Saturday, August 19, 2023

Space Hero Saturdays CAPTAIN KEN BRADY: ROCKET PILOT "Pirates of the Airways!"

If you look carefully, you can find a Space Hero almost anywhere...
...even someone who's a spacegoing FedEx driver, as shown in this story from the co-creator of Superman and the definitive artist of Dracula!
This back-up tale about a cargo-ship pilot and his buddy just doin' their jobs from Ziff-Davis' Lars of Mars #10* (1951) was written by Jerry (Superman) Siegel and illustrated by Gene (Tomb of Dracula) Colan.
*Though it's number "10", this was actually the first issue of Lars of Mars.
We're not sure which other Ziff-Davis title's numbering this run continues from.
Please Support Atomic Kommie Comics!
Visit Amazon and Buy...
Art and Life of Gene Colan
Trade PaperBack Edition

Friday, August 18, 2023

Friday Fun / Trump Reading Room FARMER'S DAUGHTER "Short Subjects"

Since Donald (The John) Trump's "deplorables" have very short attention spans...
...here's a trio of one-pagers that will probably hit the limit of their attention!
These never-reprinted shorts from Stanhall's Farmer's Daughter #1 (1954) were typical of the sort of lowbrow humor the publisher specialized in.
With titles including Broadway-Hollywood Blackouts and G.I. JaneStanhall produced adult-oriented (but never more risque than PG-13) humor.
Animator Hal Seegar was the editor/writer/illustrator for the non "good girl" strips like "The Farmer", while Bill Williams handled the art for the more risque material (like the title feature) which Seegar wrote and edited.
Please support
Atomic Kommie Comics
Visit Amazon and Order...

Thursday, August 17, 2023

THE SHADOW: DESTINATION MOON Chapter 10

You can read the previous chapter HERE.

10
The Idaho plant of Federal Cybernetics was in the country some miles from Lewiston in the high mountains. In the official staff car sent from the nearest Army base, Brigadier General Rogers sat up front beside the driver who had come with the car to meet them at the airport.
Rogers and Professor Farina had been waiting impatiently when Cranston arrived by jet. Rogers immediately started toward the waiting staff car.

“Let’s move, Cranston,” the General said. “You came alone this time?”

“Speed was essential, General,” Cranston said. “My secretary will follow.”

“Right. Come on, Farina,” Rogers snapped as he strode to the car. The driver jumped out and held open the door. Rogers barely nodded to the driver as he stepped into the car followed by Farina and Cranston.

Farina was obviously disturbed. “I don’t know how I missed that defect of the fuel control the first time around, Cranston. It was small, and not easy to locate, but I shouldn’t have missed it.”

“It happens,” Rogers said from the front seat as they drove.

“We’re all on edge,” Cranston said.

Farina nodded. “I suppose so. It’s the next shot that has me jittery. I suppose I was too anxious to find the trouble in time. At least I’ll know enough to inspect the control more carefully in advance this time.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to sabotage the same part again,” Cranston said. “They’ll try something else. There are so many parts to a rocket, that is one of the difficulties.”

Farina nodded moodily. “Yes, that is the problem.”

Rogers snorted in the front seat. “I’ll stake my next ten years pay that they’ll lay off now that they’ve been warned that we’re on to them. And if they don’t, well maybe we can put an end to any more trouble by catching them red-handed right here in the Federal Cybernetics plant.”

“Let’s hope so,” Farina said.

The staff car drove on into the foothills of the mountains. White rivers leaped down the sides of the craggy hills, flowing in the deep gullies that passed beneath the road under bridges. The thickly wooded forests came down to the road, a great thick mass of green pines and firs that stretched out across the mountain valleys as far as the eye could see. The road wound among the foothills with the great towering peaks of the mountains still in the distance ahead. Just as the road entered the actual mountains, the staff car reached the gate of the Federal Cybernetics plant.

The driver slowed and drove up to the locked gate. Five guards came out. They were armed and in full uniform.

“Stop there!” one of the guards snapped. He was a tall man with rigid military bearing. He wore the rank of a Captain on the shoulder straps of his private guard uniform, and carried a pistol ready in his hand.

The car stopped. The Captain of the guards walked out the opened gate to the car. He approached warily and alert. His four men fanned out behind him in such a way that all the occupants of the car were covered and observed, and at the exactly right places so that no more than one could be attacked at a time from the car. Cranston watched them carefully as the Captain stood off and made Rogers reach out.

“Papers, please!” the Captain snapped.

Rogers glared, but handed out his identity papers and his official pass to visit the plant. The Captain studied them intently. Then he handed them back to Rogers, and saluted.

“Very good, General. Now the other two men, please.”

“Is that necessary, young man?” Rogers said. “I can vouch for …”

“It is necessary, sir,” the Captain said.

Cranston and Professor Farina handed out their identity and their passes. The Captain studied these with equal care. Cranston studied the Captain. He was a tall, muscular man who looked more like an officer in some Army than a plant guard. There was a long scar on his face; the scar of an old wound. He moved with the air of a man accustomed to command, and his eyes were a cold and flat blue. Cranston frowned as he watched the Captain and the other four guards.

“Very good, General, you can pass,” the Captain said as he handed back Cranston and Farina’s papers.

The driver drove the car through and onto the concrete drive that led up to the low, rambling one story plant set against the magnificent backdrop of the high mountain that towered close above the plant. Cranston still frowned and looked back at the guards.

“They are very military, General,” the socialite said slowly. “Very efficient. They are almost too military.”

Rogers looked back thoughtfully. “I noticed that, too. It looks like Federal has hired real ex-soldiers for their guards. Soldiers not long out of service either. They must be worried about something.”

“The sabotage?” Cranston said.

Rogers nodded. “Probably. It’s tight security. I wish all our defense plants had better security.”

“Still,” Cranston mused. “It is unusual to see such a tight military security at a civilian plant.”

“It should be tight.” Farina said. “The work here is ultra top secret. That is why I wonder how anyone could have sabotaged the control here. We may find we have to trace its entire route from here to Utah Base.”

Rogers agreed. “Probably. The weak link, that’s what we have to find. There’s always a weak link in every chain.”

The car drove up to the main entrance and stopped. Cranston recognized the man who came out of the building to greet Rogers and his party. It was Dr. Max Ernest. The Chief of Research for Federal shook hands all around and smiled a greeting. But it was only his mouth that smiled.

Cranston saw that behind the smile the eyes of Dr. Ernest showed that he was worried about something. Ernest was not pleased to see Rogers and the others. But the Doctor covered it well and led them into the building and back through a maze of corridors to the private office of J. Wesley Bryan. Cranston was surprised to see the number of corridors, the extent of the plant, and realized that the low plant was set back into the base of the mountain. It was far larger than it seemed to be.

“Ah, gentlemen!”

J. Wesley Bryan was seated in his wheel chair behind his mammoth desk. The tiny crippled man smiled and waved them all to seats as he greeted them. Rogers watched the small man carefully. Farina appeared nervous to Cranston. The socialite himself assumed his most impassive face. Bryan seemed most interested in Cranston.

“So, Cranston, you’ve come to look at the competition, eh?” the small man said from his wheelchair. “I’ve admired your work for some time. Perhaps you can admire some of mine.”

“Everyone admires your work, Mr. Bryan,” Cranston said quietly. “Few people have done as much in rocketry. The fuel control alone is a triumph of achievement.”

Bryan nodded with satisfaction. “It was a breakthrough, wasn’t it? Yes, I might say I am proud of our work there. But we will do more, much more! Eh, Ernest?”

The Research Director nodded agreement. Dr. Ernest was still standing just inside the door of Bryan’s private office. Cranston saw that for some reason Max Ernest still seemed highly uneasy.

Was the Research Director worried for himself, worried about some discovery being made if anyone looked too closely?

“Yes!” Bryan said eagerly. “We are doing work that will make the whole world sit up and notice!” And the small man laughed. “But enough of my work, what brings you gentlemen here?

The next Moon shot is only days away. I’m surprised that you could find the time, especially Professor Farina.”

“If there is a shot,” General Rogers said.

Bryan arched an eyebrow. ” If, General?”

“Sabotage,” Rogers said.

Bryan was silent for a moment. The small crippled man seemed to be thinking. Then he frowned.

“I still cannot understand how anyone could get on the Utah Base to sabotage the project,”

Bryan said. “I would have said that it was impossible. Still, there is no denying that something has been going wrong. I have, of course, checked the control completely. I cannot find any reason for failure.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t necessary for anyone to get on the Utah Base,” Rogers said bluntly. “I’m convinced that our troubles are sabotage, not accident, but I am also sure that no one could have gotten onto the Base.”

Bryan’s eyes snapped. “You are implying that the sabotage was done somewhere else—
perhaps here? !”

“Perhaps,” Rogers said.

“Ridiculous! You’ve seen our security, General! How could anyone get on our property to sabotage anything?”

“We’ve located the cause of the last failure,” Farina said. “It was in the fuel control system. A small change in valving. It could have been done almost anywhere.”

“But not here!” Bryan thundered. “Not only do we have strong plant security, the actual production and test facilities for the components of the control are completely secure. We test each component completely before we let it out!”

“Perhaps,” General Rogers said, “But the unit was sabotaged. There is no doubt now.
Somewhere between here and Utah Base the fuel control valving was altered! That is sabotage not an accident. And the trail must begin here. Now if the sabotage was not done here in the plant itself, then we must track it all the way. On the road, at shipping depots and transfer points if any! We… .”

Rogers was talking hard and fast. At each point in his tirade the General emphasized his point with a pound of his fist against the mammoth desk of J. Wesley Bryan. Cranston watched and listened. The General, for all his emphatic tirade, was being circumspect with Bryan. Cranston was not entirely convinced by the protests of Bryan, but, then, he knew more about the secret work and strangely hidden amounts of material. He could not reveal this knowledge without revealing the presence of The Shadow. But he knew it, and he listened carefully. There was still one great fact on the side of Bryan—Cranston could think of no reason for the crippled genius to sabotage his own fuel control system! The socialite looked toward Max Ernest. The Research Director was another matter—could it be some kind of jealousy? Men had killed for less, and Cranston decided to watch Ernest very closely while they were …

Cranston stopped thinking. J. Wesley Bryan had suddenly held up his hand. General Rogers seemed annoyed. Farina seemed afraid. Cranston leaned forward.

“Professor Morgan!” Bryan said, snapped. “I wonder.” The small man turned in his wheel chair to face Dr. Max Ernest. “Has the clearance come for Morgan, Max?”

“Not yet,” Max Ernest said.

General Rogers narrowed his sharp eyes. “Professor Morgan? Who is this Morgan? What clearance?”

Bryan leaned forward grimly. “Professor Frederick Morgan. He came with credentials to observe. But some of his papers were old so we have not allowed him access to anything secret pending the receipt of proper papers. It is not unusual, papers get out of date very quickly, so we had no reason to really suspect him. However, in this case the papers in question were very old, so we have restricted him to unclassified work.” Bryan again looked at Max Ernest. “The clearance is taking a long time, Max.”

“Yes, Ernest said. “Too long.”

“He wants to study classified material?” Rogers snapped.

“Yes,” Ernest said.

“Where is he now?”

“We put him up in our visitor’s quarters,” Bryan explained. “We’re a long way out of town, and there is nowhere else to stay. Of course, at the moment, he is probably in one of our unclassified labs.”

“But he’s on the grounds?” Rogers said.

“Yes,” Max Ernest said.

“Get him up here,” Rogers snapped. “Is this kind of thing usual, Bryan?”

Bryan nodded. Max Ernest was on the telephone ordering the guards to bring Professor Morgan to the office. Bryan explained.

“We are a research company, you know. We get a lot of visitors. As a matter of fact, it is part of our Government work to allow access to our facilities to qualified scientists, the Government insists. Of course, we do a complete security check. We never let a visitor get close to classified material until he has been completely cleared.”

“But you have a lot of visitors?” Cranston said.

“Yes,” Bryan said.

“Can you be absolutely certain none of them get near anything classified?” Rogers snapped.

“Well … . .” Bryan began, and then shrugged. “As far as is possible we are sure.”

“But not absolutely?” Rogers said.

Bryan shrugged again. “Nothing in this world is absolute, General. Perhaps a very clever spy could have fooled us. I …”

The outer door opened and Bryan stopped whatever he was going to say. All eyes in the office turned to look at the door and the man who came through the door into the office. He was flanked by two of the military-looking security guards. Their guns were slung now, but the guards looked ready to instantly unsling them and go into action. The man they brought into the office was furious.

“What is the meaning of this, Bryan? !”

Professor Morgan was a tall, thin man. Cranston looked at him and his impassive face almost showed surprise. There was something familiar about Professor Morgan. The tall man stood with a stiff and rigid carriage. His hands were long and sinuous, like small snakes where they moved angrily now. His thin body was as erect as steel. He moved like a snake, sinuously, and his voice was cold. Cranston tried to place the man. He could not. It was the face. Morgan’s face was not the same, that was the trouble. Whoever he reminded Cranston of had a different face. Morgan had a thick face, too thick for his tall body. A bulbous nose and a heavy mustache. It did not fit.

Cranston stared.

“Are you Professor Morgan?” General Rogers snapped.

“I am,” the tall man said. “Who the devil are you?”

“My name is Rogers, General Calvin Rogers. May I ask what seems to be holding up your credentials?” Rogers said coldly.

Morgan laughed. “Is that it? One simple paper? You people are very nervous, eh? Have no fear, my clearance will be… .”

The tall man got no farther. Cranston saw it—the nose was false! It was clear to his sharp eyes. He stood, but Rogers beat him. The General had apparently seen, and guessed, the same thing at the same instant. Rogers stepped quickly to Morgan and pulled the nose. It came off in his hand. Morgan’s hand snaked toward his coat. The two guards jumped. Morgan was fast as lightning, and had the gun almost out when the two guards grappled with him. They held him.

“So?” Rogers said, and pulled off the fake mustache. The General touched the man’s cheeks, nodded, and scraped hard. The cheeks, too, came away, revealing the thin, cobra-like face of the tall, thin man.

“Colonel Derian!” Cranston snapped. It came out without thinking. Cranston railed at himself inside. He was not supposed to know the Soviet Colonel, but his face showed nothing and he quickly covered. “Colonel Derian of the Soviet Secret Police! Commissioner Weston has shown me his picture many times.”

“Derian?” Rogers said, and his face split with a grin. “The big chief of the Secret Cell himself? Well, well! We have a real catch, eh? So now we know! Came to do your own dirty work this time, Derian? I warned Misygyn!”

“Did you, General?” Colonel Derian said with a sneer.

“He should have listened to me!” Rogers thundered. “Now it is too late. We’ve stopped the sabotage, and we have you too. The whole world will be told. Take him out and lock him up!”

The guards took Derian out. Cranston frowned behind his hooded eyes. Rogers turned to Bryan.

“It looks like we arrived just in time, Bryan. I suggest you send for the State Police at once, and alert the FBI. The police can turn him over to the FBI in Lewiston. He’s much too big a fish to keep around.”

Cranston wondered. It was all very sudden, very lucky! Was it just a coincidence, or was Derian only a trick to convince Farina, Rogers and himself that Derian was the saboteur? There was only one way to be sure—The Shadow would have to appear to Colonel Derian!

“I suggest we all wait for the police,” Cranston said. “In the meantime, I would like to wash up, perhaps rest.”

“Good idea, Cranston,” Rogers agreed. “Can you lend us some quarters, Bryan?”

“I’ll check the control security,” Professor Farina said.

They agreed, and Cranston and Rogers were conducted to quarters in the visitors rooms of the plant. In his room Cranston listened for a moment. All was quiet.

Five minutes later, had there been anyone to see, they might have seen the door to Cranston’s room open and close. They might have blinked and rubbed their eyes as a black shadow seemed to slip out into the corridor and vanish.
To Be Continued on Friday at...
Please Support Atomic Kommie Comics
Visit Amazon and Buy...
by James Patterson and Brian Sitts

Wednesday, August 16, 2023

Wednesday Worlds of Wonder ROBBIE

Here's a kool project that, unfortunately, never reached fruition.
You'd think combining elements of Little Nemo in SlumberLand with Flash Gordon should've been an easy sell in the 1960s.
But, this two-page labor of love by writer Len (Mars Attacks) Brown and Al (Flash Gordon) Williamson was presented to the syndicates at a time when the only adventure strips were "legacy" series with an already-existing following.
So, it was consigned to the dustbin of history, published in the same 1962 issue of the b/w fan/prozine Fantasy Illustrated that last Thursday's "Life Battery" originally-appeared in.
They've popped up several times since, at least once at original art size!
Please Support Atomic Kommie Comics
Visit Amazon and Buy...

Tuesday, August 15, 2023

THE SHADOW: DESTINATION MOON Chapter 8

You can read the previous chapter HERE.

8
The laboratory of Federal Cybernetics was dark and empty. The shades had been drawn by the night watchman on his last round, the door locked, all the windows checked and locked.
Nothing moved, there was no sound except the bubbling of liquid in some all night experiments, the steady drip-drip-drip of liquid from a distillation column into a flask.

In the far corner away from the office of Dr. Max Ernest a complicated electronic experiment operated with flashing lights and the automatic click of timed switches. A read-out instrument steadily fed paper beneath a moving stylus that traced an undulant line on the graduations of the graph paper. The night watchman on his rounds checked the experiments each time, and looked at a paper he carried for instructions. With the paper in front of him the watchman could make minor adjustments and give the scientists a little sleep.

After the last visit of the watchman the laboratory was deserted for the night. The experiments continued on their automatic course. In the whole building there was now no sound. The cleaning women and floor polishers had finished their work and gone. A few late-working executives had called it a long day and driven off to well-earned nightcaps. There was no light and no sign of human life in the entire plant. Only the small island of light at the main gate where the two night guards sat in their glassed-in guard house and took turns watching and sleeping.

The awake guard watched the locked gate, but his train attention was given to an electronic annunciator panel that was the actual security of the plant. The panel showed small white squares that were condition-alarm flags for every danger point in the plant: the electrified fence; each gate; the exit and entrance to the parking lot; each and every door and window into all the buildings; every door inside the buildings; all vital production areas. When all was secure every small alarm flag on the annunciator was white. When anyone or anything touched any spot after the alarms were set, the flags on the annunciator showed red and there was a sharp, audible alarm.

This night the awake guard yawned as the hours passed and nothing at all happened. Once he stood up, just about midnight, and walked out to the gate. He breathed deeply in the silent night and turned to survey the plant. For a split second he froze. For that second he thought he had seen something, a shape, float up and over the fence far to his left. Just some thing: shapeless, a vague movement of the dark. He rubbed his eyes and peered into the night.

Nothing moved now.

He walked quickly into the glass cubicle of the guard house and looked at the annunciator. It showed all white. There had been no audible alarm. The guard smiled ruefully. His imagination was obviously playing tricks on him. It was impossible for anyone to climb the fence, or even fly over the fence without tripping the alarm. He went back to his seat without ever seeing the two fiery eyes that watched from the darkness at the base of the fence.

The Shadow, who had neutralized the electronic circuit with his powers and prevented it from breaking and so tripping the alarm annunciator, slipped away from the base of the fence and crossed the plant grounds toward the Main Laboratory Building. At the rear of the Laboratory Building he again concentrated to keep the alarm circuit closed, easily jimmied the window with the special tools he always carried under his cloak, and entered the building. He had chosen a corridor window, and now he crouched in the dark like part of the shadows themselves and listened. His keen hearing heard no sounds in the whole building except the faint noises of the all-night experiments still running up in the Main Laboratory on the second floor. The Avenger glided down the corridors, up the stairs, and toward the locked door of the main laboratory, making no sound at all, unseen, like the passing of a breath of wind along the corridors.

At the locked door into the laboratory the cloaked Avenger again concentrated his powers on the alarm circuit. Then he opened the door with his special tools and went inside. The door closed behind him. In the corridor all was quiet again, nothing stirred, the corridor was as deserted and silent as if no one had passed for hours. But The Shadow had passed, and inside the laboratory the Avenger made his swift and silent way across the lab, past the experiments still bubbling and flashing lights, into the glassed-in office of Dr. Max Ernest. There the great black shape paused and his eyes glinted in the dimness as he surveyed the office of the Chief of Research for Federal Cybernetics.

The fiery eyes of the Avenger studied the entire office of the Research Chief. He saw nothing unusual. He began to open the rows of filing cabinets that were filled with the reports of the work performed by the Main Laboratory. A trained chemist and physicist, The Shadow studied the reports one by one quickly, but could find nothing wrong or in any way unusual. The chemical experiments were primarily concerned with rocket fuels and ultra-cold cryogenic fluids. The physical work was mainly on control and valving systems in very small fluid flows—and there was nothing out of the usual in these reports. The Avenger was not surprised. He had had to check to be certain, but he was sure that if anything strange was going on in the laboratory the records would be kept in secret.

The Shadow turned his attention to the small safe.

His long, deft, steel-like fingers manipulated the dial as his great black-shrouded figure crouched low in front of the safe. His sharp ears listened to the fall of the tumblers. Moments later the safe was open. The Shadow removed the contents, quickly confirmed that there was nothing in the safe that Margo had not described, and returned all but the ledger-book. This he carried to the desk laid open. He sat down and lighted the miniature flashlight he had designed in his own secret laboratory. The tiny lamp cast an intense light on a minute area that could be seen for only a few feet away. The black Avenger slowly turned the pages of the ledgerlike book. His eyes glowed as he read the entries, reading slowly and carefully on each page until he had read the entire ledger. In the seat in the darkened office the black-shrouded figure sat back.

The Shadow now knew what had interested Vaslov, alias Reigen, in the ledger. His fiery eyes glowed in the dark as he considered the meaning of the entries.

From the reports he had read, and from his knowledge of chemistry and physics, The Shadow saw what Vaslov had seen—that many of the entries for materials received were much too large!

They were, in fact, according to a rapid mental calculation made by the Avenger, exactly double the necessary quantities for the recorded experiments! In addition, in the shipments Margo had noted that went out exactly a week after experimental material had come in, the shipment seemed to be about half the incoming material!

The eyes of The Shadow were intense: the meaning was clear. Some work was being done at Federal Cybernetics that was not being recorded in the official records of the company, was not being reported to NASA or any other Governmental agency. It was also clear that less material was being shipped than should have been. Not only was work being done that was not being reported, but it looked very much like shipments were being made to some unknown and unrecorded destination.

The Shadow thought about that single mislabeled shipment of material to the NASA Utah Base. A shipment that had been late because it had gone by mistake to some town in Idaho instead of Utah. The Shadow was well aware of one important fact—Federal Cybernetics had a small plant in Idaho! On the surface, then, it seemed like a simple clerical error: a shipment intended for the Utah Base had simply been mislabeled by some clerk for the Federal Cybernetics plant in Idaho. But was it a simple error? Material was being shipped somewhere in secret—why not the Idaho plant?

The Shadow closed the ledger and returned it to the safe. The safe locked again, the Avenger turned to the door marked Storage. He was now more than interested in what was behind the innocent-seeming door. His burning eyes studied the double lock. He recognized its construction.

With his special lock-tools, the black-garbed Avenger went to work on the door. He had it open in seconds and stepped into the closet behind the door.

It was exactly what it was supposed to be—a storage closet. Papers and chemical materials were on all the shelves that lined all three walls. But The Shadow studied the walls and shelves with extreme care—J. Wesley Bryan had come into this closet and he had not come out for a long time. The Shadow did not think that the president of Federal Cybernetics had spent his time in a closet! No, there had to be some secret exit from this closet, and his glowing eyes studied every inch of the innocent-seeming walls. He found the tiny crevice just at the joint of the third shelf from the floor in the rear wall. A crevice so small no eyes but the eyes of The Shadow could have detected it. Once he had found the door it was the work of only moments to ascertain just where the controls were. The door was operated by a small hook at the edge of the shelf. The Avenger concentrated his powers to prevent any alarm circuit from breaking, and touched the hook.

Nothing happened.

The Shadow studied the controls more carefully. They were electronically highly sophisticated. They only operated when touched by a special electronic device that emitted a sound of exact pitch! Grimly, The Shadow focused his powers and his mind projected sounds of slowly rising pitch until he heard the faint click and the secret door in the closet wall began to open. The Avenger felt a great deal of respect for the brain that had conceived and developed the controls of the secret door. He did not think that anyone else in the world could have opened the secret door without knowing the precise method. But he had no time for admiration. He ducked low and went through the now open secret door.

He stood up, his great black shape like a heavy shadow in the dark, and his fiery eyes looked slowly around the room he now stood in. It was a long, narrow room. Not small, but very long and narrow, and the Avenger saw that it had been built so as to remain unsuspected between the walls of the building and the interior walls of the corridor. On one side of the room there was nothing at all. But the other side, the interior side, was a long low laboratory bench with all the facilities of a laboratory. It was both a chemical and electronic laboratory. Even a quick look told The Shadow that it was a highly advanced and complete small laboratory. And there was something strange about it. The Shadow’s eyes studied the entire room. There was something very strange—very odd—unusual. For another instant the Avenger could not place the strangeness. Then he saw—the long bench, the sinks, the hood, the cabinets, the entire facilities of the secret laboratory were built low, too low! Everything looked as if it had been built for a midget!
Or for a man in a wheel chair!

The small and hidden room was the private laboratory of J. Wesley Bryan.

But why was it so hidden? Why was it secret?

Or was it a secret? Perhaps Bryan simply liked privacy for his private work. The Shadow was aware of the fact that Bryan was a scientist and a good one. The accident that had put Bryan into his wheelchair was the result of a daring experiment with rocket fuels many, many years ago before anyone had really made successful rockets. The laboratory’s secret nature could be simply an eccentric scientist’s desire for privacy while he worked; the double locks and tricky electronic devices simply a scientist’s precautions against anyone accidentally and prematurely learning of his work. Or there could be a more sinister cause. The Shadow began to search the small laboratory, to study the work that J. Wesley Bryan was keeping so hidden.

He learned quickly that the work was intricate and highly advanced; that it was both chemical and electronic and delicately mechanical. He studied the secret records being kept by Bryan, and the details of the crippled company-president’s experiments. After almost an hour, the Avenger sat down on a small desk and his burning eyes glowed with the concentration of his thoughts.

What he had found was that J. Wesley Bryan seemed to be working on nothing unusual at all!

And that was the surprising thing. The explanation for the extra experimental material was clear—Bryan was working along parallel lines to his scientists out in the main laboratory. He was doing almost exactly the same work on rocket fuels and the electronic-mechanical fuel control that his company had developed and that had made the sudden leap in progress toward a manned landing on the Moon that had caused Project Full Moon to be created.

The Shadow considered the puzzling information. It was the new fuel control that had made NASA create Full Moon in secret to make their sudden leap to the Moon almost two years ahead of any schedule. Bryan, in his secret laboratory, was working on the exact fuel control system—and on the rocket fuel itself. The only difference that The Shadow could detect was that Bryan’s experiments seemed to be developing further improvements in both his control system and the fuel itself. In fact, the fuel control as Bryan was developing it now seemed to be a super version based on test results and operating experiences reported to Federal Cybernetics by NASA—and by some other sources. The records did not make clear where the other test data had come from, but it was clear that Bryan had been using the results of many tests on both fuel and control system, and not all had come from NASA.

The glowing eyes of The Shadow were strangely blank now as he let his thoughts turn inward. It was only normal that a scientist like Bryan should continually work and develop new improvements in his control system and his rocket fuels. Then why the secrecy? Why were only half shipments made to NASA Utah Base? Why was Bryan’s work in this hidden laboratory so much farther advanced than the work done out in the main laboratory for all to see? Was Bryan hiding, or was it simply the normal and well-known reluctance of a scientist to reveal his work before he was sure and ready? And where were the other shipments going, if anywhere? It looked very much like Federal Cybernetics was working with someone else as well as NASA! The Soviet? Was that the answer?

But how? How could Bryan ship to the Soviet Union? How could he work with them and get the data from them? And why? What would Bryan or Federal have to gain by working with the Soviets? The object was to get to the Moon, it did not require more than one project. And where did the sabotage fit in, if at all? Bryan would have no reason to sabotage his own project, his own scientific triumph. By all reason, Bryan should be one of the most eager to get Full Moon on its way and prove the genius of his fuel control system. No, nothing here tended to the idea that Federal had any hand in the sabotage after all. But if Bryan was advancing his ideas, and the Soviets had heard about it, then there was a strong explanation of the presence of Vaslov and Colonel Derian, and of their attempt to learn what was happening at Federal! The more The Shadow considered, the more the Soviets looked like the saboteurs, and yet…

The mind of The Shadow suddenly clicked off its train of thought and came instantly alert. He had heard the distant sound. A sound of voices as if from far off. But the Avenger knew that they were not from far away, they were only distant-sounding because they were in the office of the Research Director beyond the secret electronic door and through the closet door. His keen ears had heard the click of the light switch. He was not concerned with discovery yet, as he had closed and locked all doors behind him, but be glided across the laboratory to the wall nearest the office of Dr. Ernest and placed his ear against the wall to listen.

There were two voices. They were speaking quietly. One voice was more agitated than the other. Muffled as they were, the voices were not easily identifiable, and The Shadow could recognize neither of them until he heard a name—Dr. Ernest! It was the Research Director who had the agitated voice as if he was not pleased with his visitor.

“Then we are almost ready, eh Ernest?” the calmer voice said.

“With the project, yes, but I don’t like this about Oates,” Dr. Max Ernest said nervously.
“They’re all getting too close.”

“There are always risks, Dr. Ernest,” the calm voice said coldly. “Oates will not bother us any more.”

The Shadow strained to identify the voice. There was a certain familiarity to the voice, he was certain he had heard it somewhere, but even his perfect memory could not place the voice now.

The hidden laboratory was heavily soundproofed, there were two walls between the men outside and The Shadow, and the two men were speaking low. The super hearing of The Shadow could hear the words, but the tone and timbre of the voices were muffled and he could not recognize them.

“What about the others?” Dr. Ernest said out in the office beyond the two walls.

“The others will not stop us, Doctor!” the calm voice said harshly. “No one will stop us now.
We have bought time, my dear Max! Time is with us now. The last few details to be ironed out in the field and then it is time! We have done all there is to do here.”

There was a silence out in the office of the Research Chief. The Shadow, hidden in the inner laboratory, listened and tried to recognize the voice of the calm man. But it was no use. The Shadow would have to leave the hidden laboratory if he was to identify the speaker. That meant a risk of being seen prematurely himself, but it was a risk he would have to take. The Avenger glided to the door out of the hidden laboratory into the closet. As he did so, he heard Dr. Max Ernest speak again.

“Then we go to the Base now?” Ernest said.

“Yes,” the calm voice said. “It is time. We go at once.”

The Shadow listened at the door of the hidden laboratory. But neither voice spoke again. He heard the sound of the safe closing. Then footsteps. The Avenger activated the electronic door of the secret laboratory, ducked, and went out into the small storage closet. He let the door close behind him. Cautiously, he opened the door of the storage closet. His fiery eyes quickly scanned the scene in the office of the Research Chief—the office was empty!

They had gone.

The Shadow glided swiftly out of the office, across the Main Laboratory to the door, and peered out. The corridor was empty and silent. The Avenger listened, but he heard no sound at all now. Then the sound of a car motor starting in the parking lot. He raced along the corridor to the window at the front. A small black car was just passing out the main gate. It went through, turned, and vanished in the night toward New York. The eyes of The Shadow watched it fade and vanish.

His burning eyes flashed. He had missed this time. But he would not miss again.
 Federal Cybernetics was somehow involved in the failures of Project Full Moon. He now knew that much, but there was much more still to learn before he could solve the puzzle and bring the guilty to justice. It was time to take stock. The Avenger turned and floated down the stairs and out across the parking lot to the fence. He went over the fence, a wraith in the night, and reached the waiting taxi. Margo and Shrevvie watched their Chief.

“Back to New York, Shrevvie,” The Shadow said grimly. “We have much work to do.”

The taxi drove off toward New York.
To Be Continued on Wednesday at...
Please Support Atomic Kommie Comics
Visit Amazon and Buy...
by James Patterson and Brian Sitts