Doc Savage: Phantom Lagoon (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage) (6 page)

Looking about for a weapon, Hornetta found nothing. So she took off her shoe and, grasping it by the toe, threatened to brain the monkey with the heel.

“Stay away from me!” she warned.

The monkey ambled closer.

Hornetta threw the shoe. It bounced off the monkey’s skull. The monkey grabbed the top of his hairy head, emitted a sharp squeak of pain and then scrambled after the shoe.

It is said that monkeys possess the fundamental trait of imitation. This one proved it. He grasped the shoe by its toe and promptly and expertly bounced it off Hornetta’s forehead.

Hornetta retaliated by letting the monkey have it with her other shoe.

The monkey snatched up the other shoe and, in retaliation, swiftly let fly.

The two shoes bounced around the cage interior for more than five frenzied minutes until both combatants lost the energy and enthusiasm for combat.

“How did I ever get into this mess?” Hornetta moaned.

The monkey looked equally pained, but said nothing.

After a period, the lights came up and a voice said calmly, “We are interested in your story, Miss Hale.”

Hornetta scrambled to her feet.

She saw Doc Savage standing nearby. He stood in a vast room, as large as—it seemed at first glance—the concourse of Grand Central Station. White tiles covered the walls, as if she were in a hospital.

“You!”

“The tables appear to be turned.”

“Get me out of this cage!”

“In due time,” said Doc Savage unhurriedly. “First, I would like to know what was behind these shenanigans of yours.”

“I told you last week. I want to hire you!”

“For what purpose?”

“That’s my business,” snapped Hornetta.

“You showed interest in my personal submarine. Why was that?”

Hornetta pulled herself up as if about to launch a verbal pitchforking.

Abruptly, she subsided.

“If I tell you, will you let me out?” she pleaded.

“If you promise no more hijinks.”

“Deal.”

“Go ahead, then,” said Doc.

“You know I am an explorer.”

“After an unorthodox fashion,” allowed Doc.

“I earned a living at it for a while. But this time I have a way of amassing a young fortune.”

“I am listening.”

“Did you ever hear of a Chinese warlord named Lei Chi?”

“I have not,” admitted Doc.

“Lei Chi wanted to smuggle some gold out of China before the Japs came in and looted everything. He came up with a nifty idea. Boats usually have keels formed of lead, to insure stability. This wily old warlord melted down all his gold and poured it into the keel of this ship, the
Hussy.
”

Hornetta paused, apparently for dramatic effect. “The
Hussy
sank in the Caribbean,” she added breathlessly. “I think I know where it is. If I can find it, then raise it, there’s ten million dollars in pure gold in the keel. We’ll be rich!”

Doc Savage said nothing.

“What’s the matter, big boy? Immune to gold?”

Doc continued to be silent. In fact, the bronze man was already quite wealthy. Moreover, he had access to more gold than anyone could ever want or need. But he said nothing of that.

Instead, he asked, “What were you doing on that cay?”

“I was scouting the waters off Bimini. My plane went down. I managed to swim to that isle. I was stuck there for weeks and weeks. Good thing for the conch.”

“What conch?”

“The ones I caught and ate,” replied Hornetta off-handedly. “They’re tough, but if you pound them enough with a rock, you can eat them. Even if they are kinda like chewing on a tough snail. After this, it will be a long time before I ever eat anything but cow again.”

Doc Savage regarded the sunburnt Hornetta Hale in silence for a long time. His eerie flake-gold eyes seemed to be measuring her. Hornetta suddenly felt as if she were some species of wild animal instead of a formerly famous aviatrix and explorer.

“I have done a little research on your recent activities,” he said quietly.

“Yeah. What of it?”

“Two weeks ago, Arthur Bottorff hired you to fly down to South America to do aerial surveys for the Magellan and Amazon Oil Corporation. You flew out of Teterboro Airport and were never heard from again.”

Hornetta grimaced. “Why, that was just a story I floated so no one would suspect the truth. Any treasure hunter can claim the
Hussy,
according to the law of the seas.”

Doc Savage said steadily, “I spoke with Arthur Bottorff by telephone. He confirmed that he hired you, but that you have been missing since that day.”

Hornetta Hale fell silent. Her eyes narrowed craftily. She seemed to be thinking.

“I won’t tell you he’s in it with me,” she said at last. “But I won’t tell you he’s not. This is my discovery. And I ain’t sharing. But I’ll cut you in if you’ll let me have your sub for a week or two. I’ll return it undamaged.” She touched her chest. “Cross my crafty heart.”

“Not a chance.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. We are not for hire. Especially to prevaricators.”

“To—what?” Hornetta sputtered.

Doc Savage walked away.

“Wait!” Hornetta implored. “You said you’d let me out of this monkey cage.”

Doc turned, eyes metallic. “On the condition that you tell the truth. Who were the two men who came looking for you after your visit here last week?”

“What two men?”

Doc Savage described the two quickly and effectively.

Hornetta Hale made a rather grim mouth. “That was a close shave,” she murmured after recovering her powers of speech.

“Who were they?”

“Devils. Crooks. Treasure hounds. If I don’t get out of here and start down to the Caribbean, it will be too late. It’s less than a week until—” She stopped, cut off her words.

“Until when?” asked Doc Savage.

“Nothing. I just figured they won’t let any mosses sprout on their ambitions, that’s all.”

Doc Savage stepped up and unlocked the cage.

“That means you believe me?”

“No,” said Doc, not mincing words.

Carefully but firmly, he guided Hornetta Hale into the library where Monk and Ham were exchanging insults.

“You frog-faced ape!” Ham howled.

“You should talk, you unsaddled clothes horse!” countered Monk.

Hornetta inserted one of her own.

“I just met your baby brother,” she told Monk snappily.

Ham Brooks grabbed his midriff and roared out his laughter.

“I threw a shoe at him and he threw one back,” Hornetta added. “We had quite the battle. Too bad he lost.”

Ham’s roaring laughter choked off. “Chemistry! What has happened to him?”

“He is fine,” Doc reassured him. “Merely an exchange of spleen.”

Ham dashed into the lab and came back with the tiny ape in his arms.

“Don’t tell me he belongs to you,” Hornetta snapped.

“My pet,” said Ham defensively.

“My pain,” growled Monk, eyeing the tiny replica of himself with ill-disguised scorn. The ape stuck out its pink tongue at the hairy chemist. Monk lifted a chair threateningly, and the unclassified anthropoid executed a backflip and disappeared under a table.

Doc addressed his aides. “Did you hear her story?”

“Every syllable,” sniffed dapper Ham. “And I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Ditto,” added Monk.

Doc piloted Hornetta into an overstuffed chair. He simply laid one bronze hand on her peeling shoulder and urged her over and down. Hornetta sat as if she had no power of resistance.

“You’re stronger than you look,” she grimaced, “and you look plenty strong.”

“We will ask you to repeat your story,” said the bronze man.

Hornetta did. This time the
Hussy
was owned by a Greek who needed to get his gold out of Ethiopia. There were other embellishments. None noteworthy.

“You are not even trying to lie convincingly,” Doc told her.

Hornetta made a face. “I’m a little shook up, if you don’t mind. It’s been an ordeal. Now am I under arrest, or can I be on my merry way?”

“You are neither.”

But when Hornetta stood up to go, Monk Mayfair gave her a casual shove and back she went into the cushions.

Her snapping eyes shed blue sparks. “Now look here, I—”

A red light began flashing on a wall. All heads turned toward it.

“Trouble!” Ham howled.

Monk grinned. “It’s about time.”

“What do you mean—about time?” demanded Hornetta. “What are you—a glutton for punishment?”

Doc Savage said, “When we drove you back here, we picked up shadowers.”

“Yeah?”

“They were the same two who were inquiring after you last week.”

“Is that so?” Hornetta asked thinly. Her sunburned face seemed to pale half a shade. But it remained ruddy.

“We thought if we let them get a good look at you being brought back to our headquarters, they would try something,” Doc explained. “Now they have.”

“That’s quite a banana bunch of coincidences,” Hornetta said slowly.

“Not really,” returned Doc Savage, “After your visit, I did some research on you. Operatives in my employ discovered your seaplane adrift in the Caribbean, many miles from the cay upon which you were marooned. Far too many for you to have put down and ended up on that remote isle. You will be interested to know that it was flown back to Teeterboro Airport, and is in airworthy condition.”

An intrigued light came into Hornetta’s blue eyes.

“My interest was naturally aroused by these circumstances,” continued Doc. “Since you seemed so set upon hiring us, and your pursuers equally determined to locate you, I thought a quiet drive in the country might draw one or the other of you out. Instead, it drew both.”

Battering sounds came from without.

Hornetta cocked an eye at Doc. “If there’s shooting to be done, how about handing me my fair share of bullets?” she said fiercely.

“Not a chance,” returned Doc.

“Yeah,” chimed in Monk. “No tellin’ who you’d perforate once you got started.”

“A pal you are!” Hornetta flared, looking about wildly. “Is there a back way out of his mausoleum?”

Before anyone could reply, a thunderous explosion sounded from the reception room area.

The connecting door jumped off its hinges and catapulted across the library jamb, knocking over a ponderous bookshelf, which struck another and created the effect of fantastic falling dominos. Glass shattered unmusically.

“Ye-e-o-w!”
Monk howled and began firing into the cloud of evil black smoke that rolled in like a boiling fog bank of doom.

Chapter VI

DEVIL GRAB DEVIL

PANDEMONIUM BROKE LOOSE in the magnificent library of Doc Savage. It sounded like a succession of earthquakes rolling across the spacious room. More bookcases toppled. The ceiling cracked in three places.

Monk and Ham were firing blind into the oncoming smoke. They wielded intricate machine pistols which produced a deafening thunder. That was just the commencement of the vigorous proceedings.

Quickly, they reached into their coats and drew on compact gas masks. Doc Savage did the same.

From another pocket, Doc also pulled a flat silver object, which he flipped open in the manner of a cigarette case. Inside, carefully nested in cotton, were tiny clear globules.

Doc began pitching these into the oncoming smoke. Glass tinkled.

“Retreat!” rapped the bronze man.

They retreated from the paneled library, which resembled a jumbled profusion of giant fallen dominos, closing the substantial door as a barricade. The great globe of the earth which dominated the room had become dislodged from its bronze mounting and rolled off into a corner of the room like a titanic blue and green marble.

Hornetta Hale came along, but not by choice. Doc Savage picked her up bodily and slung her over one shoulder. He dropped her onto a stool and swung to a wall. Depressing a stud caused a woodgrain panel to hoist up.

Exposed was a large glass plate—an experimental television device. It displayed the interior of the laboratory with its glittering forest of test tubes and glass piping, and other complicated scientific apparatus.

Men were emerging from the smoke. They, too, wore gas masks. These were of the type that made men resemble goggle-eyed elephants.

Seeing this, Doc’s hands flew to a switch. In the other room large exhaust fans began whirring.

The choking smoke was rapidly drawn into ceiling vents and the laboratory began to clear. The invaders seemed surprised by this.

Doc Savage scrutinized them momentarily, his flake-gold eyes intent.

They wore ordinary coats and ties. That was where the outward semblance of the ordinary ceased. Some carried spike-snouted pistols of a foreign manufacture. Quite a number wore unusual shirts of a dark hue.

From Doc’s surprise-parted lips, emerged a peculiar sound. A trilling, so low it was at first a vague thing, but then escalating into a tuneless melody that permeated the room like a curiously searching banshee. This was the sound of Doc Savage—a mental quirk that was his substitute for expressing emotion.

The sound piped up, then died, leaving in its aftermath a lingering note that told that the bronze man was intrigued.

For Doc Savage recognized that these were the latest military pistols of a foreign government. They were not likely to be in the hands of ordinary American thugs. Not at all.

Others brandished rifles. These were military-type rifles, also of the latest manufacture.

The raiders—six caught their number—moved with the cold precision of a well-oiled engine. Military precision.

“These babies look mighty serious,” Monk snorted.

Ham exclaimed, “By Jove! If they are soldiers of fortune, they have good backgrounds for it.”

The raiders rushed to the laboratory door. It was strong. They proved it by unleashing a storm of steel-jacketed slugs against the portal. It held.

Five of the men retreated.

Doc tapped a key. The angle of the televised image shifted.

Evidently, several concealed cameras were positioned throughout the big library, and Doc could transfer between viewpoints at the flick of a switch.