Read Online The Avenger 11 - River of Ice by Kenneth Robeson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kenneth Robeson
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coldrooms designed for frozen meats. That row is on the third floor.”
They went up broad stairs, ducked off onto the second floor for a moment to avoid a man coming downstairs munching an apple, then went on up to the top story. There was no one up here; and at a glance they could see that only part of the top floor was used at all. The new warehouse still wasn’t needed in all its capacity.
“Now?” said Smitty, looking gigantic and gorillalike in the dimness of the top story. He had his coat collar up. It was cold up there.
“The row with the glass block walls is here on the side,” said Benson, leading the way to the right. There was a narrow corridor. On the right were many doors. They started looking for a refrigerating room that wasn’t being used. “Cold and bare,” the girl had said the “cave” was.
The fourth door they opened revealed an unused room. Mac looked sourly at the door. It was tremendous, as refrigerator doors tend to be. Thick with insulation, metal-paneled back and front, it was like the door of a bank vault. “I’d hate to have this door locked on me,” the Scot murmured dourly.
“Might be a good idea,” jeered Smitty. “You’re about as cheerful as a block of ice anyhow. A coldroom would be a swell spot for you to be locked in.”
As the door was swung open entirely, lights were automatically lit in the bare, icy chamber. The lights, white and cold, revealed only one thing in the place, a wide bench, or low table. And it revealed walls of glass block that did look remarkably like ice. The Avenger’s pale eyes went to that bench. And into them at last came a glitter of dawning knowledge. The presence of the bench tended to confirm that knowledge. He went to it, with the giant Smitty and the dour Scot beside him. He bent down, then nodded.
At one end of the bench were three long, silky dark hairs. They matched exactly the hair of Lini Waller; The Avenger knew it was an exact match because his rare eyes never failed to distinguish shades of color. Lini had been on that bench. This cold barren place had been her prison chamber . . .
There was a soft but heavy thud behind the three! They whirled. Richard Benson didn’t seem to move fast, even when he was in a hurry. That was because his movements were so perfectly coordinated. But he got to the ponderous refrigerator door almost before it had stopped closing. Almost, but not quite. There was a rasping sound outside as he tried to get his steel-strong fingers on some projection and swing the door open again. The rasping was the sound of the heavy lever being locked home.
And now there was hardly a crack showing where the massive door fit into the wall. On the inside of the door was no handle or projection at all. There was a place where there had been one, to comply with safety rules.
But it had been removed. The light had gone out with the door’s closing.
“Caught!” grated Mac, more in fury than in fear. “The skurlies! And we thought we were smart in sneakin’ in here without bein’ seen!”
“Ouch!” came Smitty’s voice in the next second. “I burned myself!”
“Burned yersel’, did ye say?” Mac snapped. “And how would ye burn yersel’ in a rrrefrigeratin’ room?” Only in moments of stress did the Scott roll his r ’s.
“Anyhow, I burned myself,” Smitty insisted.
The Avenger’s flashlight went on. It was a powerful little thing, designed by Smitty in an off-hour, tossed off by a brilliant mind usually more engrossed with abstruse electrical problems than with things so humble as flashlights.
The thin but glaring beam flitted around the cold-room, came to rest at last on several cakes of ice. From the cakes a perceptible vapor was rising. The things had been slid silently into the room before the door was closed. “ ’Tis dry ice!” Mac said. “Of course! There’d be plenty of it in a place like this. That doesn’t look so good, chief.”
Benson nodded agreement that it did not look
They went up broad stairs, ducked off onto the second floor for a moment to avoid a man coming downstairs munching an apple, then went on up to the top story. There was no one up here; and at a glance they could see that only part of the top floor was used at all. The new warehouse still wasn’t needed in all its capacity.
“Now?” said Smitty, looking gigantic and gorillalike in the dimness of the top story. He had his coat collar up. It was cold up there.
“The row with the glass block walls is here on the side,” said Benson, leading the way to the right. There was a narrow corridor. On the right were many doors. They started looking for a refrigerating room that wasn’t being used. “Cold and bare,” the girl had said the “cave” was.
The fourth door they opened revealed an unused room. Mac looked sourly at the door. It was tremendous, as refrigerator doors tend to be. Thick with insulation, metal-paneled back and front, it was like the door of a bank vault. “I’d hate to have this door locked on me,” the Scot murmured dourly.
“Might be a good idea,” jeered Smitty. “You’re about as cheerful as a block of ice anyhow. A coldroom would be a swell spot for you to be locked in.”
As the door was swung open entirely, lights were automatically lit in the bare, icy chamber. The lights, white and cold, revealed only one thing in the place, a wide bench, or low table. And it revealed walls of glass block that did look remarkably like ice. The Avenger’s pale eyes went to that bench. And into them at last came a glitter of dawning knowledge. The presence of the bench tended to confirm that knowledge. He went to it, with the giant Smitty and the dour Scot beside him. He bent down, then nodded.
At one end of the bench were three long, silky dark hairs. They matched exactly the hair of Lini Waller; The Avenger knew it was an exact match because his rare eyes never failed to distinguish shades of color. Lini had been on that bench. This cold barren place had been her prison chamber . . .
There was a soft but heavy thud behind the three! They whirled. Richard Benson didn’t seem to move fast, even when he was in a hurry. That was because his movements were so perfectly coordinated. But he got to the ponderous refrigerator door almost before it had stopped closing. Almost, but not quite. There was a rasping sound outside as he tried to get his steel-strong fingers on some projection and swing the door open again. The rasping was the sound of the heavy lever being locked home.
And now there was hardly a crack showing where the massive door fit into the wall. On the inside of the door was no handle or projection at all. There was a place where there had been one, to comply with safety rules.
But it had been removed. The light had gone out with the door’s closing.
“Caught!” grated Mac, more in fury than in fear. “The skurlies! And we thought we were smart in sneakin’ in here without bein’ seen!”
“Ouch!” came Smitty’s voice in the next second. “I burned myself!”
“Burned yersel’, did ye say?” Mac snapped. “And how would ye burn yersel’ in a rrrefrigeratin’ room?” Only in moments of stress did the Scott roll his r ’s.
“Anyhow, I burned myself,” Smitty insisted.
The Avenger’s flashlight went on. It was a powerful little thing, designed by Smitty in an off-hour, tossed off by a brilliant mind usually more engrossed with abstruse electrical problems than with things so humble as flashlights.
The thin but glaring beam flitted around the cold-room, came to rest at last on several cakes of ice. From the cakes a perceptible vapor was rising. The things had been slid silently into the room before the door was closed. “ ’Tis dry ice!” Mac said. “Of course! There’d be plenty of it in a place like this. That doesn’t look so good, chief.”
Benson nodded agreement that it did not look
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