"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 047 - The Black Falcon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Pinkey nodded. As Rowdy Kirshing's bodyguard, the ex-gorilla had a general idea of his employer's
sources of revenue. He was frequently present when Rowdy received collections from small-fry
racketeers. Yet Pinkey realized that his knowledge was only partial. Racketeers had been low on
contributions of late. Expenses of maintaining gang leaders and their mobs had been as large as ever.
Despite these facts, Rowdy Kirshing had flashed and spent money with keen abandon.

The limousine swerved around the corner of a side street. It rolled along Tenth Avenue, slowed its pace
and turned into the open doorway of an old garage. Danny guided the car across vacant floor space until
he neared another door that opened on a side street.

The interior of the garage was dimly lighted. Peering from the window of the limousine, Pinkey Sardon
saw that no one was in sight except a lounging attendant back at the door which the car had entered.
Pinkey growled that the way was clear.

Rowdy Kirshing alighted. Pinkey watched him approach an obscure door at the back of the garage. He
saw the big shot press a button. He could hear the click of a latch.

As Rowdy Kirshing entered the door, Pinkey spoke to Danny through the tube. The chauffeur nodded
and started the limousine out through the door to the side street.

BEYOND the small door through which he had passed, Rowdy Kirshing had arrived at the foot of a
stairway. The door closed behind him, the racketeer marched upward. Dim light showed a barrier ahead;
as Rowdy reached the top of the stairs, this proved to be a door of heavy steel.

A tiny peephole clicked open. An observing eye surveyed Rowdy's roughened countenance. The
peephole closed. The door slid to the right. Rowdy Kirshing entered a small anteroom where a brawny,
red-faced fellow was waiting.

"Howdy, Steve," growled Rowdy.

"Hello, Rowdy," returned the guard, as he pressed a switch to close the outer door.

No further words were given. Steve gave a signaling rap against the inner door. It slid to the right. Rowdy
walked through and Steve followed. Rowdy uttered a brief greeting to a beefy inner guard:

"Howdy, Mac."

The big shot was in the lounging room of a palatial club. In amazing contrast to the dingy garage beneath,
this apartment was furnished, on an extravagant scale. The chairs and tables were of heavy mahogany.
The ornate, tufted carpeting seemed inches thick. The paneled walls were decorated with gold-leaf
ornamentation.

At the left were barred and shuttered windows, almost completely hidden by heavy velvet curtains. To
the right was an open doorway, beyond it the cross-section of mahogany bar with polished brass rail
beneath.

The sight of a white-liveried bartender handling a shaker, the click of glasses and the tones of laughing
conversation, were evidence where most of the patrons of this club were lurking.