Men Of Treason by C.K.M. Scanlon

Book Details

Dan Fowler, Ace of the F.B.I. Battles to Blow the Lid Off a Racket That Threatens Our Nation’s War Effort—and Teaches Traitors Who Gamble on American Lives that Justice Holds the Trump Hand!

It’s 1943, the middle of World War II. When a Captain in the Army is murdered by gamblers who control a mining town, FBI Special Agent Dan Fowler is called in to bring justice to the war profiteers.

Chapter I – Captain on a Rampage
Chapter II – Stranger in Town
Chapter III – Dynamite
Chapter IV – The Con Men
Chapter V – One of the Mob
Chapter VI – Assignment to Crime
Chapter VII – A Man Named Sissy
Chapter VIII – Murderer’s Message
Chapter IX – Mounting Evidence
Chapter X – Voice in the Darkness
Chapter XI – Blood Stains
Chapter XII – Spotlight of Justice

C.K.M. Scanlon was a “house name” for the Thrilling Publications group of pulp magazines. Men Of Treason was published in the Fall, 1943 issue of G-Men Detective.

Men of Treason has 19 illustrations.

Links:

1. Scanlon-MenOfTreason.epub

Excerpt: Men Of Treason

Chapter I

Captain on a Rampage

A  CITY was rising in this semi-wilderness. A city into which more than fifty thousand men would soon pour. A city of barracks and mess halls and officers’ neat bungalows. It was to become one of the great training centers for United States troops.

But while it was being erected a village nearby had also grown tremendously. Where two or three thousand people ordinarily lived quietly and peaceably, had come hundreds upon hundreds of workers to clear the ground for the camp and erect the many buildings.

With them had come the usual array of gamblers, women camp followers, confidence men, loafers and soap box orators. Some were prosperous, some down on their luck, but all had one ambition —to play the workers for suckers.

The former little village hotel was now a roaring barroom and gambling hall. General merchandise stores had been turned into bars with gaming rooms somewhere in back. The townspeople were outraged, but when an army camp had to be built workers were necessary and the leeches who followed the workers clung to the town with a tenacity that defied the usual law and order.

State Police moved in from time to time. Irate townspeople demanded the State Militia, but little was done. The gambling and drinking went on.

There was no out-and-out violence. The gamblers saw to that. Murders would draw police in droves, so when working men squawked when they thought they were being cheated, they were allowed to win a little. Everything worked smoothly, as if some guiding hand held all the threads of crime and manipulated them with fantastic skill.

“The man who had so providently leased the town hotel two months before anyone realized an army camp was going to be built nearby, ruled over the hotel like a czar. He played when stakes ran high and certainly did not resemble a gambler.

“LUCKY” SAUNDERS, as he was known, was short, fat and mild-eyed. He incessantly chewed gum and neither drank nor smoked. So far as anyone knew, he carried no weapons beyond a surprising punch packed away in his short, apparently flabby arms.

Saunders was getting ready to lock up for the night when he saw the uniformed figure of Captain Corbett come reeling down the street. Others saw Captain Corbett, too, and were shocked and surprised.

He was young-—not more than twenty-eight—and an officer of the engineering corps. And right now, Captain Corbett was very, very tight. He sang boisterously, waved his arms, and shouted at every one he passed. When he turned abruptly into the hotel he almost lost his balance and fell.

A couple of passersby heard Lucky Saunders berating the man mildly.

“Brace up, Captain. Come inside. I’ll put you up in my room.”

“I want a drink,” Captain Corbett announced in a loud voice to the world at large, and swung into the almost empty barroom. He marched up to the bar, slapped his fist on it, and demanded whisky. Much whisky, straight whisky, strong whisky.

The bartender shook his head. “Nix, Cap. you better do like Lucky says. Go some place and sleep it off. Boy, if the Colonel ever saw you now.”

Captain Corbett roared with laughter. “When I first grew up, bartenders used to say, ‘If your mother could only see you now.’ Now the colonel is my gray-haired old mother. Pour me a drink, you —or I’ll bust every tooth in your head.

The bartender sighed and gave him a drink. Corbett yanked the bottle away, drank from it, then with practised aim hurled it at the big mirror behind the bar. It smashed into a thousand pieces.

Corbett yelled in wild elation and headed toward the gambling rooms at the back. Only the employees were there. The suckers had gone home long ago. Lucky Saunders was strict about an early closing time. Workers needed rest so they could make more money which would come into Lucky’s hands.

Corbett wanted to play poker. Nothing else would do. Half the town heard him insisting upon it. But the gamblers were not of the same soft caliber as the bartender. They took it for a short time, then Captain Corbett went sailing out the back door.

He arose, muttering, staggered away, and was gone about ten minutes. When he returned, a .45 army automatic was in his hand. He sent two bullets smashing through the door.

The gamblers, sweepers, hangers-on, took nose dives beneath tables. Corbett didn’t seem to be quite as high now, and there was deadly precision in his movements as he walked across the floor, muttering savagely.

One man dared to oppose him. He was a young kitchen employee and he held a short club in his hand, balanced for either throwing or swinging.

Corbett suddenly lifted his gun. The young man hurled the club and did his best to get out of the way. Corbett fired once. The young man went down on his knees. Corbett aimed the automatic carefully. It crashed twice. The young man’s head turned into a bloody mass.

Excerpt From: C.K.M. Scanlon. “Men Of Treason.”