Cipher of the Chemist: Astounding Exploits, #1

By Doc Runick

A dying man's coded message plunges Detective Ethan Fowler into a perilous clash between gangsters, government agents, and an emerald-eyed femme fatale.

New York City, 1930. Detective Ethan Fowler expects a quiet dinner at his local diner. But when a fatally poisoned chemist stumbles inside, he thrusts cryptic papers into Ethan's hands with an ominous warning before collapsing.

 

Ethan soon finds himself targeted by notorious arts smuggler and seductress Alta Rollins - AKA The Green Lady - who will stop at nothing to obtain the coded papers. Aided by Agent David Singleton, Ethan works to decipher the formula and locate four powerful Japanese gargoyle statues coveted by underworld antiquities collectors.

 

Dodging mobster attacks, hypnotic poisons, and Rollins' lethal charms, Ethan races across New York in a high-stakes game of cat and mouse. Can he crack the cipher's secrets before the next hit claims his life? Or will the Green Lady's hypnotic powers and strange drugs plunge the city into darkness forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Cloak
• Release date: Feb 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224805310

Doc Runick

Just call him Doc. Professor L Runick, S.D.S., Ph.D. now fills his days writing thrilling adventure stories instead of stitching up back alley ruffians. Safe in his Northern office, he regales philosopher friends with tales from his travels over tumblers of bootlegged gin late into the night. Though he earned his medical stripes in the city's underbelly, Doc Runick found fiction writing a stronger call than practicing medicine. Adventures and curiosities from overseas expeditions stock the library shelves. But his most prized tales come alive through the staccato keys of his typewriter, transporting readers into stranger-than-pulp realities tinged with action and dice games, steel fists and Tommy guns. Should fellow scribes desire insights on navigating publishing or concocting scientific thrillers, Doc happily mentors via post. A dash of passion mixed with perseverance serves his "Author Cure-All" elixir transforming aspiring wordsmiths into novelists.

Book preview

ONE

Food Poison

Afreezing breeze only New York in January could produce hit Police Detective First Grade Ethan Fowler. The cold snapped him out of the meditative mood he’d been enjoying listening to the radio and slowly sipping the ever-full cup of joe. He stopped his hand from picking up the folded brown wool suit jacket draped over his booth seat next to him. The breeze didn’t stop, someone was holding the diner door open. Dark black hairs on the back of his exposed forearms stood on end in the cold air. Rolling his white shirtsleeves down, he twisted toward the door, praying it wasn’t a police messenger coming to find him. He’d made the mistake of mentioning to the night desk officer he was dining at the cafe to listen to Ruth Etting’s brand new song on Frank’s latest radio.

Coming up next, Ruth Etting’s Music Hour on CBS Radio New York brought to you by Oldsmobile, America’s best automobile manufacturer. But first this… The announcer’s voice came from the glistening walnut cabinet radio mounted on the wall only six feet away, just behind the white rounded counter. The last thing Ethan wanted right now was to be called away or for something noisy to start. All the patrons seated around the diner were regulars, most of them here to listen to the radio shows and enjoy a nice dinner out with folks.

The cafe’s faded blue wooden door with its filmy half glass top was held wide open by a short fat man in a thick sailor’s jacket that was too tight for him. Only triple stitched brass buttons of a quality sailor’s peacoat could withstand the corset-like abuse of the man’s midsection’s attempt to escape. Ethan wondered how the short fellow secured the buttons to begin with. The turned up collar protected heavy jowls from the wind, and his head was encased in a fur hat that looked like a month’s pay.

Everyone else in the small cafe had stopped what they were doing to stare. A few shifted their eyes to Ethan, giving him a clear do-something-about-this look.

In or out, but close the door, Ethan yelled in his best commanding voice.

The man jumped and stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind him. But, he looked back outside, narrow dark eyes squinting as he peered into the white and black evening.

In the bright diner lights, the fat man’s face glimmered with beads of sweat in spite of the cold.

Can I help you sir? the diner’s diminutive and only waitress, Lavonne, asked.

Ethan had known the doll-like woman long enough to detect the concerned edge in her normal greeting. Ethan would never describe Lavonne as soft; he’d choose words like lioness or bobcat over the commonly used kitten or baby doll. Her concern sounded alarms in Ethan’s head. Ethan shifted to watch the scene and slipped his jacket back on, covering up his shoulder holster and badge.

It took two seconds for the man to pull his eyes from the front windows and face Lavonne. His eyes swept past Lavonne to the handful of others in the warm diner. Soft clinks came from plates as people returned to their meals.

Sir? Lavonne asked again, her tone pitched higher than normal. Her left hand grabbed the man’s elbow as her other hand set down a dirty dish on the counter behind her.

The man’s legs trembled, and he lurched to the counter, using the bolted down chair to steady himself. Coffee! Bring the whole pot and any vinegar you have, he demanded. His hands shook as he gripped the chair.

Ethan couldn’t stop his sudden deep breath. He knew his eyes looked like saucers, but the man’s whitening skin made Ethan’s stomach drop through the floor. He’d seen these symptoms before. A horrible memory of dying men threatened to immobilize him. He growled to himself and forced the memory back into the darkness where it belonged. Action was always a release from those old horrors. He launched out of the booth.

You daft? Lavonne asked.

Coffee! the fat man bellowed, drawing attention from the other patrons.

Ethan weaved behind the counter, grabbing the pot of coffee as he passed. It was full and