Doc Savage: The Secret of Satan's Spine (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage Book 15) (14 page)

“We’ll get right on it,” said Don Worth. “Is there anything else we can do for Monk and Ham?”

Doc shook his head. “Not at the moment. I will remain here to monitor their condition. If you men see or hear anything unusual or suspicious, tell it to me before you report to the captain.”

Donald Worth hesitated. “That’s highly irregular, if not out of order,” he suggested. The expression on the young Merchant Marine’s face wavered between a kind of worshipful devotion to Doc Savage and a grim resolve to do his sworn duty.

“Nothing significant will be withheld from your captain,” promised Doc, “but the utmost secrecy is necessary until the plans of Diamond and his men are brought to light.”

This made sense so Bosun Worth said, “All right. But if circumstances change, I’m afraid I will have to go straight to the Old Man.”

“I would expect nothing less of you men,” said Doc Savage. “But we understand one another?”

“We do,” came a chorus of voices. Seaman Tucker started to salute, but B. Elmer Dexter slapped his hand down.

“Only salute officers,” he snapped.

“Sorry, I just got excited, is all.”

With that, the quartet left the cabin, one by one, taking their time with it so as not to draw attention if they were seen leaving a private cabin where they had no business.

ONCE outside, they dispersed and began moving about the ship, eyes hunting and straining, looking for anything unusual or out of place, paying particular attention to the few souls on board who were not wearing seaman duds.

It was a big ship, and there were plenty of crew, so many that the four young men did not know everyone by name or sight. But they knew which cabins were occupied by passengers, and so onto those decks they made their way singly, acting as if they were going about their normal routine, but in actuality watching for anyone who might be aboard as passengers.

Leander Tucker happened to come across the balding passenger whom Doc Savage had indicated, was the man known as Diamond. He was at the stern, leaning over the stern rail, thoughtfully smoking a cigarette in flagrant violation of wartime blackout restrictions. At least he had the good sense to hold the coffin nail cupped in both hands in order to conceal its glowing tip.

Tucker went to the rail, and took a stance several yards from the other man, where he pretended to be watching the moonlight on the whitecaps of the Atlantic Ocean.

From time to time, Seaman Tucker glanced at the man. He looked rangy and strong and very serious of purpose, even though he was only smoking a cigarette.

There must be something to the idea of a sixth sense, because the individual calling himself Diamond seemed to possess a pair of eyes at the back of his head that gave away the game. Suddenly, he tossed his cigarette into the heaving sea, and departed the deck, all the time eyeing Leander Tucker coldly.

Tuck waited what he thought was an appropriate interval, then started to trail Diamond. It truly was not the most adroit shadowing aboard ship. In fact, it was rather clumsy, for Tucker had in his youth formerly been on the chubby side. But through discipline and a sound diet, he had managed to shed a great many of his adipose pounds.

This was a relatively recent development and Tuck was not yet fully accustomed to his less round shipshape body, and so his feet tangled from time to time as he slipped down a companionway stair.

This alerted Diamond, who ducked around a corner, stood in place and waited in ambush.

When Seaman Tucker bustled around the same corner, he did so hesitantly poking his head around, hoping to spy Diamond several paces ahead.

Instead, the rangy fellow suddenly came up on him and demanded, “Are you following me, sailor?”

“Who—me?” blurted Leander Tucker. “No. I’m just taking my evening constitutional. I’ve been losing weight.” He patted his stomach, which was hardly flat, but much improved from its former rotund configuration.

“If you don’t find another direction in which to perambulate, tubby,” warned Diamond, “I’m going to report you to your First Mate. Get me?”

The gravelly tone of the man was more than threatening. And so Seaman Tucker said, “I’m sorry, sir. You’re mistaken, but let me apologize for that false impression. I will be on my way now.”

“You do that,” growled the other.

With that, Seaman Tucker slipped away, the amber eyes of Diamond boring into his back.

Rushing about the ship, Tuck found Bosun Worth in the middle of his own reconnoiter.

“I have good news and then I have not so very good news,” he panted.

Donald Worth eyed his friend of long-standing and sighed once. “Out with it.”

“I found the bald guy, Diamond. He was smoking at the after rail. I watched him for a while. Got a good look at him.”

“Get to the bad news,” suggested Worth.

“After he got done smoking, I followed him for a while, but when I popped around the corner, he popped back.”

“Popped?” wondered Don.

“Accused me of following him, which I naturally denied. Threatened to report me to the First Mate if I didn’t cut it out.”

“In other words, he knows you suspect him of something?”

Tuck shook his head violently. “In other words, he’s the suspicious sort. I don’t know what he suspects or does not suspect. But he’s a mean cuss, if you want my opinion.”

“I sincerely hope,” said Don Worth, “that you didn’t stir up a hornet’s nest before the hornets were set to fly.”

Tuck’s face fell. “Should we tell Doc Savage what just happened?”

“That’s your job, considering that you aroused the boss hornet. I’m going to stay on watch. Let Doc know right now. Understand?”

“On my way,” said Leander Tucker, and the expression on his face was that of a boy facing the prospect of being taken out to the woodshed. But Tuck was no longer a young lad. He was a grown man in the Merchant Marines. So he took himself to the woodshed on his own initiative, hoping in his pounding heart that Doc Savage remained the understanding man he once knew him to be.

Chapter XIII

FAST ONE

THE MAN WHO was known as Diamond rushed past the door of his cabin, going directly to another cabin door instead. His dark face was grave as granite.

“Open up!” he demanded.

A muffled voice inside snapped back, “Hold your damn horses!”

“My damn horses are about to bolt in all directions,” retorted Diamond hotly.

The cabin door was flung open and an annoyed face showed itself around the blackout curtain. It was a weather-beaten countenance that looked like it had seen too much of the elements. Whatever color hair he had been born with, strong sunlight had bleached it to the hue of old straw. This gave the man a sailorly look.

“What is it?” he demanded. “I had turned in for the night.”

“Well, now you’re being turned out. Collect your things, Cannon. We’re swapping cabins.”

“What for?” asked the sailorly man, alarm coming into his sleepy eyes.

“Some nosy-nosy seaman has been shadowing me. That’s what’s for. Now, hop to it!”

Cannon began assembling his gear, while Diamond closed the door behind him.

“But what does the sailor look like?” asked the awakened one.

“A little tub of guts who looks like he used to be a big fat tub of guts. Round face, kind of on the mama’s boy side.”

“What’s his interest in you?”

“Damned if I know,” bit out Diamond, amber eyes narrowing. “But let’s not take any chances. If he was shadowing me, he probably knows my cabin number. You’re going to throw him off the scent. We went to a lot of trouble to arrange things, and no one’s going to get in our way.”

“It doesn’t make sense, someone shadowing you. No one knows who we really are.”

“That’s what you think. Earlier, a big black sailor seemed to be trailing me, too.”

“Well, it
is
wartime. And we’re supposed to be foreign sailors headin’ home. The crew may not exactly trust us.”

“Earlier, I spied another guy I didn’t like.”

Cannon was throwing items in a duffel bag, and asked, “What didn’t you like about him?”

“He was a passenger, like us, but not one of our crowd. White-haired. Van Dyke beard. Looked rumpled and worn around the edges.”

“So?”

“So I didn’t like his looks. He seemed to be sneaking around. We can’t take chances, so I left a little present at his door.”

Cannon looked up. “What kind of present?”

“You might say I left the devil’s horns on his doorstep.”

The other’s eyes flared up. “You didn’t? Did you, Diamond?”

“I damn sure did, brother.”

“What if the guy up and dies?”

Diamond shrugged elaborately. “So he up and dies. They wrap them in canvas, slap ’em on a plank, and slide the whole works over the rail. Burial at sea. It’s done all the time. So what?”

“How are you going to get the damn thing back?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it back. It might prove
handy
.” He chuckled ghoulishly at his own pun.

“What if Naval Intelligence is on to us?”

“It’s not Naval Intelligence I’m worried about,” Diamond said slowly. “It’s Doc Savage. We stirred up a lot of attention back in the big city.”

“Yeah,” admitted Cannon. “The plan backfired. But we got aboard, all right, didn’t we? And there’s been no sign of that human gorilla, Monk.”

Diamond pondered this a moment. “If Doc Savage is on board this vessel,” he said slowly, “he would keep that Monk under wraps. Savage would lie low, too. He’d have crew or passengers do his dirty work for him.”

“If Doc Savage is skulking about,” Cannon murmured, “All bets are off.”

From a pocket, Diamond removed a marlin spike, a vicious steel fang used to work knots. It gleamed in the weak cabin light. He eyed it appreciatively.

“Savage has guts, all right. And I got just the thing for a guy with guts.”

Diamond made a sudden move, as if to insert the gleaming spike into a man. Pulling it back, he made the tool disappear into his pocket so fast it looked like a magician doing a vanish.

Passenger Cannon finished packing up and said, “Give me your key. Are you going to come along and grab your gear?”

“No. Turn in. I may come knocking in the middle of the night and you can hand that stuff out to me. But I want everything to settle down. We got to keep things on the quiet until we clear Nassau. Then it will be our show the rest of the way.”

“But—what about the blow the crew says is comin’?”

“If it comes, brother, we’ll just add it to the mix. That’s all. Maybe it will help us. Could be it will hinder us. Since we can’t control the weather, we’re just going to have to steer into it or around it or whatever it is we can do. But we’re going to do it. Understood?”

The sailor hung the bag over his shoulder and said, “Loud and clear, Diamond. See you at first light.”

Diamond opened the door for the man and shut it behind him, then threw himself onto the bunk, staring at the white ceiling, his rangy brown face tight and determined.

He did not look or act like a man prepared to go to sleep, nor did he. Diamond just stared at the ceiling thinking and scheming.

Chapter XIV

WHISPERS

LEANDER TUCKER—formerly known as “Funny”—knocked timidly on Doc Savage’s cabin door. Too timidly, as it turned out, since there was no immediate response.

Setting his pudgy knuckles to rap against the steel more determinedly, he repeated the knock and finally got a reaction.

“Who is it?”

“Tuck! I mean—Seaman Tucker reporting.”

Doc Savage let the young man in.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

In a violent rush, Leander Tucker blurted out his misadventure shadowing Diamond, sparing no detail. When he finished his recital, he hung his head in sorrow, as if awaiting a thorough dressing down.

Instead, Doc Savage stated quietly, “It probably could not be helped. I ran into the same man earlier and he seemed suspicious of me as well.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Tuck changed the subject hastily. “How are Monk and Ham coming along?”

Doc said slowly, “I do not know what to expect, since this condition of extreme iron deficiency is new to my experience. I expect they will have to sleep it off.”

Leander looked down at Monk and Ham, who had been laid out in more comfortable positions, with pillows tucked under their heads, and asked, “Too bad we can’t get them into bunks.”

“We cannot move them without being seen,” stated Doc. “It is altogether too crowded in here, what with Seaman Goines sleeping off a dose of sedative as well.”

Tuck sighed again, and a helpless look settled over his roundish features.

“Things have gotten terribly complicated awful fast,” he agreed.

Doc Savage said, “Since Diamond thinks he is being watched, perhaps amplifying that sensation will produce some kind of helpful result.”

“What kind of result do you have in mind?” asked Seaman Tucker.

“While we don’t want to provoke him, it would be desirable to dissuade him from any mischief, at least for the foreseeable future. Perhaps I will pay him a call.”

Tuck quivered all over. “Is that wise?”

“I do not honestly know,” admitted Doc Savage. “But I do know that a watched man is either going to uncoil like a spring or draw himself in more tightly, also in the fashion of a spring. Either action is better than waiting to see what he will do unprovoked. Keep an eye on everyone until my return.”

“Good luck!” called Seaman Tucker as the bronze man carefully eased through the door.

Doc went directly to the cabin inhabited by the mystery man called Diamond, and loitered outside for a time. He had taken from his black satchel a physician’s stethoscope, and, placing the earpieces in his ears, applied the diaphragm portion to the steel panel.

The door was thick, but he managed to detect an intermittent sound that made him think of a man snoring in his sleep.

On the theory that an individual rudely awoken from sleep will be off guard and more easily managed, Doc Savage pocketed the stethoscope and pounded on the door with great force.