"Doc Savage Adventure 1939-07 Merchants of Disaster" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

The next moment and he had bellowed for his secretary. She came on the run. Her eyes opened wide as her employer began to dictate furiously. What he said apparently made no sense, but she obeyed orders and put down letters as Quinan barked them. The letters read:


QPWDZ BRHYZ BBOPD WICGH
WGBUF QXPUM WBEIE CHAUK
EBRQS LTGJP RINDU LYLMF
OETYM FINDP BDTCZ VPTQD
BMSSS

The flashes stopped. Les Quinan was fairly jumping up and down in his excitement.

"Transcribe that, write the letters out large, then read them over to me," he barked.

Quinan had been a radio operator on a subchaser during the World War. He had found it easy to read the letters, being sent in international code. And during recent years he had become interested in cipher codes.

The one in which the message had been broadcast was a mediumly difficult one, but the first two words had caught his attention and had given him a clue. Those words were not m cipher and they were:

"Death Today!"


ON the fifth floor of the building across the street, a tall, slender, well-dressed man turned away from a window. His features were almost handsome, his smile attractive, but his black eyes were hard.

"I believe you were right about that lawyer," he said calmly.

His companion grunted, raised his eyebrows slightly.

The tall man nodded. "I'll take care of it." Still smiling, he left the room.

Les Quinan was unaware that his interest had attracted attention. He probably would have ignored it if he had known.

His secretary had repeated the sequence of letters he had seen several times. His mind was accustomed to grasping details.

Pencil in hand, making huge letters and frying hard to see more clearly, he was working with deep concentration. Slowly, word by word, he was piecing the message together.

His jaw dropped. Perspiration appeared on his forehead. Something was wrong, radically wrong. Yet no one would believe him if he tried to tell what he knew.

The message he had decoded was too horrible.

For a moment he wondered who that message could have been intended for. No one could see that light, flashed up into the air. Yet had it been directed at anyone close at hand, a personal call or a telephone would have served the purpose just as well, probably better.

Then he dismissed that problem from his mind. He had to call help, had to get someone to aid him. He could call police, or Federal men, but then, if this proved to be a hoax or false alarm, he would be the subject of ridicule.

But he knew instinctively this wasn't a false alarm. And if it meant what it said the police and Federal men probably would be helpless anyway.

Les Quinan was unaware of the passage of time, did not realize that his secretary had gone to lunch, that he was alone in the office.

Inspiration had struck him. He would call Doc Savage- Clark Savage, Jr. A smile lighted his features. He should have Thought of that before. Doc Savage was the one man for this job. For Doc Savage had fought mysterious forces before. He had been victorious, and conquered even when the odds were peat.

The lawyer swung around, reaching blindly for a telephone.