Out in the limousine, Stanley sat up promptly as he heard the voice of Lamont Cranston ordering him to drive the car to the Cobalt Club.
CHAPTER XIV
THE NEW MOB
“HELLO, Cliff.”
Cliff Marsland looked up from a table at the Black Ship. He recognized the hard-faced rowdy who was sliding into an opposite chair. The fellow was known as “Muggsy” McGilly. He was another gorilla of Luke Gonrey’s ilk.
“Hello, Muggsy. What’s new?”
The rowdy looked about. Seeing no one close by, he leaned across the table. His tone was both cautious and confidential. Cliff sensed that serious business was afoot.
“Luke Gonrey was talkin’ to you two nights ago,” informed Muggsy. “Right here at this table. Supposed to meet you last night, wasn’t he?”
Cliff made no reply. Muggsy laughed.
“It’s O.K., Cliff,” he assured. “Spud Claxter sent me here.”
“Spud Claxter?” Cliff acted as if he had never heard the name.
“Sure,” chuckled Muggsy. “Luke was workin’ for him. You know all about it.”
“Yeah?” Cliff was still quizzical. “Say — where’s Luke? Have you seen him?”
“Luke got crippled in that fight out at Currian’s,” stated Muggsy. “Him an’ a lot of other guys. He told Spud about you. Spud needs a new mob. I’m in it. So are you.”
“For when?”
“Tonight. Listen. There’s real dough in it. One grand. Are you on?”
Cliff nodded.
“Up in Soklow’s old garage,” stated Muggsy. “Half an hour. The mob’s goin’ out. Be there.”
Muggsy started to rise. Cliff stopped him. He had one question — a natural one.
“Say,” he inquired. “What’s come of Luke?”
“I don’t know,” answered Muggsy. “Spud says he’s been taken care of. But I ain’t seen him. Maybe he’s in a badder way than Spud wanted to say.”
“When did you see Spud?”
“Half an hour ago. I’ve been sort of hidin’ out, lately, an’ he knew where I was. Snook in there an’ slipped me the word. Told me to see you.”
Cliff sat silent after Muggsy had left. He had figured that Luke Gonrey had been dropped in the battle with The Shadow. But Cliff, following his chief’s instructions, had made the Black Ship his habitat in hopes that the missing mobster might show up. This news from Muggsy explained why Luke had not arrived. It also gave Cliff the very break he wanted.
HALF an hour from now; at Soklow’s garage. Cliff knew what his task would be. He was to serve as one of the outside crew, just as Luke had served in the raid on Currian’s. This was better than before. It would be to The Shadow’s liking. Cliff got up and strolled from the dive. He reached the store with the battered phone booth and put in a call to Burbank.
The contact man ordered him to remain. Five minutes passed. The bell rang in the phone booth. Cliff snatched the receiver from the hook. He spoke. Burbank responded. The contact agent had communicated with The Shadow; the orders were for Cliff to go along with the mob.
It had been after nine o’clock when Muggsy had dropped into the Black Ship. It was nearly ten when Cliff entered the old garage and growled his name to the first mobster who challenged him. He was being initiated into Spud Claxter’s methods. Louie and Gabby were again assigned to the wheels of the touring cars. They were to pick up Spud’s trail somewhere along a certain street.
The cars started from the garage. Tonight, however, the second touring car had no excess passenger upon its rear bumper. One block from the old garage, a small sedan took up the trail of the touring cars. It followed slowly, nearly a block behind. It was still trailing when Spud Claxter’s coupe appeared up ahead.
“Say” — a voice growled beside Cliff, in the rear seat of the second touring car — “there’s a rattletrap sedan tailing us. What about it, Gabby?”
“Watch it,” ordered the driver.
The touring car turned a corner. Back in the sedan, a tail light blinked. A trim coupe, one block behind, came speeding forward. It followed close as the sedan turned the corner. The mobsters were turning another corner up ahead. Again the tall light blinked as the sedan swung to the curb.
The coupe pulled up alongside. A man leaped from the driver’s seat, out into the seat. At the same instant, blackness arose from behind the wheel of the sedan. The Shadow shifted swiftly to the coupe. The trim car shot forward. Harry took charge of the sedan.
The Shadow’s new car swerved the corner. It gained rapidly upon the mobster cars, but did not approach too closely. The effect was apparent in the car wherein Cliff was riding.
“See anything more of that mug in back?” queried Gabby.
“There’s a car coming along,” informed the fellow beside Cliff. “A coupe. Good-looking buggy, what I can see of it.”
“I thought you said an old sedan was tailing us.”
“That’s what was. But it ain’t anywhere around.”
“Then it wasn’t tailing us,” decided Gabby, with a short laugh. “That’s that.”
The other mobster agreed. Nevertheless, he cast wary glances toward the coupe as it still kept along in back. The mobster cars had reached a lighted thoroughfare; they shot forward in procession just as a traffic light changed. The coupe was lost on the other side of the crossing. It pulled up to the curb, just behind a taxicab.
WHEN traffic changed, the cab sped forward. The driver had a passenger. The Shadow had abandoned his coupe and taken the taxi instead. Within a few blocks, his keen eyes spied the last touring car as it swerved a corner to the right.
“Take that street,” ordered The Shadow, in a quiet tone. The driver obeyed.
Up in the touring car, Gabby was still thinking about sedan and coupe. Chuckling, he shot a remark to the silent gunman who was seated beside Cliff.
“Hey, Goofy,” laughed Gabby. “What’s following us now? A delivery truck?”
“There’s a taxi coming along in back,” growled the disgruntled mobster.
“About twelve thousand of them in New York,” snorted Gabby. “Say you can’t go anywhere in this burg without a taxi being on your trail. What kind of a cab is it?”
“I’ll look. No” — the gangster paused as he stared from the rear window — “I can’t make it out. What did you want to know for?”
“Thought maybe it was one of them with a radio in it,” chuckled Gabby. “If it was, I’d slow up so it could come alongside. Get a little free music.”
The mobster growled an oath from the rear seat. Gabby laughed and turned another corner on to a wide avenue. Here a medley of cabs came into the picture; the mobster in the rear seat could not have identified The Shadow’s if he had tried.
Cliff Marsland felt sure that the cars were nearing their destination. Spud’s coupe had led a shifty course, northward and westward. At last the front car swung toward the blackness of a side street, negotiating a left turn that gave difficulty to the touring cars. While Gabby was maneuvering, a taxi cut left with a wild swing and headed over toward the far curb of the side street.
“Right here,” came a quiet order.
The driver stopped short in front of a gloomy, old-fashioned apartment building. He did not know what it was all about. His passenger had given one new order after another. On the last avenue, he had called for a sudden left turn, in a hurry. Now it was stop. The driver turned to express an opinion. A hand thrust him a green bill.
“Keep the change,” said the quiet voice.
The first touring car had swung past the cab; the second, freeing itself from traffic, negotiated the turn. As it coasted close by the cab, the street door of the taxi opened. While the taxi driver was still fondling the money that he had received, the figure of The Shadow performed a series of swift leaps.