Part 13 (1/2)

”I do not know,” the little man replied. His voice was curiously flat and lifeless. ”No one has ever seenhim. Orders are given through others.”

”Where is he now?” the bronze man asked.

”An . . . an island, that is all I know.”

Renny snorted. ”This bird isn't telling us anything.”

Johnny pointed to a map. He pointed to the longitude and lat.i.tude that had been given by the ”boss.”

”But may I point out,” he said, his use of small words showing his seriousness, ”that there is no island at this location.”

”The pirate sub?” Renny speculated.

”That-or the sea serpent,” Doc said quietly.

PETE MILLS' scarred features wore as near a pleasant expression as his perpetual leer would permit.

The captain of the pirate sub was well pleased with himself. His crew of gunmen and thugs was pleased also. Their last trip was nearly through.

And it had been a successful trip. Mills' grin grew broader as he thought of the s.h.i.+ps they had sunk, the crews they had murdered, almost under the guns of wars.h.i.+ps from a dozen nations.

”I may have been only an enlisted man in the navy, but boy, I've done a job those Annapolis babies couldn't have done!” Mills exulted.

Mills chose to overlook the fact that his. .h.i.tch in the navy had come at a time when he'd been on the lam from a murder charge.

He'd deserted abruptly when civil authorities had got on his trail.

The cargo-carrying submarine was loaded to capacity. And Mills believed he had shown good judgment.

He'd taken only stuff that could be recrated and sold with little danger of its source ever being traced.

Only one job remained, and that shouldn't be too tough.

Doc Savage had to be disposed of.

Mills forgot that he had been afraid of the bronze man not long before. But there was a reason for that.

The ”boss” had figured out a perfect trap, one that not even Doc Savage could get out of.

”Then back to home port, and after that-”

A cold gleam came to Pete Mills' killer eyes. The ”boss” was smart, but not too smart, Pete decided.

The ”boss” intended to kill him when his usefulness was through. He knew that.

What the ”boss” didn't know was that Pete intended to do the killing first, and he hadn't picked himself as the victim.

The pirate sub swung slightly in an ocean current. Pete wondered if he should put her down on the bottom for a time, then decided against it.

The trap was all set. All he had to do was wait.The scarred-faced man picked up headphones that connected with the listening devices, strained his ears.

Faintly, still far away, he picked up the sound of an approaching boat.

From the beat of the propeller he could tell that it was a submarine approaching under the surface.

Doc Savage was on his way. Soon he would die.

AND the death of Doc Savage was being demanded throughout the world with redoubled fury.

The captain of the British submarine had made his report.

There was no longer any doubt, even in the minds of Doc's strongest admirers. The bronze man was connected with the terror that menaced the entire Atlantic coast.

”He had the effrontery to try and bargain with me,” the British captain told newspapermen. The captain drew himself up haughtily. ”I refused to bargain, of course.

”If . . . if something unforeseen hadn't gone wrong with our propeller and diving planes just then, we'd have caught the blighter. But we will get him.”

The story created a sensation. Newspapers throughout the United States started a reward fund. The government itself posted a million dollars for the capture of the bronze man.

A tall man with ramrod back heard of the reward over the radio. His square features broke into an unaccustomed smile.

This was a break he hadn't expected.

”I'll get that reward,” he decided.

He glanced at his watch. Unless his calculations were wrong, Doc Savage would die within the next few minutes-or at least would be in a position from which escape would be impossible.

The tall man chuckled mirthlessly. It really was ironic, he thought, but he-the man responsible for the terror-was going to be idolized, was going to be paid a million dollars.

He would be hailed as a public hero because he destroyed Doc Savage.

”And I'll show them his body, too,” he promised.

The bronze man and his aids were the only ones who had different ideas.

The faint sound Pete Mills had heard through the listening device faded. A worried expression crossed Mills' leering features. He barked sharp orders.

The pirate sub got under way.

A mile away, Doc's undersea craft had halted on orders from the bronze man. It remained motionless exactly twenty minutes.

Then Long Tom started the motors again. He followed the course charted by the bronze man. They forged ahead slowly.

Renny came in from the engine room. A thin sheath of perspiration covered his big face. Johnny kept putting his monocle in his eye, dropping it, then replacing it.Long Tom glanced anxiously at the chart, then at the instruments on the panel before him. His features grew more and more strained.

”Find Doc. Tell him to come here,” he urged.