"Doc Savage Adventure 1945-01 The Hate Genius" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

Monk Mayfair and Ham Brooks were members of a group of five who had worked with Doc Savage for a long time. They were his associates, his assistants.

He knew them quite well, and so he was immediately sure that something was bothering them. They were hiding something from him, he decided.


HE was badly scared. Monk and Ham rarely deceived him, and never except for good and vital reason. He tossed his hat on a table, trying to be casual, and wondered if there was someone hiding in the room with trained and cocked pistols. A wild idea, of course. But he was sure something was amiss.

"You are doing all right by yourselves," he said.

He meant the room. It was a rich place, although It ran a little more to red velvet than select taste dictated.

Ham explained, "The snazzy jernt was Monk's idea. This suite until recently was occupied, we were told, by the Sultan of something-or-other and ten of his favorite wives. The minute Monk heard that, nothing would do but that we should put up here."

Doc asked, "Who is paying for it?"

"Monk."

Monk's financial condition was pretty continuously one of being strapped. At Lisbon prices, the suite was rich for his purse.

"Paying with what?" Doc asked idly, still wondering what was wrong with Monk and Ham, puzzled about their uneasiness.

Monk said quickly, "I'm two-bit rich for a change. I sold a chemical formula to a fellow."

"A formula for making non-rubber baby pants," Ham said.

Monk winced. "I don't think it so funny. I got paid for it."

Doc Savage took a deep breath and faced them.

"All right now," he said. "What is worrying you two fellows?"

They looked at him too innocently.

Watching them, his own uneasiness crawled up like a nest of snakes and frightened him additionally. He could not guess what might be wrong.

They had not, he was sure, been in Lisbon more than a day. When he had cabled them, they were in London, and he was in New York. His cable had instructed them to go immediately to Lisbon, to the Chiaro di Luna hotel, and wait for his appearance. That was all he had told them. He did not dare tell them anything more, even in code. He couldn't take chances with this matter.

He began to get angry. It is always a short step from tight nerves to rage. He scowled at them.

"Stop it!" he said. "You're behaving like kids!"

Monk and Ham looked so uncomfortable that he was ashamed of his harshness. He watched them, and he was sure that they were going to confess whatever was worrying them, but it would take a little time for them to get around to it.

He waited, and he thought again of the red-headed stranger. The thought of the fellow made him jump up, and on his feet he realized how jittery he was becoming. He went to the window and stared out, seeing the people in the street, the hucksters, the country folk from Almada and Sixal, the fishermen from Trafaril.

Monk finally spoke.

"Pat is here," Monk said.