mg.cityofcrime-第2部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


at…footed　on　the　sidewalk；　against　the　paintless　back　wall　of　the　hotel。
　Maclare；　swinging　about；　stood　scowling　from　the　center　of　his　raiders。
　Snarled　oaths　sounded　from　fences　and　roofs；　delivered　by　thugs　who　were　out　of　sight　behind　the　searchlights。　A　harsh　voice　barked　an　order。　Revolvers　crackled　from　the　darkness。　There　was　a　sharp　rattle；　the　opening　outburst　of　a　machine　gun。　It　ended　almost　instantly；　for　the　trigger　man　had　started　it　too　soon。
　That　warning　sound　told　how　hopelessly　the　police　were　trapped。　Crooks　had　surprised　the　raiders。　Hidden　in　ambush；　men　of　crime　were　equipped　to　wipe　out　Lieutenant　Maclare　and　his　entire　squad　at　an　instant's　notice。
　
　
　CHAPTER　II　
　SCATTERED　HORDES　
　THE　menace　of　the　situation　was　but　partially　grasped　by　Lieutenant　James　Maclare。　He　and　his　men　had　faced　about；　they　were　blinking　at　the　blinding　searchlights。　None　had　been　hit　by　the　first　revolver　fire；　the　machine　gun　had　stopped　without　delivering　death。
　It　occurred　to　Maclare　that　ambushed　crooks　had　intended　no　more　than　a　warning；　that　they　were　afraid　to　deliver　heavy　fire　because　their　own　men　were　ing　from　the　hotel。　Looking　about；　Maclare　saw　that　a　dozen　fugitives　had　arrived；　but　they　were　no　longer　in　flight。　They　were　a　leering；　contemptuous　throng；　massed　upon　the　back　steps　of　the　hotel。
　Like　the　thugs　behind　the　searchlights；　these　crooks　had　the　police　covered。　The　inference　seemed　plain　to　Maclare。　If　the　police　stood　by　and　let　the　crooks　from　the　hotel　make　their　get…away；　there　would　be　no　massacre。
　Maclare　was　partly　right　in　this　conclusion。　He　was　to　learn　later　just　how　far　he　was　wrong。　Sizing　the　situation；　the　lieutenant　realized　that　he　could　not　count　on　aid　from　Sergeant　Cassley；　he　knew　also　that　the　Flying　Squadron　would　not　arrive　for　ten　minutes。　Much　though　he　hated　to　see　crooks　gain　their　way；　Maclare　could　not　forget　the　welfare　of　his　men。　He　saw　no　use　in　allowing　the　slaughter　of　his　squad。
　Scowling；　the　lieutenant　lowered　his　revolver　and　stepped　out　into　the　middle　of　the　street。　His　move　was　an　order　for　his　men　to　spread　away　and　let　the　armed　men　from　the　hotel　make　a　calm　departure。
　It　was　not　until　he　had　detached　himself　from　his　squad；　that　Maclare　realized　another　purpose　behind　the　ambush。　Hardly　was　the　lieutenant　standing　entirely　alone　before　a　rasped　voice　called　from　a　low　roof　top：
　〃Get　Maclare！〃
　One　man　alone　was　marked　to　die；　that　was　Maclare　himself。　Crooks　wanted　the　raiding　lieutenant　dead；　they　were　contemptuous　of　the　policemen　who　formed　the　squad。　Maclare；　by　his　own　action；　had　placed　himself　in　the　very　spot　that　his　enemies　wanted。
　Bluecoats；　like　crooks；　heard　the　death　order。　The　cry　electrified　them。
　They　responded　more　quickly　than　the　gloating　thugs。　They　were　loyal　to　Maclare；　the　danger　that　threatened　him　was　to　be　theirs。　Almost　as　one；　the　policemen　raised　their　guns。　Some　aimed　blindly　for　the　coal　yards；　along　with　Maclare；　others　wheeled　about；　to　fire　at　men　whom　they　could　see。　Their　targets　were　the　massed　thugs　on　the　steps。
　The　scene　was　set　for　massacre。　The　street　looked　like　the　stage　of　a　theater；　beneath　the　glare　of　a　spotlight。　All　eyes　were　focused　upon　Maclare；　with　the　bluecoats　clustering　about　him。　The　patrol　wagons；　standing　deserted　on　either　side；　were　like　the　wings　of　the　stage。　All　was　dim　beyond　those　vehicles。
　
　
　DURING　these　tense　moments；　an　event　had　occurred　offstage。　Unseen；　a　figure　had　e　up　to　the　far　side　of　a　patrol　wagon；　almost　beneath　the　shelter　of　a　coal　yard　fence。　Like　an　actor　expecting　his　cue；　this　silent　arrival　had　risen　on　the　running　board　of　a　black　Maria。　His　head　and　shoulders　projected　above　the　wagon　top；　where　they　were　outlined　dimly　by　the　fringe　of　a　searchlight's　path。
　That　head　was　topped　by　a　slouch　hat。　The　shoulders　were　shrouded　by　a　black　cloak。　Two　black…gloved　fists　projected　from　the　cloak；　each　gripped　the　heavy　handle　of　a　。45　automatic。　Those　guns　were　leveled　at　the　instant　the　hidden　crook　shouted　the　word　to　get　Maclare。
　As　policemen　leaped　to　Maclare's　side；　ready　to　die　with　their　leader；　that　strange　marksman　loosed　the　fire　of　one　gun　from　atop　the　black　Maria。　His　target　was　a　large　one；　he　picked　the　glass　front　of　a　blazing　searchlight。　As　his　trigger　finger　tugged；　a　bullet　ripped　to　its　mark。　The　searchlight　vanished　with　a　clatter　of　glass。
　Crooks　gazed　toward　the　patrol　wagon。　They　saw　no　one；　for　the　marksman　had　picked　the　nearer　searchlight　and　was　no　longer　in　the　edge　of　the　glare。
　But　mobsters　saw　the　next　token　that　came　from　the　blotted　wagon　top。　It　was　another　stab　of　flame；　loosed　from　the　second　automatic。
　Another　crash　marked　the　finish　of　the　second　searchlight。　The　street　looked　black；　feeble　lamplights　and　illumination　from　the　hotel　were　pitiful　at　best。　They　were　pletely　inadequate　as　an　aftermath　to　the　glare　that　had　been　so　promptly　extinguished。
　From　the　sheltering　patrol　wagon　came　a　sudden　sound　that　belonged　with　darkness。　It　was　the　strident　burst　of　a　sinister；　mocking　laugh；　that　brought　alarm　to　every　thug　who　was　straining　his　eyes　to　offset　the　gloom。
　Men　of　crime　knew　that　taunt。　It　was　the　laugh　of　The　Shadow！
　Black…clad　master　who　battled　evil；　The　Shadow　was　here　in　Westford；　covering　the　very　spot　where　slaughter　had　been　ordered。　His　first　coup　had　been　to　deprive　crooks　of　their　most　important　weapons：　those　searchlights　on　the　coal　yard　roofs。　With　two　strategic　shots；　The　Shadow　had　equalized　the　battleground。
　True；　crooks　outnumbered　Maclare　and　his　squad；　they　also　had　machine　guns　in　readiness。　But　the　law　had　gained　an　ally　whose　strength　could　offset　a　score　of　foemen。　The　Shadow　was　on　hand；　prepared　for　instant　battle。
　Again；　the　automatics　spoke。　From　his　vantage　point；　The　Shadow　fired　along　the　fence　top。　Lieutenant　Maclare　shouted　an　order。　Policemen　dived　everywhere；　firing　as　they　took　to　cover。　Revolvers　spat　from　the　coal　yard；　machine　guns　began　a　hasty　rattle。　Thugs　at　the　doorways　of　the　Mississippi　Hotel　came　leaping　down　the　steps；　cutting　loose　with　their　revolvers。
　Those　mobsters　in　ambush　fired　for　the　area　where　Maclare　and　his　men　had　clustered。　They　fired　uselessly；　for　the　police　had　spread。　Those　ing　from　the　hotel　sizzled　futile　shots　in　the　direction　of　the　patrol　wagon。　They；　too；　were　late。　The　Shadow　had　sprung　to　the　fence；　e　up　to　the　top　and　slugged　down　a　lone　thug　who　was　stationed　on　the　flank。
　All　that　carried　menace　were　the　machine　guns；　for　they　began　to　spray　their　fire。　There　were　two　of　them；　clicking　like　typewriters　from　a　roof　top　midway　along　the　fence。　One　rattling　weapon　ceased；　as　The　Shadow　blasted　a　fusillade　at　the　gunners　behind　it。　He　had　picked　them　by　the　spurting　fire。
　
　
　CROOKS　fired　for　The　Shadow；　but　their　shots　were　wide。　He　had　e　up　to　a　roof　top；　there；　he　ripped　another　barrage；　that　settled　the　men　who　handled　the　second　machine　gun。　Both　weapons　were　silenced；　everywhere；　crooks　were　springing　to　the　ground；　to　avoid　the　enfolding　fire　that　The　Shadow　had　begun。
　By　outflanking　the　foe；　The　Shadow　had　routed　all　but　a　few；　they　were　the　ones　upon　the　very　roof　top　where　he　had　so　suddenly　arrived。
　Three　in　number；　those　crooks　leaped　forward　with　swinging　revolvers；　hoping　to　beat　down　the　fighter　whose　shape　was　vague　before　their　eyes。　An　automatic　thudded　against　a　skull；　the　other　。45　spat　its　singeing　flame　between　the　eyes　of　an　attacker。　The　third　crook　dived　for　the　ground　as　his　panions　sprawled。
　Meanwhile；　Maclare　and　his　squad　had　done　gallant　duty。　Flattened　in　the　street；　some　had　aimed　for　the　fence　and　roof　tops；　while　others　had　delivered　quick　fire　toward　the　open　doors　of　the　hotel。　This　choice　had　been　a　smart　one；　the　officers　who　took　it　gained　massed　targets。　Thugs　who　had　wasted　opening　shots　at　the　patrol　wagon　were　caught　against　the　framed　light　of　doorways。　Four　sagged　in　quick　succession。
　Scattering　crooks　had　paused　to　aim　for　the　low　roof　where　The　Shadow　had　handled　three　foemen。　They　blazed　for　that　darkened　spot；　again　to　no　avail。
　The　Shadow　had　dropped　from　the　back　of　the　roof；　he　was　crossing　the　tracks　of　the　railroad　yard。　His　quick　shots　clipped　two　marksmen　who　were　firing　at　the　roof。
　A　hoarse　voice　shouted　from　between　two　buildings。　It　was　the　same　leader　who　had　issued　the　mand　to　get　Maclare。　His　new　order　was　a　mand　for　flight。　All　thugs　who　were　able；　dashed　for　the　street；　crossed　it　and　made　off　through　alleys　toward　the　front。　Others　sprang　back　into　the　hotel。
　Lieutenant　Maclare　shouted　for　pursuit。　Two　of　his　eight　men　had　fallen　in　the　fight；　leaving　a　pair　to　care　for　them；　Maclare　headed　through　the　hotel；　followed　by　the　remaining　four。
　Inside；　thugs　were　making　for　the　front；　Cassley　and　his　detail　let　them　go　through。　Loud…whining　sirens　were　announcing　the　arrival　of　the　Flying　Squadron。
　Crooks　should　have　found　a　new　trap；　but　when　Lieutenant　Maclare　reached　the　front　door　of　the　hotel；　he　witnessed　a　wild　get…away。　The　Flying　Squadron；　a　score　of　men　in　pursuit　cars　and　on　motorcycles　were　ing　in　from　the　left。
　Scattered　crooks　had　converged　to　the　right；　there　they　were　boarding　an　assortment　of　automobiles　that　were　parked　beside　an　old　brewery。
　As　the　Flying　Squadron　pulled　up；　Maclare　bellowed　the　news　and　pointed　past　the　brewery。　Promptly；　the　picked　squadron　took　up　the　chase。
　The　brief　delay　had　served　the　crooks。　Cutting　through　to　another　street；　a　dozen　of　them　made　a　get…away；　in　three　cars　that　contained　four　men　each。
　The　three　automobiles　took　different　routes　within　the　next　few　blocks；　to　split　the　pursuing　squadron。　Maclare；　fuming　at　the　door　of　the　raided　hotel；　heard　the　sirens　fade　in　the　dim　distance。
　
　
　THERE　was　a　fourth　car　that　had　fled；　it　had　taken　a　route　of　its　own。
　Rounding　the　brewery；　this　machine　had　followed　a　street　that　led　across　the　railroad　tracks；　a　block　away　from　the　Mississippi　Hotel。　Swinging　past　a　freight　siding；　the　crooks…three　in　number…were　greeted　by　shots　from　the　shelter　of　a　steel　freight　car。
　Wildly；　they　fired　in　return。　Their　bullets　flattened　on　the　steel　wall　of　the　freight　car。　The　dri