Free The Avenger 35 - The Iron Skull by Kenneth Robeson Page A

gained at Freud’s knee in Old Vienna. Freud himself wasn’t there at the time, but his knee was very helpful. Ah, but let’s get down to cases. I’d guess that Herr Iron Skull doesn’t want anyone to forget how badly he was hurt and how bravely he overcame his accident. The wheelchair is part of that, too. Obviously if he can make a pile of nuts and bolts walk, he could do the same for himself.”
    “Yeah, could be that’s it,” agreed the Negro. “If he looked completely okay, people would maybe stop pitying him. And since he’s got a big need for pity, he keeps himself looking only half fixed.”
    “Precisely, Watson,” said Cole. “Lots of people do the same thing . . . albeit not so flamboyantly.”
    “What’d he want you to sign on for?”
    “He offered me a job in the robot works,” answered Cole. “Also gave me a guided tour of some of the facilities.”
    “The whole setup’s here?”
    “Appears to be . . . and don’t ask me where here is. I couldn’t get that out of him.”
    “Why’s he need you—doesn’t he have a crew of his own?”
    “I’m offended, Joshua. Chaps of my excellence aren’t lurking behind every rosebush. And furthermore, he has a tendency to kill employees who don’t measure up.”
    “Has the robot makers’ guild heard about this? What do you mean, kill them?”
    “Kill them,” repeated Cole. “He staged one such dismissal for my benefit. Up in that cozy little parlor of his. That’s another charming thing about our host. He’s got weapons built into himself, in his fingers and even in his head. The old chap that he’d tired of he dispatched with some sort of death beam he shot out of his eye.”
    “His eye, man?”
    “I assume it’s a fake eye. I don’t quite know how he did it. The beam seemed to be some kind of highly concentrated light. It burned right through the unfortunate chap.”
    “And you was going to try to go up against him with that little bitty revolver?”
    “They don’t call me Hairbreadth Harry for nothing. I am a firm believer in taking chances,” explained Cole. “Had I been able to get the two lamps shot out, I figured we might be able to outfox the old boy in the dark. Although for all I know, he glows in the dark.”
    “Well, since we ain’t going to outfox him in his parlor,” said Josh, “what are we going to do to get ourselves out of this dump?”
    “It occurs to me that a chap as gadget-minded as Herr Skull may well have these cells wired for sound,” said Cole.
    “Hey, I bet you’re right. Dumb of me not to think of that.”
    “I’ve cleverly kept you from saying anything incriminating, Joshua,” said Cole. “Now I think I’ll have a moment of silence whilst I plot my next Houdini-type escape.”

CHAPTER XX

Smitty Plays Quizmaster
    Smitty went boldly through the front door of the hospital, with the unconscious Dr. Steinbrunner slung over his shoulder. The doctor’s .38 dangled from Smitty’s right forefinger.
    As he’d surmised after making a circuit of the outside of the place, Steinbrunner’s Ear, Nose & Throat Hospital had few patients and was sparsely staffed. There was no one in the pale green foyer of the building as he came lumbering in.
    The giant went to the office with the doctor’s name lettered on the door and went in. The office was empty, a gooseneck lamp burning on the clean desktop.
    With a grunt, Smitty dumped his fat burden into the swivel chair. He went over and locked the door. Then he dug a truth gas capsule out of his pocket and crushed it under the doctor’s nose.
    Steinbrunner sat up and had a few seconds of wide-awakeness before slumping into a gas-induced daze.
    “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you’re going to answer ’em,” Smitty told him.
    “I will answer.”
    “Who you working for?”
    “I am an agent for the Homeland; my immediate superior is F.M. Nevins.”
    “Is he the bird who makes the robots?”
    “Nevins is an intermediary.”
    “Would he be the