Chapter 12 Two Bodies

The gun-metal gray sedan came to a halt with a screech on the ancient tarmac of Mills Field. Doc Savage, clothes still dripping water, emerged from the dark vehicle. Remarkably, his bronze skin showed no signs of the dowsing he had taken. It had shed the water as if waxed like an automobile. He had discarded his disguise en route to the airport. The bronze man entered the large hangar where his great gray plane reposed, as if seeking shelter from the daylight, a metal man-made bat in an artificial cave. The cowling had been pulled back, exposing the three motors, and the door of the big plane was open. Beyond it was the large amphibian flown by Doc's engineer aide. Renny Renwick's voice rumbled from out of the door of Doc Savage's tri-motor, sounding very much like the proverbial bear in a cave. His growling was indistinct, but full of excitement. The bronze man called out to his aide from the door of the plane, his voice, while not loud, carrying throughout the fuselage. Its range and power rivalled that of an opera singer's. The big-fisted engineer appeared from the ship's small kitchenette. "Here, Doc," he boomed. "Haven't found anything yet." Lucky Loo poked his head from the cockpit. "We've been looking for a bomb since you telephoned, boss," the worthy added. "How do you know there's a bomb?" Came a clanging. An alarm claxon interrupted the bronze man's response, tinny noise filling the hangar. "Fire," he explained, with a trace of urgency in his voice. Doc disappeared in a bronze flash. Lucky, who'd been watching the man of bronze while waiting for a reply, had the impression Doc Savage had vanished like a magician from a locked box. "Holy Cow!" boomed giant Renny. He followed Doc out the plane door, leaving Lucky Loo bringing up the rear. A horrid red blaze tore the sky at the other end of the field. A hangar seemed to be the source of the flames. The distance combined with black, black smoke to obscure the fact. Doc Savage raced toward the blaze. The field's water pump truck rushed to the burning hangar. The bronze man came up alongside the speeding vehicle, and leaped aboard with the ease of a jungle cat pouncing on its prey. Bronze fingers gained purchase, gripped it tightly as Doc's feet found lodging. The ride was bumpy, the imperfections in the tarmac magnified by the velocity of the speeding truck. Doc Savage was jostled about but held fast, seeming not to notice the jarring he was getting. Shortly, the truck skidded to a halt before the blaze. Doc got to the hose, began unreeling it. He handed it to surprised firefighters who disembarked from the vehicle. "Doc Savage!" one exclaimed. He quickly recovered his composure, and, taking the hose from Doc, hauled it toward the burning hangar. The bronze man stepped back, out of the way of the professional firefighters, leaving them to their fearsome work. A crowd gathered, as crowds will, around the blazing building. There is something almost irresistible about a disaster to the average American citizen. One of the firemen--he seemed to be the one in charge--yelled at the rubberneckers to stay back. Doc Savage, standing closer to the inferno than the other onlookers, heard one man say in a low voice, "How does that guy do it? I'm roasting, all the way back here." Another replied, "I bet he doesn't even feel the heat. That's Doc Savage, the Man of Bronze." "Who's that?" asked the former, puzzled. His thin face screwed up in bewilderment. "Where have you been for the past decade, brother?" the other asked incredulously. His surprise gave his round face an even rounder look. "That guy's only saved our nation--and maybe the world--about a dozen times." "I remember him, now that you mention it," said the slender man sheepishly. His thin face colored. "I always thought he was imaginary, like the boogie man--you know, to keep the criminal element looking over their shoulder." "He does that, brother," agreed the round-shaped man, "and more. Rumor has it that anybody who tangles with Doc Savage disappears." The man, without knowing it, referred to the mysterious college in upstate New York. Its existence was not public knowledge. Doc Savage felt the general public was not ready to learn of the measures he took there to prevent crime. From the very beginning of its operation in the late 1920s, Doc feared outcry against the place, should the public learn of its existence. The place was a hundred years ahead of its time. It had remained a secret, but for some trouble there the previous year. The bronze man had managed to keep this quiet. Fearsome orange and yellow-tinted light played over impassive bronze features, enhancing Doc's resemblance to a metal bust. Westerly wind parted the writhing ropes of black smoke, and the bronze man's eyes observed a large plane in the air, flying away from the field--against Federal regulations. All planes were to remain grounded during a field emergency. The gold flakes in Doc Savage's eyes churned with sudden realization. The bronze man walked purposefully to the firefighter in charge, ignoring the terrific heat the blaze put out. Cupping one bronze hand to the man's ear, Doc explained that the fire had probably been deliberately set, and likely had a chemical base as the source of the blaze. The firefighters should act accordingly, he added. The lead fireman left Doc to inform his men of the news. The bronze man's reputation led people to listen to him when he spoke. That was about the only good thing to it, as far as Doc was concerned. In addition to the worry that some criminal might learn something to his advantage when dealing with the bronze man, Doc Savage was a genuinely modest man who did not like the attention of the press. Big Renny and Lucky Loo arrived, coming up behind Doc, their puffing breaths giving their presence away. The bronze man indicated with a gesture the plane he had spotted earlier, now a speck in the distance. "Medusa?" Renny boomed, not as quietly as he might have wished. Doc nodded. "Probably. We will know shortly." Presently, two firefighters emerged from the blaze, each dragging a body. "These two were caught inside," one explained, laying his load at the bronze man's feet. "They're the only ones, as far as we can tell." "You were right about the cause of the fire, Mr. Savage," said the other, wiping the grime from his face. "Fuel was spilled all over the floor. It looks deliberate." Doc thanked the two firemen, then knelt beside the bodies. He examined them briefly. "These men were not killed by the fire," he explained. He stood and looked solemnly at his two companions. "Each of them was killed by a knife wound to the heart." Hours passed before the field's firefighters had the blaze under control. Much of this time was used making sure nearby buildings did not catch fire as well. Finally, the fire burned itself out. Shortly after Doc's examination of the two corpses, the city police had arrived. They dispersed the crowd of morbidly curious onlookers, and thereafter began questioning witnesses. The bronze man's turn finally came. Doc Savage explained what little he knew--he was, after all, not a witness to the events leading to the fire. After he related what the pertinent information, Doc asked the uniformed officer, "What was in the hangar?" "A plane was stolen," reported the policeman, uncomfortably. The officer had heard of the bronze man's investigation of the "Medusa murders", as they were being called. Detective Chester Bester's instructions were to give Doc Savage full co-operation--then report back to him exactly what the co-operation entailed. "Yes?" The uniform shifted to his other foot. He wasn't used to discussing an investigation with a civilian. It ran against his grain. "It was pretty new, supposed to be fast." Doc's steady gaze did not leave the policeman. The flake-gold eyes prodded him. "The two victims were the mechanic and pilot of the plane," the officer continued. "According to witnesses, a dozen or so armed men barreled into the hangar. The plane left the hangar and took to the air. Before anyone could do much about that, the fire engulfed the hangar." "Thank you," the bronze man said sincerely. He turned to leave. "Wait," cried the uniformed policeman, as if suddenly awakening from some sort of spell. "What am I going to tell Detective Bester?" Doc Savage returned to the officer. "Have you a pad and pencil?" he asked. The policeman handed over the things. Doc wrote something quickly on the paper pad, in neat, graceful letters, then returned it to the uniformed officer. "That should satisfy Detective Bester, officer," the bronze man explained. He walked back toward the hangar where his own plane remained parked. The policeman read what Doc Savage had written, and let out a breath of relief. Doc's message stated that Medusa had left the country. "No bomb," rumbled big-fisted Renny upon the bronze man's return to the hangar. Lucky Loo looked almost disappointed by the fact. It seemed he was growing to like the excitement Doc's presence often brought. "Are we ready to leave?" Doc Savage asked. "Almost," boomed the giant engineer. "Where are we going?" "I believe we'll find the answer to all this on Easter Island," the bronze man said simply, without further explanation. At that moment, it would have been a toss-up who looked more surprised--big Renny or Lucky Loo.

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