Superman and The Shadow Matchmaker Chronicles Volume 0.5 19/26
Rated PG-13
/ “text”/ indicates telepathic communication
*text* indicates bold
<text> indicates thoughts
{text} indicates over the telephone
Universal Locator designation Alpha 023 x Gamma 004 x Tau -120 – Prime
Universal Locator designation Alpha 025 x Gamma - 086 x Tau 142 Alt 25 Shadow
Preeviously
Almost as if he was reliving this conversation and the shadow was his brother he responded, “Hi Carl.”
Then the guard admonished, “You’ve got five minutes. Better make the most of it. The deputies are here from the state pen to take you bye bye to the big house. I’ll be back,” and he walked away.
Playing the part of Carl, the Shadow said, “Come on in Dwayne, sit on the bunk. I got a lot to talk to you about and there ain’t much time.”
“It’s like a cage where they keep animals ain’t it Carl?”
“Lay off that, Dwayne.”
“Okay, don’t get sore.”
“Sit down here and listen to what I gotta say.”
“Are dey gonna kill ya, Carl?”
“Yeah, but dey’re gnna pay for it, every last one o’ dem. You know who dey are, don’t’cha? I told ya, over n over again.”
”Yeah, Carl, you tole me.”
“You know what I want you to do? You remember everything I tole ya, don’t ya, Dwayne?”
“Yeah, Carl, I remember. I won’t forget. When the newspapers say that they have put you in the death house, I kill one o dem.”
“That’s right, Dwayne, and don’t forget, these people that I told you about … the judge, the jury, the prosecuting attorney, the governor are the same ones that drafted you into the Army, sent you over to France, let you get shell shocked so it’s hard for you to remember things.”
“Sure, I won’t forget. Say, will it hurt much when dey kill ya, Carl?”
“Oh, stop dat, will ya?”
“Okay, okay. I just wanna know.”
“You just keep your mind on the judge and the jury. You’ll get ‘em all, won’t ya, Dwayne?”
“Yeah, yeah, Carl. Dey won’t know what hit ‘em.”
“Dats de stuff, Dwayne. Deres just one more thing. There’s a guy that may get after ya. He’s smarter dan de cops. He’s de one dat really got me. Stay away from him. Don’t give him a chance to find ya.”
“How can I do dat?”
“Ya gotta keep away from him. Don’t go near the flat or de old ladies place.”
“But Ma will worry, if I don’t come home.”
“Ah, no she won’t Dwayne. She’ll know ya got things ta do. Go to Sue’s instead. Dey won’t tink to look for youz dare.”
“All right, Carl. What about the fella I can’t see? Is he dead, like all my buddies in de war, de ones dat talk to me in de dark?”
“No, Dwayne, dis guys different. He ain’t dead, he’s alive. Ya can hear his voice, only ya can’t see him. But if ya ever hear his voice, you’ll know he’s near ya. Somewhere in da shadows.”
Dwayne snickered and said, skeptically, “Yeah? If he talks to me, I’ll fix ‘em, Carl.”
“Sure, but not the way you’re going to get the others, Dwayne, cause ya can’t see ‘im, see? Now look, you won’t be able to aim at something, so just spray the shadows wi’ lead. You might get lucky.”
“All right, Carl, but how will I know when it’s him?”
“You’ll know all right, he has a strange kina laugh and he calls himself, The Shadow."
Just then the guard returned and said, “All right, Powers. Time’s up. Come on, you.”
“Okay, okay. So long, Dwayne. Don’t you forget anything.”
“So long, Carl. I wouldn’t forget. I wouldn’t forget nuttin you tole me.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
What Dwayne didn’t know was that his brother was only using him. After he and the guard had walked away, he had chuckled, malevolently, and said, “That poor dope. He’ll do it all right. He’ll fix ‘em. Every last one o dem if I fry. Da’ll probably get him, but he won’t know no better right up to de day dat dey fry him too.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When Lamont had finished, he exited the room and said to Slade, "Sedate him and deliver him, anonymously, along with the wire recording and the rifle to the police."
And now:
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 19 –
1937
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Universal Locator designation
Alpha 025 x Gamma - 086 x Tau 142 Shadow
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Time passed and with its passing healing occurred. Each day, Lamont got stronger and it became easier for him to breathe. The after a week he was able to move into the sitting room and was able to talk and listen to the radio with faux Margot.
Faux Margot seemed somewhat frustrated and he asked her, “What’s the problem?”
“Oh, it’s nothing really, it’s just that, on an evening like this, Clark and I would cuddle and watch a movie. I … I miss Clark.”
“I wish there was something I could do about that, but right now, what I can do is very limited.”
“I know and understand. Sooner or later we will be able to work on it, hopefully sooner rather than later.”
“What can we do in the meantime?”
Faux Margot asked, “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? We’ve been together for almost a month and I know practically nothing about you.”
“There’s little enough to tell. Let’s see, I was orphaned at an early age…”
“What age?”
“I was born in 1903 and I was ten when my folks were killed in a storm.”
“Oh, my. That sounds very familiar. I know another Clark. His parents were killed in an auto accident when he was ten. How did it happen?”
“All I can remember is that the sky was getting very dark, the wind was blowing really hard and they sent me to the storm shelter. I don’t know why they didn’t join me. They might have been trying to rescue the stock, but I don’t know. Foe a while all I could hear was the wind, it sounded like a freight train passing overhead. The doors to the storm shelter shook and rattled like the wind was trying to rip them from their hinges. Anyhow, after the storm passed, I was alone. When I climbed out of the shelter the devastation was complete. The house and barn had both been destroyed. Oddly enough Mom’s clothesline was still strung between a couple of trees with a couple sets of my clothes pinned to it. Why they weren’t swept away I’ll never know. There wasn’t anything left. The property was mortgaged so there wasn’t anything to sell.”
“That sounds like a tornado. Where were you?”
“We lived in Kansas. A little town you probably never heard of…”
She interrupted, “Smallville.”
He was shocked, “How did you guess that?”
“It had to be. That is Clark’s home town.”
“Amazing, the similarity. Well, like I said, I was ten when all of this happened.”
Faux Margot said, “You poor boy! Orphaned so young! I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t need to be, it made me stronger. They tried to put me in an orphanage, but I ran away. It was the classic tale - young boy runs off to join the circus, but in this case it was a flying circus. Almost as soon as they put me in the orphanage two planes landed in a field nearby. They offered rides for a dime. There were always crowds around the planes. That night I snuck out of the orphanage and climbed into one of the planes. It was a Curtis JN-4, what’s commonly called a Jenny. I hid in the space behind the pilot’s seat, in the fuselage and fell asleep.”
“A bold move for a ten year old!”
“Yes, I guess it was. Well, I didn’t wake up until the next day when they flew to another city. They were surprised when I climbed out and threatened to take me back, but. I convinced them to give me a try as a wing walker. I’ve always been somewhat fearless and that helped. They liked my attitude and kept me on.
One thing I am thankful for, they made me study. They had some school books and when I’d finish those, they got more. I guess you could say I am self-taught.
Pretty soon they taught me to fly. I was big for my age so I was able to reach the pedals. I became a pretty fair pilot, if I do say so myself.
I was almost sixteen when the United States entered the Great War and I was too young to enlist. Early in 1917 I worked my way to France on a steamer and lying about my age, joined the French Air Force. Since I already knew how to fly they were happy to enlist me.
I became a fighter pilot and flew a Sopwith Triplehound. That was the first triplane to see service. Because of its maneuverability and rate-of-climb it was superior to most of the biplanes in use. I would have likes another machine gum, but that would have added too much weight. It only had a single 7.7mm Vickers. Because of the service ceiling of more than 20,000 feet I was usually able to get above my prey. The air is rather thin that high, but for short times, that wasn’t a problem. Within 6 minutes of taking off I was above 6,000 feet and still climbing, reaching 20,000 long before I was over enemy territory. I had to be careful in a dive though. I would risk tearing the wings off if I dove too fast. In it I managed to rack up a number of kills. I was so good at what I did that the Bosch started to call me ‘The Dark Eagle’ partly because of the color of my plane, which was black, and the tactic I liked to use. At 20,000 thousand feet I would be ‘on the perch’ as it is called. That way, if I spotted an enemy plane, I could dive on them and have the advantage of the additional air speed. I had the knack of being able to determine just the right amount of ‘lead’ to apply before shooting so that they flew right into my bullets. It was very seldom that I returned to the aerodrome with any ammunition left and it was a rare occasion when my machine had any bullet holes in it.
One regret that I have is that I never encountered Manfred von Richthofen. My God what a duel that would have been, the Dark Eagle in the Triplehound against the Red Baron in his red Fokker DR-1 triplane. But I was shot down behind enemy lines before that could happen. All I can say is that it was a lucky shot. The Bosch pilot hit my engine and knocked it out. When my engine was hit I dove to get away from him. That was the closest I ever came to tearing my wings off, but I retained control and was still able to make a dead stick landing. Think of that as being somewhere between and landing and a crash. I evaded capture and used that time to spy out German gun emplacements of which I informed the French when I returned. That started my career as a spy. There were many times during that assignment that I wished that I could become invisible.”
“No wonder!”
“At the conclusion of the war I didn’t want to go home. There was nothing there for me. Also, I had the urge to see the world so I collected my back pay, ‘borrowed’ a Spad and flew east. I created quite a stir as I crossed the continent, following the rising sun. When the plane wouldn’t go any farther and I couldn’t afford the repairs, I sold the plane and rode the train. I traveled throughout the near and far east and Africa. I was fascinated by what I saw the mystics do and wanted to master those skills myself. I sought out holy men and Fakirs to study under. I learned the almost forgotten mysteries of the mind.”
Holding up his hand, he displayed the girasol and said, “I was given this gem by one of them to help me focus my powers. When I became proficient in the arts of the mind, I returned to the States and began my career as a crime fighter.”
“Wow, that’s some story. Clark traveled around the world after he graduated from Journalism School. He did it to broaden his horizons and also to hide what he could do. He felt compelled to help people and as long as he could do it in secret, everything was fine, but if too many ‘miraculous’ incidents happened in an area, people would start to ask questions and he would have to move on. That all ended when he came to Metropolis. We met and he decided he didn’t want to move anymore so he found a way to help without anyone knowing who it was that was helping.”
“His secret identity.”
“Right, a flashy suit, a different hair style and no glasses. You’d be surprised how different he looks. When did The Shadow first appear?”
“I returned to the States in 1927 after almost ten years in the orient. And that brings us up to today.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“For telling me. Okay, now, tell me this, how did Powers shoot you?"
"It was my own fault. Powers had taken his shot. I wanted to prevent him from firing a second time, so I laughed. Apparently he had been warned about me. I am fairly certain that he couldn't see me, but he fired into the shadows. His second shot was a lucky one. It hit me in the shoulder and knocked me off my perch. My fingertips managed to drag along the girder which changed my angle of fall. If not for that I would have fallen all the way to the ground. As it was, I fell two stories into that notch you found me in."
Returning to the previous topic, he said, “If you wish, we could go out to a movie.”
“Not in the condition you are in. If I was home with Clark, we wouldn’t have to go out. We could just pop a tape into the player and watch it on the TV.”
“What’s a TV?”
“That’s short for television.”
“Ah, television, I’ve heard that Doc Savage is working on that. It produces images on a scanning monitor. From what I’ve heard, its black and white images aren’t very clear.”
“Oh, no. In the future, it is wonderfully clear and in color. Lethal weapon is one of my favorites.”
“Lethal weapon?”
“It’s a story about a couple of cops.”
“Well, the best I can do is the radio, but we could still … cuddle. I have to admit, I miss the closeness that Margot and I share.”
“And I miss Clark.” She thought a second and then moved over next to him on the sofa.” He looped his free arm across her shoulders as they listened to some radio programs.
They listened to
’The Romances of Helen Trent’ and faux Margot was struck with the similarity to
‘The Ivory Tower’, they laughed at comedies such as
’Lum and Abner’ or
’Fibber McGee and Molly’ and the antics of Charlie McCarthy on
’The Chase and Sanborn Hour’. They thrilled to the adventures of
’The Lone Ranger’ and
’Gangbusters.
Over the next days, they spent many pleasant hours in this way while he recuperated.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Seven days after the capture of Dwayne Powers, Doctor Sayre paid a visit to Lamont and faux Margot. Margot answered the door, “Welcome, doctor. Your patient is in his bedroom.”
Faux Margot led the way and as they entered the bedroom and the doctor asked, “Has he behaved himself?”
“Not at first. Then we came to an agreement. I would let him feed himself,
if he behaved.”
Lamont, contritely, added, “You know how it is, doctor. One’s dignity…”
The doctor laughed and said, “I don’t know anyone else that could have done that. My compliments, my dear.” He set his bag down and said, “Now, if you will assist me, I need to examine those gunshot wounds. Help me get his shirt off.”
Faux Margot said, “Whatever you say, doctor,” as she moved to comply.
Once his shirt was off the doctor examined the wounds, emitting various ummmms and ahhhhs as he did. When he finished he reached into his bag and pulled out a very small pair of scissors. They had a small semi-circle removed from the base just below the tip. Faux Margot saw them and asked, “Are those scissors damaged?”
Looking at the curiously, he asked, “Oh, you mean the cutout?”
“Yes.”
“No, they were designed this way. These are suture scissors. Let me show you.” He first used a gauze pad soaked in alcohol to disinfect the area then he inserted the tip of the scissors between the skin and the suture. He said, “See how the suture stays in the cutout and doesn’t slip as I cut.” With a snip he cut the suture, repeating the process until all were separated. Then he grabbed a hemostat. Holding it up, he said, “See these catches?”
“Yes.”
“They lock so that whatever they are holding will be held securely.” He clamped the hemostat on the knot of one of the sutures and said, “This will sting a bit.” And without any preamble, he pulled the suture out.
As he did, Lamont winced and said, “Ouch! You were right!”
The doctor swabbed the area again and said, “All done. Keep the sling on for two more days else you run the risk of opening these wounds again.” Turning to faux Margot, he said, “Keep up the good work. In a couple more days, he can be on his own.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Now, let’s check those ribs.” He started poking and prodding. There were a few winces of pain from Lamont, but the doctor pronounced, “Let’s get those bandages off. I think they have served their purpose.” After doing that he packed his bag and left.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The next day, they were having breakfast when faux Margot asked, “Doesn’t Margot have a home of her own? After all, she wasn’t leaving here when we exchanged places. It has been a whirlwind of activity since I arrived and I needed to be here to take care of you and all, but I think it’s time.”
“Yes, Margot has her own apartment. It is closer to her parent’s apartment.”
“Don’t you think that for appearances sake, I should be living there instead of here? Besides, the selection of clothing here is rather limited.”
“I have a spare key to her apartment. I’ll give it to you and you can have Shrevvy drive you home. When do you plan to leave?”
“This afternoon, if that’s okay with you.”
“I have to admit, I’ll miss your presence.”
“And I’ll miss you, but I think we need to do this.”
“You’re right. I’ll have Shrevvy pick you up at noon.”
“I think the first stop should be the Lane apartment. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but I think I need to see my ‘father’ and reassure him that we are working on straightening this mess out.”
“We haven’t been able to do anything as yet. What will you tell him?”
“I can at least reassure him that as long as his daughter is with my fiancé that she will be treated like a royal princess. I don’t know how much that will help, but maybe it will … some.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
In 1929 Harry Vincent had the world by the tail. He was an up and coming Wall Street investor and had a very lovely fiancée, at least that was the way it was until October 29th.
October 29, 1929, was Black Tuesday, the day the market crashed! Suddenly all the investments that Harry had were worth a very small fraction of what they had just the day before.
At the end of the day, Harry was in shock at what had happened. He didn’t even know how he got there, but he found himself at his fiancée’s door. When she opened the door, he babbled about how he had lost everything. That was when she proved that she really hadn’t loved him, just the position and wealth he had accumulated by asking him to leave and suggesting that since he was worthless, maybe it would be best to end his life and slamming the door in his face.
The next thing that Harry knew, he was standing on the parapet of a bridge over the Hudson River, looking down at the murky water far below.
He was about to step into space and oblivion when a voice stopped him.
Unknown to Harry Vincent, sometime earlier, Kent Allard had moved to New York and assumed the identity of Lamont Cranston. This had been accomplished by Allard making a deal with Cranston. Cranston was to travel the world, never returning to New York and Allard would have the use of his name, position and funds. It may have seemed a little harsh, but Cranston had more money than he knew what to do with and an extended vacation was no real hardship.
As Cranston, Allard, had been watching Vincent as he dealt with his customers in the exchange and had been impressed with his honesty in his dealings. He had takin a liking to the young man. Cranston’s holdings were safely diversified so the crash had minimal effect on him, but he watched the effect the crash had on Vincent and was concerned for the young man.
He followed him as he left the exchange, a broken man, to his fiancée’s apartment. From the shadows he observed her treatment of him and followed him to the bridge. As Harry was standing on the parapet, preparing to end his own life, Lamont spoke, “Harry Vincent!”
Startled, Vincent turned toward the voice, “Who called me?”
Stepping from the shadows, Lamont, his visage obscured by the cloak and slouch hat he wore and which would become well known to the underworld, said, “I did. Harry Vincent, all is not as hopeless as it may seem to be.”
“How can you say that? I’ve lost everything, my money,” he shorted, “my girl. I have nothing left. I have no reason to live.”
“Perhaps I can give you a reason to live. I can give your life a new purpose.”
“Oh, and what would that be?”
“Making the world a better and safer place to live.”
Harry snorted, “That’s a lofty goal. How could I help to do that?”
“Become my agent. Obey my orders without question. Your duties may at times include some danger, but not always. In return you will be paid regularly and you will be assisting me to aid the police in bringing malefactors to justice.”
“How do I know that this is on the up and up?”
“Tomorrow you will receive your first salary payment. It will be deposited to your checking account.”
“How will I get in contact with you?”
“You will receive instructions. Return to your home and get a good night’s sleep. You have a new future ahead of you.”
“What do I call you?”
“You may call me what the underworld will soon be calling me, The Shadow.”
Harry muttered, in awe, “The Shadow,” and when he looked again, the Shadow had disappeared.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
That incident had occurred almost exactly eight years prior and Harry Vincent had not regretted his decision in all of that time. The work that he did for The Shadow was rewarding. He was actually doing something that produced a positive result by diminishing the criminal population of the city. Part of his job was to maintain familiarity with the underworld and those in it.
When The Shadow had needed someone to observe and report, he had detailed Harry Vincent to watch and the man he was watching had started recruiting a gang. He didn’t question how The Shadow learned that there were new players in the city, he just received his orders and carried them out to the best of his ability. In this case, he had been assigned to watch a tenement, note who went in and came out then report. The Shadow hadn’t
told him, but he
surmised that this was a new gang being formed.
He came to this conclusion by seeing the number of tough looking customers that passed in and out of the building. A couple of them he recognized from having seen before, mostly on FBI wanted posters. Their crimes ranged from robbery to murder. He made meticulous notes and passed them on to Burbank on a regular schedule.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
As soon as the Powers murders had been dealt with, while Lamont continued to recuperate, Lamont had called the ever vigilant Burbank. No matter what time, day or night that he was called, Burbank always answered, phone or radio. {Burbank} “Orders. Have Cliff contact Harry. He’s to get the list of gang members. If there are any that Cliff knows he’s to ‘accidentally’ contact him and see if he can become a member of the gang. Once he is in, he should set up a regular drop with Harry.”
{Orders received.}
Cliff Masrland had been an agent of The Shadow almost as long as Harry Vincent. Cliff had been wrongly convicted of a crime and had spent time in Sing-Sing. The Shadow had been instrumental in obtaining his release and recruited him on the spot. In gratitude for what he had done, Cliff gladly joined the Shadow’s organization. He had changed his name, but because of his jail time he had an entrée into gangs that regular men would lack.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
As part of his work for The Shadow, Harry had practiced following individuals without being detected. For this kind of duty, Harry had been directed to buy a non-descript black sedan of a common make and had received the funds to make the purchase.
Cliff and Harry would meet, casually, at odd intervals, in a local bar. They never sat near one another, but managed to slip notes to each other in passing. One day, approximately a month into his watching, Cliff passed him a note alerting him to two things, first the name of the gang was the ‘Fugit’ gang. It was named after their leader, as gangs usually are, T. Fugit. Cliff speculated that it was an abbreviation for Fugitive and that by using that abbreviation the leader was casting his status in the teeth of the police. The second was the fact that the gang was moving. In order to determine where their new headquarters was to be, he followed them.
Following, without being seen became increasingly difficult as they left the city and moved onto Long Island. He had to drop back farther so that he wasn’t detected, but he saw where they stopped. It was a two story house on the outskirts of Islip, just down from the hospital. Once he was sure of the location, he went to a drug store and placed a call. {Burbank} “Vincent reporting. The Fugit gang has moved. Details will follow in writing.”
{Report received. Find a new residence so that you can continue to watch.}
“Understood.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Shadow allowed his agents a lot of leeway in their activities. Some were much more dangerous than others. In this instance, Cliff was in a tremendous amount of danger. One false move and he could be discovered. If that happened, his life expectancy could abruptly be reduced to zero.
Parts of the gang had been formed early on and they had carried out several minor heists to fund their activities while they prepared for a major job.
After Cliff joined the gang, they committed a series of liquor store hold-ups that he had been able to avoid participating in by simply acting as lookout while the actual crime was committed by the other members of the gang. It hadn’t been easy to maneuver Fugit, as he preferred to be called, into giving him that assignment, but he had managed.
Cliff worked to establish a reputation as a solitary, but moderate drinker so it was accepted by the other members of the gang when he went to the local bar. Whenever one of the other members went to the same bar, they always saw him sitting, by himself at the end of the bar, away from the door, nursing a beer and listening to the music or the fights on the radio.
Invariably, Harry Vincent was there also, but none of the other gang members, or anyone else for that matter, ever associated the two. The seat that Cliff chose to inhabit was nearest the men’s room and there was a more or less constant stream of men passing his seat throughout the evening. One of them would be Harry Vincent. Harry would time his trips so that he would have to pause while someone was entering or exiting. That pause enabled him to pass notes with Cliff. The notes he passed to Cliff were on rice paper which was used to wrap a stick of gum. The ‘ink’ used was simply milk. The writing would be invisible until the paper was heated, then the writing would turn brown so that once it had been read, Cliff could simply chew it up and swallow it.
After Cliff had been with the gang for a month, he got wind of what the big job was going to be. There was a shipment of gold coming into the port of New York. It, along with gold coins accumulated in the recall signed by President Roosevelt, was scheduled to be shipped to the mint in Philadelphia to be melted down into ingots.
Cliff was kept supplied with gum by Harry and once he found this out he used a pen and some milk to write out the details on a gum wrapper. Once he was finished, he announced his intention to go to the bar as he passed through the sitting room where the rest of the gang was gathered. Some were playing poker and others were throwing dice in a corner. The rest were sitting around talking and drinking or listening to the music on the radio. The gang had reached a respectable size. Along with Fugit and Cliff there were eleven others, all of them hard cases.
Cliff’s habits were so well known that no one even thought to question his departure.
At the bar Cliff and Harry managed to exchange sticks of chewing gum.
Harry immediately passed the word to Burbank.
It had been almost a month since faux Margot had moved to Margot’s apartment when Lamont received the report.
Burbank checked a shipping schedule and called The Shadow. {Burbank.}
“Report.”
{Report from Marsland. The target is a gold shipment arriving at the Port of New York the day after tomorrow. A daylight delivery.”
The Shadow took a few seconds to mull this over and decided how to act. “Orders. Tell Cliff to be prepared to subdue Fugit when I infiltrate the gang’s hideout. Tomorrow night I strike.”
{Understood.}
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