The Avenger 32 - The Death Machine by Kenneth Robeson Read Free Book Online Page B

the tombstones and grave markers when the rear door of the hearse swung open. A lean young man armed with a submachine gun leaped down and commenced firing.
    Smitty hit the dirt.
    Chips off the wide marble tombstone that stood between Smitty and the gunman went spinning into the misty air. The stone had the name Spot carved on its face.
    “ ‘Faithful friend & obedient companion—1930–1938,’ ” Smitty read to himself. “Must have been some dog.”
    The tommy gun chattered again.
    In the silence that followed the lean young man called, “We got you pinned down, big boy. Toss out your gun!”
    “In a pig’s eye,” replied Smitty.
    “Okay, then I’m going to finish—”
    The young man yelled and the machine gun rattled against a gravestone. He howled, danced around on the grassy graves.
    The giant took a look.
    The Avenger was a few feet from the gunman. He moved nearer, delivered a stunning blow to the chin.
    As the gunman fell, Benson pulled his throwing knife out of the young man’s right arm.
    “Other guy’s out cold,” announced Smitty. He’d come up to examine the front seat of the dog hearse. “Hit his noggin against the steering wheel when they crashed.”
    “You were a little impetuous,” said the Avenger, wiping and resheathing the knife.
    “Aw . . . well, maybe so. But we got these bozos.”
    “Yes, and now we’ll ask them a few questions,” said the Avenger.

    Dr. Friessen swayed slightly in the straightback chair. “I know nothing about that,” he said in a droning voice.
    The Avenger had broken a vial of the highly effective truth gas MacMurdie had perfected under the nose of the blond doctor. The other two cemetery employees, bound and gagged, were in the garage awaiting their turns to be questioned.
    “You don’t know what the murdered men have in common?”
    “No, I do not,” replied the drugged doctor. “I merely serve the homeland as best I can.”
    “Were you involved in the killing of all eight?”
    “I killed no one.”
    “Your truck was used in the murder of Professor Sullivan.”
    “Yes, we were asked to assist in that assignment.”
    “Who made the request?”
    “He has no name. He is known to me only as 72SBR.”
    “What does he look like?”
    “I don’t know. All my orders come by phone. He has a very raspy voice, though that may be an affectation.”
    “The machine which was used on Sullivan. What does it look like?”
    “It is black, about the size of a small suitcase. I’ve never seen it, but Neddy described it to me.”
    “Who is Neddy?”
    “My assistant, the poor boy you so brutally stabbed.”
    “He went along on the night of the killing?”
    “Yes, Neddy drove the hearse.”
    “Who handled the death machine?”
    “A young fellow. I didn’t see him, since I didn’t go along. Neddy was instructed to pick him up on a certain street corner in San Francisco.”
    “Where?”
    “Corner of Sacramento and Laurel.”
    The Avenger leaned closer to him. “Do you know who else is on the list of victims?”
    “I’m not supposed to.”
    “But do you?”
    “The young man let some names slip to Neddy. I know the next three targets.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Professor Hershman, Dr. Dahler and Professor Markowitz.”
    “It’s too late for Hershman,” said the Avenger. “But we’ll save Dahler and Markowitz.”

CHAPTER XII

Eyes Wide Open
    The man with the bullfrog voice said, “Things are going very well, exactly as my horoscope predicted.” He was dragging a heavy sack across a leaf-strewn stretch of yard behind the Pirate Castle.
    A squat man in a pinstripe suit was opening the back doors of a panel truck. On the truck’s side a bunch of daisies was painted. “A horoscope you get out of the newspaper, what can it know?”
    “Take that end of the sack, Windus.”
    Windus obliged and the two of them heaved Uncle Algernon into the back of the truck. “The only way you can get anything valid from a horoscope is by having a competent astrologer