In the spacious parklike grounds inside the wall nothing moved. The black car was parked silent at the rear of the big mansion that stood in the center of the walled park with a long gravel drive reaching up to it from the gate. The mansion was dark except for light in two windows at the right rear corner. On the grounds there was no one. There were only the dogs.
Four large dogs, Doberman Pinschers, that paced swiftly back and forth through the grounds as if on the trail of some prey. Each dog was alert and silent, its long jaws open and wet as it paced. They ranged wide through the dark grounds. Suddenly, all, four came alert. For a second each hesitated, its ears erect, listening. They sniffed the silent air. Then, all at once as if on signal, they began to run silently toward a dark area at the base of the high wall.
The dark area moved. A tall figure came out shrouded in long black.
The dogs stopped, began to mill around the black shape of The Shadow. The dogs whined as they paced restlessly, their red eyes fixed on The Shadow.
The Shadow spoke softly and his fiery eyes burned toward the milling dogs.
Slowly the savage pinschers stopped pacing and stood looking up at The Shadow and whining softly. Then, one by one, they lay down and watched the black shape before them with docile eyes.
The Shadow whispered. “Stay!”
The four dogs laid their heads between their paws and became silent. The Shadow moved past them and faded into the darkness.
The two lighted windows at the corner of the mansion were shaded by trees. Heavy bushes grew close to the windows along the wall of the house. One of the two windows was open in the night. The black shrouded shape of The Shadow suddenly appeared among the bushes in front of the opened window. His black figure was invisible in the night. His fiery eyes were grim as they observed the scene inside the room through the open window.
The room was more an office than a residential room. It was large, with a high ceiling and its corners were lost in shadow. There was a large desk and two smaller desks. Along the walls there were rows of filing cabinets. There was a large safe and four deep leather chairs. There was a long leather couch. On the walls there were two portraits. One was of Lenin and the other of Karl Marx. The flag of the Soviet Union stood in a stand behind the desk. On the wall behind the desk there were two more portraits of the present Soviet Party Secretary and Premier.
The eyes of The Shadow saw all this from where he stood hidden outside the window. He knew that this, then, was some official residence of members of the Soviet Government in the United States. But it was not the room that held his gaze, it was the people in it.
Margo, still disguised as the woman scientist with the limp, sat in a straight chair facing the large desk. Her hands were not tied. She was not restrained, but sat there facing the man who sat behind the desk.
The man behind the desk was a short, thick man whose heavy hands toyed nervously with a paper knife. He wore a good dark suit and the ribbon of some decoration in his lapel. His hair was close-cropped in the Russian style. He had all the earmarks of an official, and the desk was obviously his desk. The others in the room addressed him as “Excellency”, and it was clear that he was the titular leader of the men in the room.
The two men who stood in the shadows against the wall spoke to the Excellency with deference and respect.
The small, dark-haired, wiry man of middle age who had the position of a Senior Scientist at Federal Cybernetics also spoke to the Excellency with respect. The scientist was seated in one of the leather chairs to the right of Margo. As The Shadow listened and watched, this small scientist was just completing his explanation of how he had observed Margo in the laboratory and had decided to capture her to find out what she was doing and who had sent her. He had spoken in Russian.
The fifth man in the room did not treat the Excellency with respect. He was a tall, slender figure who stood in the shadows with his face hidden. His hands were long and sinuous, like small snakes moving in rays of light from the single light on the large desk. His thin body was as supple and erect as steel. His movements were like the motion of a coiled spring. When he spoke there was a cold sneer in his voice, a sharp and arrogant tone no matter who he spoke to. When he spoke no one looked at him, or answered with respect—they answered with a tone of fear, and their eyes were uneasy as they looked at the tall man.
“So you succeeded in your work, but were apparently observed by this woman,” this tall, cold man said in a voice of ice. He spoke in clear, precise Russian!
“So it seems, Colonel,” the scientist said uneasily, also in Russian.
“That was careless, wasn’t it Vaslov?” the thin man who had been called Colonel said softly, but his voice showed that he considered carelessness a major crime. The Shadow, who understood Russian perfectly as he did ten other languages, watched the tall, half-hidden Colonel, and he watched the scientist who Margo had called Otto Reigen, but the Colonel called Vaslov.
Reigen, or Vaslov, protested. “There was no way I could have suspected her until I saw her checking my work! Until today she seemed a plain scientist!”
“Late,” Colonel Derian sneered. “But perhaps not too late.”
The official at the desk was impatient. “I see no value in personality clashes, Derian! Let us get to the point.”
The tall Colonel’s half-hidden body turned slowly. “My dear Comrade Misygyn, I’m afraid that you see the value of very little. You are a hack, like all the men in our foreign service! The matter of personalities is of the utmost importance in my work! But, for now I agree, let us get to the point by all means. Would you care to take charge, Excellency?”
Outside the window The Shadow smiled as he heard the tone of contempt in the voice of Colonel Derian when he called the official, whose name seemed to be Misygyn, Excellency! For a moment the two Russians stared at each other. The scientist, Reigen, or Vaslov, sat uneasily.
The two guards stood silent. It was clear that they all liked Misygyn better, and would have preferred him to be in charge. It was equally clear that the real power was Col. Derian. Misygyn waved his thick hand.
“It is your work, Derian. I don’t have the stomach for it.”
“Too bad,” Colonel Derian said. “You wish to keep your fine diplomatic hands clean, eh?
Yes, that is why the Secret Cell must exist even inside the Secret Police. We must do the dirty work, eh Excellency?”
“If you call secret spying on our own spies work, yes!” Misygyn snapped. “But get on with it!”
The Colonel bowed, his face still hidden. There was a long silence as the position of the Colonel’s body showed that he was now staring at the silent Margo. All this time she had sat there in her disguise listening and watching. Now her eyes turned toward the hidden face of Colonel Derian. She was aware that he was staring hard at her. When he spoke again his voice was colder than any voice The Shadow had ever heard. He spoke in English—as clear and precise as his Russian.
“So, Miss Talent, or should I say Dr. Talent, you find the activities of my friend Vaslov interesting, eh?”
Margo said nothing. Only her eyes watched the tall Colonel sharply where he stood lounging against the wall in the shadows. She showed nothing at all on her face. But The Shadow, lurking silently just beyond the open window, was glad to hear that so far the Russians had not pierced Margo’s disguise. They still addressed her by the name of the woman she had replaced for the Federal Cybernetics assignment: Dr. Freda Talent.
“Come, come, Doctor, you have brains. You see that we have you. Vaslov reports that you were very interested in the book he photographed. He reports that when he observed you in the Locker Room you were obviously trying to interpret your notes from that book,” Colonel Derian said quietly and coldly. Then, as sudden as a whiplash, “Who sent you!”
Margo jumped visibly. For an instant the sharp and sudden attack almost worked. Caught by surprise, Margo almost answered from reflex. But the Number One agent of The Shadow was too well trained to be caught even by such an expert technique of interrogation.
“I work for Federal Cybernetics,” the disguised Margo said. “I was working late. I saw Dr.
Reigen, who you call Vaslov. I wanted to know what secrets he was attempting to steal.”
There was a silence inside the room of the mansion. The tall, rigid figure of Colonel Derian seemed frozen where he stood in the shadows. The diplomat, Misygyn, shook his head slowly as if in a kind of sympathy with Margo. Vaslov, or Reigen, watched her. The two almost totally unseen guards stood motionless. Outside in the bushes The Shadow had one more point to be glad about—they had not observed Margo in communication with him! His burning eyes watched the scene as the silence continued in the office of the mansion.
“You think we are fools, Dr. Talent?” the cold voice of Derian said.
“I think you are spies!” Margo snapped.
“Does that interest you?” Derian said.
“The way rats interest me,” Margo said.
Vaslov swore.
“Quiet!” Colonel Derian said. “So, Doctor, bravado? Really, I am disappointed. Perhaps you are not so important after all. Unfortunate. You see, you will die whether you are a spy or some misguided eavesdropper!”
Margo, as the supposed Dr. Freda Talent, shrugged. “We all must die, Colonel Derian. Even you should know that.”
The tall, thin figure of the Colonel hidden in the shadows of the room suddenly began to shake. The Shadow watched the tall man and realized that Colonel Derian was laughing—
laughing hard. Everyone in the silent office watched the laughing secret police agent.
“Even I should know that we all die? Yes, Doctor, I know very well that we all die! I have helped many on their inevitable way. Oh, indeed I know about death, Doctor Talent! I am an expert of death! I live for death! Do you know what they call me, Doctor? They call me The Technician of Death! Yes, The Technician! You know you will die, do you? Yes, Doctor, but how? That is the question? How will you die, eh? I can tell you so many ways, so very many ways to die!”
Margo did not flinch. “I’m sure you can, Colonel, but you cannot tell me one way for you to learn what you want to know!”
The half-hidden Colonel continued to shake where he stood—but now the shaking was the shake of anger. The other men in the room moved uneasily as the cold voice of the secret police officer attacked like a machine gun.
“What were you looking for?”
“I observed your man Vas… .”
“No!” Derian thundered from the shadows. “No, you were there for a purpose! You saw Vaslov, yes, but you were there! You were after something! Perhaps the same thing Vaslov was after?”
“I don’t know what Vaslov was after,” Margo said.
“You were observing Federal Cybernetics! Why?”
“I work there.”
“No! We are not fools. What did you go there to learn?”
Margo was silent.
“Why are you watching Federal Cybernetics?”
Margo said nothing.
“Who sent you?”
“No one sent me.”
“The CIA perhaps?”
“Perhaps.”
“No, you are not official, not a typical agent. The Army possibly? Or NASA?”
“Which one would you like?” Margo said.
“What is suspicious about Federal Cybernetics?”
Margo shrugged.
“What do you think you know? What did you hope to find? Why did that ledger interest you?”
The cold voice of the half-hidden Colonel hammered on. The words were like the lashes of a whip, the steady pounding of a hammer, the relentless drip of water in some ancient Chinese torture. Margo never blinked. Her eyes stared steadily toward where the Colonel stood.
“What have you learned, Doctor?” Derian persisted.
“That the Russians are involved with Federal Cybernetics,” Margo said.
“What do you know about that closet, that secret room?”
“What secret room?”
“You will tell us!”
“Tell me what to tell.”
“Who sent you?”
“I forget.”
“You will remember.”
“How? Will you kill me? Dead people have poor memories,” Margo sneered.
The sneer in her voice seemed to act like a blow in the face to the half-hidden Colonel. The other men in the room all looked toward Derian. They seemed afraid.
“You will not die that soon, Doctor,” the tall, thin Secret Police Colonel said coldly. “I must know what you know, who you are working for.”
There was a movement. Outside the window The Shadow’s eyes glowed as he saw the movement in the dark of the room. The tall Colonel walked slowly from the darkness into the circle of light cast by the single lamp on the desk of Misygyn. He stood tall and very thin over the seated Margo.
“You will tell me what you know, Doctor Talent. I will learn all you know.”
The Shadow, at the window, saw the face of the tall Colonel. It was a long, thin face. The face of a cobra! The cold eyes were narrow and slanted like the eyes of the snake; flat and deadly with the small pupils of the snake. His nose was long and sharp like the head of a snake ready to strike. His hair was close-cropped, his mouth was wide and thin and when he spoke his teeth were sharp like pointed fangs. His neck was long and held rigid, ready to strike. His whole taut body was like the swaying body of a snake poised for attack.
“I will know, Doctor Talent.”
Margo shivered but she did not quail. Her voice was low but clear and steady.
“No,” Margo said.
“Yes,” the Colonel said. “One way or another. It is vital that I know all that you can tell me.
When a thing is vital to the Secret Cell, it is revealed to us. Below this room there is another room. It is small and there are no windows. No sound can escape that room. Down there we will be alone, you and 1. The room is not known to the world, there can be no help there. Whoever sent you to Federal cannot find you there. It is very quiet down in that room, very still and silent.
Nothing moves. There will be only you and I. Then you will tell me what I must know.”
In the room the other men seemed to shiver as the tall, cobra-like Colonel spoke. Vaslov, the scientist, seemed to be seeing that deserted room below. Misygyn stared at the floor as if he did not want to hear, did not want to think about that room down there below his office, did not want to know what went on beneath the surface of his smooth life out in the polite world of talk and negotiation. The two silent men on guard in the shadows acted as if they simply did not want to know what their superiors did. They were men who did what they were told to do, what they were paid to do, what they had been taught they should do, and asked no questions as to why or what. Only Margo, still in her disguise as Doctor Freda Talent, looked at Colonel Derian.
“No,” she said.
Derian smiled. It was the thin, lipless, fanged smile of the cobra mesmerizing its helpless prey.
The Colonel nodded his head a fraction of an inch.
The two armed guardsmen stepped up to Margo.
Derian nodded again toward the side door of the office.
The two armed men touched Margo’s shoulder.
Misygyn spoke. “Is it that vital, Derian?”
The Colonel did not even turn. ” Colonel Derian, Excellency. And yes it is that vital. I must know exactly what she was doing, why, and for whom.”
The Colonel nodded again to the guards. They took hold of Margo’s shoulder to raise her. She shrugged off their hands and stood up by herself. She looked straight at Derian. The Colonel showed neither surprise nor admiration. He was not a man who cared one way or the other about his victims. He was—The Technician.
At the window The Shadow prepared to move. The instant they took Margo out was the time.
That would leave only Misygyn and Vaslov. The Shadow would handle them, and then deal with Derian and the two armed guards. One by one he would handle them and so free… In the dark night his fire-opal girasol ring began to glow brighter. The Avenger bent over his radio-ring.
“Report, Shrevvie!”
“A car just drove up. It’s parked near the gate. Two men got out under cover. They’re keeping out of sight in the trees and watching the place.”
“Watch them!” The Shadow ordered.
He looked into the room again and saw that something had happened in the office also. They were all suddenly alert. Misygyn was standing at his desk and listening to his intercom. Colonel Derian was watching Misygyn for the first time with a certain sense of admission that the diplomat might have a job to do also. Vaslov looked scared.
“Who could it be!” Vaslov cried.
“Shut up!” Misygyn snapped. He listened to his intercom. “An official-looking car. No one seems to have gotten out yet. A driver and one man in the rear. The car is just sitting in the shadows.” Misygyn snapped off his intercom. “Some kind of official call, Colonel, I must be ready to receive whoever it may be. Take the woman and Vaslov into the next room! Until I know just what it’s about, I will see whoever it is alone.”
The others left the office. Misygyn sat alone at his desk. The Shadow vanished from the window and faded into the night.To Be Continued on Wednesday at...
Please Support Atomic Kommie Comics
Visit Amazon and Buy...
by James Patterson and Brian Sitts
He never turned pro, and passed away in 2001.
