The big shot’s action was not without cause. Up on the pier, a battle was pending. It was a fight in which the cards would be stacked against the law — an ambush set to kill unwary men.
A policeman, leading the way outward from the exposition hall, was the first to discover the trap — almost at the very moment that Wheels Bryant had gained the boat.
As his footsteps thudded along the open space, a revolver flashed from the base of the old building at the end of the pier. The officer dropped; then scrambled to his feet and ran back to spread the alarm.
He was joined by a squad of police. A sergeant ordered a new advance. Cautiously, men crept forward. New shots greeted them. One officer staggered. His companions dragged him back.
A wild cry went up. Shouts were going back along the pier. Word was being passed to the police at the rear.
“The searchlight — on the exposition building! Turn it on! Turn it on!”
Ten seconds later, a powerful searchlight cast its beam beneath the base of the tower that stood above the straight expanse of pier. Turned low, its rays reflected that ocean-moistened stretch with the vivid light of day. The walls of the closed submarine building were plain in the illumination. Yet no men were visible.
The police hesitated. They stood by the walls of the exposition building, awaiting word to attack. In that pause, Police Chief George Yates arrived on the scene, hurrying up with more men.
“Go at them!” he ordered.
A SQUAD of police advanced grimly. As they moved ahead, skulking forms came into view along the side rails of the pier around the condemned building at the end. Shots burst forth. The first policeman staggered and sprawled out. The others scattered.