Daredevil
bigger than ever, huddled up in that ornate throne; and Storm knew
that, immensely strong as he was, he would stand no chance against
such a giant of a man. Surcon must have read his thoughts, for a
bitter smile touched the thin lips.
"No hope that way, Captain Arden. You get your strength from me, and
the tree is bigger than the branch."
Storm smiled back, and for a second a ray of humanity relieved the
stern set of his face.
"Sometimes you appeal to me--your nerve's nearly as good as mine," he
said.
Nevertheless, Surcon's action gave him furiously to think. The Apex
hadn't reacted according to schedule. Somewhere up that enigmatic
sleeve was a trump card, and Storm had an uneasy suspicion that he
could guess what it was without much chance of error. As he had
said, he never put up a bluff without having an even chance of
pulling through if it crashed. That even chance had suddenly tumbled
down the market to about three to one against. And yet, for all that
momentary misgiving, he never changed his calm, arrogant poise. No
need to show your bluff till all the other cards are on the table, if
you can avoid it...
Surcon had put on a black silk handkerchief by way of a mask, and was
pulling his hat down over his eyes.
"A slight precaution, though I doubt its necessity," he explained,
and then Susan was outside the door.
Storm recognised her footsteps, but Morini came in alone. Affecting
lack of interest, Storm heard every word of conversation which passed
between Morini and his Chief, and Kit's brow furrowed for a second as
he endeavoured to account for what Mecklen had seen.
And then Susan was in the room, and a little of Storm's grimness
relaxed as he heard her gasp of surprise.
"Hullo, kid," he drawled cheerfully. "Sleep well? I hear Lew was a
naughty boy last night. Don't worry--I'm going to strafe ole Lew
very soon!"
"How did you get here?" She had taken her cue from him, and was
smiling, playing up gloriously to him. "Don't say they got you after
all?"
"I think not," Storm said carefully. "The general impression at the
moment is that I've got _them_!"
Surcon's smile distorted his tight mouth into a cryptic grimace.
"Morini--fetch all the men who are in the building. Make sure
Mecklen comes."
Once again Gat departed.
Storm stepped off the daïs and went to Susan. His back was to
Surcon, which fact gave him an opportunity to wink encouragingly at
her. His grin was cheerfulness itself, but she did not like the
metallic light which lay behind his expressive eyes. He took her arm
and led her back to the platform, and she thrilled to the cool
steadiness of his hand.
Men began to file into the room, taking their places at the benches
without speaking. Clearly the vanity of the Triangle had made him
summon such portentous assemblies before, for the men moved like a
well-trained company of soldiers at Church Parade. Storm had time to
be amused.
"Mecklen!"
All the men were in their seats, and the Apex spoke out resonantly.
Lew came forward sheepishly.
"Take that girl!"
Two men in the front jumped up and caught Susan by the arms. They
hurried her on to the platform, against the huge silver triangle, and
began to tie her wrists to two of the corners, so that the base ran
across her back. She fought desperately, striking out at their faces
with her clenched fists, but with a couple of sulphurous ejaculations
as the first blows got home they closed in and gripped her arms,
holding her helpless.
Morini was standing beside Storm, his automatic swinging
ostentatiously at the "ready" in case of any attempt to go to the
girl's assistance. But Storm made no move to attack. He stepped
back, folding his arms so that the hands came in the armholes of his
coat, and under cover of the cloth he was working away at the sleeves
of his bullet-proof vest.
And all the time he cursed silently, although his face never betrayed
his kindling fury. He'd been caught! His precious plot had had a
link in it so weak it wouldn't have carried an emaciated guinea-pig,
and he'd never seen the flaw. He'd plumbed the uttermost
profundities of multitude; he'd attained dizzy pinnacles of boobery;
he'd wallowed in oceans of sublime insanity. To Bill Kennedy that
morning he had confessed that in the past he'd been a mug, and he'd
sworn he was going to atone for it--instead of which he'd rolled out
of an ordinary frying-pan into a fire that was more like a roaring
blast furnace....
Susan was bound, now, and the two who had done it were back in their
pews, rubbing bruised shins and muttering luridly.
"You have a gun, Mecklen," said the Apex. "You were told to kill
Miss Hawthorne, and you disobeyed. There is still time."
Lew took his revolver from his pocket and looked from it to his
leader. Brute as he was, there was something ghastly about such a
cold-blooded murder which he found hard to stomach, and he frowned
doubtfully, as though unwilling to comprehend. Surcon returned the
look with a remorseless determination gleaming in his blue eyes.
Slowly Mecklen raised the gun....
"One moment!" The Apex turned to Storm, and that deep, sonorous
intonation filled the room like a chant of doom. "You may be less
sure of yourself now, Captain Arden. It is now my turn to offer you
a choice.... Take Miss Hawthorne and go free to report at Scotland
Yard. Resign. And then go abroad for three months and forget all
about the Alpha Triangle. Refuse those terms----"
"And----?" prompted Storm, very quietly.
"And Mecklen will not be disobedient a second time."
Storm looked at the girl. She was standing quite still now, her head
erect, and a light of proud defiance in her eyes.
"Tell him to go to blazes!"
Her voice rang out with bell-like clarity, and there was not a hint
of faltering in it. Storm swallowed a lump that had come into his
throat. His head bowed, as if in the agony of making his decision,
but all the while his hands fumbled away swiftly and surely at his
arms. Another second....
At last he raised his head and his cold eyes swept from Mecklen to
Morini, from Morini to Ezra Surcon, _alias_ Bulsaid.
"Sure thing--you great little wonderful kid!" he cried, and his hands
leapt into view with lightning-like rapidity.
Three shots reverberated as one. The men in their chairs, watching,
spell-bound, saw Mecklen clutch his chest, sway, and sag to the floor
with a long sighing groan. They saw Morini reel back, clawing
convulsively at a jaw which Storm's heavy-calibre bullet had smashed
and all but torn from its sockets. They saw Storm himself, struck
over the breast-bone by Morini's fractional-second-late shot, stagger
and then, miraculously recover himself....
And then Storm was on the daïs, shielding Susan with his body. One
gun-laden hand, resting on his hip, roved from face to face of the
men still sitting as though paralysed, in the body of the room; the
other focused on the Apex.
"There's my answer! _Now_ crow, you second-hand Gorgonzolas!" he
mocked them.
CHAPTER XXVII
MR. TEAL BUTTS IN
The Assistant Commissioner did not leave immediately after Storm had
gone. Instead Bill Kennedy and Mr. Teal sat in the Albany talking
over many things. And it was when Mr. Kennedy was taking up his
gloves preparatory to departure that the telephone bell rang. The
Assistant Commissioner took up the receiver.
"Is that Captain Arden?" asked a voice.
"Yes," said Bill, to save trouble.
"I'm speaking from St. George's Hospital. We've got a man here who
wants to speak to you urgently. I'm afraid he's dying--they picked
him up in Buckingham Gate last night with eight inches of knife in
his lungs. He's only just recovered consciousness."
"What's his name?"
"Sands."
Bill Kennedy whistled softly.
"Any idea what he wants to say?"
"Not much. He'll only speak to you personally. But he keeps
muttering something about a triangle and a girl."
"I'll be there in eight minutes, laddie," Kennedy stated crisply.
As he replaced the instrument he saw that Teal was struggling off the
sofa.
"Never," said Teal solemnly, "never in my life have I missed anything
that was going on worth being present at. If you try to make me
break that record, sir, I shall resign this morning. Don't say
anything about my shoulder, because there's no bones broken--it's
just a flesh wound I'd rather be without, but it doesn't mean I'm
going to be tied down in a bath-chair."
Bill Kennedy was an excellent judge of time and space. Exactly eight
minutes after he had hung up the receiver he was standing beside the
death bed of Birdie Sands, that funny, wizened little man. Teal was
with him, and they were hidden from the rest of the ward by the
screens which in hospitals are placed about the beds of those whose
hours are numbered.
The whizzer looked up with a wry smile. He was pale from loss of
blood, but in no pain. His breath came in long, slow, wheezing
draughts which scarcely stirred his shallow chest. The clear
luminosity of the Beyond was in his eyes, and a strange serenity had
smoothed out the wrinkles on his pinched face.
"Where's ... Arden?" he asked, faintly.
Bill Kennedy sat down on the bed, Teal remaining erect.
"Captain Arden's gone to look for Miss Hawthorne," said Bill. "He
wanted to settle the Triangle alone and we had to promise not to
interfere unless he failed. I don't know how he was going to set
about it, but he had some plan or other in his head."
Birdie was silent. Then:
"I never met 'im," he whispered. "But they s'y 'e was a good busy.
Listen, Kennedy."
Sands raised himself on one elbow. The effort caused him a fit of
hoarse coughing, but he shook off Bill's restraining hand impatiently.
"Yer gotta brike yer promise. Not only fer 'is sike. There's the
'Awthorne girl. She's there--in that 'ouse in Buckingham Gate.
They'll kill 'er, sure. Or worse.... That Lew's a swine ... blarst
'im. Dunno w'y, but I 'ate Lew ... poison! More'n Morini, even--an'
Morini knifed me. Throws knives like a bloke in a circus.... Oh,
yer needn't shike yer 'ead. I know.... I'm not much ter look
at--not much ter think of--I'm just a cheap crook, an' a little one
at that. But I 'ad a sister once.... Joan.... She's married ter
Mattock--strite an' proper, swelp me. She's clean. Teal--yer was
always an honest dick--get 'er out of the mess--ter make a man 'appy
yer won't never see agine?"
"Yes," said Mr. Teal.
Birdie pawed weakly at his throat, then held out a thin hand.
Gravely Inspector Teal took it in a firm grip and held it for a
moment.
There was a silence. And then Birdie spoke again. Quickly and
breathlessly, his voice growing a shade stronger, for the end was
very near.
"Get ter that 'ouse. Black 'ouse. Now. Wiv all the flatties yer
can lay yer 'ands on. No time ter lose. Arden can't never win--'e
don't know what I know. The Triangle's got a card Arden'll never
beat. There's a tunnel--another blow-up, an' it's bigger'n
Piccadilly! _'Urry!_ ... There's no other w'y ... ter get 'is girl
... out.... Never mind yer promise.... Will yer go?"
Birdie clutched Bill's sleeve earnestly; and, quietly, Bill nodded.
"Yes."
"Then go! Ain't no ... time.... Don't wait fer me--I alw'ys lived
alone.... S'pose I can die alone ... I'd rather...." A shrill,
feeble cackle of laughter broke eerily from the dry lips. "Oh, yer
damned Triangle! I got yer--Birdie, little crook Birdie.... An' I
got yer ... smashed yer!... Blarst... yar!" ...
And then the voice fell so low that Bill Kennedy had to lay his ear
almost on Birdie's mouth to catch the gasping words.
"Put on the lights.... I'm afraid of ... the dark...." Birdie's