The Avenger 24 - Midnight Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

them back. They hadn’t seen where the thing came from, or who had thrown it.
    The four regular guards, heartened by the way things were going, were pitching in with a will, now. They used their guns as clubs against men who were doing the same. It developed into a clubbing match!
    Benson got two men by the throat and, with the incredible power that lay in his average-sized arms and shoulders, swept them together. Their heads clunked. They went down. He saw three of the marauders knocking one guard around and tossed a sleep pellet. All four got it, but it was worth putting an ally to sleep to get three of the enemy at the same time.
    Suddenly, there were no odds at all. The Avenger sent two more to the ground by applying that expert pressure of fingers to nerve centers in the back of the neck. Then there were three guards and himself facing five of the phonies.
    One of the attackers voiced the sentiments of all when he yelped, “Scram! It’s getting too hot!”
    “Stop them at the gate,” The Avenger’s vibrant, utterly calm voice rang out.
    The three guards chased wrathfully after the fleeing five; the guards were good, fearless men. Benson set about clinching the capture of the rest.
    Around his waist, The Avenger carried always a slim silk cord with a small hook on it for raising himself up, or lowering himself down, building walls. He drew this forth, cut it into lengths.
    Selecting the men first that were stirring and showing signs of coming to, he dragged the prone figures together in pairs and began tying their right wrists together. He tightened the knots so hard with his steely fingers that no one could have slid them loose again without hours of trying.
    When he was done, five pairs of unfortunate trespassers were linked together as effectively as if by steel handcuffs.
    It appeared that this would be all the prisoners.
    One of the three guards came limping back with blood coming from a gash over his ear.
    “They got away,” he confessed in shame. “Five were a little more’n we could handle. The other two guards are at the gate, which is closed and locked.”
    The man looked with bulging eyes at ten stirring prisoners.
    “Say—who are you, anyhow?”
    Benson only said, “Look through the woods. The men these stolen uniforms were taken from will be lying bound and gagged in various places.”
    In a few minutes, all the captives were able to move under their own power. Benson marched them to the laboratory. They could only go places if they went in pairs with the rear man hugging close to the front man, and both keeping step. Several had to find this out by tripping a couple of times and dragging their protesting partners with them. Eventually, they all got headed right.
    Benson took out the transmitter of the tiny radio each member of Justice, Inc., wore under his belt. It was an invention of Smitty’s.
    “Mac!” The Avenger said.
    In a moment, the Scot spoke over his own radio, from inside the dark laboratory building.
    “Coming with some prisoners,” Benson said calmly. “Have the door open so light will stream out and show the way for them. Also, find a room with a strong door to hold them.”
    The light coming from the doorway, when they got there, revealed a very choice collection of thugs indeed. Big and little, burly and scrawny, they all had the same appearance: the look of men who make their livings by killing or imposing on other men. There is a definite predatory type of human being. Usually it is inborn, but careful and diabolical effort can sometimes produce it artificially; occasionally, on a national scale. It is not a very attractive type.
    Mac was standing by the door. His eyes popped at sight of the line-up.
    “What in the worrrld!” he burred, as the ten marched in two by two, tripping a little now and then.
    Four other men, two in white lab coats, stood down a central hall, watching in fear and bewilderment. Mac led the way to a door, opened it and showed a stout and