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.