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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Holy cow!" rumbled Renny.

"Blazes!" exclaimed Monk.

"By Jove!" uttered Ham.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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