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Subject: Pat Savage in "Bronze Lust" (Ch. 7 of 8)
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PAT SAVAGE IN

"BRONZE LUST"

BY A PULP FAN

Chapter Seven
The Arrival

    Exhausted from her ordeal of the previous night, Pat slept through most of
the next day.  Her captors woke the violated young woman up at some point
in the afternoon, to feed her and Dr. Murray.  She had to endure their
cruel taunts of whether she preferred the diet that afternoon, or the meat
they had fed her the previous night.  Pat could feel her skin flush crimson
with shame, as she remembered the events that had just transpired, how she
had been taken repeatedly, and how her oversexed body had responded to this
treatment by having orgasm after orgasm.  The proof of her debauchery was
plain for her to see--dried white cum lay crusted on her body, matting her
bronze bush and long hair, coating her nipples and cheeks.  

    The meal was surprisingly good, although considering how long it had been
since she'd last eaten and after what she'd been through, almost anything
would have been edible.  Asking for clothing when the meal was done,
Cartwright just laughed at her.

    "No, no, I much prefer to see you like this, my dear," came the reply. 
"Time enough when our friends arrive to attire you.  And anyway, I think
the doctor likes to see you like this as well...am I right, Dr. Murray?"

    The elderly doctor sputtered with indignation.  "You cur!" he shouted. 
"Have you no decency?  Do with me what you will, but leave the young lady
alone!"  Inwardly, Dr. Murray cringed.  He knew that part of his vehemence
was due to the fact that, despite himself, he had been stealing glances at
Pat's nude, nubile form all day and notwithstanding his age and their
situation, had found himself getting aroused.  She was the most perfect
specimen of womanhood he had ever seen and he couldn't help thinking about
what she would be like to physically possess.

    "Very gallant, Doctor," replied Cartwright sarcastically.  "However, I'm
not planning on doing anything more to either of you...other than turning
you over to my European friends, of course.  What happens to you in their
hands, I can't be responsible for.  I would, however, advise both of you to
get what rest you can this afternoon.  I don't think either of you will be
resting too well on the long trip under the sea!"

    Turning, the gang leader strode from the room, followed by his lackeys. 
The door shut behind them, leaving the woman of bronze and Doctor Murray
alone once more.  Pat didn't dwell on the thought of the ocean voyage which
seemed imminent.  If she were loaded on that submarine, the treatment she
had gone through the night before would pale by comparison; her body would
be violated hundreds of times by men who hadn't seen a woman in months, and
who viewed her only as a handy vehicle on which to vent their lusts..  It
wasn't something she wanted to think about.  Though the situation was grim,
Pat had the spirit of the Savages, the same spirit which had made her
cousin the greatest man of his day.  It was also, she recognized, the same
spirit which had gotten her into this mess in the first place.  However,
just as she had gotten herself into it, she could get herself out of it,
and she refused to give up hope.

    "Hang in there, Dr. Murray," she said, trying to boost his spirits and
bolster her own.  "It's not over yet.  We're going to find a way to get out
of this jam, just you see."

    Pat pulled and tugged at her bonds, trying to loosen them just the least
little bit.  Her exertions caused her golden globes to jiggle enticingly up
and down, crinkled coral tips waving before her.  The room, while not cold,
was cool, and her nipples jutted out, seeming to be permanently erect. 
Caught up in trying to free herself, Pat didn't notice, but Dr. Murray did.
 For a moment he stared, slackjawed, at the firm twin mounds displayed
before him, before he caught himself.  Turning a deep scarlet, he averted
his eyes, glad that Pat hadn't noticed him staring, but he couldn't help
himself from sneaking covert glances at the bronzed beauty as she struggled
to work herself free.

    "I...I...I've been trying to free myself all night," he stammered.  "It's
no use.  I'm all done in."
    Not willing to give up, Pat strained at the ropes, pitting her strength
and knowledge of rope tying against them.  Although they didn't practice it
regularly, she and Monk were into an occasional bit of bondage, and the
young woman was fully familiar with every sort of knot and how to tie
someone in order to leave them helpless.  Even putting this knowledge to
use, however, finally Pat slumped back, exhausted.  She was forced to agree
with her fellow prisoner.  Though her body was now slick with perspiration
from her efforts, whoever had tied her bonds knew what they were doing.  No
amount of work by her was going to set her free.

    "You're right," she admitted.  "I'm trussed up too well to get loose.  But
at some point tonight, they're going to untie us and take us outside. 
We'll be guarded, but that's going to be our chance to make a break for it.
 I'm going to get some more rest and you should sleep too, if you can. 
You're going to need all your strength and you'll need to be alert later
on.  When we get a chance, we're going to have to jump on it, and jump on
it fast.  Once we leave this room, keep one eye on me.  I'll try to signal
you when I see our chance."

    Voicing his agreement, Dr. Murray closed his eyes.  Though he was
thoroughly exhausted, sleep proved elusive.  Visions of Pat, naked,
parading before him, doing things to him, kept running through his brain. 
Though he finally nodded off, he slept fitfully, his sleep filled with
dreams of the divine young creature that was his fellow prisoner.

    For her part, Pat had long ago learned from Doc Savage the secret to
falling asleep when desired and soon dozed off.

    The bronzed woman awoke some time later as the door to the office opened. 
Carlos, knife in hand, and a few of Cartwright's men entered.  "It is time,
senorita," he smiled, as he moved behind her.  His blade flashed, and the
ropes fell from her body.  Pat gasped in pain, as the sudden flow of blood
that had been partially cut off to her limbs resumed.  She rose shakily to
her feet, rubbing her arms and thighs, body prickling and tingling, weaving
unsteadily while her circulation got back to normal.  Though she was
clearly not at full speed, the respect the gang members had for her showed
as two of them kept her covered with revolvers at all times, giving her no
opportunity to try to fight her way out, if she was so inclined.

    "Put these on," said one of the gang members, as he threw some old
coveralls and boots at her.  They were dirty, but Pat didn't demure; they
were infinitely better than what she was currently wearing!  The men
whistled wolfishly as she slipped her long, trim legs into the coveralls.

    "I remember you wrappin' those beauties around me! You were beggin' me to
fuck you!" called out one of them, to the delight of his fellows.

    Pat ignored them and finished getting dressed.  Dr. Murray, also free,
moved up next to her.

    "Both of you--hands behind you!" Carlos ordered.  Not liking the odds if
she tried anything, Pat obeyed, as did Dr. Murray.  Their hands were
swiftly bound behind them.  Pat noticed that, once her hands were tied, the
attention of the two gang members who were covering her with their guns
seemed to lessen.  Though they were still pointed at her, their attention
was focused as intently as before.

    "Walk," said Carlos, prodding them forward from behind.  The elderly
doctor stumbled slightly before catching his balance and Pat smiled at him
for encouragement.  Leaving the office, they found the warehouse busy with
activity, as the gang readied themselves for the arrival of their foreign
friends.  Pat noted that Cartwright must not have trusted his upcoming
visitors completely, as his men were gearing up as if preparing for battle.
 Looking out the windows, Pat could see only the pitch black of the night. 
Though she didn't know exactly what time it was, she had always had a good
internal clock and guessed that it was coming up on midnight.  As she and
Dr. Murray stood in the warehouse, guarded by Carlos and a few others, Pat
did a few isometric exercises that her cousin had taught her, pitting
muscle against muscle, to work the kinks out from having been motionless
for so long.  When a break came, she intended to be ready.

    The door to the outside opened and one of the gang members poked his head
in.  Looking around for Cartwright, he found him and shouted, "They're
almost here!  We just spotted them!"

    Cartwright nodded, finished speaking to a group of his men.  Carrying Doc
Savage's equipment vest that he had taken from Pat, the gang leader walked
over to where Pat and Murray were standing, as his men began to file
silently out of the warehouse.

    "Looks like you don't trust your buyers, Cartwright," observed Pat,
commenting on the firepower carried by Cartwright's men.

    "Oh, I trust them enough," he replied.  "But only a fool doesn't take
precautions, just in case.  However, I have every expectation that things
will go according to plan and that, in a very short while, I'll be several
million dollars richer, embarking on a life of luxury, while you, my dear,
will be embarking on a life on your back."

    Pat's gold-flecked eyes flashed.  "Pig!" she spat at him.  "Selling out
your own country, just to line your pockets.  Thousands of innocent
people--women, children-- will die from what you're about to do!  And for
what?  So you can make a few lousy bucks?  You make me sick!"

    "Well, I may not meet your patriotic ideals but frankly, I couldn't care
less," Cartwright admitted.  "And unlike the Man of Bronze, who for some
reason never seems to want for money, my pockets aren't filled to
overflowing with the green stuff.  This is my chance to make the big score
and I'm not passing it up!  My only regret about the whole affair is that I
can't keep you around as my playmate, but that would be much too dangerous,
with your big, bad cousin running around.  He'll doubtless try to find you,
and I don't think I'd want to be there if he did.  Little chance of that
where you're going, however.  If it's any consolation, I'm not entirely a
monster--I'll always cherish the special moments we shared!"

    Pat was furious but restrained herself from lashing out with a hard but
shapely heel at Cartwright.  If she let herself be goaded into attacking
him, she could be knocked out or, at the least, be bound more securely so
that escape would be impossible.  With only her hands tied, there was a
chance, if an opportunity arose.

    "Bring them," the gang leader ordered, as he turned and strode out of the
warehouse.  Prodded by Carlos and his men, Pat and the elderly doctor
followed into the black night.

    As her eyes adjusted, Pat could see that the sky was clear and free of
clouds.  Though there was no moon, millions of stars twinkled in the
firmament.  The calls of wildlife prowling through the woods, seeking a
meal or seeking to avoid being a meal, punctuated the night.  Spotlights
cut through the darkness, illuminating the area between the warehouse and
the wharf.  As they were marched towards the docks, the light of the stars,
reflecting off the inky water, was sufficient for Pat to make out a
submarine slowly cruising along the surface of the bay, heading for the
wharf where Cartwright and his men awaited.  A speedboat was tied to the
wooden wharf, bobbing gently in the waves, as the swell caused by the
approaching sub slapped against the shore.  Glancing from side to side as
they walked, Pat was alert for any chance to break free, but none presented
itself.  Her guards were vigilant and alert.  Any hopes she had held of
them being lulled by the calm of the night air were apparently not going to
be fulfilled.

    The young adventuress at first assumed that the speedboat would be used to
ferry men to and from the submarine, but as they reached the wharf, she saw
that this was not the case.  Coming to a stop not far offshore, the hatch
on the sub fell open with a metallic "clang!"  Men clambered out on deck,
merely shapes in the meager light.  An inflatable raft was lowered to the
water.  Crewman climbed down into it, pushed off from the sub and rowed
towards shore.

    A moment's work brought them to the wharf.  Calling down to the boat, some
of Cartwright's men grasped a rope that was thrown up to them, securing the
small boat to the wharf.  A few seconds later men in dark uniforms climbed
up from the boat onto the dock.  Weapons at their sides or slung over their
shoulders, their bearing was arrogant, as they alertly took in Cartwright
and his men waiting for them at the end of the dock.  Cartwright's men were
a gang--the new arrivals were professional killers.  Although Cartwright's
men outnumbered them, looking at their demeanor as they approached, Pat had
a feeling that each one of the submarine's crew was a match for several
gang members.  Their steps echoed in unison as they stalked across the
wooden wharf and came to a halt a few feet in front of where Cartwright,
flanked by Pat, Dr. Murray, Carlos and some his men, waited.

    Though her coveralls did little to hide her feminine charms--and, in fact,
displayed an impressive amount of the bronzed woman's cleavage--only a
slight widening of the newcomers' eyes as they observed her indicated that
her presence there was a surprise to them.

    One of the sub's crew stepped slightly forward.  Above a trimmed black
mustache, his black eyes took in the sight before him.  There was a hint of
disdain in his gaze.  Staring back at him, Cartwright stiffened at what
might be an insult, before relaxing slightly.  For the amount of money he
was going to receive, he could put up with a little arrogance on the part
of his buyer.

    "You are Herr Cartwright?" inquired the man with the mustache in clipped
tones.

    Stepping forward slightly, Cartwright extended his hand.  "I am.  And you
must be Captain Weller.  A pleasure to meet you, Captain."

    "Ja.  The pleasure is mine," replied the U-boat commander as he shook
Cartwright's offered hand in a firm grasp.  "You have the plans and the
doctor?"

    "But of course, my dear Captain," responded Cartwright.  He pointed to his
left.  "The elderly gentleman tied up there is Doctor Howard Murray,
inventor of the homing device."  Murray stood there, looking miserable. 
"The plans are in the briefcase held by my man next to him.  You have the
agreed upon payment?"

    "Ja," came the reply.  Weller motioned at one of his men, who stepped
forward with a briefcase.  Holding it in front of Cartwright, he snapped it
open.  Inside were bundles of $100 dollar bills.  Without thought,
Cartwright exhaled loudly as he viewed the millions that would soon be his.

    Cartwright nodded.  "Very good, very good, Captain Weller.  All that
remains is to finish the exchange, and we'll both be on our way, me
considerably richer, you and your country in possession of the means of
creating powerful new weapons.  A fair bargain for all parties.  But before
we do, as a goodwill gesture, I wish to present you with a surprise."

    Captain Weller arched an eyebrow inquisitively at Cartwright but said
nothing.  His men stiffened slightly, unsure of what the surprise would be,
but alert for treachery.

    After a brief silence, disappointed he had not been asked, Cartwright
continued.  "You are, I assume, familiar with Clark Savage, Jr., the man
the newspapers call the Man of Bronze?"

    At the mention of the bronze man's name, Captain Weller and his men
started, their arrogant demeanor temporarily shaken.  "Ja, ja, we have
heard of this Doctor Savage.  He fought against us with valor in the Great
War.  An amazing individual, from all accounts, and one I am sure people in
your line of work here in the United States try to avoid."
    "Yes, I assumed that the fame of the bronze devil had spread to your
country.  And you're right--few people tangle with Doc Savage and live to
tell the tale.  But you may not be aware that the bronze man has a cousin,
a female cousin.  I am, of course, speaking of the lovely Patricia Savage,
soon to be late of Manhattan."  Cartwright gestured and one of his men
pushed Pat ahead.  Pat stepped forward defiantly, chin held high, her
golden-flecked gaze flickering back and forth between Cartwright and the
U-boat commander.  If looks could kill, they would both have been deep in
Davy Jones' locker.

    One of Weller's men whistled softly before catching himself.  Though
dishevelled from the treatment she had received, she stood like an Aryan
goddess before her captors, defiance in every inch of her luscious frame. 
They could do what they wanted with her body, but they could never break
the Savage spirit.  The blue fabric of the coveralls was pulled taut over
her firm, jutting breasts, hinting at the golden glories beneath.  The twin
globes of her asscheeks filled out the material behind her exquisitely,
seemingly begging to be caressed.  The sight of her was enough to bring a
man of stone to life...and a man of flesh to stonelike hardness.  Having
been given no opportunity to clean up, the remains of the previous evenings
activities were plain to see on her cheeks and chest, as dried cum was
crusted white, there and in her bronze tresses.  Though they said nothing,
the devouring looks that the submarine's crew gave her as they took in the
vision before them left little doubt that, given half a chance, they would
give anything to see their own cum splattering hotly on the young woman as
well.

    "So, this is Patricia Savage," mused Captain Weller.  Clicking his heels
together, he gave a slight bow.  "Pleased to make your acquaintance,
fraulein."

    "I'm afraid I can't reciprocate your feelings, Captain," Pat Savage
replied.  "If there were any honor left among you, you'd take Cartwright
prisoner and free Dr. Murray and myself."

    Captain Weller shook his head.  "Well then, I am afraid we have a
different concept of honor, Fraulein Savage.  I am a soldier and I perform
my tasks to the best of my ability.  My country needs Dr. Murray and his
device and it will have them."  Looking at Cartwright, he asked, "If I may
inquire what the young lady is doing here?"

    "Certainly, my dear Captain" said Cartwright.  "Miss Savage was stupid
enough to involve herself in our affairs last night.  We captured her and,
being the gentlemen that we are, kept her...ah...entertained, shall we
say?...all last evening.  And I can safely state that while Doc Savage may
be a physical marvel, he doesn't have anything on his cousin!  But therein
lies my dilemma.  As delectable a morsel as Miss Savage proved to be, her
infernal cousin is bound to come looking for her.  And based on the stories
about him, he's likely to find her if she's in the U.S.  For obvious
reasons, that's something I'd prefer to avoid.  But you, my dear Captain,
will be on a submarine for quite awhile while returning to your country.  I
am sure both you and your men could think of many interesting ways to
entertain the young woman during the long voyage back.  She is a woman of
many skills.  I would appreciate it if, as a gesture from a friend, you
accept her from me as my gift to you."

    Captain Weller involuntarily licked his lips as he gazed hungrily at the
bronze bombshell.  The gleam in his eyes betrayed his thoughts, as he
contemplated all of the uses he could put the lovely Pat to on the trip
home.  "A princely gift, Herr Cartwright."  He bowed to the gang leader. 
"My men and I thank you.  Each of my crew has performed well on the trip to
your country, it will be good to give them all a little reward!  I am sure
we will be able to occupy her fully on the journey.  And once in my
country, I have a friend who runs an establishment, catering to those of
the upper class with expensive, and sometimes unusual, tastes.  By the time
we reach our shores, her spirit will be broken.  As long as we take care
not to permanently mark her on our voyage, with her beauty, she will earn
me a great deal from those seeking new diversions."

    Hearing the captain's words, Pat's blood grew cold.  Though she had known
the likely fate awaiting her on the submarine, hearing it expressed brought
it to life vividly.  The crew of the sub hadn't had a woman in weeks.  Her
firm young body would be violated over and over again on the trip as the
crewmen used her to slake their lusts, singly and in groups.  Her life
would become one long episode of being fucked by strangers whose only
thought of her was as a tool to bring themselves off.  She shuddered
involuntarily at the thought of her fate.

    Cartwright smiled.  "Of course, Captain Weller.  Pat Savage is yours, free
to do with as you wish.  I am sure that she will supply you with countless
hours of pleasure.  And now, perhaps, we can conclude our business.  You
have a long voyage to begin, and I, too, have places I need to go.
    "Certainly, Herr Cartwright, certainly."  At a gesture from his captain,
the crewman with the briefcase of money handed it to Cartwright, taking in
turn the briefcase containing the plans for Dr. Murray's invention.  The
elderly inventor was hauled forward and handed over to the submarine crew
as well.

    Pat looked on the exchange with despair.  No opportunity for a break had
presented itself, and the proceedings were swiftly coming to a conclusion. 
The bronze adventuress had been surreptitiously working on her bindings
while the gang's attention was focused on the discussion between the two
leaders.  Tied with much less care than the ropes that had bound her in the
warehouse, she had loosened them to the point where she could free herself
in an instant, but to what effect?  Still, time was running out.  The guard
at her side was no longer paying careful attention to her.  Pat calculated.
 It was a longshot, but she could probably take him out and grab his gun,
then hopefully grab the plans and the doctor.  Shooting Cartwright and
blazing away at the crew of the sub would likely create some confusion. 
With luck, it would be enough that they could make it to the speedboat and
make their escape.  But if not, getting gunned down while trying to get
away was preferable to the fate awaiting her onboard the submarine.

    The atmosphere around the wharf, wrought with tension when the two groups
first met, had slowly loosened as their leaders talked.  The tension had
particularly ebbed after Cartwright's gift of Pat Savage to the submarine
commander.  Treachery seemed a remote possibility.  Some of Cartwright's
men had begun joking among themselves, discussing what they'd be spending
their money on.

    Accordingly, when the warehouse exploded in a fiery blast, everyone was
caught offguard.

    The ground shook with the force of the explosion.  Wooden debris rained
down upon the warehouse grounds.  One of the sedans lifted up, flipped over
from the concussion.  Shards of wood hurtled through the air, penetrating
skin as if hammered in.  Though none of his men had been in the warehouse,
nearly a dozen of Cartwright's men were knocked to their feet, the rest
staggered, as cries of surprise mingled with those of the wounded in the
chilly air.

    On the wharf, the explosion rocked the pilings, causing the elderly Doctor
Murray to lose his balance and go down.  The submarine crew and
Cartwright's men swayed but stayed on their feet.  They darted wild glances
all about, searching for the source of the blast.  Men from Cartwright's
gang ran about aimlessly, seeking to find out what had happened.

    Swift as bronzed lightning, Pat Savage seized her chance.  Twisting her
hands, she slipped her bonds, rope falling to the ground.  She lunged at
the nearest guard.  A bronze fist shot out, clipped the guard in the jaw. 
He dropped like a stone.  Pat snatched the pistol from his hand as he fell,
whirled on Cartwright.

    Suddenly, the night air was alive with the roar of machinegun fire. 
Hearing the sound, Pat brightened.  Near her, Cartwright blanched, face
turning white as the blood drained from it.  There was no mistaking that
distinctive sound.  It was the roar from Doc Savage's supermachine pistols!
 Somehow, the Man of Bronze and his men had tracked his cousin and had
launched an attack!

    Smoke billowed from the burning wreckage of the warehouse, turning the
night into a scene from Dante's inferno.  And within the gray smoke, a
ghost moved, a bronze ghost of vengeance flitting through the night.  A
ghost with a deadly touch!

    Bronze hands flickered out like licks of flame, seeming to but touch
Cartwright's men.  But each man who was touched dropped instantly, as if
felled by magic!  Though they didn't know it, fitted over the Man of
Bronze's fingers were tiny thimblelike devices of his own invention,
containing needles coated with a powerful anesthetic.  A slight prick was
enough to put the strongest man down.  Seeing the spectral figure of
crookdom's greatest enemy weaving in and out of the fog, bronze face
burning like a brand in the flickering light from the blazing wreckage of
the warehouse, Cartwright's men screamed, firing wildly.  Some threw down
their weapons and ran into the night.

    But the Man of Bronze was not alone.  Though he disdained the use of
firearms, his men had no such compunctions.  Superfirers set on full auto,
they pumped a hail of bullets into Cartwright's gang, dropping them like
flies.  Firing back blindly into the night, the gang returned fire, but
they were shooting into the dark, while they themselves were outlined
against the blaze of the warehouse, making them perfect targets.

    Hearing the attack, Cartwright knew the wrath of the bronze man would be
brutal if he learned what had befallen his cousin at his hands the previous
night.  He had only one chance--Pat Savage must die!  Snarling a curse, he
grabbed at his pistol, yanking it from its holster.

    The bronze adventuress was quicker.  As Cartwright raised his gun, the
pistol in Pat's hand spoke.  The projectile shattered Cartwright's hand. 
Screaming in pain, his gun dropped to the ground.

    Before Pat could do more, Carlos leapt at her!  Knife slashing, he
screamed, "I'm gonna cut you, bitch!"

    The blade licked out as Pat sprang back.  The razor sharp steel ripped at
her, went through the fabric of her outfit, ripped up!  If not for her
lightning reflexes, the young woman would have been killed right there. 
Her backwards leap, however, had carried her just far enough out of Carlos'
reach.  Though the knife tore through her coveralls, slashing them from her
stomach to their top, it only scored her skin lightly.  Before Carlos could
press his attack, Pat's gun spoke, once, twice.

    The first bullet took Carlos in the forehead, blowing him backwards.  The
knife flew out of his hand and sank with a "splash!" into the inky water. 
The second was aimed not at Carlos, but at Cartwright, who had used his
remaining good hand to pick up the pistol he had dropped.  The slug caught
him in the chest, staggering him.  Blood spurted from the wound, darkening
his shirt and splashing down like warm red rain on the wooden dock.  "Damn
you," he croaked, before falling face down on the wharf.  His body twitched
once, before laying motionless.

    As the battle raged, the submarine commander decided to cut his losses. 
He had the plans and Doctor Murray.  It was a shame, but Pat Savage would
have to be left behind.  "Back to the boat!" shouted Captain Weller, as he
turned and raced down the wharf.  His men followed close behind him, one
clutching the suitcase holding the plans for Doctor Murray's device.  One
of his other crew clutched at the elderly scientist, pulled him to his feet
and began shepherding him down the dock towards their boat.

    Back towards the warehouse, the battle raged on but Doc Savage and his men
were rapidly overcoming the remnants of Cartwright's gang.  Superfirer
empty, Ham Brooks had leapt into the fray with his swordcane.  The blade,
coated with a powerful drug, licked among the gang members, dropping them
in their tracks.  The dapper attorney's usually immaculate garb was torn
where bullets had ripped through, but one of Doc's bulletproof vests had
kept him, as well as each of Doc's other men, from serious harm.

    Colonel John Renwick's fists, big as milk pails, smashed into opponents. 
Renny's favorite pastime was using his gargantuan fists to knock out door
panels.  Cartwright's men were considerably softer than door panels.  When
Renny hit a man, he stayed hit...and down.  The giant engineer had a dour
expression on his face which, paradoxically, meant that he was enjoying
himself immensely.  A human bulldozer, he rumbled through the opposition,
heading for the wharf.  Fast as he was, however, he trailed both Doc and
the remaining member of their complement, Monk.

    Monk had literally gone ape.  Seeing his lover nearly being sliced open on
the wharf, a red mist had descended over his vision.  Crazed with fury, his
simian form bowled opponents over as he fought to reach Pat Savage's side. 
Those unfortunate to get in Monk's way wailed in agony as he twisted and
tore at bodies and limbs, crushing bones with his brute strength, ripping
flesh with his bare hands.

    The wind, which had been blowing smoke towards the wharf, shifted
suddenly, clearing the smoke between Doc's group and the wharf, giving them
their first clear view of Pat as they raced towards her.  Their jaws
dropped in amazement.

    "Holy cow!" rumbled Renny.

    "Blazes!" exclaimed Monk.

    "By Jove!" uttered Ham.

    Only the Man of Bronze maintained his silence, his impassive face
seemingly cast in bronze as he took in the sight that met him and his men. 
His eyes, however, betrayed his emotion, as gold flecks swirled madly in
them.  Though it was the bronze man's creed never to take a life when he
could help it, the sight of his cousin and the state she was in was nearly
enough to make him forget his oath.

    Pat was sprinting along the wharf after Captain Weller and his men.  In
one hand she held a pistol, in her other she gripped Doc's utility vest
that Cartwright had dropped when she had shot him.  Her coveralls had been
ripped by Carlos' knife, freeing her breasts from confinement.  The coral
tipped mounds, nipples hardened in the chill night air, were on display for
all to see.  A thin line of red scored her stomach where the blade had
touched her, from which blood slowly welled forth in crimson droplets to
dot her bronzed flesh.  Her dishevelled hair bespoke of the treatment she
had endured at the hands of Cartwright's gang.  Doc Savage and his men were
infuriated as they tore through the remaining opposition.

    Captain Weller and most of his crew had reached the end of the wharf,
leaping into the waiting boat.  Only the crew member bringing Dr. Murray
along remained on the wharf.  The elderly scientist, desperate to avoid his
fate, had been struggling the entire way, slowing the crewman down.  Though
she was rapidly closing the gap between them, Pat realized as she ran that
she wouldn't reach them in time, that Dr. Murray would be loaded into the
boat before she could get to him.

    On the fly her gunhand came up.  Scarce seeming to aim, her pistol cracked
out its message of death.  An excellent marksman, Pat's aim was true.  A
blistering slug slammed into the back of the crewman.  Spinning around from
the impact of the hot lead, he lost his grip on the old scientist and
pirouetted off the dock, arms flailing, splashing loudly into the cold
water.  Exhausted, Dr. Murray fell gasping on the wood planks.

    One of the sub's crew made to clamber back onto the dock, but was stopped
by a command from Captain Weller.  "No!"  the U-boat's commander shouted. 
"Leave him!  We have the plans, that's all we need!  The Fatherland's
scientists can work with those!  Go, go!  Macht schnell!"

    The small boat shot away from the dock, heading swiftly for the submarine.
 A few of the crew members turned their firearms on the dock, while a
machinegun was unlimbered on the sub.  A hail of lead flew at Pat.  Bullets
whizzed all around her.  The submarine's gunner tried to mow down Doc
Savage and his men.  Buzzing lead kicked up dirt all around them, forcing
them to dive for cover.

    Shouting at Dr. Murray to stay down, Pat leapt off the dock and dove into
the bay.  Her body cut the cold water cleanly, sliding through it like a
mermaid.  A few powerful strokes underwater brought her to the side of the
speedboat, still tied to the wharf.  Grasping the rail, she pulled herself
up and over, into the boat.  She had dropped her gun when she had hit the
water, but her other hand still grasped the utility vest.  Arising drenched
and dripping from the bottom of the boat, she sprang for the controls,
kicked the engine into life.

    At the submarine, Captain Weller and his men had swiftly boarded and
clambered below decks.  The hatch clanged shut behind them, and the vessel
turned, moving towards the open sea.  The waters here were too shallow to
take the sub down, but it was not far to deeper water, where it could
safely submerge.

    Pat grimaced.  If the submarine escaped, her rescue of Dr. Murray would be
of little value to the world.  Though his life had been saved, his
invention, capable of raining death and destruction upon thousands, would
be in the hands of those who would use it without hesitation.  The
submarine must be stopped at all costs!

    The bronze adventuress gunned the engine.  The speedboat sprang forward as
if it were a wild bronco, maddened by confinement.  The rope holding it to
the wharf snapped taut.  With a sharp splintering, that part of the boat's
rail to which the line was tied gave way as the boat thundered for the open
water.  Opening up the throttle, Pat gave chase to the U-boat.

    Her boat bounced up and down on the waves, cresting them and launching
into the air before splashing down, sending foam spraying everywhere.  Pat,
still soaked from her swim, was sprayed by mist as she fairly flew after
the escaping submarine.  The prow of the boat sliced through the water
leaving an angry wake, swells slapping into the shore.

    Standing in the boat, Pat looked like a bronzed goddess, like a vengeful
Diana on the hunt.  Her glistening breasts, crimson nipples hard as
diamonds, heaved with emotion and with the up and down motion of the boat. 
Her wet bronze hair flew wildly in the wind, bespecked with ocean foam,
seemingly imbued with a life of its own as it cracked whiplike around her
face.  Cold water sprayed in sheets over her body, drenching her and her
clothing, beading on her determined face before being swept back and away
by the wind created by her mad chase.

    As she sped towards the escaping submarine, Pat swiftly donned the utility
vest.  Engine throbbing, the boat shot along the waves towards its quarry,
steadily closing the gap.  Closer and closer she drew to the sub, but Pat
saw with consternation that the vessel was beginning to submerge.  It was
going to be tight, very tight.

    Fighting the chop caused by the diving vessel, Pat expertly piloted the
speeding boat alongside the submarine, which by now had nearly sunk beneath
the waves completely.  Only the conning tower remained above water, and
that too was disappearing rapidly.

    Matching velocity with the U-boat, Pat suddenly relinquished the controls
of the boat and hurled herself overboard!  Arms outstretched, she sailed
through the air towards the submarine!  A bronze hand lashed out, grasped
for the railing of the conning tower.  She grabbed it...but her grip
slipped on the slick metal and she slid backwards towards the stern of the
sub.  Pat was frantic--she was going to get swept away from the sub!

    Flailing around with her other hand, scrambling for purchase, she lunged
forward.  Her fingers brushed the rail, closed on it in a viselike grip,
mere seconds before the tower sank completely beneath the surface of the
bay.  Desperately holding onto the submarine, the bronze adventuress was
dragged under the water.  Tendrils of silken hair floated momentarily on
the crest of a wave before vanishing from sight.

    Fifteen seconds passed, thirty.  Only a slight ripple in the surface of
the water betrayed the sub's passage as it headed out towards open sea,
bearing its cargo of death.

    More time passed.  Over a minute had now gone by since Pat Savage had been
pulled beneath the cold waves, but the smooth surface of the bay remained
unbroken.  Nothing--no one--had surfaced in that time.

    Suddenly, the night air was split with a tremendous explosion!  Water
geysered up in a tower, beginning deep in the depths, reaching for the sky
before falling back to earth and smashing into the bay with a thunderous
crash.  Ocean foam cascaded against the shore, slapping out an angry
rhythm.

    On the heels of the first blast came a second!  A tremendous fountain of
water gushed forth!  The water roiled like a creature mortally wounded,
thrashing about in the throes of death.  The stench of oil filled the clean
night air as thousands of gallons were released into the water!

    From the shore, Monk, Ham and Renny looked on aghast as they witnessed the
blasts.  Monk let out a scream of anguish, ripped from his guts, while his
companions stared, whitefaced, in silence at the scene unfolding before
them in the bay.  Standing slightly behind them, the elder Doctor Murray
bowed his head as he thought of the young woman who had saved him and
risked her life to stop his invention from falling into the wrong hands. 
Pat and the sub had passed out of range of the starlight during her chase. 
With sinking hearts they witnessed the explosions and their aftermath.  It
seemed unlikely that Pat could have withstood their fury and survived.

    A whirring sound above them caused them to look up.  Circling overhead was
the autogyro Pat had taken from Doc's warehouse!  The Man of Bronze was at
the controls, his face grim.  While Pat had given chase to the submarine,
Doc had raced back alone for the autogyro, moving faster than seemed
humanly possible.  Several track records would have been shattered had he
been timed during his frantic dash to the plane.

    A rope ladder hung swaying down from the open door of the autogyro.  The
bronze man motioned at the ladder to his men.  Agile as a chimpanzee, Monk
leapt for it, wrapped his arms and legs in it.  Secure, he shouted up at
his leader.  Though the wind carried his words away, Doc understood. 
Pointing the plane away from shore, he sped over the waves, flying swiftly
to the location of the dual blasts!

    They reached the site of the explosions.  A powerful searchlight mounted
on the bottom of the autogyro stabbed through the darkness.  The surface of
the water was littered with oil and debris bobbing on the waves.  It was
clear that, somehow, Pat had managed to destroy the U-boat.  Monk and Doc
couldn't tell, however, if her efforts had also led to her own destruction.

    Circling in ever widening arcs over the blast area, the eagle eyes of Doc
Savage spotted a larger piece of wreckage a short distance off.  Nudging
the controls, he sent the plane swooping towards it.  As it approached its
target, the glare of the spotlight revealed the speedboat.  Though the
blasts had capsized it, the boat still floated on the surface of the water.

    And clinging to the side of the boat, waving at them weakly, was Pat
Savage!

    Though the roar of the autogyro drowned him out, on the rope ladder below
Monk whooped for joy as he spotted her.  Dangling from the flying craft,
the ladder swayed from side to side as Monk swung with exhuberance.  In the
cabin of the autogyro, the bronze man smiled broadly.  Though there were
many who felt that the Man of Bronze was emotionless--and indeed he
disliked showing open emotion--they would have changed their view if they
could have seen him then, relief at finding his cousin alive sweeping over
his usually impassive face.

    Slowing the plane as much as possible, Doc sent the autogyro spiraling
down towards the makeshift lifeboat.  Below on the ladder, Monk hooked his
legs in the rungs, before letting go with his hands and hanging suspended
downward.  Under the deft control of the Man of Bronze, the plane
approached the bobbing boat.  As the ladder passed alongside Pat, she
thrust an arm out, reaching for her lover.  Monk grabbed her hand in his. 
In a prodigious display of strength, he swung up, lifting the soaked woman
out of the water.  As he reached an upright position, he brought her body
in to the ladder, allowing Pat to grasp the rope while her feet found
purchase.  Holding the exhausted young woman securely against him, Monk
glanced up at Doc Savage, nodded.  Doc nodded back.  The autogyro described
a lazy loop as it turned from the open sea and headed back to shore, its
twin passenger cargo dangling beneath it in the starlight.

    A few moments later, the autogyro taxied to a stop on the parking lot of
the ruined warehouse.  Pat and Monk had climbed up the ladder into the
cabin of the vehicle during the short trip back to shore.  Pat had
collapsed, exhausted, on the floor of the autogyro, but had smiled her
thanks to her cousin.  Monk removed his coat and wrapped it around the cold
woman, whose clothing was soaked from her watery adventure.  Though the
twin globes he had delighted in so many times were revealed in all their
perfect glory to his gaze, the coverall and utility vest now in ruins, for
the first time in his life the sight didn't make him horny.  He was just
relieved that, other than some minor cuts and bruises, Pat appeared to be
alright.

    Ham and Renny ran to meet the plane as it came to a stop.  Considerably
slower, Dr. Howard Murray hobbled up behind them.  Assisting Pat out of the
plane as well, Doc and Monk disembarked.  Hair in shambles, wearing an
amalgam of Monk's coat, the coveralls and the utility vest, oil smudged on
her face, Pat was not exactly at her radiant best.

    "Holy cow, Pat!" exclaimed Renny.  "Are you alright?"

    His question set off a barrage of others, as they began to pepper her with
queries about her health and what had just happened.  Finding that Dr.
Murray had not yet been introduced to Doc and his men, Pat did so, before
swiftly retelling the events of the past few days.  Of course, she left out
such details as her activities with Melissa and Chuck the warehouse guard. 
She also glossed over her treatment at the hands of her captors, though it
was clear from the grim expressions on their faces that Doc and his men
guessed at least some of what had occurred.

    Monk hung by her side during the entire story.  Though neither he nor Pat
did anything overt, the Man of Bronze glanced reflectively between his
cousin and his aide on occasion, but whatever thoughts filled his mind
behind his gold-flecked eyes remained known to him alone.

    The bronze woman neared the end of recollecting her adventure.  "Holding
on to the railing of the submarine's conning tower with one hand while it
submerged, I quickly took a few of your grenades out of the utility vest. 
I lodged them against the hatch and set the timers as best I could, before
kicking free from the sub and heading back for the surface.  I had just
poked my head above water when they blew.  Then I guess the sub's boiler or
something exploded as well.  I thought the force of the blasts was going to
crush my ribs!  I was tossed about for a moment, then I saw the speedboat
and just managed to swim over to it.  I don't know what I would have done
if you hadn't shown up soon--I was just about done in!  Thanks loads, all
of you!" she concluded, flashing a pearly smile at Doc and his men.

    Turning to Doc, she asked, "I take it you got my message?"

    The Man of Bronze nodded.  "Yes.  Luckily we wrapped up the bulk of our
business yesterday--and to think we didn't tell you where we were going so
you wouldn't follow and get yourself into trouble!  We left Long Tom and
Johnny behind to finish straightening up a few loose ends and just returned
to New York a few hours ago.  I noticed that someone had visited
headquarters and found the message you'd left written on the mirror. 
Proceeding to the warehouse, Charlie told us that you had talked him into
taking the autogyro."  At that statement, a faint blush suffused Pat's
cheeks but in the dark it passed unnoticed.

    Doc continued.  "From that point on it was easy to home in on the
autogyro's homing device.  When you weren't there we searched the area.  We
spotted the men gathered here and figured this was where you probably were.
 Then we saw you standing at the wharf and...well...you know the rest."

    Pat's voice cracked with emotion.  "Thanks Doc...thanks all of you, Monk,
Ham, Renny.  You guys are swell.  I'm sorry to have put you to so much
trouble though."

    "Aww, it was nothin', Pat," Monk voiced on behalf of Doc's men.  "If
anything happened to you, none of us would ever be able to forgive
ourselves."

    "Monk's exactly right, Pat," Doc Savage gravely interjected.  "None of us
would have ever been able to forgive ourselves.  Now's not the time to go
into it, but our work--the work you did tonight--is just too dangerous.  If
you keep doing this sort of thing, sticking your nose in trouble and seeing
where it leads you, you're going to get seriously hurt or worse."

    Seeing the stricken expression coming over his cousin's face, Doc
moderated his tone, "I will say, however, that in the wrong hands, Doctor
Murray's invention would have been devastating.  Though it was too bad you
had to sink the submarine, far better that than that the plans had been
obtained by a war-hungry country.  I'll make some dives tomorrow and see if
I can locate them, though they were probably swept out to sea.  But in a
few days when you're feeling better, we are going to have a serious talk,
young lady!"

    Pat smiled.  "Don't worry, cousin," she replied.  "This little episode has
cured me of my love for adventure.  From now on, the most exciting thing
I'm going to look forward to doing is my nails."

    Seeing the disbelieving looks that were taking shape on the faces of Doc
and his men, Pat laughed and concluded her statement.  "At least for a
little while!"

-- 
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