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THE TERRIBLE CARGO

Chapter 1: Deadly Stowaway

The powerful truck raced through the night. Its headlights revealed darkened forests on one of the many mountain roads leading from Canada to upper New York state. The single driver, a giant but soft looking man, tried to keep alert shaking his head.

He had not noticed the Spider who lay hidden in the sleeping space behind the seats. Richard Wentworth in disguise as criminal lone wolf Blinky McQuade had overheard part of a conversation in an underworld dive. A major shipment of weapons was to be smuggled from Canada through a particular customs post. What he could not learn was who was paying for the weapons and where they would be delivered.                                                                                                                                                                                                

The crime fighter had, in his disguise as The Spider, waited at the border customs post. When the driver got out to open the back of the truck for the inspectors he had swiftly secreted himself in the sleeping cabin. His plan was to ride the truck to find the delivery point, and then take appropriate action. He had laid there for over two hour unmoving his breathing slow and quiet.

The truck began slowing. Wentworth looked through a hole he had poked in the curtain of the sleeping chamber and saw it was pulling into a graveled siding. The lights of two parked cars suddenly came on illuminating the scene.

The driver lowered one window and shouted “Ready to pick up your deliveries?”

Craning his head the Spider saw three men in suits walking toward the truck.

He resisted the urge to snarl a curse. He had planned to let the truck take him into the city and deal with the purchaser. Letting the load of weapons be split up and get into the hands of the underworld would endanger too many innocent lives.

The Spider could see the giant driver wore a shoulder holster with a revolver, hung for a right handed draw. With trained speed and accuracy he slashed a deep cut in the driver’s upper right arm with an army issued knife.

Taken completely by surprise the driver screamed and clutched at his limb as blood spurted. He fell out the partly open door, still screaming and bleeding. All the attention of the gangsters who had come for their cargo was held by him while the Spider slide under the cab of the truck. A quick wiggle and the hero lay flat under the truck where he could see all his new opponents.

Four men stood shocked staring at the bleeding man. One, who had probably been designated as guard, carried a shotgun. With barely a pause to aim Wentworth shot him between the eyes.

The three remaining arms dealers in a near panic tried to run back to their car at the same time as drawing their pistols. The Spider had rolled from under the truck and sprinted toward the dark forest, firing both his .45 automatics. Another man sprawled dead on the gravel. Despite his apparent hunchback the cloaked figure moved with incredible speed and grace. The remaining two gangsters fired and missed confused by surprise, and a dark and flat mocking sound, the laughter of the Spider!

In the dark shadows and underbrush at the edge of the forest the Spider’s dark cloak and hat made him invisible to the two men fleeing to their car. When he reached the angle he wanted Wentworth holstering one automatic. He knelt and took careful two handed aim with the other. The last two gangsters begin to drive away. A cruel smile twisted the Spider’s lips as he reflected on the essential cowardice of the typical criminal.

His gun spoke once and the front tire on the car burst causing it to go into a skid. The driver fought to regain control and his partner tried to shield his face with his arms as they hit a tree. The passenger was hurled through the windshield, while the driver slammed into the steering wheel.

Veteran of a hundred battles the Spider cautiously circled staying in the shadows until he reached the wreck. The passenger was dead. The driver was almost impaled upon the steering wheel but still barely alive.
The Spider produced an odd tool, a cigarette lighter. With a practiced push and half twist he removed the bottom and pulled the driver’s head back by the hair. His eyes half open the driver looked at Wentworth’s face half covered by a silk mask and distorted by false fangs. His eyes widened as he managed to whisper in a terrified voice, “The Spider”. He died suddenly, as much from fear as his injuries.

The Spider pressed the end of his lighter against his forehead branding him with the mark of the Spider a rich vermilion outline of a tiny spider.

CHAPTER 2: Hidden in the Truck
The dark figure quickly examined the bodies of the two men he had shot confirming their deaths and marking each. He then turned his attention to the truck driver who now knelt on the ground near his vehicle. He was holding his coat as a crude pressure bandage to stop the flow of blood from his maimed arm.
The Spider walked over and studied him a moment. He then reached inside the fat giant’s coat, took his gun, and after glancing at it tossed it into the bush. Turning to the cowered man he asked him in an oddly compelling voice, clear despite the fangs, “Where did you pick up the cargo, the guns? “
“Dutch Buffalo, Dutch Buffalo Creek I met a truck and two cars at a place called Dutch Buffalo Creek just outside the Quiman Indian reservation.”
“Who where you meeting?” asked the Spider.
“I don’t know I don’t” whimpered the driver. “I got the truck from Charlie Matters, he just gave me a map with a meeting placed marked. When I arrived there were two cars and a truck, a Canadian Army truck. They loaded the truck, it’s got a false bottom from prohibition, and then somebody with a Bronx accent handed over a brief case to the Canadians, and gave me a map with this spot circled.”
The Spider gripped the man around the neck with both hands and dug his thumbs into the driver’s arteries until he lapsed unconscious.
Walking to rear of the truck the hero drew a set of probes from a flat box under his shirt. He took only a moment to pick the oversize padlock and discovered an apparently empty truck.
Producing a small powerful flash light he examined the floor. His examination, much more careful then the customs agent’s revealed a hidden lock. The truck had a double floor hiding several containers. Using the point of his strong knife he forced open a panel. The coffin like chamber he was looking in held two dozen military rifles. A second container held hundreds of rounds of ammunition. Checking the third, he shook his head in astonishment as he found hand grenades.
Something else alerted his well-trained senses. A smell, a smell he was well familiar with, the smell of fear. He tripped it and popped up the lid.
He reared back in horror. Inside laid an unconscious boy, no older than eight, giving off the smell of fear and sweat. Hastily he opened the last chamber and found a girl, about 14, dressed in only a shift.

Chapter 3: Clean Up
He carried them both to the open doors of the truck laying them where they would get fresh air. He noticed several marks on the boy’s thin copper skinned arm. The girl had similar marks on hers. They clearly were being kept unconscious with injections, probably morphine.
Their copper skin, dark eyes, and straight black hair marked both as Native Americans. In fact their resemblance was close enough to be cousins or even siblings.
From his belt he drew a cylinder the size of a good cigar, released a safety, pressed a trigger, and a small but extraordinarily powerful flare burst high in the night sky. He then walked over to the sole survivor of the gangsters and woke him with a kick to his wounded arm.
Looking him in the eyes, his hideously disguised face adding to the sense of menace, the Spider declared “A man named Wentworth will arrive in a few minutes. You will wait for him and he will summon the police. Your only chance to live is to tell them everything, just as you have to me.”
“Charlie Matters may offer get you bail, a lawyer, even a reward to remain silent. Remember whatever he offers you; his only safety is in killing you, until you have recorded a statement with the police. “
He walked away to where his expensive limo pulled up. Quickly he slide into the back and opened the secret wardrobe behind the cushions of his back seat.
He withdrew two heavy sports coats from his many disguises. With the help of his chauffeur he wrapped the two still unconscious children in them and placed them in the back of his car.
Divest of his Spider disguise Wentworth pulled one of the most expensive short wave radios on the civilian market from the glove compartment.
“Jackson,” he said “I need to reach the city in less than two hours.”
“Right Major” said the chauffeur starting the engine and pulling on to the road.
“Later I will be visiting a hunting lodge I know of near the Canadian border, where I may want you to check on a Canadian military base. While we are driving back I have assignments for Ram Singh and Nita. Maybe Jenykins as well...

Chapter 4: Gathering Sources
Shortly outside the Matters’ Rental Garage a giant, bearded figure got out of an unremarkable older car. He studied the old building and went around a corner to find a window that looked into the office. A man in an old suit and battered hat was seated at a desk. The phone rang. The little man at the desk answered.
“Yes this is Matters. Right, No, the truck isn’t back. Yes of course I trust the driver. Look if you have lost your men it’s not my business”
That was enough for the giant eavesdropper. With a single shove he broke the lock and opened the door. A quick lunge across the room and he punched the man with the phone unconscious. From his pockets he produced a scarf for a gag and short lengths of thin rope to secure the gangster’s wrists and ankles together. Then the mysterious man threw the unconscious gangster over his shoulder and carried Matters toward his sedan.
Two men in mechanics uniforms emerged from the broken door probably drawn by the noise. One with an inarticulate shout of rage rushed the dark skinned man while the other groped under his uniform.
The big man spun on one leg like the man on his shoulder weighted nothing and slammed a kick into his attacker’s abdomen. With a wheeze the mechanic fell to the ground.
The second man managed to fumble a small pistol out of his clothes but dropped it as a throwing knife stabbed his arm. The big man had produced it from his sleeve and thrown it with the speed of a magician.
His pursuers dealt with the giant dumped Matters unconscious body into the truck of his car and drove away.
From the glove compartment he pulled a short wave transmitter, a match to the one carried by the Spider. He spoke into the mike “As you thought Master the mouse was fleeing. I have him.”
“Good” replied the Spider, “take him to the new interrogation room.”
In response to another radio call from the Spider a beautiful brown haired woman in an expensively tailored suit and overcoat was knocking on the door of a row house in Queens. An older woman in a plain house dress answered.
“Nita” she said. “Nita Van Sloan, what brings you out of the gay round of Manhattan society?”
“Mrs. Blaine after all the work I went to helping you with that fundraiser for the half-way house for prostitutes, I expect a little more respect” said Van Sloan mockingly. “Seriously Georgia you remember my friend Richard, Richard Wentworth with the big checkbook? “
“Well Richard is caught up in another criminal case and he is taking two kidnapped children, a boy and a girl, to his apartment. He’s clearing it with the police commissioner don’t worry, but we need a gentle hand.”
“I’m not sure how gentle I can be, but I certainly will come” said Blaine. “Let me get my coat and purse. But you had better tell me whatever you know about what happened to them. ”
“I have to be very sure that I am not going to get in trouble with the police” continued Blaine as they walked to Nita’s cab. “A lot of them are in the pay of the procurers, or just want the girls I work with to vanish instead of rejoin society.”
“Don’t worry” said Nita Van Sloan as she closed the cab door “I will introduce you to the police commissioner.”

Chapter 5: Kirkpatrick Pitches In.
As Wentworth and his chauffeur pulled up to his apartment building they were met with a doctor and two nurses Wentworth’ cook had summoned, two police women, and Police Commissioner Kirkpatrick.
Kirkpatrick, dress as always in an impeccable suit strode over to the car. “Damn it Wentworth, calling me and telling about a massacre and announcing you were kidnapping two witnesses is unacceptable. If you had anyone but Georgia Blaine to watch them I would have you in jail right now.”
Kirkpatrick paused and caught his breath “My detectives tell me she’s the one they call for abused children. “
“I don’t know what you two are talking about” interrupted the doctor,” but I need to get these children inside. The girl is half frozen and I don’t like the boy’s breathing, someone gave him too much morphine. “
“Follow me” said Jackson the chauffeur.
As the children were taken to separate bedrooms by their nurses Richard drew Jackson to one side. Out of a hidden drawer in an end table Wentworth produced an envelope stuffed with bills of large denominations.
He passed it to Jackson and said, “Get the truck with the motorbike, load it with boxes a, g, r and m in the hidden garage and drive up to the Quiman Hunting Lodge near Buffalo Creek Canada. I’ll join you later.”
“Oh and check around for a Canadian army armory in the area. “
Jackson nodded and left the apartment by a door that was not yet being guarded by the police.
Wentworth stopped to rub his forehead. The white scar on his temple was starting to throb as he considered the complexity of his next moves.
First he needed to know what Kirkpatrick and Blaine knew. Composing himself he walked into the hall where the two policewomen were guarding the children’s bedrooms. Kirkpatrick and Blaine were talking with Nita standing unobtrusively nearby.
Blaine was speaking in a low hostile tone. “I have been trying to tell some of your detectives for months, girls from Canada are popping here and Atlantic City, many of them Quiman. They are being told about jobs, etc. given bus tickets and then picked up by the experienced pimps.”
“And children” asked Kirkpatrick “have you heard anything about guys who want children?”
“Freaks, sure mostly rumors about men with tastes for the helpless as far as I can understand it” said Blaine “I have been trying to attend lectures by a psychologist who is studying such behavior at Columbia. Dr. Humbel, Theodor Humbel I think. “
“Commissioner, do we know any more about the men smuggling in the guns and children” asked Wentworth almost diffidently?
“You were at the site of what the state police are calling a massacre before anyone” said Kirkpatrick.
“I didn’t speak to anyone” said Wentworth, “Jackson and I were following up on a tip that the truck was smuggling in guns and wanted to follow it to the city. We lost it for about half an hour but when we circled back we found the children on the road on a blanket with a note to rush them to the city and not stop.”
“The only survivor of the Spider has been talking his head off. He ended up listing three earlier trips he made, in different trucks. The customs people will need weeks to decide who was on duty every time and check their bank accounts. That’s the best way to identify who has been taking bribes.”
“The only man he worked with a cheap hood named Matters has vanished. We are going through all his papers and questioning his employees but none of them even have a record. What we need now is to find out if he’s hiding or been eliminated as a cut off.”
As the commissioner and social worker debated who should question the children when they woke Wentworth quietly left the room. He gestured his waiting house servant Jenykins.
“I don’t want the commissioner to be sure when I left, lock the music room and put on a recording of me playing the organ, the two hour one. Be sure Ms. Nita knows I have gone out and that she takes notes of anything the children reveal.”

Chapter 6: Matters Talks
The lint athletic man handed his sports coat to Jenykins and entered one of several secret doors where a ladder led to an empty apartment on a lower floor.
Putting on the mask of the Spider greeted his servant Ram Singh. He stopped and studied Matters. Singh had tied him to a heavy chair, naked except for a hood rendering him blind and totally disoriented. The only sound he had heard for hours was the sound of a giant knife being sharpened.
At a gesture from Wentworth Singh dumped a bucket of very cold water over the rat like crook. He jerked alert with a kind of squeak and shook his head.
Wentworth knelt beside him and in the strange commanding whisper of the Spider stated “If you tell me what you know about the smugglers I will turn you over to the police. If not I will dump you naked in the river near here. Or maybe I will leave you out on the street and release a rumor you talked to me.”
“Ohh” he half purred “I have so many possibilities.”
Matters stiffened and tried to look where the voice was coming from but Wentworth shifted to a different angle depriving the little gangster of any sense of stability.
“Who hired you to arrange the trucks for smuggling? The special runs like last night.”
“I think, I think it was Bristo, Charlie Bristo” Matters half stuttered. I was actually paid by one of his men Fat Anthony, Anthony Rissola. Bristo was the one who auctioned off the Canadian guns the day after I delivered them.”
Under the Spider’s slow guidance Matters revealed the number of trips he had arranged, with as many dates he could remember, and whatever he knew of the cargos. The Spider was quickly able to deduct that four more preteens had been transported before he intercepted the last load, all in less than a month.
“You knew this Bristo was running slaves. That makes this appropriate” spat the Spider as he plunged a hypodermic needle into Matters’ neck. The ratty little gangster quickly slumped over.
“Where shall I dump the body master?” asked Ram Khan.
“It’s not necessary” said Wentworth. “He will sleep for a day or so. I have to move, even if this Bristo warns the ones up north their schedule suggests they may have already taken their next victims. Here’s what I want you to do ”

Chapter 7: Girl on a Ledge
Nita Van Sloan had been quietly listening as Commissioner Kirkpatrick and Georgia had moved from discussing the possible fate of the children to a flaming argument if the police and courts were trying to help the girls trapped in prostitution or just punishing them for offending citizens’ sensibilities.
She noticed one of the nurses slip out of the girl’s bed room and return with a cup of coffee. Suddenly a scream and a crash of fallen porcelain came from the bedroom. Nita reached the door a moment ahead of Kirkpatrick to see an empty bed, a broken coffee cup on the floor and the nurse staring in horror at an open window.
Nita immediately looked out and discovered the girl; having woken in a strange room was trying to escape along the window ledge.
Nita kicked off her expensive shoes and without hesitation stepped out on to the ledge. The girl stared at her with wide terrified eyes.
“Hi, I’m Nita. Don’t be scared, the men who caught you are in jail. We were just waiting for you to wake up, don’t be scared.”
“Nita,” whispered the commissioner from behind her in the window “don’t babble, speak calm and slow, and get her to come to the window and above all don’t grab or chase her.”
Nita calmed herself and gestured to the girl. Suddenly her eyes widened as she saw Richard’s elderly manservant Harold Jenykins lowering himself to the ledge behind the girl using one of the Spider’s special sticky climbing webs. She held up her hand, palm out, telling him to wait, while making a sign of peace to the girl.
More calmly she resumed speaking to the girl “My name is Nita, Nita Van Sloan. What’s yours? “
“Marie” the girl finally replied “I’m Marie Bright Sun.”
“Can we go inside and talk? “asked Nita.
Marie nodded and moved carefully toward the window. Jenykins climbed carefully up the web to the next floor, unnoticed by the girl and invisible to those in the room.
Kirkpatrick helped Nita down from the window, and then stepped away to let Marie climb in unthreatened. Once she was safely away from the window however he gently but firmly gripped her arm and walked her to a chair.
“Marie” he said “Marie I’m a policeman. You’re in New York now and safe.”
“You were given morphine. What’s the last thing you remember?”
The girl began to rock back and forth “My cousin and I were in the forest. I live with him and Aunt Nomika. She was drunk so we were playing in the forest until she woke up. Two men, I think they were Quiman but I didn’t know them. One grabbed me and shot me with a needle.”
The girl suddenly began to retch. The nurse grasped a trash can and slide it under her head. As the child vomited she gestured them all out.
Nita realized Wentworth had been standing in back while they were listening to the girl. To everyone else he seemed to have simply emerged from his music room after playing the organ for an hour or so.
“So now we know she is from the Quiman reservation with an aunt named Nomika, and other Indian’s sold her to the traffickers.” said Wentworth.
“I will have to spend hours on the phone with the authorities in Canada and both counties that neighbor the reservation” complained Kirkpatrick.
“That’s why I prefer my unofficial status” said Wentworth. “I can rush up on my own, even cross into Canada as a private citizen. I can shoot whomever I feel need shooting. “
“Susan” he turned to social worker “you mentioned some Quiman girls were working here. Can you get them to give you the names of anyone on the reservation end of the business?”
Later after Kirkpatrick and Blaine left and the children bedded down with their nurses, Wentworth and Nita exchanged a quick kiss.
“Nita,” said Wentworth “I need you to start looking into the bottom feeders in polite society. Whoever is importing these children is taking a risk; they need rich customers to make it worthwhile. You know the kind of people we usually avoid, the parties we don’t go to. Start hanging out there and listen. I am convinced there is going to be another kidnapping soon, possibly tonight and I will need to fly up to the reservation at first light. “
“Ram Sing is following up a lead, Fat Tony Rissola. Jackson has already gone north to meet me. “
“Dick, you know I will be alright alone.” said Nita.
“Yes, but you and Jenykins are going to work together.” said Wentworth. “Let me explain.”

Chapter 8: Flight to the North
At dawn near his country home Wentworth took off in his speedy Northrup, a special plane with an adjustable pitch propeller. In the morning sun it glittered, as scarlet as one of the Spider’s own seals while he raced north.
Jackson was waiting with a small truck at the airport near the lodge a single dirt runway only suitable for private planes. Wentworth instructed him to prepare the plane for storage, but ready for immediate use. He then went to the small office and used the phone to call Georgia Blaine.
“Mrs. Blaine” said Wentworth “its Richard Wentworth. You were going to check back with me after you spoke with some of the other Quiman girls at your shelter.”
“They all agreed, both the ones that were working as prostitutes before they moved south and those that thought they were traveling for work, that the arrangements were made by one man Harold Black Crow.” said Blaine. “My girls all agree he is a big man on the reservation, charming, rich, and they were scared of him.”
“Thanks Georgia” said Wentworth “sure there is nothing else?”
“Well, one mentioned that Black Crow was providing ‘services’ to the local Mountie chief a man named O’Malley “said Blaine.
Wentworth grunted in surprise.
“Is that important” asked Blaine? “I don’t know any pimp that doesn’t have some pull with the police.”
“I have been hanging out with Kirkpatrick too long. Ever cop in his personal squad is specially vetted.”
Hanging up Wentworth took a moment to plan. Finally he walked to where Jackson waited by the equipment truck.
“We have to start somewhere” said Wentworth “so we will put a man named Black Crow under observation. If we can find him. Maybe one of locals working here at the airport can help.”
“I think he is going to be easy to find Major” replied Jackson with a grin.
Half way to the lodge Jackson stopped on a slope. Looking down they saw a massive old plank building, unmistakable a bar, with a sign that read BLACK CROWS’. On the back of the building, facing away from the road seemed to be space for several rooms. Two smoking stove pipes identified the kitchen and on the left was a corral and small stable where two ponies of a breed Wentworth had never seen waited.
“It’s right outside the Canadian part of the reservation so they can sell liquor sir.” said the chauffer.
Wentworth studied the bar through the scope of a powerful hunting rifle.
“It is lunch time but they are closed. That is suspicious. The man on the porch is obviously a sentry with a heavy automatic in his belt. That is even more suspicious.”
“I am going in, quietly. I need you close enough to block any escapes in either direction, if I open up. “
Opening a case in the truck he donned the vampire like fangs, wig, floppy hat and cloak of The Spider. After checking the magazines of his twin 45 automatics and sliding knives into different hidden pockets he vanished quietly into the underbrush.
Brush had been allowed to grow up around the building so the Spider was able to reach the right side of the building, despite the alert sentry standing on the steps. He carefully found hand holds and pulled himself up for a glance into each window, one after another. The first was an empty restaurant. The second was a store room.
The third window was in the back looking down the hill. Before he climbed up he heard people talking. A door opened and he heard the heavy steps of a man entering the room.
“Black Hawk sir” said someone in a deep male voice.
Wentworth surmised it was the man who entered the room
“Albert I know you are ignorant of your culture” said a well-educated voice “But I have told you again and again speak Quiman when we are talking business. It cuts down on possible ease droppers.”
“Yeh boss but my white step father all he spoke was English and French. Look what happened was you got a phone call while you were out riding. O’Malley said he is coming over to check out the liquor license. “
The Spider decided to risk a glance through the window since its curtains were mostly drawn. He got a good look at a short man muscular like a jockey or polo rider with heavy dark hair drawn back in a clean braid. The figure facing him bore no real trace of Quiman; he was a redheaded giant over six feet with the ragged ears and scarred face of a boxer, or alley fighter.
“Ok we can pick up the next two kids this evening after he drops off the special package.” said Black Crow. “Make sure the truck is loaded with cigarettes “

Chapter 10: The Battle of the Bar
The Spider considered killing them right then, but decided to wait for the arrival of the crooked Mountie. He curled into the bush and waited. His impatience nature made it difficult, but he held his place using discipline learned in both Tibet and the trenches of France.
After only twenty minutes, which seemed like hours, he heard a car pull up in front of the building. He listened until he heard the door of Black Crow’s office open and steps go into the next room.
Quickly he glanced in the window confirming the office was empty but the door was slightly ajar. He produced a small flat case from under his shirt. It held his lock picking kit. With a flat strip of metal he easily forced the latch on the window.
He silently slid through the opening and crept quietly across the office.
A glance through the half open door revealed a large room with a pool table, half a dozen tables and a bar with an old fashion railing on the floor.
Black Crow behind the bar was pouring a brandy while holding a conversation with a red faced white man in a Mountie uniform.
“Sure you don’t want a drink O’Malley?” said Black Crow.
“I’ve better not, I have a trainee in the car and he might smell that I was drinking on duty.” replied O’Malley.
“Isn’t it dangerous to bring him with you when you’re delivering the dope I need for tonight’s kidnappings?”
“Not really” said O’Malley. “With your reputation as the most dangerous smuggler in the province they are very impressed that I come in here alone to tell you off.”
The flat cackling laughter of the Spider echoed around the large barroom. The Spider’s anger had grown white hot through his long trip and then having to lay in wait. The scar on his temple stood out stark white. He kicked open the door and began to reap vengeance on the human monsters that tricked or forced people into sexual slavery.
The crooked Mountie went down with lead from two .45 bullets in his body and head. The Spider started to aim at Black Crow who was dunking behind the bar when a pool ball smacked into the crime smasher’s right hand.
The Spider half turned and fired with his left at the man at the pool table who was trying to draw a giant six shooter from his belt. As the pitcher went down with a bullet in the brain there was another surprise.
The giant who had been talking to Black Crow earlier tackled Wentworth from the right. He bore the Spider to the floor by sheer weight. He was trying to pin the Spider’s left hand, which still held an automatic, but the smaller man pushed his right elbow into the big man’s throat. He pushed the gangster’s head back until he could twist and blew the gangster’s head off at point blank range.
The sentry from outside was standing in the door trying to get a clear shot at the Spider when suddenly a shot rang out from behind him. The sentry fell motionless as the young Mountie who had been waiting in the car stomped in with a drawn service revolver.
The Spider realized the Mountie thought he was coming to the rescue of his commander from Black Crow’s gang. In his excitement he was likely to shoot the Spider, but Wentworth’s code of conduct was iron clad, he would never kill or even injure an honest police officer. Dropping the second automatic he lifted his open hands as high as he could above his head.
The panic stricken rookie was taking aim at the bizarre looking Spider, the only living man in the room when there was a sudden clunk sound and he collapsed bonelessly to the floor.
Jackson stood over him, having hit him with the butt of his hunting rifle.
“I saw one man running to the stable. “ said the chauffeur. “I figured it was more important to keep the kid here from making any mistakes then stopping him.”
“The building should be clear” said the Spider. “Make an anonymous phone call to the local Mountie station, and put the sleeper in his car and keep guard over him until help arrives or he wakes up.”
The Spider recovered his automatics and sweeping up a bar rag to wipe some of the blood from his face he strode to the door Black Crow had gone thru.
It led to a large deserted kitchen. Alert to concealed enemies the Spider crossed to the open outside door.

Chapter 10 A Long Chase
Sure enough it led to the corral. Both stalls and the corral gate were open. Black Crow was riding one of the ponies and leading the other down a much used path. He was already over seventy five hundred feet away but the Spider stopped, assumed an FBI stance holding one automatic in both hands for careful aim and fired twice. Both shots were close misses, but Black Hawk’s horse shied. The slaver skillfully controlled his mount and proceeded to flee down the path out of sight, but he had to release the second horse he had been leading.
The second horse began to run in odd circles, panicked without guidance. The Spider quickly grabbed a rope from the wall and made a lasso. He walked toward the animal making comforting noises. The mixed blood Indian pony alike many a thoroughbred polo pony, responded to Wentworth’s powerful well controlled voice.
He gently tossed the lasso over its head and began walking the horse in circles around him, killing its nerves. After a few minutes he was able to grab its bridle. He realized Black Hawk was planning a long trip with a stop in the woods; he had saddled this pony for a relief mount, as well as well as slinging saddle bags and extra water on it.
He removed everything but the saddle, bridle and one canteen and mounted.
The pony took a few moments to respond and then followed Wentworth’s guidance down the path after Black Hawk.
After a little while the pony went from a walk to a brisk trot. When he had last seen the fugitive he had been galloping wildly but he was probably too good a horseman to exhaust his horse or risk an accident. The Spider was sure Black Hawk would slow down so he could catch them if he could keep his horse at a brisk pace.
Sure enough after an hour the occasional hoof prints became fresher and fresher. When he could hear Black Hawk’s pony ahead he drew one automatic.
Rounding a narrow curb he found himself looking down a long down slope with Black Hawk a dozen yards ahead. The gangster had a long barreled hunting rifle and sitting on his pony fired as soon as the Spider was in sight. At the extreme range he missed, but the Spider heard the crack of the bullet.
He returned fire with his .45 as charged his pony toward the slaver. Puffs of dirt showed his bullets didn’t even reach Black Hawk. However he knew the Indian would have to use both hands to use the massive lever on his rifle to pump a new cartridge into the chamber. He just might reach an effective range if he could keep Black Hawk rattled.
Black Hawk must have come to the same conclusion because he turned his pony, using only his knees, and rode away trying to work the lever on his rifle. After a moment he took the reins in one hand and forced his ride into a gallop.
The Spider followed, keeping a safe distance from the rifle as he weighed his options. Black Hawk might have a pistol but would not want to drop the rifle to reach it. The Spider could not let this be a long race, his pony having been pushed hard to catch up with Black Hawk and would tire first.
Ahead the path had turned into a series of long turns to slow descent to a safe speed. The Spider with an instantaneous calculation yanked his pony to the left. It half leaped, half staggered down the slope between the two segments of road. His mount continued fighting to keep its footing until they broke out on to the trail, just ahead of Black Hawk.
The desperate fugitive, unable to stop his speeding horse fired the massive rifle single handedly, missing badly. As the Spider took careful aim with one automatic Black Hawk played his last card and forced his pony forward slamming the two mounts together. Both horses fell, but both riders skillfully rolled, avoiding being crushed.
Black Hawk lost his rifle as he hit the ground but was on his feet in a second lunging at the Spider. The cloaked figure was less ready and had lost the automatic he had been carrying. He was however on his feet only a moment after Black Hawk and whipped his second automatic from its holster
Black Hawk seized the Spider’s arm with his right hand and tried to force his gun hand away. The Spider paused letting Black Hawk desperately pull on his arm, but the weapon remained steady at the slave dealer’s face. Then with a look of scorn the Spider shot him between the eyes.
It would not be safe to use the mark of the Spider on anyone. For the mysterious crime fighter to appear in Canada at the same time as Richard Wentworth had flown in would be too suspicious. However looking in his enemies’ eye as he died brought him an odd satisfaction.

Chapter 11: Back to New York
The wealthy Mr. Richard Wentworth of New York and his Chauffeur Ronald Jackson arrived at their rooms in the hunting lodge well after dark and retired immediately to their rooms. The next morning they received a telegram from New York which Jackson explained to the staff concerned a business emergency. Mr. Wentworth would be checking out and flying back that very morning.
The coded message actually said Georgia Blaine had an appointment set up with Dr. Humbert who had interviewed many child molesters. More exciting was the message from Nita Van Sloan who had met a possible salesman for the slave ring. Best of all she would be waiting at his landing field.
On Wentworth’s arrival the two lovers spent several minutes in a greeting that would have been more appropriate to a separation of years then a single day. When they had finished he switched to a regular business suit and each took a high powered car into the city. Commissioner Kirkpatrick had set up a council of war including several police detectives and Dr. Humboldt, the expert on paraphilia.
“What you are dealing with may not be pedophiles" said Dr. Humboldt looking around the overheated conference room in the police station. “Not in the word’s traditional meaning.”
“Most of the pedophiles I have questioned see themselves as friends of children; they try to have a relationship with their victims. Many of them are family members or friends of the family or other people who have regular contact with children.”
“I arrested two teachers in last three years” said a grey haired heavily jowled police detective named O’Hara. “Actually it was a woman school teacher and a male coach at one of the private schools.”
“Right” said Humboldt, addressing the crowd of detectives, Commissioner Kirkpatrick, Georgia Blaine, and standing unobtrusively in the back of the room Richard Wentworth.
“I believe what you are dealing with here are more sexual sadists then pedophiles. You can look for the types of houses of prostitution that allow their residents to be “abused”.
“If we knew the location of brothels we would have raided them already” said Kirkpatrick.
“I can name three houses where girls can be whipped for a price” declared Blaine. “I have been trying to give the address to different detectives for months.”
“I doubt you could tell us anything that a judge would grant a warrant for” said O’Hara.
Kirkpatrick spoke up interrupting an explosion by Blaine. “Get the facts together officer, I have some judges who owe me favors, one even owes me her job.”
“Searching the brothels is one move” said Humboldt. “In a case of child abduction in Louisiana a detective was able to poise as a customer and get an invitation to a special place for wealthy perverts.”
Kirkpatrick turned to Wentworth.
“You’re the only one I can trust to look into the rich degenerates that might be paying for this stuff” he said.
“I don’t think that will work” said Wentworth. “I have a reputation as working with the police and openly saving a number of lives over the years. Worse I think I have been snubbing a lot of the people I would want to start with.”
“But I have already got a person attending three parties in the last three nights, Jenykins. “
“Cook and a man with the nerve breed in line of British Army sergeants. When he wants his accent and manners are upper class English.”
“It was easy to get an announcement of Sir Harold Jennings' arrival into the papers, and Nita got him invited to two upper-class parties, where he attached himself to men with reputations as libertines. If he receives an invitation he will call me at an unlisted number monitored twenty four hours a day. “
“Then you” Wentworth said looking around to indicate the assembled police “will be in charge of following him.”
“Remember the customers and the gangsters running things will be desperate” said Humboldt. “You may only have one chance to save the children. “

Chapter 12: Charlie Bristo
Charlie Bristo signaled to have another skeet launched. Watching as it was launched from the bow of his yacht, he smashed it with one shot. A big man, once muscular, now fat, he wore a big floppy hat to protect his hairless head from the sun.
The morning newspapers he had been studying lay on his breakfast table next to his gun rack. In the dawn hours three of the brothels of his closest competitors had been raided plus one of his ‘legitimate’ bordellos.
As he considered all that gone wrong lately he ordered a double pull and hit both skeets.
First Charlie Matters was missing. Bristo’s truck load of merchandise was in the hands of the police. The men sent for it were killed by a figure he had thought mythic, the Spider. His suppliers in Canada weren’t answering the phone, and now it was open season on rackets that had operated from years under corrupt police protection.
Bristo was in most ways a cautious man. He had separated himself from the most dangerous parts of his businesses to the point where only his trusted lieutenants usually knew for sure where he was living. His savings were socked away in different cities around the world since he knew that one day he would return to being Carlos in Greece. However this time he would be a gentleman farmer rather a shoeless peasant.
He didn’t need a battle with an unidentified madman like the Spider.
He looked around the deck of his massive ship. Even near dawn he heard a few people gambling in the converted lounge. Almost no New York state, or even federal laws could be enforced as long as stayed outside US territorial waters.
He climbed a ladder to the bridge where the captain was preparing to retire to sleep. He stayed up most of the night when boats brought customers to the yacht.
“If we cancel the evening business, how long for us to stock up on supplies and fuel for an overseas voyage” asked Bristo.
“We can leave now for Canada” said the sailor.
“I am calling all my bag men this evening with the month’s receipts. Bring on fuel etc. for a trip to West Africa at noon tomorrow. I will need to spend some time on the radio to decide which port we will use. I will probably be disposing of the ship, and paying you off.”

Chapter 13: Sir Harold goes to a Party
Jenykins also read about the raids in the morning paper, but not until long after noon. He simply had not partied so late for a long time. When the phone rang in his expensive suite, as instructed he waited to the third ring to pick it up, as not to seem to be waiting.
“Sir Harold, its Topper, Cosmo Topper, we met last night. I got you an invitation to the new ah place we talked about last night. “
“Excellent old man, I haven’t really indulged since that time in Goa.”
“You will be met by an unmarked limo in front of your hotel at 6, the password is LIMEY, and your counter password is CANADIAN.
Jenykins immediately called Wentworth’s apartment and left a message on the answering machine.
At six Jenykins waited on the sidewalk in front of his hotel. He had received no phone messages but nervously decided to continue with his instructions and let himself be taken to the hidden brothel. Suddenly he had to suppress a smile. Out of one of the passing cars he saw Miss. Nina giving him encouraging smile and nod.
Certain he was covered he resumed waiting for his ride.
At the stroke of six a non-descript black limo pulled up and a uniformed driver got out and opened the door for ‘Sir Harold Jenkins’. The seats were comfortable leather and he found a well-stocked bar. Jenykins wasn’t thirsty however. He had a tingle on the back of his neck from not looking around for the unmarked police cars he was sure were trailing him.
Nina worriedly studied Commissioner Kirkpatrick as he listened to his car’s two way radio. He directed the unmarked police cars, switching the ones immediately behind the limo to avoid detection and keeping one on each parallel street in case it turned.
Kirkpatrick noticed her straining to hear the radio and gave her a reassuring smile. “We have everything under control, as soon as he goes inside we will have the building surrounded. “
“Richard will be with them won’t he” she asked.
Kirkpatrick nodded and went back to directing his men.
Jenkins’s silent ride ended as the limo pulled up to the private entrance of what appeared to be a deserted hotel. He entered unable to see the road but confidence that the master would not leave him unsupported.
Kirkpatrick swiftly had unmarked cars surround the apparently deserted building. Uniformed officers out of sight of the three story building closed off several blocks.
Jenykins in his disguise entered a surprisingly beautiful lobby, well lit, but with heavy curtains over the windows to avoid the neighbors catching a glimpse of the odd goings on inside. Like any good brothel there was a piano player and a bar in the lobby. Here however the piano man was playing Chopin on a baby grand. The attempt at refinement was spoiled by the fact that he played very badly.
The bar was staffed by women of three races wearing evening gowns, and light almost decorative chains.
Cosmo Topper the spotter who had steered him to this odd place rushed to greet the ersatz Sir Harold.
“Oh greetings” he burbled in his high pitched voice. “We don’t have to stay here in the public section a moment longer Sir Harold”
He led Jenykins to the elevator. A young man of Adonis like beauty in a swimming suit worked the controls shooting them up to the third floor.
Then Topper led the Englishman to what had once been the bridal suite. As he opened the doors Jenkins was almost simultaneously relieved and repulsed. The four preteens he had been told to expect were all there, three girls and a boy. But they were chained to the beds, next to naked, and clearly unable to defend themselves in any way.
Jenkins was planning his next move when there was a crash from the front door and shouts of police, police. As Topper turned in surprise Jenkins punched him in the stomach with all his strength. The little chief was palming a small lead weight given to him by Wentworth. Then he struck him again and again on the head. The pimp was stunned and fell to one knee but Jenkins realized he lacked the shear strength for a clean knock out. Changing tactics he picked up a solid wooden chair and bashed the gangster over the head.
Determined to protect the children as well as he could till the police arrived he rushed to the suites double doors. Lacking a key he produced another concealed tool Wentworth had said would have many uses, a strong stiff wire that he wrapped several times around the handles. Anyone trying to open the doors from the outside would have to break the wires without benefit of leverage.
“Young Persons” he said dropping the English accent “let me help, I think we can turn the beds on their side to give you some protection”
Kirkpatrick was directing the attack on the hotel. When what some people called the beef squad, big heavily armed men went through the front door everyone, including the bouncer/ guards started to flee in different directions. Detectives waited at the obvious back and side entrances. They were separating people as they emerged employees into one holding area, customers into another and the prostitutes into a third. Georgia Blaine was talking to the third group gathering info on who needed help.
A hastily assembled squad of police women was preparing to make the final sweep of the building. Suddenly Wentworth who had been standing right behind Kirkpatrick the entire time tapped him on the shoulder and pointed.
“The small Union Jack pennant that I gave Jenykins” said Wentworth “Its hanging out of that third story window. I need to get up there.”
“Right“ snapped Kirkpatrick “take two of the four officers guarding the base of fire escape.
“Special orders from Kirkpatrick” said Wentworth in a commanding voice” Two of you come with me; we need to check out the banner in that top window.” He then proceeded up the fire escape with such a tangible air of certainty that the two uniformed officers followed him without question. He was after all known to be a friend and sometimes consultant of the commissioner.
Wentworth’s haste was driven because of the small St. George banner in the window. It had been carried by Jenykins to signal an emergency.
Wentworth was first through the open window, and took in the room at a glance. Topper was getting up off the floor slowly and Wentworth covered him with his police special as the two policeman entered.
Wentworth gestured them toward the doors with his free hand.
“Get the doors open so we can get some tools up to cut these children free” he ordered them. “Officer give me your cuffs so I can secure this suspect. “
“What about the short guy” asked the officer who handed over his cuffs?
“That is the undercover agent who found this place” replied Wentworth curtly.
“And that” said Jenykins” is the man who handled finding customers for the, unwilling, inhabitants of this place.”
As both officers began to unwind the wire Wentworth approached Cosmo Topper. He planned his next move carefully. The policemen were distracted and the children had their heads down behind the overturned beds for shelter.
Wentworth reached under his jacket and pulled a derringer from a carefully tailored inner pocket and tossed it to the still dazed Topper. The pimp caught it instinctively. Wentworth then shot him three times in the core of his body at close range.
As the police turned they were facing a clear case of a prisoner pulling a gun on an honest citizen who had killed him in self-defense.

Chapter 14 Tracing the Monster to his Lair.
Jackson found Nita, Wentworth and Jenkins at the police station two hours before dawn. Wentworth and Jenykins were just finishing their statements to the District Attorney and ready to leave...
He waved to Wentworth as they came down the front steps of the police station and immediately begin filling them in.
“I drove all day and most of the night back from Canada” said Jackson. As soon I got back in radio range Ram Singh began reporting to me as he followed a Fat Tony Rissola. He should be calling from the tugboat he rented anytime.
“Tugboat” blurted Jenykins.
“Apparently someone named Charlie Bristol is living on a yacht outside the legal limits” said the chauffeur.
“Let me get the whole story from Ran Singh “snapped Wentworth.
“Are you still driving the truck? “
“Yes major” said Jackson
The large radio in the back of the panel truck came to life as Wentworth tuned it to the frequency reserved for Ram Singh. They spoke in a little known North Indian dialect, giving them more effective security then any code.
“After you left” said the Indian “I checked a number of hangouts. Late the next afternoon I found someone to point out Fat Anthony Rissola. I followed him carefully around the city. This afternoon he made half a dozen stops always with two guards and a big carrying case. I think he was collecting money.”
“Then just before sunset this evening he boarded, I think it’s called a cigarette boat. There six other men joined him all with similar cases. I recognized two from the papers as suspected dope dealers.”
“I rushed to the next pier and with the package of money we keep in each car managed to rent a tugboat to follow them. Truly it is said ‘Gold opens more locks than any key.’ They all boarded a yacht that is at anchor just outside the territorial waters. The captain of my tug has given me the coordinates.”
“Will we need this tug master?” finished Khan.
“No” said Wentworth ”we will meet you at the dock. Pay the captain a big bonus, and threaten him so he will think this about two gangsters is spying on one another.”
“Jackson" said Wentworth. “We will take the panel truck you’re driving to meet Khan. We will need crate n. Jenykins, Nita, I need you to drive to the country house. The plane, fully armed, needs to be at these coordinates just before dawn. “
He handed Nita a slip of paper with the coordinates of the yacht.
“We need to keep anyone we can from escaping. If any of the, call them officers, of the Briscoe organization escape, they can continue to manipulate all the prostitutes, bribe officials, even continue kidnapping. No one gets away from that boat.”
“Should I drop grenades?” asked Ms. Van Sloan.
“That’s our other problem” replied Wentworth “We have to make sure there are no slaves onboard.”

Chapter 15: No Survivors!
Not far before dawn Wentworth, Ram Singh, and Jackson were rowing in perfect practiced cadence propelling a medium size canoe toward the yacht. Each wore a swim suit and mask, a mask with goggles allowing them to swim underwater but otherwise showing the world the fanged face of the spider. Surgical gloves left their hands flexible but prevented their leaving any finger prints.
The canoe consisted of a light metal frame with a heavy canvas like material stretched over it. The entire vessel folded into a single crate in the truck Jackson had been driving. The moon was down and the sun not quite up. The canoe was quiet and so low in the water it was almost invisible. They circled the yacht unseen; approaching from the side opposite the floating dock where the motor launch waited.
Wentworth tossed one of his sticky climbing webs to the empty railing. He shimmied up the web first, and pulling his two 45 automatics from a vest which also carried knives, grenades, and a flare. He quickly and quietly went toward the passenger’s cabins.
Khan and Jackson followed up the web and went about their assignments.
Khan slowly climbed the outside ladder to the bridge of the ship. He waited until no one was facing the door and slipped in. Jackson moved quickly to the deserted engine room.
Wentworth glanced into the main dining room. A variety of obvious gangsters types were either asleep in armchairs or desultorily playing cards.
Wentworth realized they were waiting for daylight to take the motor launch back to shore. Quietly he went on to check the cabins. Only one was locked. The Spider produced lock picks and in a moment had the cheap lock open. As he feared there were two women in their early twenties, dressed in slips, handcuffed to the bunks.
One, with a severe bruise on her face, drew in her breath to scream. The Spider raised his hand and in a commanding whisper said “I am here to help you. Just wait two minutes, you have little to lose.”
The girl nodded while her companion looked on in a daze.
The handcuffs were regular police issue and took him several minutes to open.
”Are there any other prisoners on board” he asked as he worked on them?
“No I think the other girl killed herself a week ago” she replied “So Briscoe brought us here. We were waitresses in one of his legitimate night clubs, and when we turned down the extra money for having sex with customers he grabbed us to entertain his crew and guests. The Captain broke Margie’s wrist and she’s take a couple of shots to the head.”
“Do you have some clothes or at least shoes” whispered the Spider?
“This is all they left us” said the girl with the bruised face.
“Put on the life jackets. I will clear the corridor. Your job is to get your friend on deck, straight up this corridor. Then both of you go down the steps and on the motor launch. There will be a lot of noise in a few minutes but your job is to get on that launch. There are three of us on board, all wearing masks like mine and we will get you away.”
On the bridge Ram Singh noted on his waterproof watch it had been five minutes. He swung in the hatch to the bridge where two crewmen were on duty.
Khan hurled a throwing knife at the far man. It took him in the throat and the sailor collapsed dying quickly.
The second man was standing at the steering wheel. A big man who the scrambled eggs on his hat marked as the captain whirled quickly grabbing a weighted baton.
With a warrior’s cry the Captain blocked Khan’s first knife lunge on his baton. The two fighters closed both seeking a wrestling hold. Khan’s super skill and strength won and he tripped the Captain to the bridge’s deck. He drove his knife into the sailor’s abdomen and withdrew it with a twist letting the blood flow freely.
Then Khan drew the giant colt .45 revolver he favored and went to the hatch to cover the deck.
As the Spider led the two girls down the corridor the death scream of the brutal Captain echoed through the ship. He waved them on and as the alert woman pulled the other through the hatch to the deck he pulled the grenade from his webbed vest.
Popping the arming pin he counted to two, hurled it into the lounge where the various gangsters and stewards had been awakened. The explosion didn’t damage the ship but everyone in the lounge was either wounded or killed by red hot fragments and a thundering blast.
On reaching the deck the Spider saw the girls were already rushing down the steps to the motor launch. A dead sailor on the deck showed Khan was giving them cover fire to the left from the bridge, so the Spider swung to the right producing his twin automatics.
Three sailors were running down the dock with clubs. The Spider’s mocking chuckle rang out as he cut them down with a rain of slugs.
Just then Jackson rushed past him down the stairs to the launch.
Both the Spider and Khan snapped to attention as he shouted “90 seconds left.”
The Spider with a further round of cackling leaped to the top of the ship’s railing. He then flipping through the air landed in a roll on the dock and began untying the launch.
Khan with a tremendous leap from the bridge, cleared the deck, and landed feet first in the water. With a powerful stroke Wentworth had insisted he learn he started away from the yacht.
Jackson had the launch's engine started and the Spider had finished untying the mooring ropes when a horrible sound and a blast of flame emitted from the depths of the ship.
Jackson grinned as the ship began to roll over and settled deeper in the water. He had the engine running on the motor launch.
“The engine room was unguarded sir” he said. “I was able to plant all the explosives. They have no drive, no power plant or pumps. I think I cracked the bottom!”
He turned the tiller “Let’s pickup” he stopped before he said Khan’s name in front of the two strangers.
“Go” said the Spider, who turned to scan the railing of the ship.
He jerked with surprise as he saw a bald fat man on the railing aiming an expensive trapshooting rifle at them. He lifted one automatic in a two handed grip and took careful aim.
There was a long pause as both prepared for the difficult moving shot. Then the bald man fired and the Spider felt a burning on his left ribs. His attention unbroken he fired and the rifle man fell like a poled ax.
Khan swam to the boat and pulled himself in. He insisted on looking at the Spider’s side.
“It’s just a scratch” said Spider.
He turned to Jackson “Take us around the boat, nobody gets away.”
A screaming figure, totally engulfed in flame, hurled itself into the sea and sank without a trace.
Jackson looked at the sinking ship and said “I don’t think that will be a problem.
“Circle anyway.” commanded the Spider. “Also fire a blue flare, if our plane starts dropping grenades it may be spotted and identified.”
The boat continued to sink but no more living people emerged.

Chapter 16: Wind up.
The three vigilantes docked not far from their truck. The Spider and Jackson sank it with bullets as the two girls watched. Khan having lost his gun in the ocean ran to the truck. He returned with a small first aid kit.
At a signal from Wentworth Khan and Jackson each grabbed one of the girls and held them with their wrists together behind them. The Spider tied their wrists together with surgical tape and then blindfolded them.
The stunned girl submitted without a struggle. So did the girl with the bruised face, but the Spider realized she was submitting out of calculation, hoping a chance to escape might come later.
Sitting them on a piece of dry canvas found on the dock the Spider knelt beside them and explained in his dry commanding whisper “We cannot risk being involved in your recovery, and we cannot let you just leave without checking you out. One of us will be guarding you from out of sight till the police respond to an anonymous call. Good evening ladies and have a good life.”
The next evening Richard Wentworth and Nina Van Sloan sat in his music room listening to a recording of Brahms at his most romantic.
“So what is going to happen to Marie and her cousin Georges” asked Nina?
“Georgia says the Canadian authorities may be returning to their aunt the occasional drunk” replied Wentworth as he poured a cocktail from a cooled pitcher.
“But Jackson grabbed a package of money off the bar in Canada. Georgia thinks she can arrange it to be a scholarship to send them to a private academy for at least three years.”
“The DA is seizing property all over the city and maybe, maybe, in a few years the other sex slaves may receive some of it. Anyone wants to sue I can arrange lawyers. “
Jenkins knocked politely on the half open door.
“Commissioner Kirkpatrick has arrived for his dinner engagement sir” said the devoted servant.
Wentworth rose and instructed Jenkins “Please bring the commissioner here, he will need a cocktail after such a hectic day, plan dinner in a half an hour.”
As his friend entered the music room Wentworth greeted him with a two handed shake. Nina handed the official a chilled martini.
“The girls in the hidden brothel are all talking as well as some of the employees” Kirkpatrick started. “They all agree that it’s run by a Fat Tony Rissola. We arrested his body guard and he listed some other businesses Rissola had an interest in. He also gave us the name Carlo Bristo, who may have been running a lot of stuff around town we are just finding out about. “
“Are you going to be able to arrest this Bristo” asked Wentworth?
Nina turned away to hide a small smile.
“We have witnesses he was living on a ship parked off the coast. The Coast Guard was sure it was casino. Now it’s gone and I finally have dependable surviving witnesses of the Spider committing piracy and murder. More I know now he has partners. At least two men helped him sink the ship. “
“I am talking to the navy about sending down a diver to check the scene. The Canadians are looking for their end of the trail; they are convinced that a rival gang wiped out the actual kidnappers, killing a Mountie at the same time. I would suspect the Spider but there is no definitive evidence, brands and such.”
“They did arrest two sergeants at the militia arsenal who were selling government armaments.”
“Still for this case to close I want to find the man who ran that truck service. I think Charlie Matters can tell us a lot about smuggling for the last few years. “
Wentworth gave a start and said “I forgot to make a business call, excuse me a moment will you?”
At midnight as Office Flannery was making his usual patrol of the Bowery when Freddie Flannel, one of the winos he usually met, came running out of an alley wearing his trademark flannel shirt.
“Officer, Officer” shouted Freddie “You need to come hear this.”
Flannery walked down the alley where Freddie was pointing to a big crate.
Flannery bent over and heard an odd croaking; he had to listen carefully to realize it was a human voice dry and weak from continuous screaming. On top of the box rested a jimmy. Flannery yanked off a board and saw a small man, naked, bathed in more than one day of his own wastes. Flannery recognized Charlie Matters from the photos distributed to all patrolmen. On his fore head was written in lipstick A GIFT FOR COMMISSIONER KIRKPATRICK.