Chapter 13 The South American

"Why are we going to Easter Island, boss?" inquired Lucky Loo. He stood beside Doc Savage in the cockpit of Doc's all-metal tri-motor plane. The bronze man did not answer, busying himself with reading dials and adjusting instructions. He seemed not to have heard the question. The worthy decided to try another tack. "What made you think there would be a bomb?" There was a slight shift in the bronze man's posture, possibly signalling weary resignation. Or was he just trying to get a better view of the fuel gauge? "Medusa has so far been ruthless and thorough, Lucky, " Doc explained, "going so far as to kill those of his men who knew his identity." "What?" "The men guarding Johnny's double on Treasure Island were obviously inexperienced, not hardened criminals," the bronze man elaborated. "They must have been with Medusa when he discovered the secret of the 'stone death', and therefore knew his true identity. When the police learn who the stone men are, I believe this theory will be borne out. The trap was set in such a way that made it almost impossible for them to escape. Medusa hoped to kill two birds--the men who knew his identity and me--with one stone. Literally, in this case." "So you know who Medusa is?" The bronze man seemed not to hear the question, and Lucky Loo, after a few moments of silence, gave up, leaving the cockpit. Not many minutes later, big-fisted Renny entered. "Lucky wants to go along," he said, probably as quietly as he could. He sounded like he was speaking from the bottom of a well. "Tell Lucky he may do so," replied Doc, to Renny's astonishment. "But warn him it will be dangerous, and he must follow my instructions without hesitation." The bronze man looked directly at the engineer. "Dissuade him if you can. You know what it may be like." "If you don't want him along," rumbled big Renny, "why not just leave him behind?" "Lucky has been helpful, and he seems to be enjoying himself," answered Doc. "He is no different from you or me in that respect, except perhaps in degree. More importantly, he is trying to repay a debt. That I don't feel it needs to be repaid is irrelevant to Lucky. Would you deprive a man of that feeling of repaying a great debt, one which he previously believed he could never repay? " The big engineer shrugged. "Okay, Doc." As he left the cockpit, Doc Savage started the motors of the big ship. One caught, roared to life, then the next. Finally, the last squealed, and took hold. A few minutes later, the great gray bat of a plane left the hangar, wheeling out onto the tarmac, and took to the air. Dusk was upon the large craft when Doc Savage relinquished control of the plane to giant Renny. The flight to Easter Island was a long one--almost eighteen hours--and the bronze man had not slept in more than a day and a half. Although he had gone longer periods without sleep, the task ahead on the island would be difficult, and Doc knew it would only become more difficult without rest. Lucky came forward, and took the vacant seat in the cockpit. He noticed the unusually dour expression on the big engineer's face. "You must really be worried about Easter Island," the worthy offered. No one had explained to him that Renny's expression was normally the opposite of what the big man was feeling. Contrary to Lucky's assertion, the giant engineer was actually elated--the thing seemed to winding up and he was going to be in on it. He had been feeling left out, missing the excitement. Thus far, he had not had much to do. It had been frustrating to hear about the action second-hand from Doc. Renny shrugged in response to Lucky Loo's comment. He was all for protecting innocent bystanders when necessary, but babysitting was an altogether different thing. The big engineer was in no mood to explain things to the Oriental graduate. "You must have had plenty of adventures with the boss?" suggested Lucky. Renny Renwick, envisioning eighteen hours of telling stories to the worthy, asked, "How would you like to learn to fly this plane?" "Boy, would I," exclaimed Lucky. "Put your hands on the wheel," instructed big Renny. Lucky did as he was told. "And your feet on the pedals," continued the giant engineer. "I know it looks like there are a lot of instruments to watch, but the only one you need to worry about is this one," he said, tapping the one indicating the plane's position. "Try to keep the little plane on this line." As Lucky Loo pondered the indicator, Renny surreptitiously activated the ship's auto-pilot. "Are you ready?" he asked the worthy. "Ready, boss," exclaimed Lucky. The guy was a go-getter, the engineer had to admit. Renny released the wheel. "It's all yours," he announced. Minutes passed as Lucky silently concentrated on flying the big plane, unaware that he had no control whatsoever over it. The big engineer frowned contrarily to himself in amusement. "I'm going to get something to eat," he rumbled. "Do you think I'm ready to fly without supervision?" asked Lucky, a little concern creeping into his voice. "I'd be very surprised if you can't handle things while I'm gone," boomed the big engineer, unable to keep the deepening frown from his face. "Thanks, boss," said Lucky Loo, sincerely, oblivious to the amusement in the giant's voice. Renny Renwick left the cockpit. Doc Savage possessed, through mental discipline he had learned in the Far East, the uncanny ability to sleep for a length of time, awakening when he desired. So it was just after midnight when the bronze man returned to the cockpit. "Renny's been teaching me to fly," said Lucky proudly. "He says I'm a natural." If Doc Savage noticed the auto-pilot was engaged, he gave no indication of it. "Renny, why don't you relieve Lucky? We don't want to overwhelm him on his first flight," Doc said drily. Lucky Loo vacated his seat, not noticing the sheepish expression on the big engineer's face. Doc took his place in the empty chair. "Get some rest, Lucky. It may be awhile before you get another chance to do so." Doc Savage remained silent after the worthy had left. It was not his custom to rebuke his aides. None-the-less, the giant was keenly aware of the bronze man's displeasure. Although Doc was famous for many things, his sense of humor was not among them. "I was just having a little fun with him," Renny explained unnecessarily, as he shut off the auto-pilot. "Monk and Ham's antics seem to be rubbing off onto you," Doc said calmly. Renny's face wore a weak grin, which meant that he was unhappy about that comment. Those two were always causing trouble and annoying the others in Doc's little band of adventurers. They were generally nuisances, and being compared to them was no compliment. Within the hour, the big plane, flying over Central America, reached a small airport, which consisted of one landing strip and one operations shack. A single fuel tank was visible off to one side of the field. The airport--if you could call it that--was one of the few in the area open at this time of night. Renny Renwick brought the tri-motor down on the small airstrip. He taxied it around, bringing the ship near the fuel depot. The big engineer brought the plane to a stop, then rose from his chair. "I'll handle this," Renny suggested, the bronze man's comment still fresh in his memory. The big-fisted engineer opened the door to the big plane, disembarked. The place was deserted. The night air was still warm at this season in this part of the world, and moist. The big-fisted engineer stretched, trying to relieve the effects of the static, cramped condition of several hours of sitting still in the cockpit of Doc's plane. As he walked to the single storage tank, Renny heard a voice call from behind him, "Bueno, senor?" The big engineer turned, and saw a lone attendant coming from the tiny field's operations shack. He was dressed in well-worn clothing native to the culture in this area. His coal-black hair was combed back off his face, and a small moustache rested delicately on his upper lip, as if placed there carefully. It was well-groomed. "Si?" Renny replied. He knew just enough Spanish to get by, tourist-level Spanish. As the man drew near, the big engineer instructed him to re-fuel the large tri-motor. The attendant did so, quickly and courteously, commenting that not many "Americanos Norte" visited his small field. Certainly not at this time of night, senor. Doc Savage appeared in the doorway of the metal ship, also with the intention of stretching his legs. Leaving the plane, he walked the tarmac. Finally, the bronze man approached Renny and the airfield attendant, who was re-fueling the plane as he had been told. He seemed to be trying to carry on a conversation with an unenthusiastic Renny. "Stop him, Renny!" rapped the man of bronze. The big engineer gave a start at the sudden thunder in the Doc Savage's command. He grabbed hold of the attendant, whose wrists all but disappeared in the giant's grip. "Holy cow, Doc," boomed Renny. "What's wrong?" "This man is not from the area," the bronze man explained. "His accent indicates he comes from South America. I would be very surprised if he were not working for Medusa." The big engineer was not surprised at Doc's recognition of the out-of-place accent. The bronze man had studied the subject intensively as a youth and could speak any of the major languages without much of an accent, and could probably identify any known language--living or dead--after hearing but a few words of it. Doc was familiar with the dialects of the major languages of the world, as well. Doc Savage withdrew a small phial from his vest, and got some of the fuel, which the attendant had been pumping, into the glass container. "Watch him closely," Doc instructed his giant aid. The bronze man went into the plane. Shortly he returned, carrying the glass phial. Renny observed the liquid in the container was now a different color than it had been. "The fuel has been doctored," Doc Savage said. "We cannot use it." "But we were almost out of fuel when we landed," said Renny in a strained voice which sounded like a bass being bowed. "And what we had has been contaminated by this stuff." The bronze man's features were grim as he gazed at his aide. He did not reply. The big-fisted engineer looked at the single fuel tank of the airport. "That means we can't even take off again," Renny said finally, sounding like he was walking over broken glass on bare feet. "We're stuck here."

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