DOC SAVAGE: THE INFERNAL BUDDHA (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage) (30 page)

The water was cold, benumbing, liquid ice.

They bobbed back to the surface in short order. The girl was an otter in the depths. She shot ahead. Renny followed more slowly, not sure if he had been seriously wounded or not, at the same time trying not to splash.

There were Chinamen in the water. Babbling, they rushed him.

“Still active?” Renny thundered. “Try some old-fashioned fist medicine!”

Another battle ensued. Gargantuan fists smashed out. Soon the big engineer and his foes disappeared in a welter of foam.

Renny went down with them in depths that were chilling and clear as crystal. An automatic coughed twice under the water with a twin concussion that threatened to rip his eardrums apart.

Renny clawed to the surface in time to drive a bony mallet of a fist against the temple of a snarling, spitting Celestial. The fellow vanished soggily.

Two more came up, their faces distorted masks. Renny kicked briskly at one. His clothes had filled with water, impeded his movements. The blow did no harm, merely pushed the Oriental out of sight. The other lunged, a long knife in his talon-like hand.

The Chinese miscalculated the length of Renny’s arms. Too late, he struck. Renny’s fingers closed about the pipe-stem wrist and it broke with a hollow, crunching sound. Squawling, the man sank.

Mary Chan surfaced, squirting water from her inviting mouth. “Very thirsty,” she said, grinning bravely. “But I did not swallow.”

Above, the racket of machine-gun fire gave another ripping burst. Then abruptly, all gunfire died.

Renny waited, ears straining to make out distinct sounds.

“It may be safe to climb back up,” Mary suggested hopefully.

“Don’t bet on it,” rumbled Renny cautiously.

A moment later, Doc Savage’s head appeared at the rail and looked down.

“I have convinced the Japanese gunboat captain that further violence will not be necessary,” the bronze man informed them.

MARY CHAN CLINGING to his neck, Renny ascended the fibre line hand over hand, making it look easy. For one possessing such viselike fists, it was. Only then did he realize that his shoulder wounds were mere bullet burns.

Apparently there had been few fatalities in the fight; the fellow whose knife-arm Renny had broken had gone down and failed to reappear.

Doc Savage gathered his men together in the shadow of the rakish mainsail.

“I have surrendered this vessel to the Japanese captain,” he announced.

Ham frowned. “Was that wise, Doc?”

“A cessation of hostilities will buy us a chance to reason through the matter without further bloodshed. Too, there is the dire matter of the Buddha of Ice. To continue fighting, risks the sinking of the Red Dragon junk, and unforeseeable consequences.”

Monk bunched rusty paws, simian features seemingly making a third fist. Renny glowered. Ham jointed and unjointed his sword cane as if unsure what to do with it. But all recognized the undeniable wisdom of the bronze man’s decision.

“We must prepare to be boarded,” Doc added.

A tender was put down from the cruiser. It was filled with Japanese Marines in olive drab, recognizable by the sea-anchor emblems on the front of their steel helmets. They came with bayonets fixed on their very modern rifles.

The captain of the gunboat was a compact little man with a knob-hard face possessing skin like a drumhead drawn taut over projecting facial bones, and very polite manners. His crisp dark-blue uniform and polished boots showed a lot of snap.

He introduced himself, speaking swiftly in a tone that was characterized by a series of hissing inflections.

“I am Captain Kensa Kan of the Imperial Japanese Navy, on permanent assignment to patrol these waters. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Savage-
san.
”

The captain bowed formally.

Doc Savage returned the greeting with an infinitesimal nod of his head.

“You have convinced me to cease shelling the other vessel,” Captain Kan said crisply. “Kindly explain your presence in the Yellow Sea and your actions of recent days.”

Doc Savage had evidently anticipated the direct question and considered his response in advance.

“We are engaged in a scientific expedition,” Doc replied in perfect Japanese.

Astonishment at the bronze man’s fluency in his own language caused Captain Kan’s flat features to flicker. “To what definite purpose, might I inquire?”

“A dangerous discovery had fallen into the hands of a Chinese bandit who goes by the name of Wah Chan,” Doc explained.

Kan’s impassive face darkened. “We know of Wah Chan and his gang of devils. Where is he?”

“Wah Chan is my prisoner,” replied Doc, not exactly lying.

“In the name of the Emperor, I claim custody of this anti-Japanese criminal.”

“It is not Wah Chan who matters here,” said Doc, sidestepping the demand. “But the discovery that he had in his possession.”

“Please to continue, Savage-
san,
” invited Captain Kan.

“A full explanation would be difficult and perhaps border on the incredible,” Doc told him. “For now it is vitally important that the other junk not be allowed to sink.”

“I see,” hissed Captain Kan, who only thought he understood. “I will have a shore party board the other junk and investigate.”

“That would be exceedingly dangerous,” returned Doc, choosing his words carefully.

“Why so?”

“The discovery is one of almost unbelievable destructive power.”

“You refer to the thing that has been sinking Japanese war vessels?”

Doc nodded. “The same. Its true nature and dangerousness are not yet fully understood.”

This statement caused Captain Kan to consider his position carefully. He retreated to speak to an aide. They conferred briefly.

“Are you saying that it is too dangerous to board the junk?” Kan asked after returning.

“Yes. Definitely. You may be familiar with the dangerous emanations of radium. This substance is far, far worse in its lethality.”

“But to sink it is unwise, you insist?”

Doc said, “Not merely unwise, but far more dangerous than to board it unprotected.”

“I do not fully understand.”

“That makes two of us,” returned Doc, stalling for time.

Captain Kan turned his narrow gaze in the direction of the junk of the Red Dragon. It was a wreck. The fantail was a splintery mess. One mast lay athwart the deck, the Red Dragon mainsail lying like a dirty brown blanket across the starboard side.

The junk was listing. Smoke poured from three spots. No fire was visible, but that only meant that conflagrations smoldered out of sight, threatening the entire vessel.

“I regret to inform you that I have received orders from Tokyo to sink that junk at all costs,” purred the Japanese captain.

“It appears that you may be minutes away from accomplishing that task,” Doc pointed out.

“Yet you say there would ensue a calamity?”

“Of the highest order.”

Captain Kan appraised Doc Savage’s metallic face for long moments.

“Which can be avoided,” the bronze man added.

“How so? Speak!”

“Allow us to board the junk and secure the thing before it disappears beneath the waves.”

“It is a weapon, obviously?”

“Obviously,” Doc admitted.

Captain Kan lifted his head off his shoulders. “Then I am honor-bound to claim it for the sake of the Japanese Empire,” he said crisply.

Doc shook his head firmly. “The substance has been found to be uncontrollable—uncontainable as well. To send a boarding party would be to doom every member of that party, and possibly all of us, should the dreadful power hiding in the other hold be accidentally unleashed.”

“If it is so dangerous, how is it you think you can control it?”

“We have learned enough to believe that it can be safely secured. But if the junk sinks, all hope is lost.”

“Hope for whom?” asked Kan.

“Hope for the world. For no nation is any more or less at risk from the thing that lies in that other junk’s hold. All are equally in danger.”

“You have a reputation for honesty, Savage-
san,
” allowed Captain Kan.

Doc inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“But I cannot trust you above the orders of my Emperor,” Kan snapped decisively. “I will send a boarding party. You will accompany us. If what you say is true, you will safeguard my Marines.”

“I am willing do that,” allowed Doc Savage.

“You have no choice in the matter, being my prisoner. Now where is Wah Chan?”

“He has not been seen since the battle with the crew of the other junk,” replied Doc truthfully.

Abruptly, Captain Kan rapped out guttural orders. Marines were dispatched to the innards of the junk.

They began hauling out crewmen of assorted nationalities, herding them at bayonet-point onto the foredeck. They were not polite about it. The Malays and other Asiatics lined up like brown owls perched on a telephone wire.

Surveying the blue turbans and Malay tunic costumes, Kan demanded of Doc Savage, “What manner of ship is this? These men have the look of pirates!”

Doc explained dryly, “We hired them in the South China Sea. References were not available.”

Captain Kan’s tight-skinned face hardened. “U. S. neutrality in the affairs of other nations has been proclaimed and guaranteed by your Congress. Has it not?”

Doc nodded. “We are not here for any reason other than the one stated.”

“It would be a deplorable state of affairs if developments should prove otherwise,” purred Kan, his eyes unreadable.

Mark and Mary Chandler were brought into view, and introduced as American geologists. Of Wah Chan, there was no sign. The Japanese failed to recognize him, for most of his Manchu garments had been torn away in the battle with the boarders and without them, he looked like an American. Furthermore, the battering his face had received obliterated all resemblance he had to a Manchurian man.

He was introduced as Washington Chandler. This passed without question or comment.

“Where is Wah Chan?” demanded Captain Kan of Doc Savage.

“It is conceivable that he fell overboard during the struggle,” Doc suggested. “Many did.”

This did not satisfy the Japanese captain. He scanned the faces of the assembled crew. His tightening expression told that he did not like what he saw.

Kan faced Doc Savage, who towered over him. The officer took pains not to stand too close to the bronze giant.

“Take your choice,” he suggested. “It is merely a question of joining your ancestors now, or living longer, with my word that you will continue to enjoy good health if you follow my orders satisfactorily.”

HAM BROOKS sidled up to Doc Savage. Ham understood enough Japanese to have followed the trend of the exchange. Under his breath, he said, “Doc! If they get hold of that hellish Buddha, they will have a weapon with which they can have their way with any nation on earth!”

The dapper attorney spoke Mayan, the tongue they used to communicate with one another in secret.

“No doubt,” Doc replied in Mayan.

“How can we stop them?”

“If necessary, they must be allowed to do so.”

“What?”

“It would be the least dire alternative,” explained Doc. “If they decide to sink Wah Chan’s junk, the consequences will be too terrible to contemplate. The entire earth turned into a ball of mud, or perhaps a desert. ”

Ham stood tongue-tied, a condition rare for the sharp-tongued barrister.

Monk sidled over. “We can take these monkeys, Doc!” he growled.

Doc Savage shook his head definitely. “We are outgunned by the gunboat. They would blow us out in the water in retaliation.”

Renny cracked a set of knuckles with a sound like far thunder rumbling. “I’m for trying anyway.”

“You are forgetting something,” Doc reminded.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“The Buddha’s Toe. If they search thoroughly or, worse, sink this vessel, that outcome will be just as unpleasant as the other.”

A chill settled over the skins of Doc Savage’s men. Ham actually shivered.

Renny Renwick suddenly looked around, his equine face growing longer.

“That reminds me,” he rumbled. “What became of Startell Pompman? I don’t spy hide or hair of that bloated windbag.”

“It is something to wonder about,” Doc Savage admitted, his tone grim.

“Do you suppose he got loose in the fracas?” wondered Monk.

“It would be almost impossible for a thorough search of the vessel to fail to uncover him,” Doc pointed out reasonably.

“Well, good riddance, I say,” sniffed Ham. “He has been a thorn in our side all along.”

“Let us hope that is all he proves to be,” Doc said, eyes strangely still, as if concern had caused the ever-active metal flakes in his golden eyes to cease whirling.

THUS FAR IN the affair of the Infernal Buddha, one person had played a relatively inactive part.

Corpulent C. Startell Pompman, the prodigious plutocratic importer-turned-astrologer, had been confined to a cabin which was securely locked deep in the bowels of the pirate junk,
Cuttlefish.

He had been largely a captive eyewitness and eavesdropper to the amazing stratagem perpetrated by Doc Savage in his quest to seize control of the Buddha of Ice.

Three days before, the bronze man had flown south, communicating all the while to British authorities, requesting that a certain junk last seen in the South China Sea be located.

When it was, and its position conveyed to him, Doc had overflown the junk, which happened to be the vessel recently commanded by the late Dang Mi, otherwise Hen Gooch.

Doc had dropped a message by parachute-equipped canister onto the afterdeck. Once it was read, he had landed and set out by rubber raft to board the
Devilfish
.

There he had made the pirate crew a fair proposition. If they accepted him as their captain and sailed north to China, he would see that they were richly rewarded.

The pirates, some already fretting about their future, had wholeheartedly agreed. There were a few dissenters. The first mate, a worthy named Datu, pointedly suggested that Doc make these malcontents walk the plank.