BATTLE
Siren screaming, Ken drove the car down Main Street and to police
headquarters. Chief Bates met them and congratulated them on their
capture. “Any trouble, boys?” he asked.
Walters smiled and said, “It seems, Chief, that we couldn’t get along
without these youngsters.” He pointed to Paul, and asked, “Do you know
what he did, this kid?”
The chief shook his head and asked, “What did he do? Get into trouble
again or something?”
“Well, if it wasn’t for him,” was the answer, “we would still be there
pegging away at each other. That kid up and jumped the gangster. All we
had to do was to take him into custody.”
The chief laughed uproariously. “Some detectives you are!” he
exclaimed. “Letting a kid do your work!”
“I tell you, Chief, there is no getting away with it—these kids are
the tops,” said Walters, slapping Paul on the back.
“But seriously, though,” remarked the chief, “I don’t want you fellows
to get into any trouble. Do you hear me?” he demanded, pretending he
was being tough on them. “You have done enough and I want you to keep
out of harm.”
Paul smiled. “All right, Chief,” he said. “Did you hear from the
others?”
“No, I didn’t,” he answered. Addressing his detectives, he said, “You
boys better run down there and give them a hand if they need it.”
“May we go along?” asked Ken.
“All right. I guess these detectives of mine wouldn’t be able to find
the place or know what to do without you.” They all laughed heartily.
“But don’t get into more trouble, do you hear me, you two?”
The three detectives and Paul and Ken got into the car and rode off.
At their destination, they came upon a pitched battle. It seemed that
the gang was a tough bunch and ready to battle the law rather than
surrender in spite of the heavy odds against them.
At the corner of York Street, when the police cars arrived, they
stopped and Mr. Grey had issued instructions. Four of the detectives
he instructed to take up varying positions across the street from the
house which led to the secret door. Accompanied by three more policemen
and Jack, he went to 752 York Street. The detectives he told to deploy
around the house and Jack he warned to keep out of the way. On second
thought, he turned to Jack and said, “You go back there and watch those
automobiles.”
Reluctantly, Jack went to obey and sat himself in the second car. He
wanted to be in on the action, but he realized why the government
agent wanted him out of the way.
The detectives were armed with rifles and sub-machine guns. Mr. Grey
looked around to see if all his men were in position. He gave the
signal for all of them to be on the alert. Gripping his revolver, he
entered the empty house and left the door open. Noiselessly, he opened
the trap door and descended the stairs. The cellar was lit up and that
told him that the gangsters were there. As far as he knew, Joe and Pete
were surely there, but he didn’t know whether Moonshine Charlie himself
was there. He paused to listen, and only the voices of the two reached
him. For several seconds he debated with himself whether to wait until
the arrival of the boss. On the other hand, he thought, he might seize
the two and then let Moonshine Charlie walk into a trap.
Descending noiselessly, he came to the bottom of the stairs. The two
gangsters were at the table, Pete with his right side toward Mr. Grey
and Joe having his back toward the agent. Mr. Grey levelled his gun and
muttered threateningly, “Put your hands up, boys. Quick. Reach for the
ceiling and no monkey business.”
The two gangsters jumped to their feet and put their hands up above
their heads. Pete cried, “What the—What’s all this about?”
“You’ll find out right away,” was the answer. Mr. Grey saw them edging
toward the back of the table and he warned them, “Don’t you move or
I’ll plug you.”
But the next instant Pete turned over the table with his leg and the
two gangsters threw themselves behind it. Mr. Grey fired, the bullet
burying itself in the wooden table. Pete fired back and the government
agent threw himself on the floor and crept behind the stairs for
protection. “The house is surrounded,” he told them. “You had better
surrender if you want to get out alive.”
Pete tossed back, “Like hell!”
He fired and Mr. Grey returned. Pulling the table along, they moved
gradually back toward the secret door. The government agent realized
that their escape through the tunnel into the next house was safe and
sure; there was nothing he could do about it. So he let them work their
way gradually back. Joe raised his arms to pull open the door and the
next moment he grabbed it away, letting out a yell. Mr. Grey had fired
and the bullet had pierced the gangster’s hand. But the door was now
ajar, and in a moment they pulled it open and escaped.
Mr. Grey ran forward and whatever he could find, he piled up against
the door, shutting off their return into the cellar. The gangsters were
now trapped in the second house. The government man ran up the stairs,
and cautiously emerged from the house, to make sure his own men did not
fire on him. Coming out into the open, he directed his men to close up
on the house.
In the meanwhile, the gangsters, realizing that their escape was cut
off at both ends, set up sub-machine guns at both ends of the house and
began to rake every inch of ground within sight. The detectives got
busy. Several of them used their own sub-machine guns. Others, picking
up stones wherever they found them, managed to break every window in
the house.
The detectives ripped open the square boxes and began to throw tear
gas into the house through the open windows. Several of the bombs fell
short of the house, and pretty soon the whole house was enveloped in
thick clouds of smoke. There was no wind and the smoke hung in the air
in and around the house. Within five minutes, both gangsters stumbled
out of the doorway, coughing hard and trying hard to keep their hands
above their heads.
Several of the detectives immediately ran forward and grabbed them, at
the same time dragging them away from the clouds of tear gas. They were
immediately surrounded and handcuffed. Just then a siren screamed and
everyone turned to see what was happening.
Jack was sitting in the car and watched the battle. He was glad now
that he was at a safe distance. It was too bloody an affair for him.
After a while, he leaned back in the seat and paid no attention to
what was going on. He waited for the finish and for the detectives to
return. He heard the crackling of rifle fire and the explosion of
bombs.
Resting in the back seat of the automobile he only hoped that no
one would be hit and that all would turn out well. Why couldn’t the
gangsters give up, he thought to himself. Couldn’t they see that the
odds were against them? And even if they should escape this time, which
was impossible, they would still be hunted and caught by the police of
some other town or city.
Jack leaned forward and peeked out of the window. He caught his breath
and became tense. There was a man across the street who looked very
familiar and appeared to be exceedingly interested in the battle that
was going on between the criminals and the police. The man, tall, fat,
husky, stood in front of a roadster that evidently belonged to him.
“Moonshine Charlie,” Jack thought to himself.
Yet he had not heard the man drive up. It was because he was absorbed
in his own thoughts. Now what am I to do? What can I do? These
questions came to Jack’s mind, yet he found no answer. It was no use
to call one of the detectives; the gangster might disappear in the
meanwhile. What could he do?
Jack became conscious of the fact that the firing had ceased. He saw
the fat man get into his car and drive off, turning into the next
corner. Jack jumped to the wheel, set off the siren screaming and was
immediately chasing the gangster.