, but please!”

  The masked man did not even turn his head. The softness was gone from his voice now and it grated harshly like rusty iron.

  “You are hardly in a position, my dear, to make promises. It is I who shall dictate, you who shall obey. But first— ”

  The gun snapped up. Wentworth dropped to the floor as lead whined past. He seized the shackle about his ankle, and it came loose in his hand!

  He sprang toward his enemy. But in mid leap he checked and twisted aside. Behind him, he heard the snarl of an animal raging.

  The curtains before the window were whipped aside and a tawny shape hurtled across the room straight at the throat of the Black Death!

  Wentworth rolled aside, shouting, “Get him, Apollo!” and Nita jerked to her feet, shouting excited encouragement to the great dog. But the masked man whirled like a flash, and the upswung movement of his gun and the crash of its explosion were almost simultaneous.

  Apollo’s leap sent him crashing against the man’s chest, sent the crook reeling backward across the room with arms waving frantically to recover his balance. But Apollo, great Apollo, plunged to the floor and lay quivering, helpless to move a muscle of his powerful body.

  The Black Death brought up heavily against the wall, partly dazed. His gun came up slowly.

  And now Ram Singh burst into the room, knife gleaming in his right hand, drawn back to throw. For a single instant the masked man wavered, then turned and fled.

  Ram Singh’s hand flashed forward, the knife glittered in the air. The door clapped shut, and the blade ground its point upon that metal barrier, and crashed futilely to the floor.

  “A gun. Ram Singh!” Wentworth cried sharply.

  The Hindu caught one from his pocket and tossed it to him. Miraculously Wentworth’s hands were free of the shackles, and he caught the weapon, raced across the room and snatched open the door.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN Virginia’s Clue

  Gun flame lanced at Wentworth. His answering shot was lightning fast and drew a curse of pain.

  “The lights, Ram Singh,” he shouted.

  Darkness shut down like a lid. Gun din filled the hall, and lead chunked into the door at the Spider’s elbow. Suddenly then he groaned aloud, threw himself noisily to the floor and rolled silently toward the gunman.

  He heard muttered obscenity:

  “Got the damned idiot!”

  Wentworth grinned thinly and fired upward at the voice. A scream began and choked. A body slammed against the wall, slithered to the floor. The Spider rose. The pencil beam of his flash showed the broken-nosed man, shot through the mouth, dead.

  The Black Death had fled, leaving his henchman to kill his foe!

  Wentworth padded swiftly down stairs, then checked sharply, a curse of disappointment on his lips. Police whistles! Either the Black Death had given the alarm, or the shots had been heard.

  Wentworth smiled and raced upward, almost slammed into Ram Singh coming down.

  “Quick!” he snapped. “The police. Carry Apollo!”

  He darted into the apartment where he had been held prisoner. Apollo stood on trembling legs in the middle of the floor, a bloody tear across his skull. Seeing Wentworth, he tried feebly to wag his tail.

  “Stout fellah!” cried Wentworth, “Good dog!” He clapped the dog on the back, snatched out a knife and freed Nita and Virginia Doeg. He shook the drugged girl, fought to rouse her from her stupor. While they worked Nita asked swift questions.

  “How in the world, Dick,” she demanded, “did you get those handcuffs off? How did Ram Singh find you and— ”

  Dick smiled grimly as he worked. “It’s all your doing, darling,” he said.

  “But, I— ”

  “Shhh,” the Spider silenced her. “You did it. I let drop a hint to the Black Death that you knew as much as I did about this business, and you did the rest. He called you up, and I pretended to be worried. Then, when he left to meet you, I used a file I had hidden in these shoes— ” he pointed to the thick, soft rubber soles— “when I knew I had to walk into his trap. But the filing took so long that the Black Death’s car was at the door before I was free. I just had time to phone Ram Singh— whom I had told to await my call near here— and to put the cuffs back on, when you entered. I was hoping to capture him. And I put off the showdown as long as possible, trying to learn something about his plans. But even when he thought he was going to kill me certainly, he was too cautious to talk.”