Read Online The Avenger 31 - The Cartoon Crimes by Kenneth Robeson - Free Book Online Page B

his magic shotgun.”
    The fog had dropped down again, and they could not see Harmon. Nor could he see them.
    “He must have heard us drive up,” Smitty decided. “Stay put here, Nellie.”
    “Smitty, don’t be foolhardy.”
    “Naw, there’s no percentage in that.” He bellied across the rough, sandy ground. Stopping at the base of the wooden sign, the giant grabbed the pole and tugged.
    The wood was old and rotten, so the pole came up out of the earth easily. Smitty, rising to his knees, listened. Then he threw the sign, like a warrior sending his battle ax off to slay an enemy.
    Seconds later, Harmon howled in pain. The shotgun’s other barrel went off.
    Smitty had thrown himself flat out again. He bounded to his feet. “Going to take a minute to reload.” He charged ahead into the swirling grayness.
    His feet hit the sign. He could see around a clear circle with a diameter of about ten feet; beyond that it was all fog.
    Harmon was not in the circle with him.
    Smitty thought he heard running, but the thick fog kept him from hearing continually and clearly.
    “Better get back to Nellie.”
    Crouching, the giant made his way back toward where he’d left the girl.
    Before he got to her, there was an enormous explosion that ripped the fog to tatters and slammed him down onto the ground.

CHAPTER XVI

Messages
    Early sat up in bed, wide awake.
    He’d been dreaming that the President of the United States had sent him to Mars. He was going to be the first man ever to land on the red planet. When he arrived, after a perilous rocket flight through space, a brass band was there on Mars to greet him. The leader of the band was the Avenger.
    Yawning, blinking, he found the ringing phone in the dark. “Yes?”
    “This is Thompson, sir,” said one of his men. “Hated to wake you up, know what a rough schedule you’re on. But I think I’m onto something.”
    “What exactly, Thompson?”
    “Could I come over and show you?”
    “Now? At . . . what time is it, anyway?”
    “Four-twenty A.M. , sir. I can get to you in ten minutes.”
    “Okay, Thompson, come ahead.” Early hung up, rolled out of bed, wandered around his rented room in the dark, remembered where the light switch was, turned on the lights, located his robe, put it on, and plugged in the hot plate.
    When Agent Thompson arrived, exactly ten minutes later, Early was drinking a cup of black imitation coffee. The bright-eyed younger man had a briefcase clutched in one hand and a bundle of newspapers under his arm.
    “This has something to do with aircraft plan sabotage?”
    “May I use your bed to spread this material out on, sir?”
    “Might as well, I’m not using it for anything.” Early watched in silence for a moment. “Funny papers, Thompson?”
    “Exactly, sir.” The young government agent had set out a dozen daily comic pages and several Sunday comic sections. “When you mentioned recently that the Avenger and his associates were supposedly investigating the murder in which Gil Lewing was allegedly involved, I got to thinking. I shared your notion that Richard Henry Benson was undoubtedly out here on Long Island to solve more than just a simple murder case.”
    Early got up out of the lopsided armchair, walked to the bed, and looked at the display of comics. “Wonderman,” he said.
    All the Sunday sections were opened to the page that contained Wonderman; each daily page had the Wonderman strip circled in red.
    “Now then, sir,” said the eager Thompson, tapping the nearest Sunday page. “Look at the dialogue balloon right there.”
    Early read it aloud. “ ‘It’s very queer, Kandy! Do you have the feeling the ceiling is coming inexorably down toward us right now?’ Yes, so?”
    “Look closer,” urged Thompson, almost laughing in his excitement. “See those tiny dots beneath certain letters?”
    “Oh, yeah. One under the Q and one under the K, then dots under the D, the O, the L, and the X, and the R.”
    “Exactly, exactly.