Chapter 6 Lucky Solves a Mystery?

Doc Savage leaned out of the passenger window of the white-and-scarlet taxi cab as it drove away from the Nob Hill hotel in the direction the other two vehicles had gone. Its speed was not particularly great. With one hand, the bronze man held up to one eye a device which resembled a child's kaleidoscope. It was a small, short tube with a lens at the end of it. "Right here," Doc told Lucky Loo, the driver of the cab, as they approached a corner. Lucky made the turn. He realized they were following some sort of trail, but had no idea how the man of bronze knew which way to go. Below the red-and-white checkered band which ran ran around the body of the taxi, the side of the cab read "Rickshaw Taxi Co.". The company consisted of exactly one cab. It belonged to Lucky Loo, who was one of Doc Savage's more successful graduates. After Lucky's rehabilitation, the man of bronze had staked him to starting his own cab company. Lucky earned a respectable--though by no means extravagant--living. Lucky Loo was a relatively happy man who committed no crimes, which was the goal of the strange "college" Doc ran. "I think those scientists were kidnapped and statues left in their places," commented the worthy, unaware that the bronze man and his bony assistant had already had this conversation not much earlier in the morning. Doc Savage was intent on the road ahead. His expression did not indicate he was listening to Lucky, but he replied, "And what is the motive? Those men are by no means wealthy compared to the rich of this country, and they have been 'missing' for twelve hours without any demand of ransom. Left here." Lucky, musing on his theory, nearly missed the turn. But he obliged Doc Savage, steering the vehicle around a corner. "I haven't got all the details worked out yet, boss." "I sincerely hope that you're right, Lucky," the bronze man said quietly. Silence reigned in the taxi for many minutes. The cab neared the shore. "Say, what is that gizmo?" Lucky finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. Doc Savage lowered the short tube from his eye, and said, "We have arrived." "Arrived where?" Lucky asked quizzically. The bronze man pointed, indicating the sombre-looking automobile the lanky Johnny had been driving. It sat where the bony geologist had parked it, next to a telephone booth. Lucky Loo was speechless for a moment. "Holy cow," he finally exclaimed. "How did you do that?" The taxi cab pulled up alongside the dark sedan, came to a halt. Doc and Lucky got out. "There," the bronze man said. He pointed to the ground at the rear of the sedate automobile. Upon close inspection, Lucky Loo noticed a smudge of gray material there. Doc handed him the kaleidoscope-like device, and Lucky peered through it at the area Doc had indicated. He was shocked by the sight of a vivid red line. It almost seemed to be a trail of flame. "The powder, being a light gray, is nearly invisible if one doesn't know what to look for," Doc Savage explained. "After a few minutes of being exposed to the air, it undergoes a chemical reaction which makes it very luminescent when viewed through the special lens in that device. Common substances such as aspirin and vasoline fluoresce when exposed to an ultraviolet beam. This chemical is the result of an attempt to eliminate the need for an ultraray projector. Unfortunately, it only works when light--such as sunlight--strikes it." The bronze man frowned slightly at this last remark. Lucky did not understand Doc's dismay at the fact. He thought the chemical and contraption were wonderful. Lucky Loo had never dreamed such things existed. Doc Savage began inspecting the area. Lucky saw the bronze man withdraw a small object from his vest, but did not see what it was. Lucky's eyes, looking through the tube, followed the flame-like powder trail beneath Johnny's vehicle. He knelt on the ground, peered under the automobile. Attached to the chassis was a "salt shaker" device, a small metal cannister about the size of a condensed milk can, with a perforated top. A tiny conical mound of gray powder lay beneath the can, reaching up for it. The cannister had emptied itself while the vehicle had sat vacant. Lucky Loo got to his feet, smiled knowingly at Doc Savage. "Johnny put that on before he left." The bronze man, intent on searching for clues to his missing assistant's whereabouts, merely nodded, neglecting to correct Lucky: the cannister had been attached to the automobile during the night, as a basic precaution, by the lanky geologist while Doc Savage had studied the "stone men". Johnny had merely opened the slats on the cannister before leaving the hotel earlier in the day. "It's a wonder that we didn't lose the trail, with the traffic today," Lucky commented. He turned to where the bronze man had been standing, but Doc was gone. Lucky found him kneeling by the driver's door of the rented automobile, inspecting the ground, but received no reply to his observation. Lucky Loo was unaware that the powder was extremely adhesive, sticking to the ground as it fell from the cannister. The chemical reaction which made the substance so brilliantly visible when viewed through the special lens also rendered its adhesiveness inactive, so it would stay put wherever it had fallen. It could not be dislodged without considerable effort, like chewing gum on carpet. Successive tracking over it would not displace or spread the powder. Doc Savage suddenly rose to his feet, and walked to the nearby telephone booth. The bronze man stepped into the booth. Lucky caught up to Doc, and saw a mist squirt from the bronze man's hand. It sprayed the glass in the booth. Lucky Loo realized the small object he had seen earlier was an atomizer. Nothing happened. Doc Savage backed out of the telephone booth and began spraying the ground surrounding the small construct. Shortly, a glaring green script, nearly illegible, came into view. Before Lucky could ask, Doc Savage said, "Each of my men wears a button on their clothing which can be used to write invisible messages." "Like the powder, right, boss?" Lucky asked. It was more statement than question. He was catching onto Doc's methods. Lucky Loo pondered the scrawl along with the bronze man. "That's a 't' at the beginning. There's an 'r' in the middle. And that last says 'land', I bet," the worthy observed. "Hey, that's two words! I bet that says 'Treasure Island'." "It could," Doc agreed. "I didn't realize where we were until I read that," Lucky announced, looking out into the bay at the artificial island. "That place has been abandoned for two months." At the end of the trail which Doc Savage followed, Johnny Littlejohn sat bound to a chair with twine. Bound tightly. Struggle though he did, the lanky geologist found no give in his bonds. His wrists had been rubbed raw, and were red and bleeding. His face showed signs of abuse, cut and bleeding in a couple of places. Bruises were already starting to appear in others. The job done to him indicated professionalism in the occupation of roughing-up. Johnny, on his plain wooden chair, sat in a bare room. The floor was dusty but showed signs of recent activity. Many footprints were visible. The look of the room gave no indication of its purpose or location. Possibly it had been a store room, but if so, Johnny had no clue what had been kept there. Abruptly the door opened, and bony Johnny ceased his movements. Natty Shanks returned, followed by his boss. Shanks closed the door behind his superior. "Professor Littlejohn," said Shanks's companion, "Shanks informs me that you refuse to talk." "An unfortuitous mispercipience," replied Johnny. Shanks moved forward to inflict more violence upon the lean geologist, but the other held up his hand, signalling his dapper henchman to halt. "I believe he said we have a misunderstanding," he explained to Shanks. "That is sagacity in aggregate," agreed lanky Johnny. "Please elaborate, Professor Littlejohn," said Shanks' boss. "And keep in mind that Mr. Shanks doesn't like big words." The bony geologist eyed Shanks uneasily. "I merely meant that I have not so much a refusal to talk as a lack of anything to talk about. If you ask your Mr. Shanks, I believe he'll tell you I repeatedly informed him I have no information for you," Johnny explained. "No information?" asked Shanks' boss in a voice which clearly held disbelief. Johnny felt this was for effect more than anything. "We know only that the five men were apparently turned to stone," the bony geologist explained. "I have no idea how this was accomplished, if indeed it was. There seems to be no other plausible explanation. I do not know if Doc Savage has more of an idea of what is going on than I do, but Doc is usually two steps ahead of where everybody thinks he is. Your surveillance of Doc indicates you think he knows what is behind this, or will learn it, given time." Johnny added, "I would have to agree with that assessment." There was a trace of pride in his voice as he spoke these words. The man questioning bony Johnny turned to Shanks, whose face was hard with displeasure. "I'm afraid Mr. Shanks isn't satisfied with that, Professor Littlejohn. For example, how did you find our base?" At that moment, before Johnny could respond, the door burst open, and a tough-looking gunsel raced into the room. "Nose is on the line. He says the bronze guy is at the phone booth!" "What?" exclaimed the chief, cold fury gripping his voice. "Doc Savage is supposed to be dead!" He quickly regained his composure, like a snake which has just swallowed a rodent. "Shanks, take some men and put them in the Federal Building." He rattled off a short list of names. The thug at the door said, "But those guys aren't prepared to deal with Savage. They wouldn't stand a chance." The chief glared coldly at the man in the doorway, who withered under the look. The boss continued speaking to Shanks, outlining a plan to his dapper, thick-forearmed lieutenant. "Follow those instructions to the letter," he finished. "When you are done with that, get the rest of the men back to the boat. Take as much equipment as you can. But make certain that you take what remains of the stuff." "Yes, sir," replied the precise Shanks. "But Doc Savage will suspect a trap." "Then let's give him one," replied the boss. He turned and looked directly at the bony geologist. "One with bait he can't refuse." A cold bead of sweat broke out on Johnny's bulging forehead.

The Stone Death Written By: Jeff Deischer Dedicated to "Kenneth Robeson X" for his encouragement. The Stone Man is a work of fan fiction. Doc Savage is © Conde Nast Back to: Top of Page Index Page Home Page