Zelva ceased speaking and leaned from the edge of the balcony. Ballou noted that there were other balconies below, located on alternate floors, with twenty-foot spaces between them. He looked upward and saw the bottom of another projecting balcony, twenty feet above.
The white bottom of the upper projection gleamed dimly in the night. Above, all was darkness. Zelva turned and stepped back into the room. Pete Ballou followed.
THE moment that the two men had left the balcony, a splotch of darkness moved from above. A shadowy shape obscured a portion of the white projection that Ballou had observed.
That mysterious blot swung toward the wall of the hotel. It traveled downward and a huddled figure rested beside the open window. Then the black form flattened itself along the rail.
In the room, Rodriguez Zelva was walking slowly back and forth, glaring at Pete Ballou, who had resumed his seat. The chunky man stopped beside the window and stared forth into the night.
His gaze passed beyond the silent form which had again become a mass of unmoving blackness. Little did Zelva suspect that The Shadow, strange being of the night, had ferreted his way to this inaccessible spot, coming stealthily from the balcony above!
Pete Ballou was waiting until Zelva’s despising anger had cooled. He knew that his chief would soon curb his ire and settle down to constructive ideas. The change was already making itself evident.
“Ballou,” said Zelva, in a different tone than before, “you have made a great mistake. But like all mistakes, this one may work for the best. I formulate my plans as I see them come. Now, let me tell you first how simple were the schemes that you may have injured so badly tonight.”
Ballou settled back to listen.
“Ten million dollars,” proceeded Zelva, “is very much money. I am an important man from South America — here in New York. That is why I learned easily that Alvarez Legira was to receive that great sum. Why should I worry about Legira? If he should take the money to Santander, it would be simple there to seize it. One snap of my finger” — Zelva performed the action — “and the hotbed of revolution would break out. The money would be ours. Why then do you think I have dealt with Legira?”
“To play it safe,” suggested Ballou. “Save a lot of trouble down to Santander.”
“You are wrong, Ballou,” returned Zelva. “I have threatened Legira because I have suspected that he will not go to Santander with the money. Ten million dollars! Why should he return to Santander? Europe, perhaps — but not Santander.”
“Is he double-crossing his pals?”
Zelva smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“With ten million dollars?” he asked. “That is enough to make him do so.”
“He convinced people up here that he was on the level.”
“Ah, yes, he may be on the level, now. But let him have the ten million dollars. Then—”
Another shrug of Zelva’s shoulders indicated once again that he considered ten million dollars to be a stake that no man could resist.
“All right,” said Ballou, bluntly. “Figure it that way, then. The first thing was for Legira to get the money. That’s what you told me. Then for us to get it from him — giving him a chance for a fifty-fifty break as a come-on.”
“That is correct.”
“So I try to work the deal,” continued Ballou, “but Legira stalls. I waited until tonight to make the last threat. As soon as I come out of the place, I find that Silk Dowdy has trailed Martin Powell. I went to the phone where I knew Silk would call and he tells me Powell is seeing Hendrix.”
“So you went there, too,” prompted Zelva. “That was both wise and unwise. Wise to learn what was happening. Unwise because of things that might happen — as they did happen.”
“I thought it was wise,” declared Ballou. “I got in the apartment with a phony key. What do I hear but Hendrix saying that it’s going to be impossible for Legira to get the dough — if his telephone call goes through.
“I figured then that Powell must have spotted something. Two of them — both bad. I had to stop that phone call. So I did. Hendrix thought I was Legira. I bumped him and got Powell and the old bird in addition.”
“And now?” questioned Zelva. “Do you think it will be easy for Legira to get the money now?”
Ballou’s face turned blank.
“You killed,” declared Zelva, “because you thought it would help Legira if Hendrix could not speak. By killing Hendrix, you disposed of the man with whom Legira was to deal. It has probably placed suspicion upon Legira. It will give him an excuse to ask an extension of time — or to tell you that the whole deal is ended.”
“I never figured it that way,” said Ballou, in a dejected tone. “I guess it makes it pretty bad. I’ve bungled everything.”
“Perhaps,” said Zelva, calmly. “Perhaps not. It means that I shall have to use other methods besides the simple ones that I had planned at first.”
“You’ll let Legira wait?”
“No!” Zelva’s tone was emphatic. “Legira is a danger to me. He cannot connect me by proof with this matter, but he may suspect me. If he cannot secure the money before the time he has been given, then it will be his end.”
“Tomorrow at midnight?”
“Yes. Unless Legira has called you before that time, strike as you have told him. Wait at the Hotel Oriental, just as you have planned. Then do your work.”
“That will queer the deal.”
“Did you stop to think that it would make trouble in any event? When I send threats, they are not idle ones. Legira must arrange to have that money before midnight. Otherwise, we strike — and then—”
“And then?”
“After that,” smiled Zelva, “the government of Santander will hear from Rodriguez Zelva, who will kindly offer to arrange affairs with the New York financiers!”
BALLOU’S eyes blinked in admiration. Now he understood Zelva’s cunning. The arch conspirator was trying to work through Legira because it appeared to be the most simple method. But with Legira unwilling to come to terms, the elimination of the consul from Santander would leave the way open for another alternative plan.
“Rodriguez Zelva,” said the man himself. “That name is important in South America. I have always chosen to keep it so. None would suspect me. The men in Santander would agree.
“And then, unfortunately, Rodriguez Zelva would be forced to reveal himself as the clever ringleader of a band of international crooks. But” — the speaker shrugged his shoulders — “Rodriguez Zelva could afford to do it for ten million dollars. Eh?”
Pete Ballou was nodding in commendation. This was typical of Zelva. He was always playing ahead of the game, moving his underlings like pawns on a chessboard, keeping himself from the limelight. Never yet had Zelva been forced to come out into the open. Now, however, such an action would be worth the stake.
“Ten million dollars,” remarked Zelva, his black eyes shining with the thought of the sum. “I shall have it, Ballou — and you will profit because you have helped me. I have many things to do — but why should I bother further? Once I am gone away from here — from this country—”
He leered as he stared at Pete Ballou.
“It is all ready,” added Zelva. “I have been waiting for something big like this. Why do you think I have kept secret ownership of those liquor boats that come up from Mexico? The ones that Salati arranged for? Just to send in bottles so that people here in New York could make a profit? No” — Zelva’s eyes gleamed — “there have been other reasons.