Doc Savage - 065 - The Green Death Read online

  Doc did not reply in words. He merely moved aside so the others could see the form of the fallen man clearly.

  "One of the three from Matto Grosso!" Ham gasped. His eyes widened. "And Johnny is down in that district somewhere!"

  DOC SAVAGE came erect. His eyes, like twin pools of revolving gold flakes, were impossible to read. His bronze features were without expression.

  "Bring the body inside," he said quietly.

  Monk grunted, heaved the mummified body up easily, carried it inside the office. Chemistry grunted also. He lifted Habeas Corpus in as near an imitation of Monk's actions as he could, and followed the chemist.

  "But Johnny--" Ham repeated.

  "Still no response from him," a new voice broke in. The speaker was a mountain of a man, full six feet four inches tall. His face was severe, the mouth thin and grim, the features as a whole bearing a puritanical look. His arms were enormous, his fists bony monstrosities. An open door behind him showed a compact radio room, with many strange devices about the walls.

  "You have tried every test again, Renny?" Doc Savage asked.

  The giant nodded. "Renny," more properly known as Colonel John Renwick, an internationally-known engineer, appeared worried.

  "I tried him on the wave length of our own microwave set," he said slowly. "Then I thought he might be receiving, but be unable to send, so I tried the ray vibrator. I got no response from that, either."

  Doc's gold-flecked eyes flashed slightly. The ray vibrator was an invention of his own, one through which he sometimes kept in touch with his men when radio transmission would not work. If Johnny had heard Renny's calls, he would have hooked up a small, oscillating tube. The resultant waves could easily be picked up on the sensitive devices in the radio room.

  "That makes three weeks now," Monk put in. The others said nothing. Comment was superfluous.

  "Johnny," William Harper Littlejohn to students of geology and archaeology the world over, was on a trip of his own. He had been anxious to investigate some of the remarkable reports he had heard of the Matto Grosso region. And his first radio messages had indicated his hopes of finding new things had been realized.

  Then those radio messages had stopped. Something must be wrong. Something had to be wrong.

  "If we only knew just where--" Ham started. Then he frowned.

  Doc inclined his head, but said nothing. Renny noticed the body where Monk had put it in an adjoining room. He started, then his stern face paled slightly.

  "The green death of the Matto Grosso," Renny muttered. "Do you suppose Johnny--" He choked.

  "First, we will see if we can learn what the green death is," Doc Savage said. His calm voice brought sudden confidence to his men. Johnny undoubtedly was in a spot of some kind or other, but these men of his had an almost unbelievable reliance in the bronze man. They had seen him in action.

  Doc wheeled the body back farther into his suite of offices. The room where he halted was as complete an operating room as could be found in most modern hospitals.

  Renny watched interestedly. He expected to see Doc perform an autopsy. Instead, the bronze man's actions were strange.

  First, he took a long tube from a cabinet. The tube was horn-shaped at one end. The other end vanished in a vacuum-appearing box. There was a bellows arrangement at one side.

  Doc placed this over the body, worked the bellows. Once more, his trilling sound came, faint but penetrating. An indicator moved on top of the vacuum-like box.

  "What the--" began Renny. Then he paused.

  Doc was removing the man's shirt. His gold-flecked eyes were glinting strangely.

  A bellow came from Renny. Doc Savage whirled. A door leading into the hall had opened slightly; a man's face was peering through.

  The man gave a startled bleat. He turned, tried to run. He had no chance. The next instant Renny had yanked the door open. One of his bony monstrosities of a fist popped out, caught the other by the collar.

  As easily as if the man had been weightless, Renny yanked him back into the room.

  THE man was of medium height, with black hair that looked as if it had been bleached by tropical heat. He was trembling as though suffering a chill from malaria.

  But his eyes were focused hard on the green body of the dead man.

  "Frick!" he gasped. His voice was a mixture of awe and fear. "It--it really got him!"

  "You know him? You another of those three guys who came out of the Matto Grosso jungle?" Renny demanded. His lips were set in thin, puritanical lines.

  The man nodded without speaking.

  "Bring him into the main office," Doc said quietly.

  The man seemed more than willing to get away from the sight of the body, for he almost ran ahead of Renny. Doc followed more slowly.

  "Now if you will explain?" Doc prompted.

  Renny stood with his big fists planted on his hips. He looked very tough. Monk and Ham gathered about curiously. Even Chemistry and Habeas Corpus stopped their romping.

  The man gulped; when he spoke, his voice was thick, his words hardly understandable.

  "I--I'm afraid," he muttered. "It--it got Frick! It'll get me."

  "Nothing will get you while you are here. Tell us what you fear. Possibly we can help you," Doc Savage said.

  "There were three of us. Now there are two," the man said weakly.

  "Yes?"

  With an effort, the other pulled himself together. His trembling quieted. "My name is Thorne," he said. "With Frick, the one who's dead in there, and Hugo Parks, I was one of the three who escaped the Brazilian jungle alive. You have read our story in the newspapers. Part of it wasn't believed. But we knew it was true, knew a curse would follow us. We knew we needed your help. That is why Frick came here. That is why I followed."

  Doc nodded. He did not speak.

  Thorne wet his lips, his fists clenched. "We saw fantastic things in that jungle, Mr. Savage. We went in there looking for gold. You have heard--everyone has heard--of the fabled treasure of the Incas, supposed to be hidden in the Green Hell district. We didn't find it. But we did find--" His voice trailed off. Once again his face paled.

  "You found what?" Renny demanded harshly.

  "Death--horrible death!" Thorne's voice was scarcely a whisper. "The green death!" His eyes became wide and staring; his trembling was uncontrolled.

  Doc Savage stepped forward, caught the other by the shoulder and shook him hard. Sanity returned to the man's eyes.

  "We found a city of unspeakable beauty," the man grated. "People live there, but no one can enter. It is guarded by this green death. Y-you will start to approach and you will suddenly fall. Your body turns green and mummified--just as Frick's did. Medicine men of other tribes told us that death would follow us. It has."

  The man paused, shuddered. His voice rose shrilly. "We saw another white man die, too. He was not of our party. And when we went to look for his body, it was gone. But I'll prove to you--" He halted dramatically, reached inside the shirt he wore. Then he froze.

  A woman's scream sounded in the corridor outside. At the same moment lights flashed on a panel, there was the muted sound of an alarm bell.

  MONK and Ham acted as one person. Without hesitation, they leaped toward the door that led into the corridor. They did not touch either knob or button, but the door opened before them. Photo-electric cells took care of that.

  Renny dived toward the operating room where Frick's body had been left. Renny was fast; he moved like a ten-second man. Yet before the big engineer reached the first door, a bronze shadow flitted past him.

  Doc Savage's speed was deceptive. Even when he was traveling swiftest, he did not appear to be exerting himself, so smoothly did his muscles work.

  Blam! Blam!

  Two shots sounded sharply from the corridor. There were startled exclamations from Monk and Ham. They skidded to a halt right at the door, leaned out carefully. Then Monk bellowed shrilly and pounded outside, Ham at his heels.

  The man who called hi
mself Thorne grinned peculiarly. Strangely, all fear seemed to leave him suddenly. His movements were calm and deliberate. Neither Doc nor his aids noticed him. Doc already had reached the operating room. A moment later Renny pounded in.

  The bronze man halted, his face expressionless as always, but his flake-gold eyes narrowed slightly. Renny's severe expression relaxed a trifle. The body was still on the operating table. Nothing appeared disturbed.

  "But the alarm sounded. I know somebody must have tried to get in here," the engineer argued.

  "The shirt," Doc said quietly.

  "Holy cow!" Renny's jaw dropped. The shirt Doc had removed from Frick was gone.

  Footsteps pounded loudly in the corridor outside. Soon they returned. Monk entered the room, his homely face a picture of dejection. Ham didn't appear his usual dapper self, either.

  "She got away," Monk said glumly.

  "She?" Renny exclaimed.

  "That accounts for Monk's disappointment," Ham put in slyly. "But naturally, any girl who ever got a look at a face like his would beat it."

  Doc glanced at both of them swiftly. Ham dropped his bantering pose.

  "We only got a glimpse," he said ruefully. "Somebody fired a couple of slugs, and that slowed us up. When we did get out, we caught just a flash of this girl ducking down the stairs at the end of the hall. We followed, but there are two dozen offices she could have slipped into. She was gone."

  "I saw her face," Monk put in.

  Ham opened his mouth for a good-natured crack, then clamped his lips back together. There were times when Monk really didn't care to be kidded.

  "I've seen that face before. I'll know how to locate that girl," the homely chemist went on grimly.

  "And meantime, the shirt is gone," Renny said harshly. "I don't know what Doc wanted with it, but he thought it was important. So it must have been."

  The three looked at Doc. He said nothing. Instead, he turned back to the office where they had been talking with Thorne.

  The office was empty now. Only Doc did not appear surprised.

  Then a startled exclamation came from Ham. His gaze was riveted on several objects lying on a table. There was a wrist watch, a belt buckle and part of a letter.

  "He said he had proof to show that another white man had died," Ham breathed. "And these--"

  "Are Johnny's," Doc concluded.

  For a moment, all four were silent. Their worst fears were realized. Likable Johnny, the big-worded anthropologist, was dead, killed by the mysterious green horror.

  "There might be some mistake," Monk said, but there was no hope in his voice.

  "We can at least find out for sure," Doc Savage said softly.

  IV

  MONK FINDS TROUBLE

  THE newspapers had a field day. Ham paid three cents for an afternoon edition and made a face as he saw the headlines:

  GREEN HELL CURSE KILLS MAN IN N. Y.

  EXPLORER STRICKEN IN DOC SAVAGE'S OFFICE,

  THOUSANDS OF MILES FROM MATTO GROSSO

  A lurid account followed. The victim, it appeared, had gone to Doc Savage's office for advice, but had been dropped by the green death before he could tell his story. There was no mention of the bronze man's second visitor. Doc hadn't seen fit to mention that to the police.

  Monk scowled, looked again at the picture he carried.

  The picture was from an advertisement in a popular magazine. A young woman was shown in the briefest of white bathing suits. She had an excellent figure, one that usually would have more than held the hairy chemist's pleased attention. But now he appeared far from pleased.

  "Daggonit!" he muttered. "How many more places do we have to go before we get results?"

  Ham grinned. "First time I ever heard you complain when you were on the trail of a pretty girl," he gibed.

  Monk's scowl deepened. "And why does a pretty one like her have to be mixed up in this?" he growled. "Where does she fit in, anyway?"

  "She was just using a novel approach to gain your interest," Ham assured him blandly.

  Monk didn't even dignify that one with a reply. His feet were tired. Already, it seemed to him, they had walked a thousand miles on hot New York pavements.

  As Ham swung a cane nonchalantly, Monk consulted an address book and paused. Then he entered an office building, Ham at his heels. They took an elevator to the third floor and walked to an office bearing the sign:

  MEREDITH'S MODEL AGENCY

  As he reached for the knob, the door swung open and a man rushed out, almost knocking the chemist off his feet. One of Monk's big paws shot out, grabbed the other by the shoulder.

  "Watch where you're goin', guy!" he piped.

  The other swore. One hand darted up toward his armpit and his hard face contorted into a snarl.

  A surprised look flashed across Monk's face, then he grinned. His right fist came up, hard. But it didn't connect.

  Ham caught his arm, yanked him back. In the same instant the other lunged and broke free. His hand dropped to his side and he almost ran toward the elevator.

  "Daggonit, Ham," Monk shrilled excitedly, "that guy tried to pull a gun on me? Let me get him! Let me--"

  He was still sputtering as Ham propelled him on into the office of Meredith's Model Agency. The dapper lawyer pulled the advertisement from Monk's hand, dropped it on the desk in front of a good-looking girl.

  "This model listed with your agency?" Ham asked pleasantly. He swung his sword cane with an air of detached boredom.

  The girl's eyes widened slightly. "W-why yes," she said. "That's Gloria Delpane."

  Monk suddenly regained his good humor. "Where does she live? How can we get in touch with her?" he asked swiftly.

  Ham grinned, dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table. "Here is the agency's fee. We prefer to call on her, to make sure she is the type we desire," he explained smoothly.

  The address was given promptly. "But you may have to wait," the girl warned. "Another man was here only a moment ago. He also was asking for Miss Delpane's address. She certainly is getting popular, and--"

  The girl broke off. She no longer had an audience.

  Monk and Ham didn't wait for an elevator. They dived down the stairs three steps at a time, rushed for a cab.

  They were in such a hurry they didn't see the hard-faced man waiting across the street. The man smiled oddly, went into a cigar store and used the telephone.

  AS Ham often pointed out, Monk did have an eye for the girls. The hairy chemist had got only one look at the girl running from Doc's office, but that had been enough. He knew he had seen her before. It took him some time to remember where, however; but when he did, he soon found a magazine containing an ad for which she had posed. The round of model agencies had followed.

  Neither Monk nor Ham had any idea why the hard-faced man also wanted to find the girl. But they did know that something was screwy. The hard-faced one was tough. That had been apparent when he'd started to go for his gun.

  What connection all of this could have with the green death, or Johnny, or why anyone in New York should be taking such an interest in the affair, was more than either could figure out.

  But the girl had got the shirt. Doc wanted it. That was enough for Monk and Ham.

  Doc and Renny also were busy. Their actions were odd.

  Each wore peculiar type glasses. The glasses were almost goggles, with queer-colored lenses and sidepieces that fitted close against the face, keeping out all light.

  They walked with their heads down, while pedestrians stepped aside to give them room. First, they left the big office building; then, they went down the sidewalk to a subway kiosk.

  "Holy cow!" Renny muttered disgustedly.

  Doc said nothing as they entered the underground station and took an uptown local. At every stop they got off, walked up and down the platform, then took another train.

  New Yorkers, accustomed to eccentric sights, paid little attention. But two men did. They might have been brothers of the hard-faced man Monk and H
am had encountered. At least, they had the same expression, and their armpits bulged suspiciously. They trailed Renny and the bronze man.

  Doc did not appear to notice the two.

  Through the glasses, faint, luminous marks were visible. They were marks left by the shoes Thorne wore. Doc had seated his visitor at a spot in his office where the shoes came in contact with a preparation, invisible to the naked eye, but clearly seen through the queer glasses.

  This made it possible to trail Thorne, although use of the subway complicated matters. It was necessary to check each stop, to determine at which the other had left the train. Finding Thorne was important. It was vital to know just where in the Matto Grosso he had seen Johnny killed.

  Doc spoke suddenly to Renny. A startled expression came over the big engineer's face, then he grinned thinly. He took off the goggles he was wearing.

  At the next subway stop, Doc alone appeared when the train came into the station. He got off the rear car. A moment later the two gunmen followed.

  A huge shape materialized behind them. It came from the back of the subway train. Enormous fists, used quite often to drive through solid oak doors, reached out. Each fist fastened in a coat collar.

  The men clawed frantically for their guns. They seemed unable to reach them. Instead, they sailed backward; were hauled off the rear end of the platform, out of sight. There was a short, decisive flurry. Then Renny returned to the platform, a satisfied smile on his severe features. He was alone. The two gunmen, unconscious, were concealed under the platform.

  At the next station, Doc found what he had been looking for. Prints showed their visitor had left the subway at this point. They followed the trail to the street.

  As they reached the sidewalk, the wailing siren of a police car could be heard clearly. In the distance was the clamorous gong of an ambulance.

  A faint frown creased the forehead of the bronze man.

  MONK and Ham got out of their taxi-cab a block from the apartment where Gloria Delpane lived. They had no particular reason for being especially cautious. It was merely habit.