Page 1 of Circle of Death
ONE
I’M TELLING THE story like it happened just last night. That’s how it feels to me. Even with the distance of all these years, parts of it still seem incredible. But it was totally real. All of it.
It was early 1933. New York City was being menaced by an army of bloodsucking killers. I know it sounds strange when I say it out loud, but that’s the only way to describe what was going on. They weren’t vampires or zombies. Nothing supernatural. They were poverty-stricken young men under the control of a demented doctor. Rodil Mocquino was his name. This guy had taken medical hypnosis to a criminal level. He’d gotten to the point where he could turn ordinary men into murderers, and make them kill on command.
The killers only moved by night, which made them even more horrifying, and they traveled in a pack, which made them even more dangerous. Some people thought they had super-human strength or magical abilities, but it was really just mindless stamina. Nothing could stop them. If you saw the gang from a distance, you had a chance to escape. Maybe. But once they got close, you were dead. Simple as that.
A few years after, somebody wrote a novel about Mocquino and his killers. It was calledThe Voodoo Master.It was really popular at the time—a bestseller—but they got a lot of stuff wrong. I should know. After all, I’m the real Lamont Cranston, which makes me the real Shadow. And Ilivedit.
Here’s the real story.
I was living uptown. Like most nights, my girlfriend, Margo Lane, was staying over. She was my business partner, my confidant, and the person I loved and trusted more than anybody else in the world. Margo was smart and levelheaded. She thought I sometimes went off half-cocked. And she was right. I didn’t always think things through.
We’d both been hearing and reading about the maniacal bloodsuckers for weeks, and the NYPD seemed to be powerless against them. The whole city was paralyzed with fear, and the killings just wouldn’t stop.
I knew it was time for the Shadow to go into action. I had to find these bloodsuckers andendthem once and for all. If not me, who? When I heard a report of another killing, I decided to do it. That night. By myself.
Margo and I had a fight about it. She thought I was being reckless again. But pretty soon she realized she couldn’t talk me out of going. She hugged me at the door. “Be careful,” she said. “I’ll be waiting up for you.”
“In that case,” I said, “I’ll beextracareful.” I kissed her good-bye and headed out into the dark alone. I was trying to keep it light with Margo. IhopedI’d be back.
But I knew it wasn’t a sure thing.
TWO
THE MOST RECENT victims had been found in a park on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. So why was I heading downtown? Pure instinct. People used to say“The Shadow knows,”and sometimes I actually did. At least I made some educated guesses.
I figured that an army of bloodsuckers would need a place to hide and regroup. So I headed for a part of the city with a lot of big, empty buildings.
The waterfront.
In that era, the Lower West Side of Manhattan was filled with docks and warehouses. That’s where the big White Star ocean liners came in, and where cargo ships loaded and unloaded. Depending on the season, warehouses would fill up and then go empty. Sometimes companies went bust and spaces would stay vacant for months. Even in normal times, the waterfront was a rough area. Nobody in their right mind would go down there at night. But like I said, I had problems with impulse control.
I was invisible now. At that point in my life, it was the only super power I had. When I reached the waterfront, I crept along the row of warehouses, trying not to step on a loose plank or a wharf rat. At the end of the row, I saw a huge warehouse with its loading bay partway open. There was a glow from inside, like the flicker from a wood-fired stove. And I could see shapes moving against the back wall. Maybe dock workers on the night shift, I thought at first. But my gut told me it was something else. A chill shot right through me.
As I got closer to the open door, the smell hit me. It was the smell of unwashed humans. Musty. Sour. Sickening. I stepped into the open doorway, and there they were—cadaverous, dull-eyed bloodsuckers.Dozensof them! Some were slouched against the wall; others were lying on the floor in some kind of stupor. Their clothes were tattered, and stained with patches of dried blood.
I was pretty good with my fists, but against those odds, I knew that starting a fight would be suicide. For a second, I thought about knocking over the stove, bolting the door, and burning the whole place down with the killers inside. But I worried that the fire would spread to the rest of the waterfront.
So I decided to turn myself into bait.
I made myself visible.
The second I rematerialized, the bloodsuckers rose up and started to come for me. They made low, guttural howls—a sound I’ll never forget. I backed out of the doorway and ran. I figured that would trigger some primal pursuit response, and it did. As I headed for the docks, I looked over my shoulder. They came as a pack, lumbering like animals. Their eyes were fixed on me, like I was their favorite prey. So far, so good. My pulse was racing. My plan was working.
I stepped onto one of the main piers. It stretched for two hundred yards into the Hudson River. The pack followed. As long as I held the attention of the few at the head of the crowd, the rest kept following. That was the way they’d been trained—or programmed. They moved like a single organism.
I started running toward the end of the pier, faster and faster. I could hear footsteps pounding on the planks behind me. When I ran out of pier, I did a brave or stupid thing.
I dove off.
As soon as I hit the black water, I doubled back and slipped underneath the pier. I grabbed a piling and watched as the bloodsuckers tumbled off the end. They sank like weighted sacks. I figured they’d be too dazed or demented to swim. A few bubbles rose up. I saw thrashing underneath. Then the water was still. Thank God! My Pied Piper act had worked.
I climbed back onto the dock. I was soaked and exhausted, but relieved. It was over.
Then I heard splashing.
THREE
