The Bronze Saga 1 Bronze Refined as Silver

7/27/2019 The Bronze Saga 1 Bronze Refined as Silver

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Bronze Refined

as Silver

Mark and Karen Eidemiller [email protected] www.e-z.net/~skylab/BRONZE01.HTML


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The Bronze Saga #1: BRONZE REFINED AS SILVER

The Bronze Saga #1: BRONZE REFINED AS SILVER A Doc Savage novel by Mark and Karen Eidemiller

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Writer's Comments

This is a story about Doc Savage. There may be die-hard fans of Doc who will view this story assacrilegious. But what I am striving for in this story is to set the character of Doc Savage in a direction hehas never gone in before, an adventure that reaches beyond the physical and temporal. If this doesn'tappeal to you, stop reading here. I make no apologies for the concept of what I write.

THE DOC SAVAGE CODE reads: "Let me strive every moment of my life, to make myself better and better, to the best of my ability, that all may profit by it. Let me think of the right and lend all myassistance to those who need it, with no regard for anything but justice. Let me take what comes with asmile, without loss of courage. Let me be considerate of my country, of my fellow citizens and myassociates in everything I say and do. Let me do right to all, and wrong no man."

He would have expected no less of an effort here.

Mark Eidemiller July 1996 / August 1998

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Preface: Acts 8:26-40

"Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip, "Go south to the road-- the desert road-- that goes down fromJerusalem to Gaza." So he started out, and on his way he met an Ethiopian eunuch, an important officialin charge of all the treasury of Candace, queen of the Ethiopians. This man had gone to Jerusalem to

worship, and on his way home was sitting in his chariot reading the book of Isaiah the prophet. The Spirittold Philip, "Go to that chariot and stay near it." Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the manreading Isaiah the prophet. "Do you understand what you are reading?" Philip asked. "How can I," hesaid, "unless someone explains it to me?" So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him. The eunuchwas reading this passage of Scripture: "He was led like a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb before theshearer is silent, so he did not open his mouth. In his humiliation he was deprived of justice. Who canspeak of his descendants? For his life was taken from the earth." The eunuch asked Philip, "Tell me,

please, who is the prophet talking about, himself or someone else?" Then Philip began with that very passage of Scripture and told him the good news about Jesus. As they traveled along the road, they cameto some water and the eunuch said, "Look, here is water. Why shouldn't I be baptized?" And he gaveorders to stop the chariot. Then both Philip and the eunuch went down into the water and Philip baptizedhim. When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord suddenly took Philip away, and the

eunuch did not see him again, but went on his way rejoicing. Philip, however, appeared at Azotus andtraveled about, preaching the gospel in all the towns until he reached Caesarea."

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Chapter One

Sometimes, you never know what God has in mind until you get there.

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My name is Perry Liston. I'm a street preacher. I've been down here on the streets of Portland, Oregon for a good many years, and the people know me. I preach twice a week in one of the missions down near thewaterfront. I've seen hundreds of men in my years, but Clark stood out above them all. Literally.

I was at the mission, preparing for my evening sermon, when they opened the doors and the men shuffledin with their posessions in tow. They quickly claimed the seats closest to the kitchen, to be the first in linefor the meal which followed the message. I looked them over as I had hundreds before them, trying to see

beyond the facade of dirt and grime and tattered clothing, and see the hurting little child hiding inside.

Then my eyes caught one man walking in, and I was momentarily transfixed. He stood over six feet tall.Both his skin and hair color was a deep golden tan. The texture of his skin was rough. His beard wasunruly, and it looked as if he had never really dealt with a developing beard before. He walked slowly,deliberately, cautiously. There was a hesitancy in his step, as if he was sizing up each movement of his

body before he executed it. He scanned the room, and his eyes briefly caught mine. His eyes -- never mind the fact that they seemed to sparkle with a golden quality -- were clear. This was a man who hadnever succumbed to the bottle or the needle. He nodded his head at me briefly in respect -- that wassomething I had seen before, but rarely in a first-timer.

He took a seat in the back -- no surprise there -- and relaxed a bit. I have often referred to the accumulated presence of sin in a man's life as carrying a box of rocks on their backs, but I rarely saw such an exampleas was in this man. Inwardly, I started praying for this man specifically. I knew God had this tanned gianthere for a reason, and at that moment I knew I was going to be a part of his life.

I continued looking around at the men, and the few women, in the mission, greeting some, talking brieflyto others I knew, giving hugs to several regulars. But that was all too brief, and I went to the podium to

begin the services.

The message was, as usual, straight and simple: sin in their lives has kept them from peace, and JesusChrist died so that forgiveness could be made and they could find peace. Now it was time for the altar call. Corporate prayer for all that would accept the free gift of God's love, and turn from their former

ways to a new life.

I smiled when I saw the tanned giant stand up, and move towards the front. There was no hesitancy in hisstep this time. He knew what he wanted, and we were soon kneeling side-by-side at the front of the room.His voice was strong, but I heard the crack of emotion as he prayed for forgiveness. My eyes snappedopen when he confessed to murder and violent acts, but my heart went out as I saw tears running downhis cheeks and dripping onto his knees. This was a man with a deep past, and that past was now beingcleaned up by the blood of the Lamb.

Minutes passed. I heard the shuffle of men heading for the soup line. But we didn't budge from our spot.As he confessed and cried out for forgiveness, I put my arm around his massive shoulders and felt thelove of God flow from me. I was also in tears, knowing that this man was being forgiven, and that all

Heaven was rejoicing from it.

When we finally stood up, knees and legs aching from the strain, he raised to his full height, took in adeep breath, and virtually yelled out, "PRAISE THE LORD!!" This exclamation brought a spontaneoussilence to the room, and all eyes were suddenly upon us. I was not embarassed, because I knew the joythis man was now feeling, and my eyes misted over with wetness. He turned to face me, and suddenlyleaned down and gave me a massive bear hug! I had the wind knocked out of me, but I wasn't about to sayanything to spoil this man's moments of rejoicing.

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"What's your name, Brother?" I asked him, slightly out of breath.

"Clark," he answered.

"You got a place for the night?"

"No," he answered, slightly embarassed.

"You do now," I told him. "You'll stay with me. Where's your stuff?"

"All I have is this," and he indicated the clothes he was wearing.

I nodded. "OK. Let's see what we can do about getting you something better to wear. But first, let's getsomething to eat. When was the last time you ate?"

He paused. "Yesterday."

"OK. I know the guy in the kitchen. Let's see what I can do."

I got us some hot soup and a couple of better-than-average sandwiches, and we sat down to eat. He hadthree bowls of soup to my one, and I split my sandwich with him after his was gone. He refused thecoffee -- good choice! -- and went for water instead. The cook brought us over a couple of cartons of milk, and told us that they'd be closing up the kitchen in about ten minutes. I told him thanks, then turned

back to Clark.

"What's your last name, Clark?"

He paused, trying to stuff his mouth with food so that he wouldn't be able to answer. Finally,embarrassingly, he relented. "Savage," he said softly.

We continued to talk. As his background emerged, it was obvious that Clark had been all over the world.He spoke of exotic locations and faraway lands. But there was something about it all that didn't quitecompute. And details that I could see were obviously left out. I didn't press it. However, suddenly, Istopped. Clark continued to talk about some area in the Pacific, but I wasn't listening now. Something hadclicked. Clark noticed the change in my face, and stopped talking.

"Pastor Perry? Are you all right?"

My head was tilted slightly, and my mouth was open. Both of us were silent. Then a single word cameout: "Junior?"

Clark took a deep breath, exhaled, looked me straight in the eyes, and nodded once.

My mind could not comprehend what I was concluding, but I spoke anyway. "Clark Savage Junior. 'Doc'Savage?"

He tried downplaying things. "I have been called by that name."

I looked around. "You are Doc Savage?" I asked, my voice now soft - not to be overheard - but intense.

"Yes."

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"But that was fifty years ago. I have read many of your adventures."

"Thank you. I've been through a lot."

The satire shook me out of my shock. "Well, that's an understatement of monumental proportions. Werethey all true?"

"Yes. Maybe some of the details were exaggerated, but the events occurred as reported."

Questions flooded my mind. "The Doc Savage of the novels lived over fifty years ago. Yet you hardlylook like a man of ninety."

His face contorted as he struggled with his memories. "I am not entirely sure of what happened. I was inMaine. In the mountains." He paused, and corrected himself. "Actually, I was in some subterraneancaverns under the mountains. I'd gone after....someone. Then there was a peculiar smell. I can onlyassume it was a gas of sorts, whether man-made or natural, I don't know. I succumbed to it. When Iawoke, I discovered that several decades had passed, I had not aged physically, and I had somehow beentransported to Oregon."

I had heard a lot of things down on the streets, but this one took me by surprise. I leaned back in my chair."No doubt, you experienced a massive culture shock."

A small smile crossed his lips. "No doubt."

"How long have you been....back?"

"Two weeks," he answered.

"Did you try and contact your base in New York?"

He shook his head. "Yes. No use. The telephone numbers I knew had been either replaced or discontinuedlong ago. And I don't fully know my way around this time's information grapevine." He took a deep

breath. "Besides, what would I tell them, if indeed they were still alive?"

"Good point. You are a man out of his time." I paused. "But God has allowed it to happen, and there is areason for it that we will soon know."

"I agree." He nodded with confidence.

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Chapter Two

My busted up green AMC Hornet had seen a lot of better days. But it still ran like a pro.

As we drove back, we talked. I tried to piece together what happened to Clark.

"OK, let me understand this correctly. You were in Maine, going after some bad guy, when you gotknocked out. The next thing you knew, you were in Oregon, and it was several decades later. Am I rightso far?"

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"Yes."

"Where were you?"

Clark stared ahead and recollected. "When I came to, I was still in a cavern, but a different one from whatI remembered. I had also been in a mechanical chamber of sorts, which I assume had kept me preservedall those years; the mechanism had broken, which is what caused my release. The cavern had a smallopening, large enough to provide air and light, but too small to climb through. Therefore, I was stilltrapped. Beyond that, I discovered that my muscles had atrophied somewhat during my 'sleep,' makingmy means to escape even more difficult.

"I spent hours in slow, progressive isometric exercise, sleeping as my body required it, until I had enoughstrength in my arms and legs to integrate working on my escape into my regimen. I was able to take partsfrom the chamber to utilize as tools, and further expedite my freedom.

"When I finally returned to the surface, I found myself in a forest of sorts. And I could tell from the floraand fauna that I was not in Maine, but in Oregon. I 'camped' there for a day, taking advantage of the wildgame for food, and continuing to regain my strength in preparation for my trek back to civilization. Idetermined the closest metropolitan center was Portland, so that was my goal."

"And what brought you downtown?" I asked.

"The buildings, and the river. By this time I knew I was not in my era, and that it wasn't a hoax or trick perpetrated upon me by one of my enemies. I sought out familiar landmarks, which brought me into thevicinity of what you call 'Old Town,' then wandered into the Mission."

"Praise God you did," I said, smiling. "Well, here we are. Home."

"Home" was an old two-story boarding house owned by the members of my church. The rent was cheap,

and the fellowship was plentiful. We pulled up to the curb and got out of the car. Clark had a moredifficult time getting out of my compact car; he had been used to vehicles with more room, and so it wasan awkward struggle getting his large bronze frame out. I kidded him about being "born again," but hedidn't seem to get the joke. We went up the walk, up the wide wooden stairs to the large covered porchthat stretched along two sides of the house, and entered the front door. As we reached the stairs leading tothe second floor, a drawling voice addressed us.

"Well, hello, Brother Perry! How was the streets?"

The voice came from Jack Heady. Jack was an elder in the church, and kept an eye out on the affairs of running the house. He'd come from North Carolina, and had done some prison time before he acceptedJesus into his life. He was a very personable man, but this was not the time for questions.

"Hiya, Jack!" I responded. "The Mission was great. I'd like to introduce you to Clark -- he's a new brother. Just came to the Lord tonight, and I'm helping him out."

"Well, praise the Lord!" exclaimed Jack with a big grin, and moved in to hug Clark. He took itreluctantly. Jack backed off, apologizing, "Sorry if I took you by surprise, brother! You'll find we're ahuggin' bunch around here -- ain't that right, Perry?"

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"Sure is, Jack," I agreed. "But take it easy on Clark -- he's been....away. He's trying to get used to a lot of things."

Jack nodded understandingly. "Gotcha. Glad to have you in the family." He paused, then asked, "If you'reinterested, I think there's an empty room upstairs down the hall from Perry."

"Thank you," he said, grasping Jack's hand, "I would appreciate it very much." Then he walked up thestairs. I hung back just long enough to add, "I'll check with you about the room in about an hour," thenfollowed Clark.

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My room wasn't large, but it was well-organized. In one corner was my computer layout. I sat down at thedesk and powered it up while Clark looked around, then sat down on the bed and looked intensely at myPC. As I dialed up my ISP I explained a little about how far computers have come, and what the Internetwas. Clark was fascinated, and grasped the concept easily. I got online, switched over to my searchengine, entered his name, and let it loose. It took a couple of minutes and a few combinations to find theright information.

"I seem to remember some sort of scandal during the 1950's that involved you and your group. I'm notsure on all the details but I think....yeah, here we go. Quote:

'Savage, Clark, Junior. Born 1901, died - question mark. In the early 1930's and 1940's, Clark Jr. ("Doc")Savage was thought to be an adventurer and crimefighter. However, because of the Murrow expose intothe so-called "Crime College" and subsequent 1952 Kefauer and Nixon investigations, the picture of the"Man of Bronze" became a major event in the battle for civil rights in America. Savage himself wasnever personally brought to justice, but was rumored to have fled the country in disgrace. His death hasnever been recorded, but rumors of appearances continue to make headlines in the tabloids.'

"End quote."

I looked over at Doc. As I suspected, he was not taking this well. "What happened?" he growled slowly.

I didn't answer him directly, but returned to the screen, scrolling through and reading bits and pieces toform a picture. "It seems one of your Crime College "graduates" was killed in 1951. He had been a high-

profile criminal, and there were things about his death that came to the attention of journalist Edward R.Murrow. Murrow looked into it, and came out with an expose of the College. The immediate result was aClass Action lawsuit against it, charging it - and you - with 'gross acts of brutality'.....'an abominable lack of respect for civil rights'.....'akin to the atrocities of Nazi Germany.'"

I paused, and looked over at Clark. He was on his feet, his large bronze fists clenched in rage. I silently prayed that peace would return to him.

"They compared my curing of criminals to Nazi Germany?" he snorted, eyes flaring.

I paused. "Yes. Would you like me to continue?"

He stood silently, eyes closed, his breathing becoming slower and deeper. Finally he nodded.

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I read on cautiously. "Kefauer and Nixon jumped on the bandwagon. There were Senate investigations. Itwas an ugly battle. The College was closed down, and your holdings were liquidated for compensationsto...." I braced myself. ".....the victims.

Clark's frustration blasted loose. "Victims? Victims?" he spat. "These were criminals! They weremurderers and thieves! How dare they be called victims!" Then he stopped and looked right at me. "Whatabout my team? Monk? Ham? Renny? Long Tom? Johnny?" He paused, softening a degree. "Pat?"

"Doesn't say here. I can look into it, but it'll take time," I said. "In the meantime, you get some sleep."

"How?" he asked, incredulously.

I stood and walked over to face this man who had the power to cause me serious physical harm, put myhands on his massive arms, and looked up into his gold-flecked eyes.

"Clark.....I hope you look at me as a friend." I paused; his eyes softened briefly. "You're a man of action.But right now, the best action for you is on your knees. The Bible says, 'Cast all your cares on Him,

because He cares for you.' You need to understand what that's all about. Let me check with Jack aboutthat room, and maybe some clothes. In the meantime, you take a long overdue hot shower. Then spendsome time talking to God, and get some sleep." I paused again for effect. "I'll work on this, and we'll seehow we are in the morning." I paused once more, then whispered a sincere plea: "Please?"

There was silence for almost a minute. "Very well," he conceded.

I smiled. "Thank you. I'll be right back."

I went downstairs to find Jack, and found him in the clothes room, trying to find something big enough tofit Clark. I laughed and praised God that we were in one accord. Jack handed me a beach towel, a fresh

bar of soap, and as large a pair of pants and shorts as he could find on short notice.

"I'll keep lookin', but this should get him through 'till the mornin'," he drawled.

I thanked him, and went back upstairs.

Clark and I walked down to the bathroom, where I showed him the shower. I wished him a pleasant sleep,and told him I'd wake him up in the morning for breakfast. Then I left him, and returned to my room. I satin silence for a few minutes, praying for wisdom and guidance. Then I stuck a classical CD on the player,cracked my knuckles, announced, "Surf's up," and got to work.

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He'd never thought a simple hot shower could feel so wonderful.

What he found particularly interesting was the attachment to the nozzle which caused the water to comeout in an erratic pattern. The result, whether deliberate or accidental, was that the water lightly buffetedhis body, a very pleasant effect which loosened some of the tension in his muscles. It took him almost ahalf hour to fully remove the residue of four decades of -- imprisonment -- from his body, but the resultwas a marvelous refreshing feeling as his skin was able to breathe once more. He donned the shorts and

pants, stretched with relief, and walked down the hall to the room Jack Heady had secured for him.

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Inside, he closed the door, switched on the overhead light, and looked about at his sparse lodgings. Not bad, actually. A bed, dresser, small study desk with chair. A lamp was attached to the desk. Dotted aroundthe walls were various hand-printed Bible verses, a reminder of his new Christian surroundings.

But inside, he was uneasy. He was still a man out of his time. A look of inward struggle distorted hiscountenance, as he made no effort to conceal it in the solitude of his surroundings. His body wassomewhat relaxed, but he was not sleepy. He entered into his ritual of exercises, trying to restore some of the muscle tone he had lost. He did this for only a few moments when he suddenly stopped, andunexpectedly found himself on his hands and knees. His eyes were moist in inward pain, and the words of Pastor Perry echoed in his head: 'Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for you.'

He cares for ME. The words resounded over and over within him.

And the mighty Man of Bronze became as a simple child, and talked to God.

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Six o'clock came too soon for me. I had spent almost all night online, minus bathroom breaks and a half-hour catnap sometime in the middle of the night.

I was determined to find the answers for Clark. To find his links to his past. Doc Savage was a part of history. As I poured through the online pages, I came to know closer the exploits of the Man of Bronzeand his team of five -- six, if you count his cousin Patricia Savage. They were the stuff that legends weremade of. But by 1952, the legend was dead. It had been whipped, beaten, dragged through the streets, andthen hung up to dry.

I didn't know why God brought me and Doc Savage together. But He had. The first step had been to bringthe man to Jesus. The next step would be to restore the man with his past.

I walked down the hallway and knocked at Clark's door. After a couple of moments, the door opened. His

face was very peaceful. God's peace. But, by the look of the tracks of dried tears on the tanned face, it hadnot come easily.

"Good morning," I greeted, "Breakfast time. You're probably hungry."

"Yes," he said, "I am."

I handed him some clothes. "Here." I glanced into the room and observed that his bed had not been sleptin. With the evidence of the tears, I knew what had happened. God had busted the mighty Man of Bronzedown to his socks last night. I grinned and praised God. I had been busted a lot since I came to knowJesus, so I knew the results of this brokenness of spirit. Like a wild horse can only be taught once itknows who's in control, so we can oftentimes be best taught after our spirit is broken.

"What did you find out?" he asked.

"I'll be honest. Not a lot, sorry to say. Let's talk over breakfast." I started walking away. "To the right atthe bottom of the stairs. Dining room. I'll meet you there."

"Okay," he responded.

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At this time of the morning, the men in the house who had to get going early were busy stuffing their faces. I entered the dining hall and spotted an empty area at the far end of the large wooden table. As Imoved through the room, I greeted the other brothers, most I knew by their first name, others I knew justas a face. From a set of wide display shelves, I grabbed a couple of prepared breakfast plates that were setup for the men in the house. Then, thinking about it, I went into the kitchen and talked to the cook, Karen.I told her that there was a new brother in the house named Clark. I asked for an extra portion and got it,then gave her a good-morning hug and returned to the table. I gathered up some silverware and somewater and juice to drink, and sat down to wait for Clark to appear.

It didn't take long.

I knew Clark was coming before he stepped into the room. And, judging by the reactions to the sound of heavy, slow footsteps approaching, so did everybody else. Unprepared for the unusually-heavy plod onthe wood floors at this hour, some of the men cocked their heads or shifted their glance towards thedoorway. And when he was first seen, he was an impressive sight. The flannel shirt and jeans were notrevealing, but he looked like a lumberjack, muscles strong in his arms and chest. He paused, lookingaround the room to find me, then moved in my direction. There was a distinctive creak as his feetdescended on the wood floor planks. He knew he was being watched, but he had been used to that. Hedidn't react to comments like, "Who's he?", "Whoa...", "Big dude." He made his way to the seat across thetable from me and sat down. Then I stood up.

"Guys," I addressed the men at the table. "This is Clark. He's a new brother in the house. Just gave his lifeto the Lord last night. Be easy on him, but introduce yourselves and love on 'im."

There were reactions of grins, comments of "All right!", "Praise the Lord!", "Welcome, brother!" and thena few of the closer men moved in, to say hello, to introduce themselves, and to ask questions. There werethe obvious queries into how Clark got all those muscles. Clark kept his answers simple but truthful.

While we ate, we talked and fellowshipped. Right now, this was what Clark needed. He needed love. Isaw the interaction. They did well. They were friendly but not pushy, curious but not interrogative. It was

a good start to a long day. I had been right about Clark's appetite -- breakfast vanished as easily as lastnight's dinner at the Mission. By the time it was all done, everybody else had left for work, and it was justClark and me alone at the end of the big wood dining table.

"I can't believe how friendly these men are," Clark marveled. "They don't even know me."

I smiled. "They don't have to. You see, you're in a whole new family now: the family of God. And thatfamily is made up of misfits, oddballs, and outcasts from the rest of the world. I'll be honest, if it wasn'tfor Jesus Christ, I wouldn't have anything to do with some of the men here -- but, now, they're my 'blood

brothers' by the blood of Christ. And you're part of it. Enjoy."

Clark nodded understanding, and downed the last of his third glass of juice.

I took the plates back into the kitchen. When I returned, I reported on what I found out, reading from asmall notebook. "I'm rather surprised that I came up with so little on your group. I ran into a lot of deadends. But here's what I did find out:

"It looks like Monk, Pat, Long Tom, and Johnny are possibly still alive. Renny died in the '89 Californiaearthquake, and Ham killed himself in '53."

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"Ham killed himself?" asked Clark incredulously.

"Yes. I wasn't able to get the complete story, but it looks like he was disbarred from legal practice duringthe Congressional hearings, and killed himself shortly thereafter. I'm sorry."

Guilt and sorrow mirrored in Clark's eyes. "If I had only been there...."

I put out a reassuring hand to his shoulder. "Look, it's over. It's history. There's nothing you can do aboutit but let it go."We were silent for a few moments. "You say Pat's alive?" he finally asked.

"Yeah. Actually, I'm surprised you didn't see any of her stuff around. The name Pat Savage issynonymous with big-name cosmetics giants like Revlon and Chanel. She lives in seclusion on her ownGreek island. Her daughter Penelope took over the empire back in the '80s."

He nodded. "A daughter?"

"Yeah. Penelope Savage. Sometimes called the 'Copper Penny.' She's gorgeous -- been on the covers of lotsa magazines: Fortune, Entrepreneur, Vanity Fair. She made People's 100 Most Influential list a coupleof years ago."

"Interesting. And in exile?"

I nodded. "No one's seen her in years. Reminds me of how Howard Hughes ended up," I mused aloud.

"What about Howard?" he suddenly asked.

"You knew Howard Hughes?"

"Yes. He helped me with some of the air-seacraft I used. What happened to him?"

I sighed, regretting what I had to report. "He became a total recluse. He was so afraid of germs that theonly people he'd allow around him were his bodyguards. He became a paranoid old man and witheredaway to nothing." I shook my head slowly. "It was not the best way to go."

Clark nodded agreement. "I definitely need to know what's happened since I've been gone," he said withresolve.

I looked back at my notes. "I couldn't find anything on Monk, Johnny, or Long Tom. But that doesn'tmean it's not out there -- just out of my reach. I'm planning on checking out the library. I think I can find anext of kin through Ham's obituary, and go from there."

Just then, they heard an exclamation of surprise from the kitchen. Jack Heady rushed out, his eyes wide."Monk? Long Tom? Johnny? Ham?"

He looked straight at Clark, his jaw loose with amazement. "I thought you looked familiar! You -- you'reDoc Savage!"

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Chapter Three

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Just then, they heard an exclamation of surprise from the kitchen. Jack Heady rushed out, his eyes wide."Monk? Long Tom? Johnny? Ham?" He looked at Clark, his jaw loose with amazement. "I thought youlooked familiar! You -- you're Doc Savage!"

Then he paused. A shadow of doubt crossed his expression, and his tone softened. "You ARE, aren't'cha?"

Clark looked back and affirmed, "Yes, Jack. I am."

Then, suddenly, Jack got the biggest grin I'd ever seen on his face, and said, "My God, man, am I ever happy to see you!" And he reached out his hand to the big bronze man. "If it hadn't been for you, Iwouldn't even be here. Can I sit?" We both indicated in the affirmative, and he took the chair next toClark. Fascinated, we both listened to Jack's narrative.

"We've met before," he started off, grabbing our interest. "It was Arizona, 1931 -- June, I think. I waswith my papa, and he was part of the Mountain Desert Construction Co., working on a dam in -- " Hestruggled with the name. " -- the Red Skull Canyon! They'd'a killed us all if it hadn't been for you andyour men." He paused. "You remember it?"

Doc thought a moment, then his eyes glinted with recognition. "George Heady," he spoke slowly.

Jack smiled proudly. "That's my papa."

"Little Jackie?" ventured Clark.

"Ain't been for some time," Jack replied with a grin.

"You used to play around the worksite."

"Yep. It's been awhile, and y'all took off before I could properly thank you for saving my papa and me."He reached out and took the bronze man's hand in both of his. "Praise God you're still alive. But howcome you haven't gotten older?" Then, suddenly, he turned and looked me in the eyes. "Perry! When yousaid he'd 'been away', I thought you meant prison!" he barked half-sternly.

Clark answered him. "In a sense, I was in a prison. Trapped in time, trapped in a cave somewhere." Thenhe added thoughtfully, "Trapped in my own sin." He smiled. "But now I'm free," he said with finality.

"Amen," Jack and I said in unison.

"So now what?" asked Jack.

I answered him. "Clark's looking for the answer to the missing years -- what happened to his team whilehe was 'out.' Where are they now? And, God willing, an answer to how and who pulled this little Rip VanWinkle job on him."

Jack nodded. "OK. That's good for long-range goals. But let's cover what'cha need at the moment?"

Clark took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. "As I explained to Perry, my time in the cavern caused mymuscles to atrophy. As much as I may look to the contrary, I am not as strong as I should be. I am in need

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of physical conditioning. Beyond that, I am new to this culture, and I need to know more about this worldand how it operates. And, since I don't have access to my funds anymore, I need a job."

Jack turned to me. "What'cha come up with, Perry?"

"Nothing much. But I'm going to be checking at the library. I'm not working this week, so I've got thetime. I think I'll start with Ham Brooks' obituary, see if they listed any survivors, and work from there."

"I tell ya, that was a shame," Jack reflected. "During those hearings they took him apart -- and they darnnear crucified you, Doc. They could say anything they wanted, cause you weren't around to defendyourself. When Ham killed himself, it just kinda put a cap on the whole thing. Didn't hear much about itin the news after that -- except, of course, the tabloids." He lifted his hands as if framing the headline of anewspaper. "'Doc Savage And Elvis Meet In Secret Summit With JFK'."

Clark looked blankly. Jack realized something and corrected himself. "That's true -- you probably don'tknow who Elvis or JFK were?"

Clark smiled with a nod. "Like I said, I have much to catch up on." And we all laughed; it felt good.

Jack stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A job...." Then he snapped his fingers. "Yeah! Of course! Brother Verner!"

I nodded and agreed with him, then explained. "Verner Victor. He's one of our church brothers. Owns atree service. He's been known to help out brothers once in a while -- including me, last year. Excellentexercise." I smiled. "How do you feel about dragging tree limbs?"

Clark smiled back and nodded. "Do we tell him who I am?"

"I think it'll be safe," Jack replied. "Verner's a good brother."

We talked for awhile longer. Jack volunteered to show Doc around the area, and act as tutor to bring himinto the 90s. I would contact the library and get cracking on research. Jack also volunteered to introducehim to Verner. We all agreed that Clark needed to do something to change his appearance.

"The hair," I observed. "What if you let it grow out a ways? Pull it back into a ponytail?"

Clark shook his head. "I've never been comfortable with long hair. Gets in the way."

"Beard?" asked Jack.

He nodded. "That I'll accept. But no long hair."

I came back with a counter-offer. "Okay. How about the opposite -- keep the beard and shave the head? Itseems to be popular, as well as practical."

His eyes opened at the thought. He nodded. "Yes."

Jack squinted as he pictured it. "Bald with a beard -- you'll hardly resemble your old image. I think you'llfit in quite nicely. What about a different name? You can't go by 'Clark' all the time."

Thinking aloud, I asked, "How about the name of that guy that wrote the books? Dent?"

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Clark repeated the full name. "'Clark Dent'?" We all grimaced at the unintentional pun.

"'Faster than a speeding bullet....,'" I quipped, which started us all laughing.

It was unanimous. "Besides, the more people are distracted by the name, the less they'll be making anyconnection with Doc Savage," rationalized Jack.

It seemed to be a good plan for the time being. We prayed before splitting up, then I went upstairs,leaving the two elder men to talk.

--------------------

The next three weeks went by quickly.

Jack introduced Clark to brother Verner, who recognized potential immediately, but also recognized theneed for concentrated muscle improvement in key areas -- which surprised and impressed Clark. Hestarted the next day, helping Verner by cleaning up debris from completed tree jobs. When I talked toVerner at church Wednesday night, he spoke of how well Clark had been doing, and how honored he wasin actually working alongside the famous Man of Bronze.

Two more brothers, who were into physical fitness, took Clark to a local gym where he could work outwhile getting some fellowship. This was very good, and it was encouraging to see Clark growing, talkingabout Jesus with the two brothers as they sat on the porch after workout nights.

Clark and I had our times also. It had been a long-time agreement to keep the house free of the distractionof television, with the exception of the occasional video. This left several evenings open for Bible studyand discussion. Clark had learned a lot from gurus and mystics all around the world, and had exploredsome religions but, he admitted, all their wisdom was empty next to what God was showing him in theWord now. They never seemed to satisfy him before, but, with the Holy Spirit within him, a lot of things

now came alive.

We didn't keep this to ourselves, but took it to the streets, back to the Mission -- the 'Scene of the Crime'as Clark jokingly called it -- on the nights I was allowed to preach. He sat in the front row this time,

paying rapt attention to the words from the pulpit. He was always in the kitchen afterward, helping dishout food, and then sitting with the men, talking about what God was doing in his life. It was magnificent.The love of God was especially evident here, where it all began, and Clark was eager to be used of God to

bring others to the Cross.

One thing which was a special blessing to the older men was the way that Clark could relate to them fromhaving lived back in that time. He could speak to a gent who had gone through the Great Depression of 1929, and relate to them in a living way, although he hardly looked like he had been that old. He never

explained how he could relate so closely, but just reached out to them and did it. It was interesting seeinghim rekindle the hope of someone who -- as he had -- remembered the times long gone, and then prayingwith them. I praised God to see what He was doing with Clark.

But we were not without our struggles. Clark had been uneasy returning to the Mission, being around people who could possibly remember Doc Savage, and make the connection. I graphically reassured himthat he was safe, by taking him to a mirror, showing him his image, and comparing that to a picture I had

printed off the Internet. As he looked at the shaved, bearded head in the mirror, highlighted by a large

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metal cross hanging from a leather strap around his neck, and compared it to the photo of "the adventurer Doc Savage," he smiled, then cracked up laughing. I didn't need to say anything more.

We'd also made an important decision with regards to Clark's quest for his past. He would not go alone, ashe had originally intended. I would go with him, as friend and helper. I pointed out, he needed someoneout there, because there were those who would still wish him harm. He also needed a friend he could talk to -- it was a good Biblical standard, being sent out two by two. He hardly needed to think about it -- theLord had brought us into one accord for some time. It just had been a matter of voicing it.

--------------------

I was right about finding more information through the library. The research was slow, and sometimestrails ended a decade ago. But I refused to give up, and came away with some successes.

I confirmed the death of 'Renny' Renwick. I found his obituary in both Time and Newsweek. He had beenamong those killed in the 1989 Loma Prieta Earthquake in California, when sections of Interstate 880collapsed. He left behind no known survivors.

I thanked God for professional magazines and trade journals. I found many of my leads through them,through the avocations of 'Johnny' Littlejohn, 'Monk' Mayfair, and 'Long Tom' Roberts. The dates of thearticles showed me that they were alive at that time, and there had been clues to their locations, pastand/or present.

'Long Tom' Roberts was the hardest to find anything on. The last article written by him had been in theearly '50s, then it looked like he had simply vanished off the face of the Earth. On the other hand, 'Johnny'Littlejohn had been a professor in a small California university for several years. There wereunsubstantiated reports that he had traveled to the Middle East in 1994. 'Monk' Mayfair's contributions tochemistry periodicals included two references to 'his home in Oklahoma.' Otherwise, he also vanishedwithout a trace. I found a few interesting references with the last name 'Mayfair' in the Oklahoma area,

but I couldn't tell anything more without visiting them -- and that was not something I had a peace about.

On the other hand, Pat Savage was the easiest to get information on, although most of it was corporatePR.

In 1971, during the height of the Women's Lib Movement, Patricia, Inc. was conceived. It began small,from the Greek island of Caroline, tested in Europe, and expanding to the U.S. West Coast. Their motto,'For the Savage in all of us....,' became a brief rallying cry during that turbulent decade. The events of twenty years earlier had faded, and Patricia Savage returned, making her mark once more on the world.She appeared in person at the start, then exiled herself to her island, where she nurtured her daughter Penelope to take over the empire. Penelope Savage now represented the ultimate woman -- beautiful,youthful, strong, secure, powerful, and brilliant. And admired by millions of men and women around theworld.

Finally, I was correct in finding leads on 'Ham' Brooks. His 1953 obituary listed a wife, Dorothy, and ason, Donald -- and were shown as having lived in New York City. A quick visit to the library'sMetropolitan New York phone directory found a current listing for a Dorothy Brooks. I hoped it was thesame one.

--------------------

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I sat in one of the video viewing booths at the library, bathed in a black-and-white glow from the large-screen set before me.

The opening credits appeared on the screen:

Edward R. MURROW

SEE IT NOW

Then the title of the program, which caused me to groan inwardly.

TARNISHED BRONZE

I faced the legendary journalist Edward R. Murrow. He stood casually, facing the camera, hisomnipresent cigarette in his hand.

"This is Doc Savage: The Man of Bronze."

While Murrow's voice spoke in the background, they showed stock film footage of Doc -- in action, in person, wherever he had been caught by the camera. The hero. "To the world at large, Clark Savage Jr. isa towering figure of virtue and strength, loved and admired by millions.

"However, there is a dark side to the hero. A dark side we will explore in the next half hour."

The scene shifted. Murrow stood before a hardware store, microphone in hand. It looked like ruralAmerica, straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

"We begin by taking you to the little hamlet of Antioch, North Dakota -- population: 2,302. It was here, inthis spot, where Matthew Sellers was struck and killed by a hit-and-run driver in late June of this year.Sellers was described as a 'friendly' and 'trustworthy' man who 'went to church every Sunday' and 'never

had a bad word towards anyone.'

"However, eighteen months earlier, Matthew Sellers did not exist. He had a different name, and adifferent life.

The image shifted to a series of police mug shots. The face had a four-day beard, and disheveled sandy-colored hair. His expression was mug-shot standard -- he wasn't liking this.

"Matthew 'Big Matt' Sharp. Criminal and racketeer. Wanted in seventeen states on charges ranging fromarson and robbery, to assault and murder. The last time he was seen was almost two years ago, in BatonRouge, Louisiana. In June of 1948 he met up with Doc Savage."

Switch to a series of images, which must have been the Crime College. Some of the pictures were closer than others. Most were taken from a distance.

"This structure in the hills of upstate New York may appear to be only an innocent -- albeit isolated -- building, but it is a place known only as "the College" -- and it is where Matthew Sharp was deliveredfrom Louisiana, unconcious and restrained.

"This "College" is a private hospital and sanitarium, owned and operated by Clark Savage Jr., for the purposes of rehabilitating criminals through radical surgical procedures.

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"Matthew Sharp -- without due process of law, and without his consent or approval -- underwent brainsurgery at the hands of Doc Savage himself. Savage performed a partial lobotomy on the racketeer, a

procedure he had performed countless times over the years, intending to rehabilitate the criminal byremoving the sections of the brain that held "wicked thoughts" and wiping out all knowledge of their past.Then, like Sharp, re-educate them to be returned to society.

"Matthew Sharp was given a new name -- Matthew Sellers -- and brought here to Antioch. He was givena place to live, and provided with a job as the janitor at this hardware store. He was given a new lease onlife. And, according to his fellow townsfolk, he was a model citizen."

Murrow looked thoughtfully out at the camera. "This is a question of 'the end justifies the means'. Is itright for one man to violate the rights of another, kidnapping him, transporting him across state lines, and,without his consent, cut up his brain -- take away what he was and replace it with a fabrication?"

The image switched to a man in a suit. The caption identified him as Eric Leroy Williams of theAmerican Civil Liberties Union. The look on his face was pure disgust. "Of course it's not right! Whatthis man Savage is doing is just that -- Savage! It's tanamount to barbarism in the guise of justice!"

Back to Murrow's face. "We have documented evidence of over one hundred individuals who haveundergone such surgery. These "rehabilitated" criminals are scattered throughout the United States --maybe living in your state, city, town, or within your own neighborhood. Or just possibly, you yourself are one of those who are "graduates" of Doc Savage's "College" -- unaware of what has happened to you.

"For weeks we tried to locate Clark Savage Jr. for interview. All our requests were refused. Savagehimself has not been seen publically in months." Murrow looked out with stern dark eyes and said slowly,"What are you afraid of?"

"However, we were able to interview some of Mr. Savage's associates --"

Ham Brooks appeared first. He was cool, but the stress in his face was obvious. Diplomatically, he kepthis comments brief. "These accusations are preposterous! Mr. Savage is on business in Australia -- that'swhy you can't talk to him. But I'm sure he'll be happy to address your concerns once he returns. No, Idon't know when that will be."

Monk Mayfair appeared next. He was definitely ruffled, and, by the look in his eyes, I was surprised hedidn't toss the camera out the window behind him. "It just ain't so! Doc don't work that way. And, if hedid, it wouldn't be any more than they deserved. Heck, most'a them criminals would'a gotten the chair or the gas chamber for what they'd done."

Back to Murrow. "There you have it. The information you have just witnessed has been turned over toSenator Estes Kefauer, and his investigation into organized crime."

He paused, taking a brief pull on his cigarette, and releasing the smoke from his lips. His head wasslightly cocked to one side. "When I first received the documented evidence that prompted this program,a simple note was attached to the package: 'Let justice be done.'

"We shall see."

"This is Edward R. Murrow for See It Now. Good night."

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The screen faded to black as the closing credits appeared on the screen.

I stopped the tape, pressed REWIND on the vcr, and let out a deep breath. "Oh Lord," I prayed under my breath. "That's what started it all." I held the ejected tape in my hands for a moment -- as if it were someholy relic, as well as being a piece of history -- and then returned it to the library's video desk,accidentally bumping into a man in a park ranger uniform. We exchanged apologies, and I crossed over tothe exit door.

The park ranger headed for the telephones.

--------------------

That night I presented Clark with the details I had found, and we contemplated our next move.

"But to just knock on their door and surprise them -- wouldn't that put us in danger?" offered Clark.

"Not necessarily. Let me run this past you."

I held up one finger. "Let's say we call or write this Dorothy Brooks. We tell her who we are and whatwe're after. If she's a total stranger -- and if she believed us -- she might be mercenary enough to bring the

police and the media down on our heads the moment we get within range. Not exactly my idea of a goodtime." I grimaced at the thoughts.

Clark nodded silently in response.

I held up two fingers. "Let's say that she is Ham's widow. What if she blames you for Ham's death? Shecould be nursing a forty-year-old grudge against you -- and I don't even want to think of what couldhappen there.

"In both scenerios, it's bad for us, and for others."

I held up three fingers. "However, let's look at the third possibility. Let's say that we go there withoutannouncing ourselves. Let me scout it out, and determine that it's safe or not. If it's not, we're outta there,and we move onto the next lead. But if it is safe, we can approach comfortably and introduce ourselves."

He nodded. "Yes. You're right. From a tactical position, it would put us -- me -- in the least vulnerable position."

"Now, all we have to do is afford to get there." We talked about what finances Clark had accumulated,which, we both agreed, were still too low to work with. We prayed for God to provide for our needs in

this mission, then decided to call it a night.

--------------------

I was awakened at 3:35 in the morning with a rapid tapping at my door. I got to my feet and draggedmyself towards the sound.

"Who is it?" I mumbled sleepily.

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"It's me," answered Clark in a low urgent whisper. "I need to talk to you, now!"

"Yeah. Okay," I responded more out of reflex, as I unlatched the door and Clark slipped inside. He swungmy desk chair around and straddled it, facing me.

"What's up?" I asked, looking at my clock and adding with astonishment, "Do you know what time it is?"

Disregarding my comment, Doc asked quizically, "Perry, does God ever speak to you through dreams?"

Still half-asleep, I thought he was asking about examples from the Bible. "Yeah, you know he does.Daniel, Joseph.....remember?"

"No, I mean, has He ever spoken to you in a dream?"

This broke through my stupor. "Yeah. Couple of times. Why?"

"Because I think He just showed me where the funding is coming from."

My eyes snapped open and my jaw slackened as he explained.

--------------------

Chapter Four

"I think God just showed me where the funding is coming from."

That got my attention. "Come again?"

"I had a dream about Ham Brooks. We were talking. He said something about his old law firm, and thengave me a name: Silas Poteet. I asked him what the name meant, but he just smiled and put a brightly-

wrapped package in my hands. Then I woke up." Clark paused, looking at me. "I think God was givingme a vision."

"Could be. Have you ever used the name Silas Poteet before?"

"Not that I recall."

"OK." I didn't doubt the possibility; I had seen it in my own life. "Looks like a good lead." I wrote downthe name, and a few notes on the dream. "Let's get some sleep and give them a call in the morning."

"Yes."

--------------------

The next morning we got the number for Ham Brooks' former law firm in New York, and called it. Clark spoke to several people before he got the attention of one of the senior law partners. Sure enough, thename Silas Poteet got their attention. They transferred us through to the senior partner, Douglas Martin.

Martin explained that years ago, shortly before his suicide, Ham Brooks entrusted a package to their hands. Out of respect to the man, they accepted the charge, and the cryptic instructions to turn it over only

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to Silas Poteet. They asked Clark a few questions of confirmation, then got our address, informing us thatthey would send the package via Overnight Express.

That aside, Martin stated he wanted to speak privately with Mr. Poteet. We were put on hold for a minute,then Martin picked up the conversation. He informed us that he was in his office, and that the door waslocked.

"Sir." He paused, reluctantly. "I have to ask....," Martin's voice suddenly quavering with uncertainty anddoubt. "Are -- are you -- him?"

Clark paused. "Am I....who?"

"Doc Savage." He said the words in hushed, reverent tones, as if he was afraid of being overheard.

Clark's voice remained calm and level. "He hasn't been seen in many decades. He's probably no longer alive. Why do you ask?"

"Mr. Brooks was a good friend to me when I was just a legal aide new to this firm. He took me under hiswing and helped me. I owe much to him. I know he was very loyal to Mr. Savage." He paused, ashamed."I-I'm sorry, Mr. Poteet. I have wondered for years about that box, and who it was for. You canunderstand, it's easy for an old man to speculate."

"Yes, it is." Clark paused. "Have you ever met Doc Savage?"

He seemed to relax in his memories. "Once, many years ago. During the holidays."

Clark suddenly smiled. "Christmas party. Nineteen forty-three," Clark ominously remarked. "You smokeda pipe with Latakia tobacco."

There was an audible gasp at the other end, then a pause. "Thank you," he said solemnly. "Is there

anything else I can do for you -- sir?"

"Would you allow me to utilize your firm's services, should I need it?"

You could hear the beaming smile on the other end. "Why, of course, sir! I would handle the matter personally."

"And I can be assured of your confidentiality?"

"Without question," he answered, slowly and in dead seriousness.

"Good." He paused. "Ham chose wisely, and correctly. I shall be in contact. Thank you. Good bye."

He hung up the phone.

I cocked my head slightly. "Are you sure that was a good idea?"

Clark looked at me and smiled. "Without a doubt. Like I said, Ham chose his associates wisely."

"Okay." I nodded. That was good enough for me.

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"Now we wait," I concluded. "It'll be here tomorrow."

--------------------

By noon the next day, we were looking over the package. But it was more than just a package. It was alarge steamer trunk, and took both of us to carry it upstairs to my room. He estimated it to be over ahundred pounds. The sturdy trunk contained two built-in combination locks, which I looked at withresignation. "Oh, great. We can't get in without the combination."

Clark looked it over for a moment, then smiled. "Wait. Let me try something." He quickly spun a series of numbers, and pressed the locks. They popped open with a smooth double click, and Clark opened thetrunk down the vertical separation. I looked dumbfounded.

"The one on the left, my birthday. The one on the right, his birthday," Clark explained.

"Well, of course," I said with exaggerated nonchalance. I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "Praise the Lord."

The inside of the trunk was quite elaborate, with drawers on either side. Each drawer contained thinvelvet padding separating layers of what appeared to be rows of one-ounce gold ingots. If my suspicionswere correct, we were looking at a small gold mine. "I'm no expert on the price of gold, but I think we'relooking at considerable nest egg Mr. Brooks provided." I paused, then ventured, "Millions?" My eyesglazed over at the thought.

But Clark wasn't concerned about the gold. When the trunk was opened, two envelopes fell to the floor.The smaller one was inscribed 'To Doc,' and Clark was reading the handwritten note that had been inside."It's from Ham," he said, soberly, then read it aloud:

"Doc - If you are reading this then you have indeed returned from the dead as we had all presumed thesemany years ago. In the hope that you were yet alive, I have prepared this for you. Considering the eventsof the day that are a monstrous whirlwind moving far too fast about us all and threatening our very lives,

these preparations are far from what I would have preferred, but it should advance you in continuing your life and mission. In this you will find sufficient funds to work with, and instructions on contactingHidalgo. In anticipation of the events that have unfortunately come to pass, I have taken the liberty of modifying the manner of accessing the gold in the Valley of the Vanished. The flow will only continue onstrict obeyance of the instructions inside this package. My time is short. I have failed you, Doc. For this Iam deeply sorry. I hope that, by this action, this may serve some penance against my wrongs. Your humble servant and friend, Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks."

I placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at me, his eyes sad.

"I'm sorry," I offered in empathy.

Clark nodded silently, then walked over to a chair and sat, still holding onto the note.

I opened the other envelope, and looked over the contents. I blinked at the characters on the paper, thenhanded it to Clark.

He smiled. "It's written in Mayan," he explained. "Ham, you rascal! You knew only a few of us couldread this -- it would be gibberish to anyone else, and would keep the instructions safest. Very good,

brother."

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Clark read through the documents. They included instructions on contacting Hidalgo, via shortwave radioat a specific time of the day, on a specific frequency. There was a list of coded phrases and passwords. Itidentified where the gold would be deposited, and the account names and numbers. I observed that itwould be then a simple matter of withdrawing the funds from the account via electronic funds transfer.

--------------------

Within the hour, Clark and I were sitting offside, discussing our next move. I had a steno book for notes.

It was obvious that we would soon have all the funding we would need, assuming we'd be able toestablish the Hidalgo connection. And even if Hidalgo was a dead-end, we estimated that Ham's litte'Care package' gave us a good half million dollar bankroll. Therefore, we were off to an excellent start.

Considering all the major moves we were making, it had become almost a natural thing to pray together before we did any discussing. So, once more, we were down on our knees in supplication for wisdom, to be worthy stewards of that which He had provided, and to make the Hidalgo connection come together for His glory.

Then, with a collective deep breath, we began looking over the situation.

Noting that large influxes of currency might arouse Federal suspicion, we prayed over the matter, thensought the advice of Mr. Martin in New York. He made some suggestions on financial institutions whichMr. Brooks had utilized in the past, and were quite discreet in this regard. We contacted the local branch,and opened an account with them. They were able to convert the gold into currency. A modest backupwent into my home checking account, then half was converted into traveler's cheques, and the rest wasdeposited into the new account.

Next, we worked on our shopping list.

The first two items were obvious. A first class shortwave radio, installed if need be. Then clothing for

Clark. I commented, "You have an unusual tendency to rip through shirts." I thought of the seventeengarments that were now shredded in the rag bin. Clark just grinned innocently. I wrote 'CLOTHES:EXTRA-STRETCHY SHIRTS', and underlined it.

Then we discussed our traveling itself. This trip was more than just getting from Point A to Point B -- itthat were the case, we could take a jet and be there in hours, not days. This was to be a ministry outreach,a way to expose Clark to what God wanted of him. Besides, there were several advantages to having avehicle rather than flying and renting vehicles: costs, accessability to the public, the advantage of having a'mobile command base' from which to operate from, and freedom of mobility itself. At first we talkedabout just a converted van, but that idea grew into a van camper, just a bit bigger and able to live induring the 3,000-plus miles from Portland to New York City. I took our notes and would run them pastsome RV places over on 82nd.

"Also, I'd like to get a cell phone to have a way of keeping in touch with us wherever we are. And perhapsa notebook pc for the road -- I could use it to keep in touch with Jack via email, check on things ahead of us, and hold all my research in a small portable package."

Clark nodded. "You know more about that than I do. But I do understand about keeping lines of communication open."

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We talked for almost an hour, taking notes and discussing strategy and logistics. We got an early night'ssleep, because tomorrow would be a busy day.

--------------------

The installation of the shortwave was done by early afternoon. With Jack and I looking over Clark'sshoulder, he worked the controls like a pianist at a Steinway. It only took a few minutes to establishcontact with the Valley of the Vanished in Central America. Our breathing was shallow in suspense, andwe prayed hard. Clark followed the instructions given by Ham Brooks, and, although there was a fewmoments of uncertainty, there seemed to be much celebrating on their end -- Doc Savage was alive!

We took a collective deep breath after Clark signed off, and praised God.

Because there was much work to be done Hidalgo's end, they said it might take a week before the goldshipment arrived at the pre-arranged bank. This would give us time to set up the transportation andcomputer setup -- we could put some money down on it, and pay off the balance when the gold came in.

--------------------

On Monday, we took delivery of the completed van camper. It was a modified 25-foot Argonaut. The firstthing Clark noticed was the running boards. He looked at me and I just grinned back. "My present -- for old times' sake."

I gave him the tour and explained some of the features. It had been modified to add extra height and extralength, both to accommodate Clark's size. The color was a nondescript black with white pinstriping, andthe large side windows had a one-way privacy tint. We considered calling it the "Black Beauty." Inside, Igave him the layout. "The driver's seat and passenger seat at the front. Behind the driver's side, we havethe dinette table and bench seats -- I can sit there and work with the pc -- and the lavatory's behind that.On this side, behind the passenger seat, we have the galley and storage closet. You'll note that the galley'sgot a small sink, stove, microwave, and refrigerator. Behind those doors there --" I motioned to the rear of

the vehicle. "-- are the sleeping quarters. Twin beds. I arranged to have a special extra-long bed on theone side -- I hope you like sleeping on the left -- so you can stretch out. We can put a table between the

beds if we need to, and there's storage space both overhead and below the beds for our gear." I gave him aquick rundown on the technical specifications of the van camper, and covered some of the special"extras" we added -- the security system, the cellular range booster pack that made our cell phone's rangevirtually unlimited, and the satellite link dish on top that would connect with the pc's cellular modem.

Clark was impressed. While I finished the work with the dealer, Clark climbed in and made himself athome.

Next we got the pc from the computer store. It was a top-of-the-line, fast-as-lightning notebook pc, loadedwith all the software I had requested. I quickly ran through some of the features with Clark, and went

online for a quick test. Now I was impressed. Satisfied, I tucked the pc into a special backpack and set iton the floor of the van. We went to a couple of specialty electronics shops, and a military surplus supplystore, and we headed for home. We would save the grocery shopping for later.

As we drove home, we considered the gold delivery.

"How much money are we talking about, realistically?" I asked out of curiousity.

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"To be honest, I'm not sure. I know there's an unlimited supply of gold in the Valley of the Vanished. I'veseen it -- I've handled it. But Ham handled much of the financial and legal aspect of the accounts." He

paused, caught up in memories. "There was no want, no matter how much we needed to help others. Andwe could always contact Hidalgo for more." He paused, thinking. Then he turned to me and declared,"There was at least a couple of million dollars in the average shipment."

"And that's with 1940's gold prices." My eyes glazed over. "Woof," I said as I struggled with the thoughtof that much money.

--------------------

Six days after making contact with Hidalgo, the cell phone bleeped. I jumped.

Not many people knew this number, so I eagerly took the call. It was a Mr. Gilbert, in Central America. Irecognized the name of his bank from the Brooks instructions. He introduced himself, and explained thathe was calling us to notify us of a deposit. I thanked him, and asked him how much the deposit came to,converted to American dollars. He excused himself for a moment to calculate the conversion based on themost current gold prices, then returned to the phone and gave me the figure.

My eyes went blank and I stopped breathing.

"Mr. Liston....Mr. Liston....are you there?" The voice over the phone brought me back, and I immediatelyunderstood Mr. Gilbert's extreme politeness.

"Yes!" I gasped. "I'm here. I'm sorry, I was -- distracted -- a moment. You are certain of that figure?"

"Considering gold prices, it can always fluxuate. But that is the figure at this hour."

I swallowed hard and tried to remain calm. "Fine." I asked him about electronic funds transfer to our newaccount, and he said they were fully capable of doing that. He asked me how much, and I gave him a

figure, and the account number. He said that he would tend to it immediately, and it would be complete,at most, within the hour.

I expressed my appreciation with as much cool as God would give me, and hung up the phone.

Then I lost it.

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Jack and Clark never knew what hit them. They were halfway up the stairs, their arms full with shopping bags, when they heard an ear-piercing "PRAISE THE LORD!!" followed by hysterical laughter. Theyturned to each other with puzzled looks for an instant, then dropped the bags and headed in my direction

to see what was happening. I was laughing and praising God, running back and forth down the halls. Isaw them and gave them big hugs. They accepted it with curiosity, but then Clark caught on.

"Hidalgo?" he asked.

"YES! YES! YES!" I screamed with joy. "Remember how much we figured it would be?"

"A million at least."

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"Try two....point....three."

"Two-point-three million is good."

"Not million, dear brother! BILLION!! Two-point-three BILLION DOLLARS!!" I then continuedlaughing and thanking God.

Even Clark was stunned.

Jack grabbed my arm to keep me from getting away. "Are you sure?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, YES!" I answered, grinning widely. "I asked them to transfer two million into our bank account.They just called and verified the deposit!!"

We all froze. There was silence for all of five seconds while the reality of the moment sunk in. Then allthree of us lost it, whooping and dancing and praising God at the top of our lungs.

However, we had not been unnoticed by the rest of those in the house. I noticed that we had attracted acrowd, curiously watching from the bottom of the stairs. I conferred with Clark and Jack in a quick huddle, then addressed them. "Brothers and sisters! Tonight we are going to have a pizza party thisneighborhood is going to talk about for years! Darrin -- start dialing! The rest of you, invite everyone!"

That sent cheers from most of them. Others quickly split off to spread the news. A few shook their headsin confusion and talked among themselves.

The elation passed, I put a hand on Clark's shoulder and confidently declared, "The mission begins."

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Chapter Five

"Atomic batteries to power....turbines to speed.""Roger. Ready to move out."

The sound of the notebook pc's opening clip was loud in this camper van, I observed. I may have to findanother sound file or adjust the volume somewhat.

I sat at the dinette table, and made contact with my ISP in Portland via the satellite connection.Downloading my email was a breeze with this super-fast modem. Then I clicked on NEW MESSAGE,addressed it to Jack, and sat for a few moments, gathering my thoughts, listening to the sounds of children

playing elsewhere in the RV park, and the hums of the generator and environmental systems.

Then I began typing: "Dear Jack...."

--------------------

Dear Jack:

Greeting from the Black Beauty. Yes, the name stuck.

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Remember when I said that Clark and I were willing to be used of God wherever He would take us? Well,let me give you an example from just yesterday.

There's a little town called Poplar Bluffs, population under 5,000. We were driving through it when wewere cut off by a fire engine, heading in the direction of a dark plume of smoke in the near distance. Clark and I glanced at each other for only an instant, then I turned the wheel and put on the speed in pursuit.

It *had been* a nice quiet residential neighborhood. Now one house was well on its way to beingconsumed, while neighbors with garden hoses tried keeping it from spreading.

Everyone's attention was directed elsewhere, so no one saw the old man but us. Late sixties, kinda frail,and staggering while he coughed, looking like he was going to collapse at any moment. Clark grabbed thefirst aid kit under his seat and told me to get in as close as I could. I slowly maneuvered around the scene,closing in the distance. Suddenly Clark opened the passenger door and had stepped out on the running

boards -- while we're still moving! I knew what he was up to, so just made sure my speed was even. Then,at just the right time, he stepped onto the pavement, was caught off balance for just a moment, thenrapidly sprinted to the injured man's side. What a sight!!

And just in time, too! The man lost his balance and started to fall, but Clark caught him and settled himgently to the grass. I praise God that Clark had been beefing up on modern first aid "just in case." Hemade the old man comfortable and administered first aid until the paramedics arrived.

Later, the medics told us that the old man had suffered a little from smoke inhalation, but Clark's quick actions had possibly saved his life.

For the next two hours we helped where we could, taking turns with neighbors and their garden hoses, or just praying for all those around us. When it was all over, we all gathered around the couple who lived inthe house -- the old gentleman Clark had saved, and his wife. Everything they had was lost. While theneighbors comforted them, Clark took me aside.

Like I said, Poplar Bluffs is a small town. One bank. It was easy to talk to the bank manager, JerryGrogan. The couple's savings, even counting the insurance, wouldn't cover it all. So we made a couple of

phone calls. Tomorrow, after we're out of town, Grogan will inform them that a anonymous donation of $10,000 was deposited into their savings, to help rebuild their home. Grogan told us that somehow hesuspected, others would add to that amount. We gave him our card, and he promised to keep us informedof the progress.

Then, like spiritual "Lone Rangers", we headed out of town, to continue our journey.

Hi, yo, Black Beauty! Isn't God good? More later.

Perry and Clark

--------------------

Jack:

We need you to do some research for us. Clark and I were talking about where he had been put in deepfreeze, and we came up with an idea.

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What about a wildlife refuge, or a game preserve? Remember, once he got out, he built up his strength byeating the *wild meat* that was around. Also, he was in a location that would've been undisturbed for *several decades*. What would be better than a large tract of Federally sanctioned land, unable to betouched by land developers.

We need someone to go to the library and look into newspaper archives around the time that Clark appeared. Look for a small, almost obscure article, about a refuge or preserve. Since Clark ate some of thewild game there, it might look like vandalism, so see if anyone made note of it in the papers.

Let us know what you find. Thanks.

Perry and Clark

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Dear Jack:

Well, it looks like this won't be a boring trip -- not by a long shot. Last night, somebody tried breakinginto the van.

Let me start from the beginning.

We're in Hampton, Nebraska. It was getting late. The name of the motel caught our eyes: The Crossing. Ithas an actual railroad caboose sitting out front as a fixed landmark, and the entire motel has a railroadmotif. We were tired, so it looked like a winner to us.

Let me set the scene. The motel itself has two levels. The doors upstairs open onto a walkway whichstretches the length of the structure, broken up only by three sets of stairways -- left, right, and middle.We got a room on the second floor, and parked the van in the spot right below us, where we could see itfrom the window.

The decorations inside the room continued the railroad pattern, with pictures of trains and scenic railroad panoramas. There was a small table near the window at the front of the room, with four swivel chairs thatlooked like standard cheap-motel stock.

I claimed the bed farthest from the door. Clark just grunted and made a beeline to the shower. I heard thesigh of appreciation a couple of minutes later. (I tell you, it takes so little to satisfy Clark at times, praisethe Lord.)

While Clark showered, I cleaned up the trash from the van, and brought in our travel bags. I dropped hison the other bed, as he came out of the bathroom. As Clark started stretching in preparation for hisexercises, I grabbed my toiletry case and headed for the shower. Over my shoulder I pleaded, "Not too

long, please? It's late."

He smiled, and continued.

An hour later we were both sound asleep.

I figure it was near 2:30am when the van's security alarm went off, and we were both instantly awake.The idea of having a silent alarm hooked to the van's security system really paid off. Clark was halfway tothe door before my feet hit the floor! He pulled open the door, and, without even pausing, gripped the

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railing and vaulted over it like an Olympic athlete! The two kids attempting to break into the van -- oneLatino, one white, both in their late teens -- probably never knew what hit them!

As I took the long way down, I saw that Clark had landed directly behind them. He had a large handaround the back of each boy's neck, effectively immobilizing them.

The Latino tried to pull a backhanded punch to Clark's head. With a move that looked to be morereflexive than not, Clark shifted them both, and -- I'm not joking! -- the white kid found himself suddenlyin the path of the Latino's fist. POW! Clark lowered the unconcious white kid to the ground while stillholding onto the puzzled Latino's neck.

"Now that wasn't very nice, was it?" I heard him calmly address the boy as I arrived.

I surveyed the scene, and couldn't hold back a grin. "Nicely done," I commented. "Need any help?"

"I don't think so. What should we do?"

I looked at the kid. "Relax. We just want to help."

This had the opposite effect on the boy, as he started yelling and cursing. Clark cut him off by briefly -- but sharply -- increasing his grip. The tirade became a squeek. Just then, the man from the room belowours came out, and announced that the police were on their way. I turned and nodded.

"Thanks. You saw what happened?"

"You bet. Whooooo! I ain't never seen such a sight! Mister --" he addressed Clark. "-- are you a wrestler or one o' those martial arts guys?"

I turned away to hide my grin. "No, sir. Just strong," replied Clark evenly.

The Latino launched into another stream of profanity, and tried to kick back at Clark's knee.

"Now stop that!" he said as he squeezed again. The boy grimaced, and chose silent obedience.

The police showed up a few minutes later. With the testimonies of myself and the other gentleman, it wasclear that Clark was only subduing the youth. And the cop broke up laughing when when he heard howthe white kid had been knocked out. He had recognized the two boys, explaining to us that they werewanted for several other break-ins over the last three months. He congratulated us for helping capturethem.

He put them in the back of his patrol car, then took our statements. I asked if he needed us to testify, sincewe were just passing through. The policeman took our cell number and address, and told us he'd contact

us if he needed us.

As the police car took off, the man from the first floor approached us. He identified himself as DanBriggs, and invited us to his room for a few minutes. Clark and I looked at one another, recognizing thisas an opportunity for ministry, then accepted. Clark reset the alarm while I secured the room, then we gotsome soft drinks and ice from some machines next to the Motel Office, and joined Briggs in his room. Wesat around for a couple of hours, just talking. He had been curious as to how peacefully Clark had handledthose two -- the redirected punchnotwithstanding.

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Clark explained. "I had no anger towards them. I don't know why they would want to do what they did.But no harm was done to the van, and I tried not to leave bruises on their necks."

"Not many people would'a taken it. What's your secret?"

Clark paused for only an instant, then looked the man in the eyes and said, "The love of Jesus."

Jack, this touched something within him. He began opening up to us. He'd been an ex-preacher's kidwho'd backslid into some serious drinking. But he admitted, he'd been going to AA and had six monthssober. We all praised God for that. We listened to him, and then prayed with him. When we left, we gavehim the number of our cell phone, and the Portland address.

I took a look around the van, double-checked the alarm, and joined Clark back upstairs.

As I looked off of the railing at the van below, I commented to Clark, "That was impressive. Seem a littlelike old times?"

He smiled broadly. "Yeah. I guess I moved on instinct."

"Thank God for the instinct not to harm those two."

"Amen. I could've. But I felt.....a rush of compassion.....couldn't understand it."

I nodded. "But now you do."

"Yes. Perry, before we go, can we give our number to those boys? If they need help...."

"I'm with you. We'll check it out in the morning."

The next morning we located the local police department, passed on the information, and headed out of town.

Give everyone our love. Thanks for the prayers. Keep 'em coming.

Back on the sawdust trail....

Perry and Clark

--------------------

Dear Jack:

Clark's outside doing some jogging, so I thought I'd drop you a note and ask you another favor.

We run into people all the time, who need a place to stay and some good Christian fellowship. Yet, outhere in unfamiliar territory, we end up having to apologize because we don't know the people.

I'd like to see if there's a way we can resolve that. You've got friends all over the place, Jack. Do any of them have a ministry house that we could refer people to, or would any of them want to start a ministry

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house? I'm not talking something as big as ours, but you get the idea. And if money is the problem, maybewe can use some of the Hidalgo resources to get them started.

I haven't brought this up to Clark yet. I wanted to see what you had to say on it first.

I could keep the information in my notebook pc. We could pull up the information, contact the closest place on the cell, and set things up before just dropping by. Then take them right to the doorstep, makingsure they get a good start. We'd also get to know the people, and they would get to know us.

What's your thoughts on this, Jack? Pray about it and let me know what you think? Bring Verner in on itif you want.

Thanks.

Perry

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Dear Jack:

Greetings from Iowa. Just southwest of Davenport, along a lonely stretch of road. Figured we'd camp ittonight. Clark's outside doing his exercises (I gotta get him to run me through them some time --hopefully I can keep up).

I really praise God for all He's doing here, with both of us.

Everywhere we go, God puts someone in our path to minister to. Sometimes it's nothing more than gettingsome lunch for a hungry man, other times it's being able to add something to the offering plate of astruggling church, or telling someone about the love of God and leaving a card.

The order of the day seems to be: see a need, and meet it.

Clark's like a little kid at times! He loves helping others! And no wonder -- apart from crimefighting, thisis what he did best -- helping those who needed help. This is second nature to him, now enhanced by hisnew spiritual eyes and the love of Christ, that reaches past the surface and finds the real need.

Onward and upward go the Rover Boys....

Perry and Clark

--------------------

Jack:

We crossed over into Ohio about midnight, and came upon an old biker stuck at the side of the road. Saidhis name was Jim Bronson. He rode an old Triumph motorcycle, circa 1960s, and wore a weatherbeatenleather jacket that had seen better days. We'd heard him before we saw him, as he yelled at the old bike,cursing up a blue streak. We came alongside to see if we could help, then took him inside the van andgave him something to eat.

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He told us he'd been traveling the roads of the world for more than thirty years. Said he was 64, but helooked about ten years older than that due to years of wind-in-the-face biking. He couldn't remember where home had been. As we talked, he told us of some of the people he had met, the things he had seen.But one thing both Clark and I could see -- he was lonely. So we talked with him and shared Jesus withhim. Something was working within him, but the Lord showed us not to push. So we tinkered on the bikefor an hour, then gave it up for the night. The next morning we went to the nearest town, had them bringthe bike in, and got it working again.

Jack, we're sending him in your direction, okay? Take him in and welcome him as family. Use whatever you have to to get his bike back to mint condition -- price is no object. He's had it for a lotta years, andthere's an emotional attachment to it. I know it'll touch his heart. Get Frank and Barry in on this. Theyknow bikes. They can help put it into shape; it'll be a good witness. Set up a room for him. Make sure youemphasize that he's got a home now. If he decides to hit the road again, he'll always know he's got a home

base. Whatever he needs in the way of supplies, take care of it.

Let us know when he gets there, and keep praying in the meantime.

Driving down that long lonesome highway....

Perry and Clark

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Jack:

We're in front of Dorothy Brooks' apartment. She's running some errands, and should be back in a fewminutes. I'm geared up for E.V.A., so now we're just waiting in silent prayer.

Needless to say, this is what we came for, so pray for us. I'll report in when I can.

Happy trails....

Perry and Clark

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Chapter Six

With the help of the online maps, we had no trouble locating Dorothy Brooks' apartment. No oneappeared to be home. While Clark sat in the van, I went on EVA -- Extra-Vehicular Activity.

The Bronze Saga 1 Bronze Refined as Silver

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