Free Doc Savage: Glare of the Gorgon (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage Book 19) by Kenneth Robeson, Lester Dent, Will Murray Page B

appeared to be poorly nourished, and had a complexion that suggested future business for the mortician’s industry. His skin was pale as a fish belly, his hair was the color of straw that had lain too long in the sun, and his eyes were a blue so pale that sometimes sunlight made them seem colorless. Additionally, one front tooth had been knocked out in the past. The replacement was solid gold.
    During the past war, Long Tom had been a major in the United States Army, and once saved the day by stuffing an assortment of knives, broken crockery, nails and other unpleasant projectiles into an old cannon of the “Long Tom” type. He had sufficient gunpowder for the operation, but lacked a proper fuse and matches. So he rigged up a small electrical detonator of the kind used to set off dynamite, hunkered down behind the safety of a fieldstone wall, and drove the plunger down.
    The result was a calamity for the enemy—and a memorable victory for the young officer, who was forever after known to friends and associates as “Long Tom” Roberts.
    Long Tom did not look like much when he left the great auditorium where the scientific exposition was being held in the heart of Chicago. He was bundled up in an overcoat; under one arm he toted a bulky box.
    Weather had been Fall-like in New York City. Here in the Windy City, Old Man Winter had taken a firm grip. Long Tom kicked drifts of snow out of his way as he sloped toward an idling taxicab.
    Getting in, he told the driver. “Take me to the Lincoln Apartments.”
    “Sure, buddy.” The cab, an ancient thing with an overpowered motor, made a deep grinding noise as it slipped away from the curb.
    As old as the cab seemed, it had good tires. The creaky hulk held the road well as it pushed its way through slow-moving Chicago traffic.
    Twenty minutes later, the hack deposited Long Tom at his destination, an apartment building of yellowish Chicago brick. He paid the fare, but offered no tip. Long Tom was stingy with his money—residue of an impoverished childhood.
    Still clutching his bulky box, the puny electrical wizard entered the vestibule of the Lincoln Apartments building, ran a cold-stiffened finger down the list of occupants, found the number corresponding to J. Falcon , and pressed the bell.
    At length, a woman’s hoarse voice asked, “Yes, who is it?”
    Remembering Doc Savage’s admonition that the woman might not be agreeable to talk in her grief, Long Tom told a bald lie.
    “Got a package for you.”
    “I am not expecting a package.”
    “Well, I have to deliver it. It has your name on it. Janet Falcon.”
    The woman seemed hesitant. “Does the package indicate who sent it?”
    Long Tom thought quickly. “I can’t read it all, but the first name is Ned.”
    “Ned!” gasped the woman. “Wait one moment. I will be right down.”
    “O.K.,” said Long Tom.
    He did not have to wait long. Shortly, a woman appeared and opened the inner door.
    She was a cool-looking woman dressed in a tasteful business frock. Her face was marked by a thin, but not unattractive, nose. Chestnut hair was arranged in a long fall that was held together by a silver clasp. Her eyes were the clear green that sometimes suggests grass, and other times remindful of the hardness of polished jade. Right now, they had a stony quality. Her orbs were rimmed in red. Obviously, she had been crying.
    Long Tom had succeeded in luring the woman into the vestibule, but he had not figured out how to open up the wormy can of lies he had served and confess the truth.
    So he decided to come right out with it. Long Tom was a lifelong bachelor and he did not know women very well. Thus, he might be excused for his mistake.
    The woman said, “Show me the package. I want to see it before I accept it.”
    That helped Long Tom get to the point. “Actually, this package isn’t from Ned. Doc Savage sent me here. I’m Long Tom Roberts, the electrical engineer. Probably you’ve heard of me.”
    Long Tom’s