Chapter XII

69

STRANGE FISH

Doc Savage gave the nearest town and the approximate direction and distance from there.

“What about Bill Hazel?” Doc asked. “Is he in your employment?”

“Does he say he is?”

“Yes.”

“He should be more discreet. This matter is supposed to be confidential.”

“All right, if Hazel is working for you, that is what I wanted to find out,” Doc said.

“Wait! This mission Bill Hazel is on—is it near completion?”

“Very near, I think.”

“You mean he has the—ah—the fish?”

“It will be in his hands shortly.”

“I see.” There was another silence. “Thank you.” Click went the receiver.

Doc Savage frowned at the telephone for a while. He was possessed of a feeling of unreality, of unnaturalness.

The fish. That was it. Having somebody in Europe, someone of the importance of Johann Jon Berlitz, ask him if the fish was found.

This stuff about a fish was getting hard to take.

THEY started back to the ranch in the station wagon, and Monk said, “Where do we stand now?”

“The fuse is lit,” Doc said.

“Eh?” Monk made an exasperated gesture. “Just what did this fellow Berlitz, in Germany or wherever he is, say about Uncle Bill Hazel?”

“Said Hazel was working for him.”

“Well, that's what Hazel said, too,” Monk complained. “So where are we now? We don't know nothing we didn't know before.”

“That's right. Nothing more.”

“What do we do now?”

“Get ready for the explosion,” Doc said.

“When will it come?”