“Report, Burbank.”
“Marsland at the Belmar Hotel,” came a quiet tone across the wire. “Reports no sign of Marcus Holtmann. He has not been there. He has not checked out. Baggage still in room.”
“Continue.”
“Vincent at Grand Central Station. Holtmann did not appear to take the Midnight Special for Chicago. Both operatives standing by.”
“End operation.” The Shadow’s voice was stern. “Marsland to cover David Tholbin; Vincent to cover Frederick Froman. Both listed in telephone book. Watch and report any activity that might pertain to Holtmann.”
A pause; then these added instructions:
“Special call to Waddell’s home. Ask for Parker Noyes. Cut off system prior to conversation.”
The hands placed the earphones on the other side of the table. Then they appeared beneath the light, carrying a small packet of papers.
The deft fingers worked smoothly as they distributed the papers. The hands produced a flat map of the United States, upon which were white-headed pins. Chicago, Cincinnati, St. Louis, and other cities of the Middle West were indicated.
AMONG the papers was a written report inscribed in the odd characters of the Russian language.