Chapter 23
The Blind Man
"Doc!" Monk squeaked. "They caught ya!"
"No, I gave myself up," Doc answered calmly.
"What?" Renny shook his head.
"They're going to tell Barlowe and the Blind Man now."
"You'll never guess who the Blind Man is!" Monk said.
"I know who the Blind Man is," Doc said.
"You know?" Ham asked.
"He's Hugh McCoy."
"You know!" Renny rumbled.
"It came clear when Monk told me the address for the shipyard where Ham was nabbed -- the Whithers and McCarthy W Yard. This was clearly the old Winthrop Shipyard."
"Yes," added Ham, who hadn't had a chance to fill in Doc about the findings of his investigations into Irving McCarthy. "McCarthy worked for Winthrop before moving to Whithers Shipping, which later bought the yard."
"And the Winthrop yard was used to build the sub used by the Silver Death's Heads, who were organized by Hugh McCoy," Doc continued. "That coincidence between that case* and the fact that subs are a part of this scheme was too great. McCarthy is dead -- the Blind Man had to be McCoy."
"But we saw him die!" Monk complained.
"No we didn't," Ham rebuffed the chemist. "He was aboard ship when we escaped. When it sank, we found no sign of him. We thought he'd drowned with that boat."
"But he musta had a sub waiting that took him aboard," Renny chimed in.
"There was a sub," Monk said. "And it went down when McCoy's boat blew up!"
Ham, the experienced debater and courtroom lawyer, shook off Monk's complaints. "McCoy had his men running the Winthrop Shipyard. He could have had more than one sub built. That's the obvious explanation. Besides, open your eyes, you simian simpleton: he's alive and you saw him!"
"His initials match those entries in McCarthy's code book," Doc added.
"And those entries must detail the exchange of money for McCarthy's secretly transporting McCoy to Europe using Whithers ships," Ham said.
"But we still don't know who JS is," Monk reminded.
"Maybe we'll find out," Doc said.
"Was there any sign of Hiram?" Black Cat asked.
"No, I'm sorry," Doc answered. "None yet." He paused. "We need to be ready to get out of here. Who has a timepiece?"
Monk, surprised because Doc normally carried a chronometer, indicated that he had a pocket watch. He handed it over when the bronze man asked for it. Doc checked the time before pocketing the piece.
"All your clothes -- the disguises Hopkins gave you -- are impregnated with the bleeding sunblock that Monk developed. But you need to protect your exposed skin if McCoy looses the chemical on us. If that happens, pull your hats low on your heads."
He pointed to his shoes. "The heels of your shoes are removable and filled with the sunblock. Smear it on. It'll dry clear in a couple of minutes."
"Jackson wouldn't wear our special shoes," Hopkins complained. Monk noticed that the young woman had tucked the cuffs of her pants legs into the tops of her boots.
"Everyone should have enough to share with her and Ham," Doc said. "Now check inside the sweat bands of your hats. Those are flexible, transparent strips to wear as eye protectors. And the interior seams of your shirt collars will easily rip loose. You'll find them to be collapsible breathers to fit over your nose and mouth. Don these items immediately if Barlowe or McCoy uses the bleeding sun stuff."
"What about me?" Ham asked.
"The linings of Monk's boots remove to reveal the same two items," Doc explained. "Might as well hand them over now, Monk."
The simian chemist complied delightedly. "You know, old buddy, you won't have to worry about whether that bleeding sun junk smells bad. I think it's been at least a week or so since I last washed my feet."
Ham growled a low reply as he snatched the breather and goggles from Monk.
Doc issued a few more instructions before a clatter at the door alerted them of the guards' return. The door opened, and gunmen directed Doc and his party to file out.
Awaiting them, along with forty or so men armed with machine pistols, were Barlowe and the Blind Man.
"Savage, welcome at last," greeted the latter.
"McCoy," Doc replied. Their captor still had a strapping, athletic-looking build. But he seemed bent, or somehow shrunken inward. His once-dark hair was gray, and a white stripe marked his left temple like a lightning bolt. And as Monk, Renny, and the others had seen earlier, one side of his face showed scars, also.
"I wear these dark glasses because of injuries sustained during the sinking of our ship when last we met," McCoy said. "I'm not truly blind, but bright light is quite painful for me. Thus the less-than-glaring light we use in our snug little hideaway." He gestured to the small bulbs whose fittings were bolted to the ceiling.
"This is quite an extensive installation," Doc commented. "As were all that I've seen."
"Yes, there are a few planners with great foresight serving the Reich," McCoy said. "Long before the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, we knew that the United States would eventually enter the war. These installations were planned and secretly built years before Roosevelt declared war. In fact, my own operations with the Silver Death's Heads were an early branch of that plan, as well as a way to raise funds."
"I thought you were just a crook," Monk said, "but you were a traitor even then!"
"Ouch," McCoy smiled. "Names are so hurtful. Really, gentlemen, you are all quite talented in your ways. The Reich could use you. But you're all far too dangerous to live." He turned to Black Cat Jackson. "And you, my lovely young wildcat. I'd so hoped you would embrace our cause and stand proudly by my side. But this blind devotion to your husband --"
"Where is Hiram?" All present could detect the barely restrained fury in Black Cat's voice.
"Ha!" Barlowe boomed. "He was dead a week before you ever showed up. I killed him myself!"
His laugh echoed through the chamber. Doc and his men turned to watch the young woman's reaction, ready to spring forward if she collapsed, ready to restrain her if she pounced on Barlowe. But she stood coldly, an icy statue glaring at Barlowe. Curly Wolfe touched her arm, but she shook her father's hand loose.
"What are you talking about, 'The Reich could use us'?" Renny asked. "The war in Europe is over."
McCoy smiled. "You are children, really. The Reich still lives. Germany's surrender means nothing. Barlowe, here, works for a Nazi group -- Bureau Ehrhardt -- stationed in Shanghai. Our work continues. You suppose the entire war was masterminded by Adolf, Il Duce and Hirohito? Really, those powers they led would never have worked together so well without a greater mind coordinating them."
"Would that be the mysterious JS?" Doc queried.
"Ah, you're a smart one, Savage. That's why I'll feel better when you're dead. But then, you still don't really know who JS is, do you?" McCoy smiled again. "You probably would know, but Barlowe reached good old Irving McCarthy just in time.
"Irving and I went back a number of years, and I'd certainly helped his finances grow. But with the war ending, he was getting nervous. We targeted his tanker as a warning. Obviously that didn't work, for he was going to meet with your men. Too bad for him."
"You say your work continues?" Doc prodded.
"Yes. You certainly made a mess of our east coast efforts. But you won't be around to disrupt our plans on the west coast."
"I won't have to be," Doc replied. "At Barlowe's farmhouse retreat, there were bays for three subs, but only two present. Clearly one had been shipped overland in one of those big trucks. My agents tracked it entering California."
"Oh, that's the 'wheeled package' Hopkins mentioned in Admiral Murray's office," Renny interjected.
"Correct," Doc said. "Before I arrived here tonight, I received word that the Navy had swept in and rounded up your entire west coast ring, McCoy."
The Blind Man's fists clenched. "You're lying."
Doc shook his head. "Their code word was 'Phoenix.'"
McCoy's face grew dark and his scars looked white against his reddening flesh.
"By the way," Doc continued, "You have two minutes in which to surrender to me."
McCoy sputtered. "What are you talking about?"
Doc lifted Monk's watch from his pocket. "Less time now. I set an explosive device in the storeroom with your bleeding sun mixture. It'll ignite in ninety seconds."
The armed men looked at one another. They had no fear of Doc and his men, but a healthy respect for the melting chemical. All had seen it in action.
"You're lying!" Barlowe yelled.
"Believe me, I don't lie about explosives."
"Barlowe!" McCoy screeched. "Kill him! Kill them all!"
Barlowe snatched a machine pistol from the man beside him. But before he could cock the firing mechanism, a hollow BOOM sounded down the corridor from the direction of the storage room for the vats.
Moments later the clatter of boot heels sounded, and the five men Doc had spotted in the submarine chamber ran into the room. They chattered breathlessly, "Red clouds!" and "The melter!" and continued running toward the elevator cavern.
Scar Face and his men exchanged looks, then charged after their fellows.
McCoy screeched again. Barlowe screamed and charged at Doc, the gun still in his hands.
But before Barlowe reached the bronze man, Black Cat Jackson leaped forward. She ducked and snatched an object from her boot as Barlowe swung the gun at her, then stood and plunged the object toward the killer's throat. Barlowe toppled back and thrashed on the floor, then was still.
Operative Hopkins, stunned, saw a slim flexible blade -- much like a metal ruler -- protruding from Barlowe's bloody neck. He realized that Black Cat had hidden this knife in the lining of her boot. She stood over the dead man, in a sort of quiet shock in the aftermath of her action.
He looked around. He heard gunfire rattling from the direction of the elevator cavern -- Barlowe's men were fighting one another to escape. Curly Wolfe, Doc and his men were battling hand-to-hand those of McCoy's men who had remained behind. One of those men turned toward Black Cat Jackson. Before his gun was raised, Hopkins jumped the man and the two started trading blows.
Doc downed his opponent with a mighty blow to the jaw. He checked the progress of his gang, then whirled away down the corridor he had spotted McCoy scurrying toward.
This passage led to the submarine chamber. Doc suspected the Blind Man would try to use that for his escape.
Doc hadn't released the bleeding sun chemical into the installation. He had crafted a very small charge -- just big enough to make a big boom when the sound echoed through these chambers -- from material he snatched from the sub chamber's workroom. The red cloud was a dye that rapidly expanded on contact with air. He had carried that in the duffel bag Hopkins had cached. The detonator was timed with his chronometer.
The result had turned out much as he had hoped.
He whipped into the sub chamber. McCoy was just climbing up to the submarine hatch. The Blind Man screamed an oath, then aimed and fired a machine pistol.
Doc dodged back out of the room. Slugs slammed the walls, ricocheted and danced around the chamber with zings and sparks. Doc called out to McCoy, then one of Barlowe's hidden charges exploded. A great flash of light -- the blast wave punched Doc like a giant fist and tumbled him farther down the corridor. The bronze man's ears rang, but still he heard McCoy's scream as the first red-hued clouds appeared in the chamber door.
Doc scrambled to his feet and rushed back to his companions, who met him halfway.
"McCoy ruptured the pressurized cylinders of the melting stuff," Doc said. "We're in real danger now."
A rumbling began to fill the underground chambers.
"Barlowe's men ran away," Renny said. "When we checked the elevator, a few were still shooting it out."
"This way," Doc said, and directed them to the corridor intersection where he had entered the installation. With some help, everyone managed to enter the duct and clamber up to the cave behind the waterfall.
After everyone reached the shore, the group started down the trail to the motorized stagecoach that Hopkins had driven to Table Lake. The ground shivered beneath their feet, then they heard a loud THUMP. The earth gave a great shake that nearly toppled them all. A vast eruption of muddy water shot from the waterfall cave the group had just exited.
"The bleeding sun mixture and the explosives compromised the integrity of the walls," Doc explained. "I bet Table Lake's level just dropped ten feet as the whole installation was flooded."
He noticed that Hopkins was comforting Black Cat Jackson. "I'm sorry about your husband," the bronze man said. The woman nodded, then turned with the operative down the trail. Curly Wolfe followed several steps behind.
"Doc," Monk complained, "we still don't know nothing about that JS guy."
"We don't even know if McCoy just made that stuff up," Renny rumbled.
"No," Doc agreed, "but someone with that sort of influence -- if McCoy was telling the truth -- won't stay hidden for long."
Precognition was never attributed to Doc Savage, whose amazing abilities often seemed greater than those of normal mortals. But Doc would soon learn more about this mysterious JS, this man behind the scenes of the world's greatest conflict. Little did the bronze man realize that he would soon be called to the Philippines, where he would quickly be enmeshed by the deadly mystery of THE SCREAMING MAN, which would answer many of his questions.
But those dangers were yet to come. At this moment, Doc prepared to continue down the rugged trail with his fellow adventurers. But he was halted by a call from the underbrush.
"Doc!" The bronze man turned at hearing Ham, who was hidden by thick foliage. "Some of that melting sun stuff got me. My clothes are gone!"
Monk had overheard. "Haw! Serves you right, you shyster. Get yourself in trouble and look what happens -- the plug gets pulled out of the lake bottom! You caused a natural disaster!"
"Shut up, you ape!"
"Hey, I'm not the one playing jungle boy in the raw!"
Renny sighed and left the racket behind.
Monk continued his harangue: "And if you're uncomfortable now, just wait till you ride in that butt-buster that Hopkins calls a car!"
As dawn arrived in Colorado, the day had set on the deadly bleeding sun conspiracy. Doc shook his head as the bickering escalated between Monk and Ham. No matter what the future might bring, the world was back to normal for now.
- Fin -
* Death in Silver, Doc Savage Magazine October 1934
Written By:
Duane Spurlock
based on notes by:
Kenneth Robeson
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