KING OF THE BLACK MARKET
by Maxwell Grant
As originally published in "The Shadow Magazine," October 1943.
Not just the life or death of one individual or one group, but the life or
death of the entire country was at stake as The Shadow battled this evil genius
who sought everything for himself, regardless of the danger to a country at war!
CHAPTER I
CRIME POINTS THE FINGER
AGAINST the gathering dusk, the lights of the Pyrolac Co. formed a solid
array that spoke of overtime. Every window in the outspread buildings was aglow,
proving that this plant was doing its utmost to crack whatever bottlenecks it
could.
There was further proof of Pyrolac's importance.
Around the plant, a wall surmounted with barbed wire was patrolled by armed
guards, whose presence marked Pyrolac as a vital industry. The wall was broken
only by a huge steel gate, at present open but well guarded. Through the gate
ran a siding from the railroad that passed the humming factory.
A switching engine was backing through the gate to pick up a short string
of box cars, to take them for a mile haul down to the yards, where a freight
would pick them up for a run across New Jersey to a junction with a trunk line.
By tomorrow, Pyrolac would be racing on its way to serve as airplane dope
and play its part in paint jobs at the shipyards. Another batch of freight cars
would be loading for another night trip to supply the hungry needs of those
essential industries.
As a quick-drying, weatherproof lacquer, nothing could equal Pyrolac. It
was costly, but worth the price. Those who thought so were the men who knew, and
Chet Conroy was one of them.
From his office near an inner corner of the yard, Chet watched the switcher
coast in through the gate and felt a surge of satisfaction. They'd said that
Pyrolac wouldn't deliver its full quota for another three months, but Chet had
done his part in showing it could be done. For weeks, the stuff had been going
out in carloads, to a total value that would soon be represented by figures as
high as the numbers on the cars themselves.
Though Chet Conroy was young, he held an important job. More important than
his plain office indicated.
Chet handled the inspection department. Outside his office was the room
where the belt line ended. There the gallon cans of Pyrolac were stacked,
stamped, and turned over to the loaders. At present, the room was empty, but
soon the belts would teem. Which meant that it was time for Chet to be starting
through the plant to check things all along the line.
It was good business, though, to watch the loaders. Their work took up
where Chet's left off, and things might happen, even to certified goods. That
was why Chet's eyes kept following the shifting engine until it reached the box
