AGENT NINE SOLVES HIS FIRST CASE
by Graham Dean
Published by Aeterna Classics 2018
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter I A SURPRISE CALL
Chapter II AN EMPTY ROOM
Chapter III BOB HAS A VISITOR
Chapter IV THE DOOR MOVES
Chapter V A SLIVER OF STEEL
Chapter VI IN THE DARKENED ROOM
Chapter VII SIRENS IN THE NIGHT
Chapter VIII THE PAPER VANISHES
Chapter IX SUSPICIONS
Chapter X ON THE LEDGE
Chapter XI STRAINED TEMPERS
Chapter XII STEPS IN THE HALL
Chapter XIII BOB FIGHTS BACK
Chapter XIV SPECIAL AGENT NINE
Chapter XV A REAL JOB AHEAD
Chapter XVI IN BOB’S ROOM
Chapter XVII THE RADIO SECRET
Chapter XVIII MEAGER HOPES
Chapter XIX THE MISSING PAPER
Chapter XX ON A LONELY STREET
Chapter XXI SHOTS IN THE NIGHT
Chapter XXII THE LONE STRUGGLE
Chapter XXIII ANXIOUS HOURS
Chapter XXIV A SOLITARY HAND
Chapter XXV THE FIRST CLUE
Chapter XXVI A BREAK FOR BOB
Chapter XXVII ACTION AHEAD
Chapter XXVIII WASTE PAPER
Chapter XXIX INTO THE AIR
Chapter XXX ON THE EAST SHORE
Chapter XXXI THE CHASE ENDS
Chapter XXXII “FEDERAL AGENT”
Bob Houston, youthful clerk in the archives division of the War Department, drew his topcoat closer about him and shivered as he stepped out of the shelter of the apartment house entrance and faced the chill fall rain.
Going back to the office after a full day bent over a desk was no fun, but a job was a job, and Bob was thankful for even the small place he filled in the great machine of government.
The raw, beating rain swept into his face as he strode down the avenue. A cruising taxicab, hoping for a passenger, pulled along the curb, but Bob waved the vehicle away. Just then he had no extra funds to invest in taxi fare.
The avenue was deserted and Bob doubted if there would be many at work in the huge building where the archives division was sheltered.
At the end of a fifteen-minute walk Bob turned in at the entrance of a hulking gray structure. The night guard nodded as he recognized Bob and the clerk stepped through the doorway.
Bob paused in the warmth of the lobby and shook the water from his coat and hat. Fortunately he had worn rubbers so his feet were dry and he felt there was little chance of his catching cold.
The door behind him opened and a blast of raw air swirled into the lobby.
Bob turned quickly; then hurried to greet the newcomer.
“Hello Uncle Merritt,” he cried. “I didn’t expect to run into you down here tonight.”
Merritt Hughes, one of the crack agents of the Department of Justice, smiled as he shook the rain from his hat.
“I was driving home when I caught a glimpse of you coming in here. Working tonight?”
“I’ve got at least two hours of work ahead of me,” replied Bob.
“Anyone else going to be with you?” inquired his uncle.
“No, I’m alone.”
“Good. I want to talk with you where there is no chance that we may be overheard.”
Bob was tempted to ask what it was all about, but he knew that in good time his uncle would tell him.
They stepped into an automatic elevator and Bob pressed the control button.
There was a distinct resemblance between uncle and nephew. Merritt Hughes looked as though he might be Bob’s older brother. He was well built, about five feet eight inches tall, and usually tipped the scales at 160 pounds, but there was no fat on his well conditioned body. His hair was a dull brown, but the keenness of his eyes made up for whatever coloring was lacking in his hair.
Bob was taller than his uncle and would outweigh him ten pounds. His hair was light and his pleasant blue eyes were alert to everything that was going on. Both had rather large and definite noses, and Bob often chided his uncle on that family trait.
The elevator stopped at the top floor and they stepped out. Another guard stopped them and Bob was forced to present his identification card. The small golden badge which his uncle displayed was sufficient to gain his admittance.
Bob’s desk was in one wing of the archives division and they made their way there without loss of time. Bob took his uncle’s topcoat and hung it beside his own. When he turned back to his desk, his uncle was seated on the other side, leaning back comfortably in a swivel chair.
“Still have the idea you’d like to join the bureau of investigation of the Department of Justice?” asked Merritt Hughes. The question was casual, almost offhand, and Bob wasn’t sure that he had heard correctly.
“You’re kidding me now,” he grinned. “You know I’d like to get in the service, but I haven’t a chance. Why, I’m not through with my college work, and they’re only taking graduates now.”
“I’m not kidding, Bob; I’m serious. I think there may be a chance for you to get in. Of course you’d have to finish your college work after you were in the department, but that wouldn’t be too much of a handicap.”
“I’ll say it wouldn’t,” exulted Bob. “Now tell me what it’s all about. The last time I talked to you about getting in, you gave me about as much encouragement as though I was suggesting a swim across the Atlantic ocean.”
Merritt Hughes was a long time in answering, and when he finally spoke his voice was so low that anyone ten feet away would have been unable to hear his words.
“There’s trouble and big trouble brewing right in this department,” he said. “We don’t know just exactly what is going to happen, but we must be prepared for any emergency.”
Bob started to speak, but his uncle waved the words aside and went on.
“We could plant an agent here, but that might be too obvious. What we need is someone on the inside whom we can trust fully.”
Bob, teetering on the edge of his chair, breathlessly waited for the next words.
“I’m counting on you to be the key in the intrigue that’s going on right now in this building,” said Merritt Hughes. “What about it?”
“You know you can rely on me,” said Bob. “Why, I’d do almost anything, take almost any risk to get into the bureau of investigation of the Department of Justice.”
“I know you would, Bob, but that isn’t going to be necessary. All I want is someone who will keep his eyes open, listen to everything that is said around here, and report to me each night in detail. You know I wouldn’t want you butting into something where you might get hurt.”
“But I’m young and husky. I can take care of myself,” protested Bob, his eyes reflecting his eagerness.
“Sure, I know you can, but after all I’ve got to look out for you. Your mother would never forgive me if any actual harm came to you while you were doing a little sleuthing for me.”
There was a tender note in the voice of the agent, for it had devolved upon him to watch over Bob and his mother after the death of his sister’s husband some six years before. He had been faithful to the trust and he had no intention now of placing Bob in any situation where there would be real jeopardy to his life.
“Go on, go on,” urged Bob. “Tell me what I’m to watch for and what you suspect.”
Instead of answering Merritt Hughes stepped to the door, opened it, made a careful survey of the hall, and then drew his chair closer to Bob.
“What do you know about the new radio developments which have been made recently by the War Department?” he asked.
Bob’s surprise was reflected in the look which flashed across his face. There had been only the vaguest of rumors that startling radio advancements had been made by War Department engineers. It had been only thin talk in the department. The clerks mentioning it on several occasions when they had been alone.
“I’ve heard some talk that rather surprising advancements have been made,” said Bob, “but there has been nothing definite known. Of course, some of the clerks have been talking about it.”
“But no one has any definite information. As far as you know, the plans have not been filed in the vaults,” Merritt Hughes was pressing hard for an answer, but Bob could only shake his head.
“This division handles most of the radio data,” he said, “but nothing new has been placed in the vaults here for weeks. I’m simply cleaning up routine stuff.”
“If new plans and data were filed, you might handle them,” persisted his uncle.
“That’s quite likely, but I wouldn’t know the contents. Everything comes in under seal and with a key number and only the engineers know the key and the contents of the sealed package.”
“Still, you might have a hunch when the papers are important?”
“I might. There is always talk in the department. But I would have no way of actually knowing what was going through my hands.”
“I was afraid of that,” admitted his uncle. “It makes things all the harder. If you only knew when the plans were going through you would be in a position to use every precaution.”
“But I don’t take any chances now,” retorted Bob. “Extreme care is used with every single batch of plans that are sent over by the engineers.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that you were careless, Bob,” smiled the Department of Justice agent. “I only meant that if you knew when radio secrets were going through you could use additional care and set up extra precautions.”
“You must be afraid something is going to be stolen.”
“That’s exactly what is troubling me,” confessed his uncle, “and I’m afraid that unknowingly you may be involved. I don’t want you to get caught in a trap if I can help it. That’s why I stopped here tonight. I wanted to have this talk with you, to warn you that there have been important discoveries by the engineers and that they may be through in a few days. From now on watch every single document that is sent through your hands. Don’t let it out of your sight from the moment it is delivered to you until you have filed it and placed it properly in the vaults. Understand?”
Bob, his face grave, nodded. “I’ll see that nothing like that happens. But who could be after these new plans?”
Merritt Hughes shrugged his shoulders.
“Bob, if I could answer that question this problem would be comparatively simple. The answer may be right here in this department; again it may be some outside force that we can only guess at.”
“Are you working alone on this case?” Bob continued.
A shadow of a frown passed over Merritt Hughes’ face.
“I wish I were; I’d feel more sure of my ground.”
“That means Condon Adams is also on the job,” put in Bob, for he knew of the sharp feeling between his uncle and Adams, another ace operative of the bureau of investigation. They had been together on several cases and at every opportunity Adams had tried to obtain all of the credit for the successful outcome of their efforts. He was both unpleasant and ruthless, but he had a faculty of getting results, and Bob knew that for this reason alone he was able to retain his position.
The fact that Condon Adams was on the case placed a different light on it for Bob, for Adams had a nephew, Tully Ross, who was in the archives division of the department with Bob. There was nothing in common between the two young men. Tully was short of stature, with a thick chest and short, powerful arms. His eyebrows were dark and heavy, set close above his rather small eyes, and his whole face reflected an innate cruelty that Bob knew must exist. If Condon Adams was also on the case, it meant that Tully Ross would be doing his best to help his uncle for like Bob, Tully was intent upon getting into the bureau of investigation.
Bob’s lips snapped into a thin, firm line. All right, if that was the way it was to be, he’d see that Tully had a good fight.
Merritt Hughes smiled a little grimly.
“Thinking about Tully Ross?” he asked.
Bob nodded.
“Then you know what we’re up against. It’s two against two and if you and I win I’m sure that I can get you into the bureau. If we don’t, then Tully may go up. What do you say?”
“I say that we’re going to win,” replied Bob, and there was stern determination in his words.
“That’s the way to feel. Keep up that kind of spirit and you’ll get in the bureau before you know it. In the meantime, don’t let any tricks get away from you in this routine. Watch every document that comes into your hands and let me know at the slightest unusual happening in this division.”
“I’ll even put eyes in the back of my head,” grinned Bob as his uncle stood up and donned his topcoat.
“How long will you work tonight?” asked Merritt Hughes as he opened the door which gave access to the hallway.
“Probably two hours; maybe even three.”
“Watch yourself. Goodnight.”
Then he was gone and Bob was alone in the high-vaulted room where the rays from the light on his desk failed to penetrate into the deep shadows and a strange feeling of premonition crept over him. For a moment he felt that someone was watching him and to dispel this feeling he turned on the glaring top lights.
The room was empty!
Bob turned off the top lights and returned to his desk, which was one of half a dozen in the long and rather narrow room at one corner of the building.
As he sat down he could hear the beat of the rain against the window and looking out could see, through the curtain of water, the dimmed lights of the sprawling city. On a clear night the view was awe-inspiring, but on this night his only thought was to complete his work and to return to the warmth and comfort of his own room.
Bob delved into the pile of papers which had accumulated in the wire basket on his desk. They must be filed and the proper notations made. There was nothing of especial importance, or he would not have been working alone for it was a rule of the division that when documents of great importance were to be filed, at least two clerks and usually the chief of the division must be on hand. Sometimes even armed guards came in while the filing was taking place for some of the secrets in the great vaults across the corridor were worth millions to unscrupulous men and to other powers.
But until tonight, until his uncle’s words had aroused him, Bob had felt his own work was rather commonplace. There was nothing in his life which compared with the excitement and the almost daily daring of the men in the bureau of investigation of the Department of Justice.
The hours were rather long, the work was routine and his companions, though pleasant, were satisfied with their own careers. They were not looking ahead and dreaming of the day when they might wear one of the little badges which identified a Department of Justice agent.
Then Bob realized that he must stop his day dreaming. Or was it day dreaming after all? His uncle had said that there was now a possibility that he might join the department. But this was no time to ponder about that. He could think of his future when he returned to his room.
Bob went to a filing case which was along the inside wall of the room and extracted a folder. Taking it back to his desk he started making entries of the papers which were on his desk. He worked slowly but thoroughly, and his handwriting was clear and definite.
Others might be faster than Bob in the filing work in the division, but there were none more accurate and when his work was done the chief of the division always knew that the task was well cared for.
Bob worked for more than an hour, stopping only once or twice to straighten up in his chair, for it was tiring work going back to the desk after a full day of the same type of work.
When the file was complete, he returned it to the case along the wall and sorted the papers which remained on his desk. They belonged in four different files and he drew these from the cases and placed them in a row atop his desk.
The air in the room seemed stuffy and Bob walked to one of the windows and opened it several inches—just enough to let in fresh air, yet not far enough for the sharp wind to blow rain into the room. Far below him a car horn shrieked as an unwary pedestrian tried to beat a stop light.
Bob went back to his desk. Another hour and his work would be done. He picked up his pen and resumed the task.
Bob later recalled that he had heard a clock boom out the hour of nine and it must have been nearly half an hour later when the door which led to the corridor opened quietly and a man stepped inside.
The young clerk, at his desk, was so intent upon his work that he did not sense there was a newcomer in the room until the visitor was almost behind him.
Then Bob swung around with a jerk and recognized Tully Ross. There was a momentary flare of anger in Bob’s face.
“Next time you come in, make a little noise,” he snapped. “I thought a ghost was creeping up on me.”
“I’m not much of a ghost,” retorted Tully, taking off his topcoat and shaking it vigorously to get the water off. “I didn’t know you would be working tonight.”
“Couldn’t get through this afternoon,” replied Bob, “and so much material has been coming in lately I was afraid that if I let it go another day I’d be swamped.”
“Next time that happens let me know and I’ll give you a hand,” volunteered Tully as he sat down at his own desk, which was two down from Bob.
Bob nearly laughed aloud for the thought of Tully volunteering to help anyone else was almost fantastic. Each clerk had a special type of filing and each was not supposed to exchange work with the other. In this way there was little chance for the others to know what documents were going through for permanent filing.
“Thanks, Tully, that’s nice of you,” said Bob, “but I don’t know what the chief would say.”
“He’d never need to know,” said Tully swinging around in his chair.
“But if he did find out that we were helping each other, we’d both be out of a job and I can’t afford to take that kind of a risk.”
“Neither can I right now,” conceded Tully, “but I hope to get into something better soon. This doesn’t pay enough for a fellow with my brains and ability.”
“I’ll admit that it doesn’t pay a whole lot,” replied Bob, “but a fellow has to eat these days.”
“Some day I’m going to be over in the Department of Justice,” said Tully definitely. “It may not be tomorrow or next week, but I’m going to get there.”
“I think you will,” agreed Bob. “You’ve got the determination to keep at it until you do.” What he failed to add was that Tully’s uncle would do everything in his power to see that Tully got the promotion and it was no secret that Condon Adams had powerful political connections that might be helpful in getting Tully into the bureau of investigation.
Tully was in a talkative mood and at such times he displayed a pleasing personality. This was one of those times, but to Bob it was more than a little irritating for he had work to do and every minute passed in talking with Tully meant additional time at his desk.
“I’ve had a funny feeling lately that things were tightening up in here,” said Tully. “Even tonight this room doesn’t feel just right.”
“It’s the wind and the rain,” said Bob, looking up from his work. “When the sun is out tomorrow you’ll feel much better.”
“I don’t know about that. Say, Bob, you haven’t heard of anything special breaking? Something may be coming over from the engineers that is unusually important.”
Bob couldn’t honestly say no, so he made an indefinite answer.
“There’s always talk,” he said.
“Sure, I know, but this time it’s different. I’ve heard that the radio division has made some startling discoveries that more than one foreign power would give a few millions to have in its possession.”
“What, for instance?”
“That’s just it,” confessed Tully. “There’s only vague talk; nothing you can put your finger on.”
“I thought they kept that stuff pretty well under cover,” said Bob, who was determined to feel out Tully and learn just how much the other clerk knew. It was evident now that Condon Adams had been talking to his nephew, probably telling him in substance much of what Merritt Hughes had divulged to Bob earlier in the evening and now Tully was on a fishing expedition to learn just what Bob knew. Well, two could play that game and Bob, his head bent over his work, smiled to himself.
“Well, they never advertise the papers they’re sending over for the permanent files,” Tully said, “but you know how things get around in the department. Sometimes we have a pretty good idea what’s going through even though it is all under seal and in a special code.”
Bob nodded, for Tully was right. In spite of the secrecy which usually surrounded the filing of important documents, the clerks often knew what was going through their hands, for even the walls in Washington seemed to have eyes and ears and whispers flitted from one department to another in a mysterious underground manner which was impossible to stop. Sometimes the conjecture of the clerks was right; again they might all be wrong. But it was on such talk as this that secrets sometimes slipped away and into the hands of men and women for whom they had never been intended.
Bob’s division, which filed all of the radio documents, had enjoyed a particularly good record. The chief, Arthur Jacobs, had been in charge since before World War days, and he had used extreme care in the selection of the personnel. There was yet to come the first major leak and Bob hoped fervently that it would not happen while he was in the division.
Tully puttered around his own desk, shoving papers here and there and obviously making an effort to appear interested. Once he glanced sharply at Bob, who was intent on his own work.
Finally Tully stood up and walked to one of the windows. He gazed out for several minutes and Bob, glancing up at him, got the impression that Tully was trying to make up his mind what to do.
The next thing Bob noticed, Tully was on the other side of the room, pulling open one of the filing cases. The floor was carpeted and his steps from the window to the filing cases had been noiseless.