“Well, he is! And he’s droppin’ everything else so as to give all his attention to keepin’ Savage from gettin’ mixed up in this business!”
Buttons — who was driving — wheeled the car around a sharp curve before he continued speaking.
“I don’t know as I blame the Boss at that. I got a newspaper on the phone as soon as we hit New York. They gave me the dope on Savage. What I mean is that it was plenty! I figured at first they was kiddin’ me. So I called another newspaper. And they told me the same stuff!”
Buttons glanced around and saw he had a very interested audience. The men were leaning forward to catch his words.
“I’m still wonderin’ if the newspapers was stringin’ me,” he continued. “No one man could be all they said Doc Savage was. Accordin’ to them, this jasper is the greatest surgeon in the World as well as the greatest engineer, the greatest chemist, and the greatest electrical expert.
“Hell! To hear them tell it, nobody can do anything better than he can! Now I ask you gents: don’t that sound like bushwa?”
The listeners <blinked> and exchanged doubtful glances. They did not know what to think.
“I got Doc Savage’s life history,” Buttons snorted. “It seems his dad trained ‘im from the cradle to make a superman out of ‘im. The old man’s idea was to fit Savage for what the newspaper gents called a ‘goal in life’. I gathered that the goal is to go around huntin’ trouble and nosin’ into other people’s business.
“If a hombre gets in a jam, he can go to Doc Savage and hocus-pocus, presto! — Savage fixes him up. Just as easy as that! And it don’t make any difference if the guy in the jam ain’t got no money to pay. Savage ain’t a money proposition.”
“Sounds nutty to me,” muttered a man.
“Same here. But the jasper must amount to somethin’ or he wouldn’t have a rep like that. And remember, he’s got the Big Boss worried! And I found out somethin’ the Boss didn’t know.”
“What’s that?”
“Doc Savage has 5 hombres who work with ‘im. They’re specialists in certain lines. One is a chemist, one an engineer, one an electrical expert, another an archeologist, and the last one a lawyer. I learned their names, what they look like, and where they live. I got the same dope on the Savage feller.”
“Knowin’ all about ‘em will help us.”
“Sure it will! We’ll have to go up against that gang if Bandy Stevens gets to ‘em. I got an old newspaper an’ cut their pictures out of it.”
Buttons waited until he was piloting the car down a straight stretch of road, then fished a news clipping from an inner pocket. He spread it for the others to inspect.
The clipping was a picture. It showed a group of 6 remarkable-looking men. They were attired in formal fashion with top hats and claw-hammer coats.
Buttons put a finger on the most striking character in the assemblage. ” This one is Doc Savage.”
The other men stared closely. They were impressed, suddenly realizing this was no ordinary personage about whom they were talking. Even the vague printing of the newspaper cut did not diminish the aspect of Strength and Power about the giant form of Doc Savage.
“That hombre ain’t nobody’s pushover,” muttered a man.
“Look at the gents with ‘im!” grunted another. “One is darn near as big as Savage! And pipe the hairy gorilla of a feller. Imagine meetin’ somethin’ like that in a dark canyon!”
“The skinny one with the glasses don’t look so bad. Neither does the shriveled little runt. Or the one who wears his clothes so fancy.”
“What does it say at the bottom of the picture?”
Bending close, they read the fine newsprint beneath the clipping:
Clark Savage, Jr. and his 5 associates at the ceremonial cornerstone-laying of the Savage Memorial Hospital in Mantilla, capital city of the Luzon Union.
“What was the story with this picture?” a man wanted to know.
Buttons hesitated… then answered reluctantly.
“A yarn about this Doc Savage savin’ the Pacific island republic — the Luzon Union — from a lot of pirates who had come down from the China coast and were tryin’ to take over the government. Savage wouldn’t take a reward so they put up the hospital in his honor.” [read “The Pirate of the Pacific (#005)”]
The men seemed somewhat stunned. They moved their hands nervously.
“Jumpin’ steers!” said one uneasily. “The gent ain’t a piker!”
Buttons Zortell sneered loudly.
“Don’t let a jasper’s rep get your nannies! We ain’t a bunch of slant-eyed ginks like them pirates the paper told about. And glom onto this. The Big Boss ain’t a slouch himself when it comes to brains!”
Little more was said. The car had entered New York and driving the unaccustomed streets required all of Buttons’s attention. Due to the late hour, there was little traffic.
Locating Broadway, Buttons drove along that thoroughfare. A halt was made at a shabby hotel where he and his men had taken rooms.
Buttons entered the hostelry. He reappeared within a few minutes carrying a metal-bound steamer trunk.
An opening in the end of the trunk was covered by a stout metal screen. Through this came scratchings and whimperings.
“What the blazes?” demanded one of the crew. “I been wonderin’ why you brought that…”
“Wait and I’ll tell you!” Buttons snapped.
He stared about to make sure no one was near, then leaned over and spoke in a low voice.
“The Big Boss knowed we might have to do some croakin’! So before we left for the East, he gimme some ‘sweet tools’ to do our work with!”
“Whatcha mean?”
Buttons leered at him knowingly. He dropped a hand on the steamer trunk from which the weird noises came.
“This is one of the little things the Boss gimme! What’s in this trunk will salivate Bandy Stevens plenty! It’ll do the job so there won’t be a chance of us gettin’ caught.”
Entering the car, Buttons wheeled it downtown. He was heading for one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city.
A towering structure — the 86th floor of which housed Doc Savage’s Headquarters.
III — Fangs
One thing distinguishes New York from other cities. The number and height of its office buildings.
Gothamites can boast of their skyscrapers without fear of contradiction. And few of the cloud-piercers were the object of more bragging than the structure which housed Doc Savage’s Reception room, Library, and experimental Laboratory.
To a height of almost a hundred stories the skyscraper reared. Outside, the architecture was severely plain in the modernistic fashion. The few decorations were in a shiny metal which was impervious to the weather. Inside, the fittings were elaborate and costly. More than 50 passenger elevators served the tenants!
Bandy Stevens hung his head out of his taxi window and studied the imposing edifice with no little awe. Bandy had secured a lift from a passing motorist and ridden until he had encountered a cruising taxi. The cab had hurried him into the city.
No cars were parked near the great office building at this night hour. Only one man was to be seen. A shabby fellow who sat on the walk near the entrance of the building.
This man maintained a hunched position and wore dark glasses. He held a bundle of newspapers which he seemed to be offering for sale. A small bulldog crouched at his side, its head on its paws as if dozing.
Bandy peered upward at the face of the skyscraper. A number of windows were lighted. He decided this merely meant the janitor force was at work.
He had scant hope of finding Doc Savage here at this time of night. But he hoped to locate someone who would tell him where Savage could be found. This address was the only one Bandy possessed.