Invitation to Mystery
Renny was a seeming giant - four inches over six feet tall, fully two hundred fifty pounds. His severe, disapproving expression was marked by thin lips set in a grim line. As Renny pushed open the door with his massive hands and entered the diner, he found Doc untying a man from the chair in which he was seated. Apparently this man was the last of a group, for three others stood nearby, stretching and rubbing their limbs as if they had been bound for some time. Ropes and belts were tangled on the floor around the chair legs.
"Holy cow, Doc," rumbled the engineer's deep voice. "What's been going on here?"
"A symptom of any wartime boomtown, Renny," the bronze man answered, turning from the seated man he'd just unwrapped. "The demand for beds is greater than the supply hereabouts. So the shop manager rented each of these fellows a chair to sleep in last night. I was simply helping them out of bed, so to speak."
"Did you sleep here in a chair, too?"
"No, I was more fortunate." Doc smiled. "I managed to finagle a bench at the YMCA, so at least I could lie down while I slept. And a few stretching exercises this morning worked out any kinks."
Doc Savage was broad shouldered and trim and moved with a fluid, masculine grace. He was not so large as Renny, but anyone seeing him would say he was a powerful fellow who seemingly radiated great energy. Even the diner's sole waitress - jaded by years of seeing all sorts of people and shenanigans in a town noted for its craziness during the war - had a hard time keeping her eyes off Doc.
"You should've called me when you got into town," Renny complained. "I've been bunking with the Navy while working on my project at the yards. I could've gotten you quartered there, too."
"I got in late last night," Doc explained, as he gestured toward a table. "It wasn't worth raising a ruckus at the gate to rouse you from sleep just so I could get a bed."
"Huh, something else is raising some kind of ruckus back at the yards this morning," Renny responded as he waved to the waitress for service. "Lots of the uniforms seemed to be in a tizzy as I left this morning. Course, they don't confide too much to a civilian like me."
Doc pushed a folded newspaper across the checkerboard-patterned oilcloth covering the tabletop. "The tizzy probably regards the top story."
"Holy cow!" Renny's eyes widened as he read the 72-point headline and the story running underneath it:
While Renny devoured the news, Doc ordered breakfast for them. The waitress had a hard time figuring which fellow to stare at: the puritan-faced giant with the big hands holding the newspaper like a piece of scrap, or the handsome and polite bronze man placing the order. By the time the engineer folded and dropped the paper into an empty chair, the waitress was placing food on the table, keeping her gaze on the coffeepot so she wouldn't spill the plates. "That's incredible, Doc! What's it all mean?"
Small winds appeared to stir the pools of flake gold that were the bronze man's eyes. "I know just as much as you, Renny, and it all came from that newspaper. Clearly the destruction of the tanker was too big an event in too public an area for the War Department to keep it under wraps. And if their investigators have any answers, the news hounds haven't learned about them yet."
A coffee mug seemed to disappear inside the engineer's massive hands. His dour expression grew even more glum - a sure sign that Renny was excited by the prospect of working on a mystery. "If this wasn't just some fluke - if it really is some kind of enemy weapon - how can the Navy protect its ships against it?"
"You're an engineer, Renny. Does steel simply melt in the normal ambient temperatures we experience outdoors at this time of year?"
Renny snorted. "Of course not!"
"So, does that sound like some kind of fluke?"
"Nope, Doc, not at all."
Doc Savage nodded. "Then I suspect the Navy will be asking you the same question you asked me: How can the Navy protect its ships against something that can melt a vessel the size of a fuel tanker?"
"You got me there, Doc."
"I suspect that question will be coming very soon, Renny," Doc said. The big engineer turned to peer out the window that the bronze man faced. A Navy lieutenant, wearing a no-funny-business expression, approached the coffee shop at a rapid clip.
Entering the diner, the lieutenant stopped at the table occupied by Doc and Renny.
"Pardon me, gentlemen," he started, very politely, bowing slightly. "I'm seeking Colonel John Renwick and Dr. Clark Savage, Jr."
"You found 'em," the grim-faced engineer rumbled. Renny's military rank had been honorarily reinstated by the War Department during the course of the war while he worked on projects for the armed services.
The lieutenant introduced himself. "Lt. Stephen Sherman, sirs. Admiral Ryan requests the presence of Col. Renwick and Dr. Savage. I'm to conduct the colonel and the doctor to Admiral Ryan's office immediately."
The lieutenant stepped back as Doc and Renny stood from their breakfast. His attention focused mainly on Doc. Renny had been visible at the shipyard for the past few weeks, but this was the first time Lt. Sherman had laid eyes on the bronze man, whose presence was still startling even beside the giant engineer. In Doc Savage, thought Lt. Sherman, reside the qualities of a born leader.
As Doc paid the breakfast bill, he spoke to Renny: "You still have a little time to ponder that question we were just discussing. Have an answer yet?"
Renny just shook his head.
*
Shortly after leaving the coffee shop, Lt. Sherman drove Doc and Renny through the old stone gate of the Norfolk Naval Shipyard. A few minutes later, he introduced them to Admiral Ryan, who gestured Doc and Renny to seats before his desk as the lieutenant withdrew.
The admiral sternly eyed Doc and Renny for a moment or two before explaining his summons. He had a strong jaw and a no-nonsense expression. His graying hair was trimmed short in a military cut, but his dark, bushy eyebrows appeared untamable.
"Colonel, Doctor," Admiral Ryan nodded to each in turn. "You gentlemen are not fools. You're aware of the apparent attack upon the fuel tanker yesterday in Boston. You obviously know that my calling you has some link to that event. Indeed, you may have some insight on the destruction of that ship. But before we get to that, I want to make something clear."
During the pause, his gaze bored into each of his visitors. Then: "Our country is involved in a great war. It is the job of the military to fight this war in a professional, responsible manner. The role of civilians is to support that war effort and leave the fighting, the conduct of military action, to the men entrusted with that responsibility, the men in uniform."
Admiral Ryan paused again. Renny resisted an urge to squirm. He felt like a school kid summoned to the principal's office. Doc, though clearly paying close attention to their host's words, seemed otherwise unfazed.
"Still," the admiral continued, "you men and your associates have performed many great services to our nation and for the military, particularly since the time war was declared by our government. Dr. Savage, you and your men are clearly extraordinary individuals. While I rarely care for civilian intervention in military affairs - Navy business in particular - you have aided the U.S. Navy in a number of ways.
"One specific instance I recall dealt with a friend of mine - Captain Blackstone Toy."
Renny held his breath. Before the beginning of the war, Doc had exposed a ring of extortionists working against the federal government by destroying Navy vessels. The ringleader was a Navy man, Blackstone Toy, whose efforts included the murder of his own brother.
Was Ryan a co-conspirator with Toy, remaining undiscovered all this time? Renny prepared to leap from his chair.
"I say friend," Admiral Ryan said, "but Toy was a traitor to the Navy, to every man in uniform. He betrayed this country. Money meant more to him than his sworn duty as a military man. I'm not proud to admit it, but he fooled me and many others. Thanks to you men and your associates, his duplicity was found out, his destructive and traitorous activities ended."
Renny started breathing again. He glanced over at Doc. The bronze man shifted his feet slightly, sat back in his chair. So, until hearing some reassuring words from the admiral, Doc had been ready to leap into action as well!
"Now," the admiral plunged into a new topic, "I called you here because one of the men reported that he'd heard Col. Renwick mention you were arriving for a visit, Doctor. What do you two know about this tanker explosion in Boston?"
"Only the details that appeared in this story," Doc answered, gesturing with the folded newspaper he had shown Renny earlier.
"Actually, that's about all I know as well," Admiral Ryan said. "I'd hoped that your arrival meant you knew something about this event. And, truth to tell, I was a bit anxious that your arrival meant the base or shipyard here was in trouble."
Doc shook his head. "As I said, Renny and I are in the dark."
The admiral waved his hand at the newspaper. "Clearly this is an act of sabotage."
"It's very likely," Doc agreed. "The witnesses' descriptions of the tanker before the explosion certainly seem to bear that out. But there isn't enough hard evidence in this article to clarify anything yet."
Admiral Ryan pushed a pair of reading glasses onto his face while retrieving something from a desk drawer. His eyebrows bristled over the frames like an untrimmed hedge looming over a fence. "Here," he said, and pushed a flimsy across the desk. "I let Washington know I was sending for you. They directed me to show you this. The War Department received a telegram of this message a week ago."
Renny and Doc read the note:
WARNING!
REMOVE ALL NAVY PERSONNEL FROM YOUR SHIPS BEFORE THEY DIE. HORRIBLE WEAPON WILL DESTROY FLEET AND ALL CREWS. THIS MAY BE YOUR ONLY WARNING BEFORE CATASTROPHE.
"It's signed 'Black Cat Jackson,'" Renny pointed out. "Who's that?"
"We don't know yet," Admiral Ryan replied. "The Navy thought it was a hoax, until the explosion in Boston. Now, it's clearly an extortion attempt! Just as things are winding down in the European Theater - as we're focusing our efforts on the war in the Pacific - someone comes along with a weapon that can melt our ships like hot butter!"
A scowl twisted the admiral's face. He turned away, composed himself, then removed his glasses and spoke again. "Dr. Savage, the War Department wants you to look into this matter, using the methods you see fit. Will you accept?"
"Certainly, Admiral," Doc said.
To get things rolling, Doc requested that a call be put through to another of his associates, Theodore Marley Brooks. A Harvard-trained lawyer, Brooks was addressed by his friends with the more informal sobriquet "Ham."
Getting no answer from Ham's apartment, Doc had the call directed to his headquarters, located in a Manhattan skyscraper. After a couple of rings, the phone was answered by a squeaky voice that sounded like a tricycle whose three wheels needed greasing.
"Monk," Doc replied, "have you seen Ham?"
"Doc! Where you been?" responded the squeaking voice. "I thought you'd be back a few days ago."
"There was some trouble on Parade Island, but that's another story. I came directly to Norfolk to see Renny. Again, have you seen Ham?"
"Norfolk, eh? Oh yeah, Ham's right here. But there's someone else showed up this morning to see you. Ever heard of Black Cat Jackson?"
Before Doc could answer, Monk's shout erupted from the receiver: "Hey!"
Doc heard a loud clatter - as though the receiver had been dropped at Monk's end of the line - another shout, then the line went dead.
Written By:
Duane Spurlock
based on notes by:
Kenneth Robeson
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