Blake's Bullet

Croyd Layton sat in his cell in Stonedyke Prison. Night had long since fallen and he lay on his bunk, trying to sleep. Layton was a little excited. Tomorrow he would have a parole hearing and he might be able to get out if things went well.

He was also a little worried. He had tried to kill Church Hill's most famous resident. His model career as a convict would have to stand against that and the fact that 90% of Nightmare's other foes hatched scheme after scheme upon release or escape.

The man once known as One Shot thought his chances were less than zero as he considered things. He knew he was steeling himself against disappointment and failed expectations. It was better to think his parole would be denied than to think he would be free again.

Layton didn't want to consider the loss of his parole.

A light played on the outside of Layton's cell. He walked over to the window, wondering what was going on. A helicopter had come over the wall and was running a light over the outside of the cell block. It paused when it fell on Layton's window.

A man leaned out of the helicopter and aimed a rifle at the cell wall. Layton recognized the rifle grenade a moment before it was fired at the cell block. He threw himself under the bunk, and pulled the mattress down as a weak shield. The grenade blasted the wall in with a thunder that set Layton's ears to ringing. He crawled from his cover as hands gripped him and carried him out of his cell.

Alex Tann and Carter Nicola drove through Australia's famed Outback. Tann pointed out markers as they passed.

The Diana Foundation had found a burial site unlike anything Tann had ever seen. They had asked Nicola to come over from the States to look at it in the hopes his knowledge of human history would give them some insight as to how and how long it had been buried in the desert.

Nicola was glad to get away from wintery Church Hill for warmer temperatures.

The jeep topped a low hill, revealing a pit dug out of the earth. Tents had been thrown up around the edge of the pit for the people at work. Tann paused to allow his colleague a chance to see the extent of the excavation before driving down to park beside the main tent.

Adam Blake stared at the hole in the Stonedyke cell block. His metallic green eyes gleamed slightly as he examined the wreckage.

"You say a rifle grenade did this?," Blake said quietly.

"That's right," said the Warden. "They came in and took Layton out as pretty as you please. I haven't seen anything like it since I have been in charge here."

"If it makes you feel better, Layton resisted his rescue," said the mystery man. "I think two, maybe three, men dragged him out to their transport. Either he was injured in the blast or stunned by the men when they kidnaped him. There was struggling involved."

"What will you do now?," the Warden asked.

Adam Blake stood in the empty cell for a second.

"I am going to find out what this abduction was about and get Croyd Layton back," he said in his quiet way. "If you will excuse me, I will get started."

Blake walked out of the cell. Ideas were formed and discarded in the three steps he had taken to the entrance. He was ready to begin as soon as he had walked by the Warden on his way to the outside of the prison.

Blake was allowed through the multiple doors to the outside. He got into a black sedan and drove to his headquarters in Church Hill. He had many things to do if he wanted to get to the bottom of this.

Blake pulled his car into a concealed entrance at the end of the altered block of buildings he owned. He cut the motor and walked through to his lab.

He hung up his coat while he waited for his television to warm up on its table. A typewriter was hooked to the television. Lightning quick typewriting produced an image in color.

Blake nodded to himself as his eyes gleamed at the new information.

Some more typing and a sheet of paper began feeding out of a black box hooked up to the typewriter from the floor.

Blake took the list and studied it intently.

Paul Twitchell was perfect for the job that he needed done.

He picked up the phone and placed the call to bring his associate on board the investigation.

Paul 'Twitch' Twitchell walked through the airport with the Chief's list in his hand. Only one really stood out to him, so he wanted to check that one first. He had an unbeatable eye for that kind of thing. That's how he got banned from the horse and dog tracks.

The clerk saw Twitchell walking towards and tried to smile without laughing. He was shaking like a man in a cold wind. She imagined the chattering of teeth as he approached.

"Hello, ma'am," said the aptly nicknamed Twitch. "I was wondering if you could tell me about this flight to Australia. I noticed that it left later than usual."

He indicated the flight from the list he held.

"That was a private flight," said the clerk. "If I remember right, they had to wait for their passengers to be delivered from out of the city."

"Were they delivered by a helicopter?," asked Twitch.

"They sure were," said the clerk. "I remember they said one of the passengers had gotten drunk because he didn't like to fly. They were carrying him across the runway by his arms."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Twitch with a smile. "You wouldn't happen to remember what the drunk looked like, would you?"

"He was tall, with brown hair and a thin mustache. One of the men called him Croyd, I think."

"Thank you," said Twitch. He handed the woman a bill and walked away.

Yep, lucky on the first time, he thought as he headed for the terminal door. He knew he would be back soon enough get his own flight to Australia.

Blake was probably already talking to Cap Carrington and telling him to have the Jenny ready to fly.

Twitch smiled slightly.

Twitch arrived at Blake's headquarters an hour later. He held his cab as the mystery man loaded two cases in the trunk.

"Cap's?," Twitch asked.

The chief nodded.

"Back out to the airport, bud," Twitch said.

"What?" said the cabbie.

"The airport," said Twitch. "There's an extra twenty in it if you can get us there in fifteen minutes."

The cab obediently turned around and headed back to its previous stop.

"Layton was on a flight?," asked Blake.

"Yep, to Australia. The clerk said he was drunk."

"Right. Nicola and Tann are out there for the Diana Foundation."

"What?," asked Twitch.

"An archaeological dig in the Outback," said Blake. "Supposedly groundbreaking and historically revolutionary."

"Coincidence that Layton is headed to Australia where they just had a lucky strike?," asked Twitch.

"I don't believe in a coincidence that big," said Blake.

The two men were silent the rest of the way to the airport. Twitch paid the man an extra twenty before heading to the hangar of Carrington Aviation.

As night fell on Church Hill, a note arrived at police headquarters. It was addressed to the mayor, and but had been ferried from the Commissioner's office to the Chief of Detectives Irving Cole with some haste.

He had placed a call to a message service to talk to another type of detective that was needed for this. He went up to the roof to wait.

Soon a black cloaked individual swung to the top of the building. He landed lightly behind his friend and said, "What's going on, Irving?"

Startled Cole turned. He smiled when he realized who his visitor was.

"You're going to give me a heart attack one day doing that," he said with half a smile.

"What's going on?," asked Nightmare, smiling at his old friend.

"This came in the mail today," said Cole, handing over the letter. "We ran it through the lab and came up with nothing."

Nightmare took the piece of paper from its envelope. He frowned at its contents.

"This doesn't sound like Layton," he said.

"I know," said Cole. "I talked to the warden. He said someone took One Shot, according to the investigator they hired."

"Still we can't dismiss the threat," said Nightmare. "Threatening to shoot a random person a day for money is still serious, if whomever wrote this is telling the truth."

"I know," said the Chief of Detectives. "I can't take that chance that the threat is not real so I have already put a be on the look out notice for either one of Layton's identities until we know one way or the other."

"I'd like to examine this at my quarters," Nightmare said, replacing the letter in its cover.

"Go ahead," said Cole. "Good luck."

Alex Tann showed Professor Carter Nicola around the dig site. The expedition had uncovered numerous artifacts that didn't seem to belong to the area where they were digging.

It was a puzzle that Nicola enjoyed examining as he looked at the mysterious implements that had already come out of the ground.

A group watched the academics and students go about their business from a hill a mile away.

"Layton's here," reported a newcomer, dust drifting to him as he pulled his jeep to a stop. "He's in Sydney, and they're bringing him out here as soon as possible."

Cap Carrington sat at the controls of the new Jenny, with a smile on his still boyish face. This was his second trip to the land down under in two months. He hadn't flown so many hours in a single trip like this since he had lost the All American.

He wondered what was in it for Adam Blake. The man was an instinctive pilot and really didn't need Carrington at the controls. Why did he bother with hiring a pilot for him when he could pilot himself?

Numerous other questions nagged at Cap. He knew Blake would never answer any of them. He wore his silence like a shield.

Alex Tann and Carter Nicola worked among the ruins carefully. This was the first such find like this anywhere on the continent.

The implications were enormous to have a civilization in the Outback that almost pre-dated the Aborigines.

Tann didn't quite grasp all of the importance but he wasn't an archaeologist. He just kept an eye on things for the Diana Foundation. Still he was excited as any of the others to be digging up the past.

A dust cloud billowed on the horizon. Jeeps appeared and then circled the expedition. A man with the build of a bull dog got out of the lead jeep.

"Everyone, my name is Joshua McCabe," he said in a loud voice. "Put your hands in the air, and remain calm and you won't get hurt."

"Put your hands up and gather here at the collection tent," said the stocky man. "I don't want to shoot someone before I get what I want."

The expedition gathered in the shade of the tent. Tann made sure he and Carter Nicola were at the back of the group. The bandit's henchmen secured each member's hands and legs with rope and laid them in a line.

"Let's take a look and see if this place is what we're looking for," said the bandit.

He and his lieutenant walked down to the base of the pit. He took some measurements with a tape and a frown.

"Wrong place," he said to himself. "Should be a kilometer to the west."

"Make sure everyone is kept supplied with water until we pull out," he ordered one of the men. "We want them alive for the moment."

"What do you think this is about?", Carter Nicola whispered to Alex Tann.

"Hijacking," said Tann. "What worries me is how did they know anything was here. Only members of the Foundation should know this location."

"Obviously someone let the cat out of the bag," said Nicola irritably. "What can we do about it?"

"Nothing for now," said Tann. "We're tied and outnumbered for the moment. We will just have to play along until we can think of something."

The Jenny floated into a gentle landing about ten miles from the dig. Carrington let the plane roll gently to a stop. His passengers had already moved to the side door.

Blake undogged the hatch gently after the plane halted. He kicked the ladder out. He let Twitch descend while he pulled two of his equipment cases from the cargo bay.

Blake opened the cases. He pulled out several sheets of cloth. He draped the sheets over the plane and staked them down.

"Camouflage?," asked Carrington.

"I expect we will not be the only airborne presence in the area," said Blake.

They had got him out of jail on bail, shipped him back up north, gave him a tux and special rifle. All he had to do was shoot some poor shmoe on the street and get away undetected.

Sounded easy enough.

The only problem was where to begin. After all, Church Hill was full of roosts to look down on the streets and inside other office buildings.

He picked one at random and got in place. He took aim at a guy in a building across the way with the special rifle. He was a fair shot, so knew he could hit the guy at the range he took aim.

He took aim and then a deep breath. He let the breath out slowly before drawing another and then he fired.

He smiled when the man fell over.

A new One Shot was in town.

Croyd Layton was dumped out of the helicopter after it landed. He caught himself before he fell on his face. The Australian summer sun glared down on his face as he took stock of the situation he was facing.

Jail time had not dulled the workings that had made him a match for Nightmare.

"Hell, Mister Layton," said a bulldog of a man with a huge grin. "I'm glad we could meet. I suppose you would like to know why I brought you here?"

"It had crossed my mind," Layton said.

"I have information that something wonderful and potentially world altering is buried a few yards away from this very spot. I need someone of your caliber to make sure this is true and investigate the site."

"I don't think so," said Layton. "Take me back to Church Hill and my cell."

McCabe smiled.

"I thought you would need coaxing so I have gone out of my way to provide a certain incentive."

A woman was brought forward, hands cuffed behind her.

Layton looked surprised.

"One thing's clear," said Irving Cole. "Layton didn't fire the bullet that came through window."

"I agree," said Nightmare, holding a rod in the air. "Look at this bullet track."

"From across the street?," asked the policeman.

"A secondary crime scene, maybe."

Nightmare put the rod down and pulled a grapnel with a rope attached to it from under his ragged cloak. He swung the hook at his side, and then loosed it. The anchor sailed across the street and wrapped around a flagpole. A swish of cloth and the detective was across the intervening space, pulling himself into the suspected shooting area.

Nightmare examined every inch of the room. The shooter had picked a fine nest to shoot from. The detective counted at least ten windows that would be at close range. More than enough windows in Church Hill for a murder a day like the note promised.

The shooter had missed. It was only by two inches, but Harold Sims would live thanks to the doctors at Church Hill General.

One Shot would not have missed.

Nightmare had two choices.

He could try to trace down the real One Shot and find out what was going on. He could try to trace the false One Shot and stop any future shootings. There was no doubt what the hero would do.

Croyd Layton was on his own until the threat to the city had ceased.

Nightmare made a note of the crime scene and finished his inspection. He swung back to the victim's office. The crime lab boys would recheck for anything he had missed while he searched for the false One Shot.

"Jessie?," Croyd Layton exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"She's here at my request, Mr. Layton," said the bulldog man. He waved the woman off in the care of two of his henchmen. "Can we discuss my proposal, or do I have to prove my ruthlessness in a demonstrable way."

"What do you want?," Layton asked. His brain whirled in his skull at who he had seen. How had they found about Jessie? How had they found her? Her parents had taken her away from him and hid her. Now this man had her as collateral.

Adam Blake and his two assistants had set up an observation post about a quarter mile from the dig. Cap Carrington watched the whole area with a pair of binoculars.

"Layton doesn't seem too happy to be here," he remarked. "That woman seems to know him."

"I would be surprised if she did not," Blake said. "Insurance, I would say."

"I'd guess it would be awful to drag someone halfway around the world just to have him escape because you don't have a way to get any cooperation," said Twitch.

"What's the plan?," asked Carrington.

Blake studied the tableau before him thoughtfully.

"I need to take a closer look at things," he finally said. "I want you two to get the number nine box from the plane and set up the contents right here I should imagine."

"Distraction?," asked Carrington. He was also studying the site, except he was using his binoculars.

"Yes," said Blake. "It will probably be unnecessary, but I would like to be prepared. Use your best judgement about when it should be used."

"Right, chief," said Twitch, but Blake was already gone like some desert ghost.

The guards around the dig never saw the stealthy Adam Blake. He was through their line and inside the prisoner tent before anyone so much as glanced his way.

He stood there, eyes adjusting quickly to the dimmer light. Immediately he searched for his two assistants that had been here to discover the secrets of the past. He found them almost free of their bonds at the back of the huddled crowd.

A quick flick of his wrists snapped the ropes holding Tann and Nicola easily.

"Report," he said, as he scanned the people still tied. He needed a way to move them out of the area without causing attention.

The familiar silhouette of a cloaked figure soared over the city. It swooped over a little known part of Church Hill. It vanished silently into a shadowed alley.

Moments later, a man dressed in simple work clothes emerged. He adjusted his jacket and cap as he walked. His face held the look of someone short on his quota of brains. He wandered the industrial jungle seemingly without purpose.

Soon he had canvassed the whole area. One by one he eliminated his prospects efficiently. In the wee hours of the morning, there was only one place in the district he had not checked.

Adam Blake cut the back of the prisoners' tent. He peered out, making sure the guards weren't looking in his direction. He sent the first of the hostages to safety.

He had a makeshift plan in mind. The first phase was to move the expedition out of the way so that he could operate without worry of danger to bystanders.

He watched the guards to make sure he could keep the line moving. Hopefully Twitch and Carrington would be able to give the freed students and workers a hand without revealing their position.

One by one, he sent them slowly to freedom.

He hoped Layton could continue to provide the distraction he needed.

He wore his more familiar garb as he watched the house in front of him. A set of trace evidence had led him to this part of Church Hill. Careful questions had cut the locations available to one.

If he was wrong he would have to start over, with trace from a new crime scene.

He waited patiently. A mistake would have to be dealt with if he had made one. For now all he could do was watch.

A familiar face went into his target house carrying a bag under his arm. The detective frowned. He knew the man and knew he was not a mastermind.

After all, his last boss was Harlequin Napier.

His cape swirled around his body as he launched himself into the air. He swung across the street and through a window he had prepared earlier.

Lefty Burkowitz pulled a .45 and blasted away at Nightmare as he retreated back to the front door. A handy couch provided cover as the rounds split the air. Then the world's greatest detective was moving as smoothly as a machine.

Adam Blake watched as the last of the diggers fled quietly in the desert. One more person to free and he would have a free hand.

"They're taking Layton, mate," said Tann, standing by the front flap.

"We will worry about him later," said Blake. "I doubt he will be killed where they are taking him. Let us talk to the unknown woman. Maybe that will answer some of our questions."

"A woman?," asked Nicola. "How does this all tie in?"

"I have a suspicion," said Blake. "I think we should talk to the unknown woman and fill out the rest of the puzzle."

"Right," said Tann. "The quicker we go about that, the happier I am."

Blake slit the side of the tent closest to his goal. He slid out and dashed over in a blur. A simple cut opened the material in a flash and he was inside.

Tann heard a "Hey!", and then a crunch, and then silence.

"Shall we, Professor?," he asked.

"Let's before someone sees that everyone else has vanished from the camp."

The two men ran over to the other tent and slid inside. Blake was standing by the flap, looking out.

"What can you tell us about this situation?," he asked quietly.

"Nothing," said Jessica Cooper. "As far as I can tell they just grabbed me because of my past connection with Croyd. They did say that what they were looking for was away from here."

"What are you to Layton?," Blake asked.

"I am his ex-fiancee, I guess."

Lefty Burkowitz reloaded quickly as he saw the dreaded Nightmare charge from the house. He blanched slightly, but knew he had no choice now.

It was him, or the scarfaced vigilante.

Lefty was determined it was going to be Nightmare.

A metal star flew through the air at the henchman. He pulled the .45's trigger, blowing it out of the air. He didn't get a second shot as Nightmare's other hand released a tiny capsule. A pop released an invisible gas into the air.

The second One Shot fell to the ground fast asleep.

"Ex-fiancee?," said Alex Tann. "I'd have thought someone like One Shot was out of your social circle."

"We were young," said Jessica. "My parents hated Croyd, but he treated me well. We were going to elope, but my parents sent me away and kept me away from him. I heard that he enlisted in the army, while I had an arranged marriage. I haven't forgotten Croyd, but Heron and I have a little boy and a life now."

"Layton does not know, does he," asked Blake.

"I didn't have a chance to tell him before that troll put me under guard."

"Right," said Blake. "Time to leave."

He went to the cut exit flap. He held it open for the trio to leave.

"Tell Carrington to load the gray shells and use them," said Blake.

Croyd Layton rode in the passenger seat of the jeep, pistol to the back of his head. The squat outlaw leader held the gun. Layton thought maybe he could jerk his head out of alignment with the barrel but decided to wait.

Jessie had to be thought about while the nut had her at his mercy. There was so much he wanted to say to her about the years he had let slip by after losing her.

He should have kept looking instead of joining the army. It didn't matter that he had to give up in the face of overwhelming odds.

The jeep rolled to a stop.

"Out, Mr. Layton," said the bulldog. "Gently. I don't want my finger to slip."

McCabe pushed Layton forward to a hole in the ground. Disrupted sand, dirt and brushed showed where the the top of the hole had been cleared.

"Now what?," asked Layton, already guessing the answer.

"We tie a rope around you and lower you down until you reach the bottom," said the squat gunman. "Then you look around for what we want to find. We pull you up. Everyone goes home happy."

"What about my parole?," said Layton.

"I'll leave that for you to straighten out as best that you can."

"Let's get this over with," said Layton. "The sooner I'm rid of you, the better."

Chief of Detectives Irving Cole and Nightmare met on the roof of the police headquarters building the night of Burkowitz's arrest.

"He's still not talking," Cole said.

"I imagine not," said the shadowy crusader. "It appears Blake was right about Layton from the start. He left the country, headed for Australia."

"So whatever Layton was taken for," said Cole, "is still going on."

"Unless he has already served his purpose," Nightmare said grimly.

"So we wait for developments?"

"No," said Nightmare, before he disappeared in the darkness.

Adam Blake possessed hearing more acute than any dog. He could hear the distraction from Carrington and Twitch long before it actually took place. He counted the seconds, fitting a miniature gas mask over his face. Then gray smoke blossomed from the mortar shells launched by his assistants. Blake burst from the tent like a big cat after an elusive antelope. His sudden appearance went unnoticed by the guards amidst the flowering smoke. Then he was among them with the darkness causing slaps he used.

When the cloud of smoke drifted away, he was the only man standing in the camp site. He listened, making sure the area was clear before waving his men and the expedition back to the area.

They lowered Croyd Layton down the vertical shaft with a rope tied to a winch on the bumper of the jeep. He used his hands and feet on the sides of the tunnel to slow himself down and prevent slippages caused by being lowered too fast.

Finally he touched bottom.

Layton undid the rope and yanked on it. The lifeline was pulled up and lowered again with a small bag of supplies for his search.

Unfortunately a gun was not included in the bag.

Layton searched in the bag until he found a flashlight and turned it on. The beam barely cut through the darkness.

An old explorer's skull grinned at him from underneath an 1800's British Army helmet.

Layton bent down and examined the skull in the light of his flashlight. A small hole cut through the back of the thing. The edges of the perforation had been darkened by whatever had punched the hole.

Layton noticed something was under the bone. He shone the light on it to get a better look at whatever it was.

It was the rest of the soldier's body. It was laying face down in bony splendor.

Layton whistled in the musty air.

The man's head had hit been hard enough to twist it all the way around on his neck by something about as big as a pea.

Layton took a sight line on the hole. It wasn't easy, but the convict knew the science of ballistics as well as any expert.

He found a small hole high up on a wall next to the shaft he had used to gain entrance. He inspected the area with the flashlight. He found several more holes.

Suddenly he knew the nature of the trap.

He dragged the pile of bones and rotten clothes back to the entrance to the cave. He threw it forward, making it almost walk on its own.

New holes sprouted in the old soldier, dragging it forward with the multiple impacts.

Layton whistled at the nearly soundless projectiles eating into his makeshift target.

Layton thought about his problem for a second. He picked up a rock and threw it. Nothing happened. He picked up a handful and threw them all together. Nothing happened. He threw a rock at ankle level and miniature bullets chased it until it hit the ground.

Layton stepped forward cautiously and steeped over where the strange trip wire had to be. Then he proceeded forward gingerly.

He was going to live long enough to find out what this was all about.

Croyd Layton proceeded down the artificial tunnel. He used thrown rocks to check for booby traps.

He found another shooter trap set up in the opposite direction. It pointed towards him and he narrowly avoided the single round that came to chase the moving target he had thrown.

Croyd found a metal door like a bank vault's at the end of the tunnel. He examined it thoroughly in the beam cast by his flashlight. He tried the lever to one side. It turned at his touch.

Croyd pulled the door open slowly to give any traps time to trigger at the movement of the metallic portal.

Nothing happened as the door reached the zenith of its arc.

Croyd stepped into the next room. The vault door slammed close behind him. He heard a hiss of vapor.

Croyd Layton bolted forward to the next door in line. This one was a sliding elevator door with a keypad.

Croyd paused for a moment's consideration. Obviously he had to get the right combination to open the door and proceed to the next area.

Layton shined the light on each key in rapid succession. A gleam caught his eye from the side of the pad. He bent down and examined that.

The side of the pad had been scuffed by something sharp.

Croyd ran the flashlight along the side of the lock. A hidden catch popped open. Two buttons were revealed. One was green and one was red.

Which to pick?

Croyd picked the red on a hunch. The door slid open with a rasping groan. He stepped through before the thing shut again.

A lot of modern traps for something buried in the outback, thought Croyd as he proceeded forward. He noticed that the ground here was as metallic as the sudden walls.

A cave? Not likely. More like some airship buried in the ground.

Adam Blake advanced across the Outback in his swift, machine-like way. His metallic green eyes calmly surveyed the changing landscape for the trail he knew had to be there.

He guessed he would not need to go far. The site of the archaeological dig was evidently the genesis of this plan to frame Layton while securing an unknown objective.

An escape and return to crime was all too common with enemies of Nightmare. So hardly anyone would believe Layton when he said he had been coerced to the other side of the world for a man that was not readily connected to Church Hill, or America.

Blake saw his goal in the distance. He slowed his advance as he stealthily continued forward.

Croyd Layton cautiously moved forward. The more he thought about it, the more likely he was in an airship of some kind.

Something like the Lightning Master would use.

News in prison had been sporadic, but scuttlebutt said that individual heroes were still out there despite what Congress had decreed.

And they were still putting guys like him in jail.

Croyd admitted to himself he couldn't think of anyone brave enough to tell Nightmare to quit busting heads.

Croyd found himself in a large room. A piece of gargantuan machinery dominated the space. Broken pipes and severed wiring lay everywhere. The convict could see that the device had snapped the fasteners holding the bottom of the machine to the floor of the artificial cavern.

Croyd walked around the engine, studying it. Definitely not Earth technology.

He stumbled over some red rags and bones littering the ground. Something skidded at his touch. He played his light on it.

It seemed to be the remains of a finned, red helmet. A beige stripe could have once been white. Croyd could just make out a winged star, or what was left of it, on the front of the helmet.

Croyd cleaned it out, and put it on. He wondered if he looked like some strange spectral spaceman from the movies. He smiled slightly at the thought.

Then the flashlight fell on his second discovery.

A pistol rested in the debris on the floor. Croyd picked up the strange firearm and sighted down the barrel.

He wondered if it was loaded, or if the load was still potent.

He noticed there was a small indicator gleaming yellow on the side of the alien pistol. Hopefully that meant that the thing was ready to fire.

Croyd tucked his discovery in his belt as he circled the central pillar. The bulldog had said that the prize was down here somewhere.

Croyd played his light all over the room carefully. There had to be some kind of clue.

A glow reflected the beam from the light. The more he looked at it and shone the light on it, the more it glowed.

There was his ticket out of here, and Jessie's way to freedom. Time to go.

Croyd looked around and found a box made of some alloy. He scooped up the large jewel and placed it in the box. He closed the lid, shutting off the glow.

Croyd took the box back to the door. He pressed the hidden switch and stepped back into the corridor with the automatic guns. He carefully avoided the tripwire and headed back to the entrance.

He paused when he came in sight of the British army helmet. He stepped over the trip and went to the entrance.

"Hey!," Croyd called up out of the pit. "I think I got what you wanted. Drop me a rope."

"Put it down in plain view," said the Bulldog. "We'll pull it up, and then we will pull you up."

Croyd put the box down, and pushed it over into the light with his foot. He waited as the rope dropped down. He tied the cable around the box and yanked on it.

The rope slowly ascended upwards out of reach.

Adam Blake paused in the shadow of a small bush. His keen eyes spotted his goal in the distance.

No Layton in sight.

Blake cautiously approached the small group. He could see a rope was being pulled out of the ground.

The bulldog picked up the box, and untied the rope so that he could open the box. His face lit up in joy at the sight of the contents.

Blake approached closer. He didn't think Layton had too much more time to live.

"Throw down the rope," Layton called.

"No," said the bulldog as he took out the contents of the box. He held the glowing thing in his hand seeming to savor its touch.

Blake couldn't make out what the thing was from his vantage point.

He approached, pulling a small globe from his vest. He judged the wind, pulled the tab, and let fly with his grenade. Hopefully a small dose of knock out gas would end this whole affair.

The bulldog raised his hand. The jewel glowed with radiant power. The grenade exploded in a fine mist that quickly evaporated in the open air.

"A challenge to my power so soon," said the mastermind. "I had so hoped it would be Nightmare. I'll guess you will have to do."

Raw energy poured out in a destructive yellow ribbon. The ground itself cooked off in a glassy spray as Blake stepped out of the way with his unusual speed.

"A fast bugger, are you?"

He twisted the rock and a spinning wall erupted violently in front of the investigator.

"Burn at the command of Joshua McCabe," laughed the bulldog. The laughter stopped when Blake hurtled the ten foot wall of yellow death.

The two henchmen went for their pistols, but surprise slowed them down, and punches laid them out.

McCabe made a shaking motion with the jewel and a ribbon of death coiled out in a furious spray of energy. Blake dodged the deadly whip as he pulled another device from his equipment vest.

He pointed the tube at the glowing jewel and pushed the button on it.

An effect seemed non-existent.

Croyd Layton stuck the weird pistol in his belt. Whatever was happening was the distraction he needed to get out of the rat trap he was in.

Croyd braced himself against the sides, and began making his way up the shaft. He rapidly ascended upwards to the top where he caught the lip of the hole with his hands.

Croyd Layton took in the scene before him at a glance.

The bulldog had the jewel in one hand. His two henchmen were on the ground. A stranger stood about ten feet away, pointing some kind of device at the jewel.

Croyd noticed the jewel was responding to the device with a cascade of rampant energy.

One Shot pulled the alien pistol from his belt and took aim, holding himself in place with a forearm and his feet.

He pulled the trigger. A narrow red pencil leapt from the muzzle of the pistol and hit the jewel. The beam was instantly absorbed by the crystal surface.

McCabe screeched in sudden agony, letting the jewel hit the ground. He bent to retrieve it. A hand slapped him into the ground.

"That is that," said Blake, kicking the jewel back into the depths of the cavern, pass Layton climbing out of the hole.

It thumped repeatedly on the way down until it hit bottom. A brilliant shaft of light erupted from the pit burying everything once more.

epilogue

Croyd Layton was rewarded his pardon as soon as he had been returned to the prison and the appropriate explanations made.

Joshua McCabe has been sentenced in Australia for kidnaping.

Jessie had returned to her husband. That still shook Croyd. She had found someone that was good to her and could take care of her. He had always thought they would get together and things would be perfect.

Now he had to lose her again.

He had his freedom. He was still relatively young. He could start a new life.

Sure, he could.

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