CHAPTER TEN
Margot stared at the little boy for what seemed an eternity, put probably only spanned a few seconds.
"Why, of course..." she stammered, "let's sit down here on the stoop."
It was mind boggling to Margot as they sat, knowing intellectually that the person sitting beside her was a much older man, but unable to convince her senses of this truth. From the straw-colored disheveled hair to the smudge of dirt on the knee of his trousers, the young boy looked to be the most average and normal young boy one could meet on the streets of the city.
"Where are your parents?", she asked, searching his face for some sign of inner maturity.
The boy's intelligent dark eyes turned to her suddenly, then softened and moved down to the boy's shoes.
"They're dead," he whispered.
"I'm sorry," Margot replied, sincerely, "that must be so difficult for you." The sight of the pitiful child nearly made her forget to whom she was speaking. However, keeping up the charade, she asked:
"Where do you live?"
"In a big building." The child's intense gaze fixed on her again. "I don't know where." A tear brimmed in the corner of his right eye.
Margot marveled at her own empathetic response. The whistler's manipulative ability was quite remarkable.
"Do you know the name of the building? Is it an orphanage or a school?"
The boy pause, then said:
"It's a hospital."
Then it happened.
The Shadow's maniacal laughter surrounded them. The boy leapt to his feet, casting about himself intently. The laughter rose in intensity and volume, pressing into their thoughts until nothing else remained.
And then all was silent.
"Yes...you live in the Riverview Sanitarium, Franky Edwards!"
Margot was shocked to hear the Shadow speak the young man's name. Who was Franky Edwards?
The boy was also visibly shocked to hear his name spoken.
"That's right, Franky, I'm not fooled by your little disguise. THE SHADOW KNOWS!"
Again the laughter erupted, piercing into Margot's thoughts like a knife. As she watched in shock, she saw the boy's image seem to become blurry, beginning to look as if it were sharing the same space with a larger, darker silhouette of a grown man.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" the boy shouted, his voice a mixture of a child's voice and an older tenor scream.
The laughter again lanced out, and the boy's image gave way even further to that of a man in his early twenties.
"You don't recognize the voice of...THE SHADOW...Franklin Edwards, Junior?"
Margot knew that the name was familiar, but still could not place it.
"I am in your mind, Franky, as persistent as a guilty conscience!"
The larger image of the young man came sharply into focus, and the young boy vanished, as the whistler's last defenses crumbled under the power of the Shadow's mental presence. The young man made a move as if to run away, but stopped short like he had run into something.
Margot stood to her feet, amazed.
The very air in front of Franky began to shimmer, and the colors of the building, stoop, and sidewalk seemed to cascade to the ground, like snow sliding from a statue.
The Shadow was standing, the silver barrel of a pistol pressed against the whistler's forehead.
Margot simply stared in disbelief.
"Going somewhere, Franky Edwards?" The Shadow's voice still seemed to come from everywhere, piercing into Margot's thoughts.
"You are no threat to me, Shadow!" The boy shouted petulantly. "My mind is powerful, too!"
"Yes, Franky, that's how you killed all of those people, including your parents!"
It was the whistler's turn to laugh:
"And kept you guessing all the time! I've grown stronger with each murder and you never caught on!"
"I seem to have you now, Franky Edwards!"
"Simple luck, Shadow, and luck works both ways!"
Just as he spoke the last words, the whistler ducked with amazing quickness and dashed to a car on the curb. Schrevy's cab pulled up just as Franky pulled away. The Shadow holstered his pistol and turned to Margot:
"Let's go, he mustn't get away!"
As they leapt into the back of the cab, Schrevy rocketed away from the curb in pursuit of the whistler's dark sedan.
"Did you have to call so loud, boss?" Schrevy complained. "My head's still ringing!"
"Follow that dark car, Schrevy," the Shadow ordered. "I'm sorry for the strength of the call, I...had a great deal on my mind."
"Is that how Franky Edwards managed to escape?" Margot asked. "I've never seen anyone surprise you like that."
The Shadow's smoldering eyes turned to Margot, piercing over the red scarf covering his face.
"I allowed Mr. Edwards to escape in order to lead us to the true mastermind of this affair."
Margot gasped.
"Do you mean that the whistler isn't responsible for all these murders? Why did he confess?"
"Franky Edwards has committed all the crimes, to be sure, " the Shadow replied. "But he is not truly responsible for putting all of these events into motion. His fragile mind has been dominated, subsumed, by a more powerful and diabolical intelligence. Our "whistler", as you call him, has been but a pawn in a larger game, moved about the board by a master player."
"Who, Lamont? Who has been behind all of these gruesome killings, and to what end?"
"You will see when we have arrived at our destination. Our adversary may be able to glean that you know his identity from your mind, and I don't want to play our hand yet..."
The Shadow turned to look out the front windscreen of the cab.
"...but I can tell you that our destination is most likely where all of this truly began."
"Do you mean the Embry building, Lamont?"
The Shadow's dark gaze returned to Margot.
"That is where WE were drawn into this diabolical tale, Margot...but, no, this story truly began many years ago and will find its end...
...at CITY UNIVERSITY!"
"Why, of course..." she stammered, "let's sit down here on the stoop."
It was mind boggling to Margot as they sat, knowing intellectually that the person sitting beside her was a much older man, but unable to convince her senses of this truth. From the straw-colored disheveled hair to the smudge of dirt on the knee of his trousers, the young boy looked to be the most average and normal young boy one could meet on the streets of the city.
"Where are your parents?", she asked, searching his face for some sign of inner maturity.
The boy's intelligent dark eyes turned to her suddenly, then softened and moved down to the boy's shoes.
"They're dead," he whispered.
"I'm sorry," Margot replied, sincerely, "that must be so difficult for you." The sight of the pitiful child nearly made her forget to whom she was speaking. However, keeping up the charade, she asked:
"Where do you live?"
"In a big building." The child's intense gaze fixed on her again. "I don't know where." A tear brimmed in the corner of his right eye.
Margot marveled at her own empathetic response. The whistler's manipulative ability was quite remarkable.
"Do you know the name of the building? Is it an orphanage or a school?"
The boy pause, then said:
"It's a hospital."
Then it happened.
The Shadow's maniacal laughter surrounded them. The boy leapt to his feet, casting about himself intently. The laughter rose in intensity and volume, pressing into their thoughts until nothing else remained.
And then all was silent.
"Yes...you live in the Riverview Sanitarium, Franky Edwards!"
Margot was shocked to hear the Shadow speak the young man's name. Who was Franky Edwards?
The boy was also visibly shocked to hear his name spoken.
"That's right, Franky, I'm not fooled by your little disguise. THE SHADOW KNOWS!"
Again the laughter erupted, piercing into Margot's thoughts like a knife. As she watched in shock, she saw the boy's image seem to become blurry, beginning to look as if it were sharing the same space with a larger, darker silhouette of a grown man.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" the boy shouted, his voice a mixture of a child's voice and an older tenor scream.
The laughter again lanced out, and the boy's image gave way even further to that of a man in his early twenties.
"You don't recognize the voice of...THE SHADOW...Franklin Edwards, Junior?"
Margot knew that the name was familiar, but still could not place it.
"I am in your mind, Franky, as persistent as a guilty conscience!"
The larger image of the young man came sharply into focus, and the young boy vanished, as the whistler's last defenses crumbled under the power of the Shadow's mental presence. The young man made a move as if to run away, but stopped short like he had run into something.
Margot stood to her feet, amazed.
The very air in front of Franky began to shimmer, and the colors of the building, stoop, and sidewalk seemed to cascade to the ground, like snow sliding from a statue.
The Shadow was standing, the silver barrel of a pistol pressed against the whistler's forehead.
Margot simply stared in disbelief.
"Going somewhere, Franky Edwards?" The Shadow's voice still seemed to come from everywhere, piercing into Margot's thoughts.
"You are no threat to me, Shadow!" The boy shouted petulantly. "My mind is powerful, too!"
"Yes, Franky, that's how you killed all of those people, including your parents!"
It was the whistler's turn to laugh:
"And kept you guessing all the time! I've grown stronger with each murder and you never caught on!"
"I seem to have you now, Franky Edwards!"
"Simple luck, Shadow, and luck works both ways!"
Just as he spoke the last words, the whistler ducked with amazing quickness and dashed to a car on the curb. Schrevy's cab pulled up just as Franky pulled away. The Shadow holstered his pistol and turned to Margot:
"Let's go, he mustn't get away!"
As they leapt into the back of the cab, Schrevy rocketed away from the curb in pursuit of the whistler's dark sedan.
"Did you have to call so loud, boss?" Schrevy complained. "My head's still ringing!"
"Follow that dark car, Schrevy," the Shadow ordered. "I'm sorry for the strength of the call, I...had a great deal on my mind."
"Is that how Franky Edwards managed to escape?" Margot asked. "I've never seen anyone surprise you like that."
The Shadow's smoldering eyes turned to Margot, piercing over the red scarf covering his face.
"I allowed Mr. Edwards to escape in order to lead us to the true mastermind of this affair."
Margot gasped.
"Do you mean that the whistler isn't responsible for all these murders? Why did he confess?"
"Franky Edwards has committed all the crimes, to be sure, " the Shadow replied. "But he is not truly responsible for putting all of these events into motion. His fragile mind has been dominated, subsumed, by a more powerful and diabolical intelligence. Our "whistler", as you call him, has been but a pawn in a larger game, moved about the board by a master player."
"Who, Lamont? Who has been behind all of these gruesome killings, and to what end?"
"You will see when we have arrived at our destination. Our adversary may be able to glean that you know his identity from your mind, and I don't want to play our hand yet..."
The Shadow turned to look out the front windscreen of the cab.
"...but I can tell you that our destination is most likely where all of this truly began."
"Do you mean the Embry building, Lamont?"
The Shadow's dark gaze returned to Margot.
"That is where WE were drawn into this diabolical tale, Margot...but, no, this story truly began many years ago and will find its end...
...at CITY UNIVERSITY!"
