A hiss of uneasiness went up at this.
“Supposin’ Doc Savage should blow the dam up? We’d drown! We wouldn’t stand a chance!”
Their Chief — the man who was sometimes known under the assumed name of ‘Nick Clipton’ — snarled at their reluctance.
“Savage wouldn’t destroy the dam!” he rapped. “You birds get down on the canyon floor! Do a little shootin’ from there so Savage will know where you are. That’ll draw ‘im down!”
“Supposin’ it don’t?”
“What else do you think could happen?”
“Doc Savage might take that whirly-gig flying contraption of his an’ try to drop bombs on us,” Buttons Zortell said wisely.
“You dope! You’ll have four of his men an’ the girl along, won’t you? He ain’t gonna drop bombs on them!”
“Yeah,” Buttons admitted. “That’s right. Now let’s get it straight what we’re to do. We just go down in the canyon an’ start shootin’. That’s all there is to it, huh?”
“Just one thing more!” snapped their visored Chief.
Reaching into his clothes, the man produced a candle-like flare. This was the same type as previously used at their cliff-dwelling landing field. It gave an extremely brilliant white light.
“The minute you see Doc Savage on the canyon bed, light this!” the man ordered and gave the flare to Buttons Zortell.
“What’s it for? A signal?” asked Buttons, somewhat confused.
The masked man hesitated the briefest moment… then chuckled.
“That’s it! Sure! It’s a ‘signal’!”
“What’ll happen after we signal?” Buttons wanted to know.
“I’ll take care of that!” the other snarled. “Quit chewin’ the fat an’ get movin’! C’mon, drag it! The whole kit-n’-kiboodle of you! Hurry things up!”
He was striving to rush them off. He didn’t want them asking questions. Who knew but that they might hit upon the grisly truth.
It would not be healthy for the mysterious mastermind should his henchmen learn that he was planning for them to die along with Doc Savage should they suspect his cleverly-planned explosive charge placed at a vitally weakened point of the dam to make possible its destruction. The tremendous weight of the water, the freshly poured concrete — all these would serve the Villain now.
The light of the flare — to be touched off at sight of the Bronze Man — would be brilliant enough to actuate the photoelectric cell. The dam would be destroyed. And not only would Doc perish but also the villainous gang and their prisoners!
The King Killer was going to do more than rid himself of his chiefest enemies! He was going to annihilate ALL who knew his identity! It was a supreme stroke of wickedness, this thing he planned!
XXI — Robot Men
Buttons Zortell led the gang downward through a spillway tunnel. This had been cut in the solid stone canyon walls. It was about 50 feet in diameter. It slanted downward, but not so steeply but that it could be negotiated afoot.
Buttons chose the tunnel because there was less danger should shooting start. They had 4 submachine guns as well as rifles and revolvers. Anyone who tried to attack them from the top of the tunnel would have hard going.
No enemies were below on the canyon bed. Some of the gang were in a powerhouse guarding the prisoners — Doc’s 4 men and Lea Aster.
Men could hardly descend to the canyon depths without attracting their attention. It was very dark in the vast spillway tunnel.
“Get a move on, you rannies!” snapped Buttons. “I don’t know what the Boss has got in his sleeve. But it’s up to us to help ‘im put it over!”
Loose rock — not yet mucked out of the cavernous excavation — clattered underfoot. Echoes rumbled off sides and ceiling.
“I ain’t so hot about this,” complained one of the crew. “Supposin’ that dam would bust? There’s a lot of water behind it. The stuff would come down the canyon like a bat out of hell!”
“Pipe down!” Buttons growled, little knowing the words were in the nature of a finishing touch to his death warrant. “We’ll get the prisoners outa the powerhouse the first thing!”
A grayish smear ahead denoted the exit into the gloomy canyon bed.
At this point, there sounded a sudden thump! and a flurry of gravel. It was impossible to tell what had happened in the muggy black of the spillway tunnel since the men were not using lights which might draw bullets.
“What is it?” somebody snapped.
“Dang the luck!” snarled Buttons’s voice. “I fell down!”
The others advanced from the tunnel and stood on the canyon bed. They could hardly see each other in the dark murk.
Buttons Zortell did not appear.
“What’s the trouble, Buttons?” a man called.
“I’m takin’ a rock out of my shoe!” rumbled Buttons’s tone within the tunnel. “You rannies go on to the power house an’ get the prisoners!”
Complying with this order, the men moved off.
A moment later, a figure scuttled out of the tunnel. The garments this person wore were those of Buttons Zortell. But the movements were extremely unlike the swaggering shuffle usually affected by Buttons.
The form moved with amazing speed for the powerhouse! The swiftness with which the figure moved would have identified it to an observer.
It was Doc Savage!
He had listened to the men receive their orders and — before that — he had watched the Master Killer’s sinister preparations!
Doc lost no time.
He had overpowered Buttons Zortell in the tunnel with such quiet and dispatch that none had suspected. His remarkable command of the art of voice mimicry had furthered the deception.
But his work was far from done.
Circling, he evaded the slow-moving gunmen. His superior speed enabled him to reach the great powerhouse in advance of the gang.
A guard stood before the door. He sighted Doc.
“Who’s that?” he growled as Doc came closer.
“Who d’you think, you dope!” Doc’s imitation sounded wondrously like Buttons Zortell.
The lookout was fooled. He let Doc come within reach probably because Doc wore Buttons’s cowboy hat and jumper.
Cr-a-c-k!
To his dying day, the guard carried an impression somebody had hit him on the jaw with a stick of dynamite!
Doc tangled his right hand in the fellow’s coat. It was the same right hand with which he had struck the blow. He shoved the unconscious man into the powerhouse.
2 more guards started in surprise. Their hands dived for six-guns. The weapons hung low in tied-down holsters. Their hands did not have far to travel. No doubt they did not dream but that they both could slam lead into Doc Savage before he reached them.
They dropped before they had time to change their ideas. Charging them, Doc Savage was a tawny flash!
One man got a poke that set his jaw awry. The second fell after Doc had apparently done nothing more violent than snap a finger against his temple.
It was not often that Doc used his fists. But when he did, no blows were wasted. Should he have had to strike a second time, he would probably have added a half-hour to his daily exercise routine!
He glided on into an inner room of the powerhouse.
Blonde Lea Aster — her prettiness lessened no whit by her captivity — lay on the floor bound&gagged. It was obvious that she had not been harmed seriously by her captors.
Monk sprawled nearby, also roped and silenced. He had been through a fight. His homely face would bear a new crop of scars for it looked as if somebody had walked on his features with hobnail boots.
Renny and Long Tom had been working on each other’s bonds. Johnny had broken the thick magnifying lens of his glasses and was industriously seeking to cut through his own ropes.