A Dr. Shadows Mystery
Teel James Glenn
The year is 1937. The Japanese have invaded and occupied Manchuria and the clouds of fascism darken the skies over Europe. The world totters on the brink of war. Never was there more a need for a hero and never had there been one like, Dr. Shadows, the granite man!
The (Almost) Dead of Night
“Okay, you pale white devil,” the Chinese Cyclops said, “I sink this shot and you owe me blood!”
Despite having only one good eye, Han Ku Lee was a wiz at the pool table. Owning a pool hall on One Hundred and Thirty First Street in Harlem meant the petite woman had a lot of time to practice her trick shots.
“Have a heart, Hank,” her opponent pleaded, “I already owe you any future children I might beget.”
She laughed. “I’ll have to wait quite a while to collect on that the way you behave.”
It was after hours at “Hank’s Billiards and Snooker Hall” and Hank was alone with her pool opponent. She was barely five feet tall, with short-cropped hair in a bob cut. She was dressed in a mannish three-piece pinstripe suit and wore a matching eye-patch over her left eye.
Her opponent was a muscular Caucasian giant, whose perfect proportions and pale grey complexion made him seem like a statue come to life.
“The game is pool, Anton,” Hank said with glee, “Its all a matter of deflection, working the angles, big guy. No mercy allowed!” She gave an evil little giggle and proceeded to sink the last three balls in a row across the green velvet with no seeming effort at all.
“You are as cruel, milady, as you are lovely,” the grey Goliath said with a wide smile then did his best to look the injured party. “Now that you have beaten me soundly, how about taking me pity on me and accompanying me out for dinner?”
Anton Chadeaux, Phd. was a globe trotting adventurer whom the newspapers had dubbed Dr. Shadows, the granite man, for his pale skin which was the result of years of herbal treatments in a secret monastery in Korea. His features were a chiseled matinee idol handsome that would have made him stand out in any crowd. The fact that he tended to wear only grey in suites or casual cloths in an effort to keep him from appearing un-healthy by contrast to brighter colors only added to the granite man alluisons.
When he was in New York of late he often spent his time with Hank.
They were an odd pair to be sure, each remarkable in their own way and more so when seen together: Hank, petite and pretty and Dr. Shadows, a muscular colossus in his smartly tailored grey suit and coat.
The pretty Chinese woman was about to quip in reply to his invitation when the phone in her office rang. She moved quickly across the closed hall to answer it. “Who in Sam Hill would call me at this hour?”
Dr. Shadows racked the pool cues and re-racked the balls while Hank spoke into the phone in rapid Cantonese. She slammed the phone down and raced back into the room, coat in hand.
“Dinner will have to wait, Anton,” she said. “I have to get down to Chinatown in a hurry. There’s an emergency at one of my restaurants.”
Dr. Shadows grabbed his own overcoat and fedora as he followed her out the door. When she turned to lock it, he said, “I have a Shadows Foundation car up the block, it’ll be faster than you grabbing a cab.”
“The Fu Wah restaurant on Mott,” she said when she jumped into the passenger seat of the silver grey coupe.
“I know it,” he said, “though I didn’t realize you owned it as well.” The powerful engine roared to life and he eased it into southbound traffic. “What’s the problem down there?”
“My manager, Su Ling, said there was some sort of tong trouble.” She adjusted the eye-patch over her left eye in a nervous gesture while she stared ahead with her emerald green good eye, as if to see all the way to the south of the island where the trouble was.
In response to her statement, the granite man reached under the dashboard and flipped a switch that engaged a siren. He pressed down hard on the gas pedal and the car leapt ahead like an caged beast. Dr. Shadows maneuvered the high-powered coupe through late night traffic on Broadway with casual ease.
“When did you get a siren installed?” she asked. Despite the urgency of their journey she grinned at the sensation of speed as the city sped by.
“Always had it,” he said with a grin of his own, “I just don’t like to be showy.”
In fact, the license plate of SFJ2 was enough to get him preferential treatment on the roadways of the city. The Shadows Foundation for Justice, which he had founded worked closely with the police and federal authorities. He knew he’d avoided many a speeding ticket just on general principles so had seldom had to use the siren. He had been deputized for services rendered by the mayor, who had also authorized the siren.
When they pulled up in front of the Fu Wah Restaurant in record time, Hank was out of the car before Dr. Shadows engaged the parking brake. The restaurant was a basement establishment and Hank jumped both steps down in a single bound and raced inside.
Once in the door, the situation in the restaurant was as clear as a museum tableau. Half a dozen patrons cowered against the walls while four masked men with cleaver-like hatchets smashed the furniture. Su Ling, the plump be-spectacled manager was being held at the back of the eatery by a fifth thug, a razor sharp knife at his neck.
“Stop now!” Hank yelled in Cantonese. When the masked destroyers failed to comply she produced a thirty-two-caliber pistol from a coat pocket. She held the gun aloft and fired a single shot into the wooden beam near the doorway.
Everyone in the room froze.
The masked man with the knife at the manager’s throat was the first to break the silence. “You pay tribute to the Jade Dragon for the defense of China!”
“You jackals aren’t collecting for Manchurian relief,” she spat at him, “you just extort hard earned money from working people for your own pockets.”
Dr. Shadows entered at that moment and stepped behind Hank. “He knows you can’t shoot without the risk of hitting an innocent,” he whispered, “looks like we have a Chinese standoff.”
Everyone in the room paused to assess the situation. Some of the patrons, and at least one of the masked men, stared in open-mouthed amazement at the sight that the two interlopers presented.
The tong leader decided that the odd pair, even with Hank’s gun, were no match for his henchmen so he ordered, “Hurt them!”
The four turned as one and advanced. The granite man stepped in front of Hank and said with no boast in his tone, “Hold your fire, Hank. I think I can handle them.” She knew he was right so she nodded.
He was trained in the ancient martial arts of Korea, from the same monastery that had healed his injured body with herbal baths that had resulted in his grey color. Hank took a half step back to let him have room, her pistol at the ready if he was wrong.
The first hatchet man came in fast, swinging his knife at Dr. Shadows’ head.
The grey Goliath pulled off his coat in a sweeping gesture, whirling it like a cape to envelop the attacker’s head. Dr. Shadows jumped and pistoned his right leg in a sidekick that sent the hatchet man rocketing back into the second attacking tong man. Both thugs tumbled to the ground in a tangled heap.
The third approached, expecting a similar assault by the grey giant, Dr. Shadows stooped and grabbed a chair that was overturned, grasped it by the legs and thrust the chair back into the charging man’s shins. As the man pitched forward in pain, the granite man yanked the chair upward to slam it into the man‘s chin. The Chinese bandit did an aerial back flip and landed on his face, out cold.
The sudden discharge of the gun behind the granite man made him jump.
He whirled to see the fourth tong man holding his beefy right arm, blood streaming from between his fingers. His hatchet lay on the ground at his feet, and he cursed vehemently in gutter Cantonese.
“He was going to kill you,” Hank said in explanation. Dr. Shadows nodded a thank you and turned his attention to the tong men’s leader.
Hank swung the smoking pistol to point at the two tangled men on the ground and ordered them “Stay down!”
“What’s it going to be?” the grey Goliath asked the leader who still held his knife at the manager’s throat. He spoke in perfect Chinese. “Let him go and you leave with your boys; harm him and you don’t leave at all.” Dr. Shadows spoke in a calm even tone that made it clear he was not bluffing.
“You will pay for defying the Jade Dragon!” the bandit leader said. He edged toward the interlopers, his blade still at the manager’s neck.
Dr. Shadows and Hank countered his movements to allow him to ease toward the door.
“Pick him up; we go.” The tong leader ordered his men. They scooped up the unconscious thug and all five backed out of the entrance to the restaurant. At the door, the bandit pushed Su Ling into the room and addressed Dr. Shadows.
“You are known, Ghost Healer,” he said using the Cantonese transliteration of his nom-de-guerre. “Your interference in this will not be forgotten.” The bandit turned and exited, slamming the door behind him in a final act of defiance.
The room was deadly silent for a long moment, and then the patrons began to all babble at once; the manager to whimper in delayed terror and Dr. Shadows turned o speak to Hank.
“I guess we’re not going to have Chinese food for dinner, huh?”
A Fateful Meeting
After Hank had calmed down the manager and the customers, she closed and locked the restaurant, giving the employees the next night off. She and Dr. Shadows then walked the short distance north of Chinatown to the Combination Club, the nightclub that he co-owned with Slugger Harris.
“It makes no sense that the Jade Dragon Tong should bother you, Hank,” the granite man said once they were seated at his regular table. “Everyone knows you do more to raise money for Manchurian relief funds than just about anyone.”
The Chinese woman had not let the incident dull her appetite. She spoke between mouthfuls of Veal Florentine from the Combination Club’s chef. “There are factions in the Benevolent Society that don’t like it; they feel that all collecting for any reason should be under their control.” She sipped at fruit juice between bites. She, like Dr. Shadows, was a teetotaler, a fact that made her gourmet friends squirm. “It is squabbling like that which causes China to be vulnerable to the Japanese in the first place.”
Dr. Shadows nodded his agreement; he was as passionate as Hank on the subject. It was one of their many shared passions.
“I’ve rousted a couple of those Tong jokers myself,” Slugger Harris added, “They ain’t so tough.” The former boxer was a little terrier of a man. He stood by the table, both in his capacity as owner-manager, and as a friend and associate of Dr. Shadows. He was one of the original members of the Shadows Foundation for Justice and a close friend to the grey Goliath. He also thought Hank was the cat’s meow.
“Their strength is in numbers, Slugger,” she said, “They are truly legion, like your Mafia.”
“Ain’t my Mafia,” he said quickly but with a smile. “I figure they and da Tong Monkeys is brothers under the skin.” Slugger was a world traveler, a former middleweight contender and spoke Korean and Cantonese like a native, but had never been able to leave his Brooklyn accent behind
“You have dat’ right, “ Dr. Shadows said, mimicking his friend’s accent. “Crooks is crooks!”
The three friends laughed. Then the granite man said, “It can’t just stay this way. The Jade Dragon Benevolent Society is almost eight hundred years old; they will not suffer to lose face like they did tonight. When word spreads that they took off with their cues between their legs, running from one woman and a white man, they will lose much of their power.”
“It will be all over like last weeks fish by tomorrow afternoon, Boss,” Slugger said, “Word travels like a brushfire in Chinatown.”
“Which is why I have to arrange to meet the Tong fathers tomorrow,” Hank said. “It has to stop here before it gets out of control and somebody really gets hurt.” She looked over hopefully at Dr. Shadows. “Will you back me up, Anton?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for all the tea in China, pipsqueak,” he said.
“Same here,” Slugger added.
She patted her holstered pistol. “Good, but I’m bringing junior with me, just for luck!”
Dr. Shadows thought, The council members of the Jade Dragon Benevolent Society are straight out of central casting for a Mascot motion picture serial.
It was mid afternoon, and the granite man and Hank stood in the great hall headquarters of the Tong flanked by six hatchet men, one of whom had a bandage beneath his shirt that marked him as the one that Hank had shot the night before.
Dr. Shadows studied the three Tong lords and searched his memory for all he had heard about them.
There was Wo Ping, a balding jowly old man who wore a traditional silk scholar’s robe. He scowled at Hank and Dr. Shadows, his sour expression a clear indication of how he felt about dealing with a woman and a Caucasian. He is hard line from all I’ve heard, Dr. Shadows thought, and very heavy ties to the traditional.
Dr. Li Fong was a wizened old man with a stereotype sage’s full head of white hair and long mustache who leaned on an ornately carved teakwood cane and seemed barely able to stay upright. They say he was one of Chang Kai Shek’s teachers in medical school,” the grey Goliath thought. I know he has been very active in fund raising for Chinese relief and in agitating against the Japanese.
The last member of the triad was Chung Lee Fu, who popularly went by “Leo.” Dr. Shadows had seen him at several nightspots in the city and even once at The Combination Club. He was younger than the others by half a century and built like an athlete. He runs a martial arts school and fancies himself a Wu Xia hero, Dr. Shadows thought, one of those movie tough guys from old China’s past.
Chung was completely westernized in a brown suit and spats in imitation of the round-eyed gangsters he had modeled his lifestyle on. It was all a very theatrical tableau.
“Lee Han Ku,” Li Fong began in cultured and well modulated Chinese, “you have been granted this meeting because of the work you have done on behalf of the community in the past but–”
“But be sure,” Chung finished, “your actions will be judged only for what they were last night.” He glared at Hank accusatively, but she showed no inclination that she was impressed or intimidated by the look.
“And you have been allowed at this meeting,” Li Fong said in unaccented English in direct address to Dr. Shadows, “because of your extensive ties within our community and the nature of your involvement last evening.”
The granite man inclined his head to acknowledge the courtesy.
“Enough nonsense,” Wo Ping said in a raspy voice in Cantonese, “Explain your actions, girl!”
Hank was dressed in a traditional chao sam dress and was doing her best to be diplomatic, but Dr. Shadows saw her bristle at the insulting tone of the order.
“Respectfully,” she said through clenched teeth, “it is I who am owed an explanation. I have always observed the proprieties with respect to your society, always helped our people here and at home in every way I can; why was the Fu Wah pressed for tribute and in so rude a manner?”
“Insolent wench,” the jowled Tong lord rasped. “You are not to question your betters.”
“Betters?” Hank began and began to step forward. Dr. Shadows quickly cut her off her outburst.
“Good fathers,” he said in flawless Cantonese, “we wish only to understand the wisdom of the benevolent society and the actions they took last night, not question it.” Hank shot him a look that was partly thanks and partly anger at being interrupted.
“Well played, Ghost Healer,” Li Fong said with a hint of a smile on his wrinkled face. “I see your reputation for understanding our people is well deserved, but this is a Chinese matter-”
“We don’t have to listen to this bleached outsider,” Leo Chung interjected. ”This is about Lee and her trying to stop our collectors.”
“But why?” Hank insisted. “I–”
“Because such impertinence from you to speak to us so,” Wo Ping said. “It is bad enough tradition is ignored by some–” he shot a sidelong glance to his to companions, “but our power in the community must not be challenged.”
Hank was about to respond, but Chung stepped forward. “We are the future of the Tong; here in this country, not some moldy old country.”
Wo Ping made an exasperated noise and rose. He stalked off to the back of the hall, threw open a thick oak door, and went through to the room beyond.
“Now is not the time for this,” Li Fong said. He shot a look to Leo Chung and inclined his head toward the visitors. “We are family and family sometimes have disagreements among themselves but make no mistake we speak with one voice outside this room.” There was sudden glimpse of a tremendous force of personality beneath his wrinkles.
He held up a hand. “Wait here,” he said in a calm voice. “I will calm down my council brother and we will conclude this meeting.”
He followed Wo Ping from the room. In a moment the raspy voice of Wo Ping and the controlled tones of the wizened Tong lord could be heard from the back room.
Leo Chung glared at the granite man and Hank who stood with as neutral a stance as possible while events swirled around them. He spoke the moment the older man left the room. “You know, sister,” he said, “you have had a free ride in our turf for too long because of your reputation as a bleeding heart for the old country.”
Dr. Shadows noticed that Chung made a point of playing to the Tong guards stationed around the room who had their eyes fixed, not on the two visitors but the young peacock. This young lion can’t wait for the old guard to die out, he thought. He is at the verge of a power play. Interesting.
“I don’t care what Old Ping or the Peking Opera Doc say,” Chung continued. “Let China take care of China we’re here for out piece of the American pie here and now. Stay out of Jade Dragon business.” He turned and walked past his hatchet men and exited the room through a side door, slamming it behind him in a dramatic gesture just as Li Fong came back through the doorway from the inner room while looking back over his shoulder. “I will send her in, Ping as you wish.”
“Have her close the door,” The rasped voice of Wo Ping ordered from the inner room.
Li Fong waved to Hank. “He will be reasonable in private, Miss Lee, I am sure;” he said in English. “He is a proud man and must save face under the eyes of the younger generation.”
She looked up at Dr. Shadows who nodded, then went past the old Chinese into the other room, pulling heavy door closed behind her.
“Last night was a mistake for many reasons, Ghost Healer.” Li Fong used the transliteration of Dr. Shadows’ name from the Chinese. He spoke in a restrained tone patently ignoring that Chung had left the room. “For the strength of our society is in its ability to blend into the fabric of the community, without arousing the interest of the occidental community by such rash and disharmonious actions.”
The granite man accepted the offered olive branch. “At the same time, you have been admirable in integrating with the greater city at large.”
“You spent much time in our country?” Li Fong asked. “Where?”
“Several years in Harbin City as a youth,” the granite man said, “as well as traveling extensively. I still visit Hong Kong regular—”
“Anton!” The door to the other room few open and Hank’s panicked face appeared. “Come in here now!”
Like a grey bolt of lightening, Dr. Shadows was through the doorway before the hatchet men could react.
The back room was a wood paneled study, lined with pictures and containing a large conference table and several comfortable chairs. Wo Ping lie face down on the floor in front of one of the chairs.
There was a hole the size of dime in the Tong lord’s right temple; he was very dead.
And there was no one else in the room but Hank.
The Evidence of Deceit
The granite man raced to the fallen form of Wo Ping, but when he knelt by the still form, there was no pulse. The old man ‘s body was still warm. He looked up at Hank and asked, “What happened?”
Before the Chinese woman could speak, the hatchet men and Li Fong burst into the room. They halted at the door, frozen by disbelief with what they saw.
“He was seated at the table in that chair, facing away from the door,” Hank said in a too loud voice. “When he didn’t answer me after a time I got angry and approached him the then, when I touched him –he-he just fell over.”
“Your vile act has offended and disgraced this Tong,” Li Fong tottered forward and yelled at Hank, his composure apparently shattered by the death of his fellow Tong lord. He pointed his heavy cane at her and ordered his men, “Seize her!”
The five Tong men made to comply with his command, but the Chinese woman produced a pistol from a thigh holster and pointed it in their direction with clear intent. The men hesitated.
“Stop right there,” she said with flint in her tone. “No one lays a hand on me and lives!”
“Hank,” Dr. Shadows said in a firm tone, “that’s not the answer.” He could see a look of animal panic beneath the surface of her eye. It frightened him a little, for this was an aspect of his friend he had never seen before.
“Foolish woman, do you think you will be allowed to escape after such an offense?” Li Fong said. “There is nowhere in this city you can hide from the Jade Dragon Society. Nowhere in the world our justice can not reach you and avenger our brother.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Hank insisted. “He was dead when I came into the room.”
“Lies will not save you, girl,” Leo Chung said from the doorway. He had taken in the scene with a glance and decided what needed to be done. “Get her!” The hatchet men moved toward her again.
Hank sprang at Li Fong and placed the barrel of her thirty-two-caliber revolver against his temple.
“Get back or I will kill a Tong father.”
Even Chung was cowed by this move and froze. He waved his men back.
“Hank,” Dr. Shadows said, “stop this. If we all just step back from the edge we can figure out what really happened—”
“No!” she said. “Look at the expressions on their faces, Anton, they’ll kill me here and be done with me.” There was a look of sudden regret on her face when she made eye contact with the granite man. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, but there is no other way.”
She backed slowly out of the doorway careful to keep the others in her line of sight. She pushed Li Fong into the room and jumped back outside, slamming the door shut and latching it.
The hatchet men ran to the portal, but could not break the lock. They applied their shoulders to the heavy oak door and by concerted effort, in a few minutes, were able to smash the lock to open it. When the reached the great hall Hank was long gone, but the men raced out in pursuit of her anyway.
“That dame is history,” Chung spat at Dr. Shadows. He drew his own pistol before he joined his men in the search. “You get in the way, Pasty, and so are you.” He instructed two of the hatchet men to remain. “Lo, Chen—keep the big sap here while I track down the frail.” The dapper Tong lord then left to hunt for Hank.
The granite man was too distracted to respond to the gangster’s perfunctory threat. He was confident that Hank would elude the pursuing thugs.
Instead he turned his attention to studying the walls of the inner room intently. The wooden panels were hung with photos of the council members at various stages in their lives and several delicate silk paintings of scenes from Chinese mythology. High on one wall he could see an air vent, but nothing else that seemed to offer a solution to what might have really happened in the room.
Li Fong followed Dr. Shadows’ gaze and understood.
“This room is our most private sanctum,” the old man said. He seemed to lean more heavily on his cane, his fury having drained some vitality from him. “There are no secret panels or hidden trap doors in this room as in so many of the moving picture stories you westerners seem to favor.”
He took a deep breath and looked to the body of his fellow Tong leader. “Now I must attend to arraignments for my fallen brother,” he said, “and you had best forget the woman; she is now a problem for the Jade Dragon Society to deal with and she has sealed her fate.” He turned and motioned to one of the guards.
“Fetch a litter to convey the honorable Wo Ping to my medical office; I will prepare him for the next life.”
The guard looked to his fellow, who nodded, his eyes fixed on Dr. Shadows with clear animosity. The guard that remained produced a knife and made sure the American could see he meant to use it at the slightest provocation. The first guard left swiftly and could be heard running across the floor of the great hall.
“Doctor Li,” the granite man gave a slight bow and said in his most formal Chinese, “I most respectfully cannot comply with your command: The woman Lee Han Ku is my friend. As you would not abandon Mr. Wo or any of your Tong brethren, I can not turn my back on her or her fate.”
The old Chinese locked eyes with the pale occidental for a long moment, not quite a battle of wills, but rather a recognition of comparable powers.
“Yes, this I understand,” Li Fong said. “Loyalty is an admirable trait.”
The guard returned with a litter and several other Tong men who set about to reverently place the body of the fallen leader on it. Li Fong continued, “This is a sacred Tong matter now, Ghost Healer, I will have no interference from you or the police.”
“You will not report this to the authorities?”
“I have said this is a Tong matter, Ghost Healer. We will find our own justice and it will be final.”
The granite man walked beside the elderly Tong lord as both followed behind the body in a solemn procession through the corridors of the Tong headquarters.
“Justice is the key word here, Doctor Li,” Dr. Shadows said. “The Tong has hundreds of years long history of fighting for justice for the people; you must continue that noble tradition.”
“And I will, Ghost Healer, by finding, trying, and executing the murderer of the Honorable Wo Ping, no westerner may interfere with that.”
“But you will not be upholding that tradition if you kill Han Ku Lee,” the granite man said with quiet determination. “Regardless of how it appears, I know she did not just execute that man. It is not in her heart or her character. Let me investigate to find out who did do this and justice will be served.”
The old man looked again at the strange grey giant beside him. “Your reputation for dealing with things of this nature is known to me, but I do not see how you can find any other answer but that she did it. We saw her enter the room,” Li Fong said, “and he was alive when she did. They were alone and she had the gun—”
“The gun!” The granite man exclaimed, his inspiration sudden and visible on his face. “I know how I can prove she did not fire the bullet that killed him!”
This stopped the Tong lord. He looked at Dr. Shadows from beneath hooded eyes. “How is this possible?”
“Yesterday, in the incident at her restaurant, Hank shot a bullet into the wooden beam above the door of the Fu Wah; if one of your men will carefully dig it out and bring it to us—being sure not to scratch it—I can compare it to the bullet that killed Wo Ping when you remove it. I am sure it will not match.” The old man regarded him with obvious suspicion.
“Each gun that fires a bullet leaves its mark on the bullet, “ Dr. Shadows explained, “from the rifling grooves within the barrel so the markings on the bullet that killed the Honorable Wo Ping will match only those fired from the very same gun. I will show you that they do not match the markings on the bullet in the Fu Wah.”
“That will prove only that she did not use the same gun,” the old man said.
“True, but I know she had only that one gun,” Dr. Shadows said, “If you will allow me to make this comparison—”
“Yes,” Li Fong said. ”If it serves the cause of justice, it will be done.” He turned to the guard. “Chen, go and do as he requests with great care. Join us in my office when it is done.”
“Thank you, Dr. Li,” Dr. Shadows said with a formal bow. “I am sure this will serve the cause of the right and this will bring honor to the Tong for that reason.”
They proceeded into Dr. Li’s office, which was located directly next to the Tong hall where the Chinese doctor removed the bullet from the dead Tong lord and placed in on a porcelain tray. Dr. Shadows sat while the old physician oiled and prepared the body for cremation.
“Will you not have a mortician prepare him?” the granite man asked with reverance.
“I see to all the medical needs of the Tong members,” the old man said with great pride. “We are as one, a family that is self contained from your occidental world.”
After a time, Chen returned with the bullet slug from the Fu Wah. Dr. Shadows examined it with a wary eye and was delighted to see that it was not too deformed for his purposes. He quickly placed the two bullets in a clamp arrangement he improvised on the Chinese doctor’s worktable. He compared the two side by side with the doctor’s simple microscope.
Li Fong stood by the shoulder of the grey Goliath while the two guards watched from the side of the room with anything but inscrutable expressions as they stared daggers at the grey giant. The silence in the office was like the silence of the tomb.
Dr. Shadows stared intently at both of the bullets for many minutes, adjusting the light from a desktop lamp several times as if he doubted the evidence of his eyes. The granite man sat back with a shocked expression on his face, his pale skin more so than usual.
“Both bullets match,” he said with quiet horror in his voice. “A bullet from her gun killed Wo Ping!”