The Avenger 30 - Black Chariots by Kenneth Robeson Read Free Book Online Page A

room’s coffee table. “A veritable castle, is it?”
    “According to what Heinz was compelled to tell us,” said the Avenger.
    Smitty was roaming the hotel room, restless. “That Early guy is going to beat us to the punch,” he said. “This here sheriff is going to fill him in on everything we told him. And with Agent Early’s drag in Washington, he may be able to find out more about those bozos.”
    “No more than we learned when we used the truth gas,” Benson assured him. “Anyway, we’re not in a contest with Don Early.”
    “He thinks we are.”
    “I don’t play by other people’s rules.”
    Smitty shrugged. “Too bad those three clunks didn’t know more.”
    “Only underlings they were,” said MacMurdie.
    “Heinz was the only one who had any contact with the people who employed his gang,” said Benson.
    “Aye, and even he has only a vague idea of what the skurlies are up to.”
    “It’s obviously espionage of some kind,” the Avenger said. “Heinz and company were used to handle simple jobs of dirty works. They’re domestic crooks, for hire.”
    “They didn’t even put in the first team against as,” remarked Smitty.
    “They will now,” Mac assured him.
    “How does all this link up with the chariots?” said Smitty. “Heinz didn’t know much about them at all, and he had no idea who killed Ralph.”
    “Before we answer any more questions,” said Benson, “we’re going to have to do some more digging.” He tapped the map. “Heinz got his instructions, and his pay, from this Old Man Guptill.”
    “That’s kind of funny,” said Smitty. “I heard about that guy, he’s something of a local character—they got a lot of oddballs in these parts. Way I got the story, though, this Guptill coot has been holed up in his castle in the desert for years, since the Depression, just about. Seems funny he’d turn into a spy all of a sudden.”
    “Mot nae be all of a sudden,” said Mac.
    “Guptill may have been planted here years ago and told to wait,” said Benson. “We’ve encountered other Axis agents of that sort, you’ll recall.”
    “Sure, like that guy back in Connecticut that time,” replied Smitty.
    “There are several possible explanations for Guptill’s part in all this.” The Avenger stood up. “We’ll look into that now.”

CHAPTER XIII

Merger
    “I don’t mind surly waiters,” remarked Cole Wilson, “but this is carrying it a bit far.” He dodged as the red-coated waiter threw another punch at him.
    The waiter, a low-foreheaded man with crinkly red hair, stumbled on by Cole, tripped over the foot Cole had placed in front of him, and whammed head-first into a table.
    Glasses, a lit candle, and a copper ashtray were seesawed up into the chill air of the cocktail lounge.
    The waiter fell, sprawled, and the highball glasses, shedding ice cubes, fell down on top of him. The candle missed him, extinguishing itself in the thick scarlet carpeting. The landing ashtray caught him square on the back of the skull.
    “Another one coming,” warned Nellie. “Two, in fact.”
    Two large men in dark suits were emerging from a door behind the long bar. They said nothing, only grunted, as they galloped toward Cole.
    “Gentlemen,” said Cole with a grin, “I trust you’ll be honorable enough to fight me one at a—oops!”
    Both of them tackled him, one high and one low.
    “Okay,” sighed Nellie, “I might as well get in on this.”
    “Leave ’em be,” cautioned the bartender, a bald man who now had a .32 revolver in his left hand.
    “Oh, fudge,” said the little blonde. She bent, as though to straighten a stocking. When she came up, very swiftly, a bar stool rose up, too.
    Its tufted seat whumped into the bald bartender’s chin. “Unk,” he remarked as his teeth clacked tight together.
    The pistol fell down behind the bar. So did the bartender.
    Nellie rubbed her palms together and strode to the tangle that was Cole and his two assailants. Though she