"That's when I'll have the way to fix it. I'll tell Bron what I want done,
and that if he'll play ball he won't have to worry about nothing. Tomorrow, he'll put his O.K. on those books over at World Oil."
Pinkey's story was finished, and from Ondrey's delighted look, the big-shot was sure that the scheme would work. Ondrey was not the only listener who nourished that opinion.
From his hiding place, The Shadow had heard all the details and could foresee the result, once the game reached completion.
Obviously, Lewis Bron would realize that he was framed by the time Pinkey came to the climax; but that wouldn't help the auditor out of his dilemma. If Bron believed that he had actually shot Bugs and that Slick was really Bill Quaine, the game would work. Knowing the skill with which Pinkey and his pals worked, The Shadow was sure that they would sell Bron on the proposition, provided nothing intervened to disturb their scheme. It happened, though, that crooks would be due for a surprise; because The Shadow saw a way to provide one.
The Shadow, too, could be witness to all that occurred. When the game came
to its high point, he could step in with a brace of guns and corner both Pinkey
and Slick. Bugs on the floor, would never dare a move.
A call to police headquarters would bring Joe Cardona, Manhattan's ace police inspector. Fuming crooks would be trapped, with their whole game exposed.
WHILE The Shadow was speculating on that pleasant prospect, Pinkey stepped
toward the elevator. The Shadow pressed the panel tight; rolled to the top of the car.
Pinkey slid the panel wide; The Shadow could hear him entering the elevator alone. Pinkey's words were also plain.
"I'm going over to watch Bron's office," he told the others. "You can come
along later, Slick - say in about forty minutes, because Bugs won't be due until
eleven o'clock.
"You look too much like Bill Quaine to be seen around Bron's place until you're needed. You might bump into some harness bull who knows that Quaine is away on vacation."
The panel went shut. The elevator moved smoothly upward carrying its two passengers. It was a curious situation - Pinkey Findlen starting off on a criminal venture, taking The Shadow right along with him. Pinky hadn't the remotest idea that such a case existed.
Nor did The Shadow disillusion him. When the car reached the top of the shaft, he waited while Pinkey went out though the door. After that, The Shadow stretched upward and opened the trap above his head, to emerge upon the roof.
Pinkey was gone by the time The Shadow reached the street below. There wasn't any reason to trail him, for the big-shot was going to the very spot where The Shadow wanted him to be. Shifting through the darkness, The Shadow reached a waiting cab. Entering it, he whispered to the agent who was at the wheel.
That aid was Moe Shrevnitz, the speediest hackie in Manhattan, but Moe didn't hurry on this occasion. He drove at an easy pace; while The Shadow contacted Burbank by radio. Over the short-wave set, The Shadow learned Bron's office address. It was in a small office building on Thirtieth Street.
The Shadow instructed Burbank to send an agent, Harry Vincent, to the Bubble Club, in case of chance developments there. That done, he put away the shortwave and gave Moe the street address.
But the cabby didn't stop when they reached the destination. Instead, he merely slackened speed near the less lighted portion of the curb.
Dropping from the cab, The Shadow merged close to the darkness of a building wall. Blended with blackness, he looked across the street to the small
old-fashioned building where Bron's office was located.
The Shadow saw a lighted office at the front of the third floor. Its curtains were drawn; but he knew that the office must be Bron's.
While he watched, The Shadow spotted another light that suddenly appeared at the window of a side office on the same floor. That window was also shaded; but The Shadow could picture the scene within as plainly as if he possessed X-ray vision.
The side office was the waiting place chosen by Pinkey Findlen. That fact brought a whispered laugh from The Shadow. Fake murder was shaping itself as crooks intended; and with its climax would come The Shadow's triumph.
That soft laugh would have faded, had The Shadow foreseen the change that chance was to produce. Already, events were leading to a different climax.
Such
matters, it happened, were unknown to Pinkey Findlen as well as The Shadow.
Real murder - not false - was in the cards tonight, and through it would come success to present schemes of crime!
CHAPTER XI
BUGS SWINGS A DEAL
VERY shortly after The Shadow's departure from the Bubble Club, two unexpected customers arrived there. One was Bugs Hopton; attired in ill-fitting
tuxedo; the other was a stoopish, sly-faced man, similarly attired. The two took
a table; when Claude Ondrey stopped near by, Bugs beckoned.
Worried, Ondrey approached the table. Bugs clapped him on the back; then introduced his companion.
"Meet Mr. Parrington," announced Bugs. "Roy Parrington - one swell guy!
And you, Roy - shake hands with Claude Ondrey. He's regular!"
Handshakes were exchanged; all the while, Ondrey was looking anxiously toward Bugs, wondering what twist of circumstances had brought him to the Bubble Club.
There was a burst of music from the orchestra; a trim dancer whirled to the center of the floor, amid the applause of the patrons. Bugs nudged Parrington.
"Get an eyeful, Roy," advised Bugs. "That kid is some looker - and can she
dance! Here - shove your chair around for a better look."
Parrington obliged. When his back was turned, Bugs shifted in the opposite
direction, grabbed Ondrey's sleeve and whispered in the managers ear:
"Is Slick in the office?"
Ondrey nodded; then began: "But - but what -"
"I don't ask questions," undertoned Bugs. "See this hat check? Its Parrington's. Listen - get a gat from Slick and plant it in the guys coat pocket. Leave the rest to me."
Ondrey hurried away, still wondering what it was all about. He reached the
office, to find Slick lounging there. He told Slick what Bugs wanted. Slick was
mystified; but obligingly provided Ondrey with a revolver, in accordance with the request.
Hurrying from the office, the night club owner reached the cloakroom near the street door. He spotted the garments that bore the ticket number. Getting rid of the check girl on a pretext, Ondrey fumblingly slid the revolver into Parrington's overcoat pocket.
The task wasn't exactly easy, for Ondrey encountered a fat bundle in one pocket and had to slide the gun to another. Since Bugs hadn't mentioned the package in the overcoat, Ondrey left it where it was. Sidling from the cloakroom, Ondrey neared the table where Bugs sat with Parrington. Bugs thumbed
the manager toward his office; then leaned forward to watch the floor show.
"How do you like it, Roy?" he queried. While he spoke, Bugs was watching an approaching waiter. "Ain't this a classy joint, with plenty for de money? I come here a lot."
The waiter had arrived. Bugs shifted suddenly in his chair, jolted the fellow and caused him to spill the contents of a tray. Mixed drinks poured over
Bugs and Parrington. Both came to their feet.
In the argument, that followed, Bugs blamed the waiter; so Parrington did the same. Bugs staged a portion of his "crazy act" in very competent fashion.
The result was that Parrington agreed when Bugs gave loud decision:
"Come Roy. Let's get out of this lousy dump!"
They were still arguing with a head waiter when they put on their hats and
coats. It was then that Bugs became more reasonable.