"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 117 - Vengeance Is Mine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

obscured because the light was behind him. The Shadow saw broad shoulders, a
head thrust forward in turtlish fashion. He knew that this was the second of
the killers - the man who had planted the humidor bomb and removed it.
To meet the middleweight, The Shadow disposed of the big man in a hurry.
Lunging forward, he snapped back like a trip hammer and scaled the big rogue
over his shoulders, headlong toward the window.
Even before the big man thudded the floor, The Shadow was swinging to
meet
his new adversary. He met the middleweight's charge; stopped the downward
drive
of a gun hand. A moment later, he had the fellow off his feet and was whirling
him helplessly toward the center of the room.
The middleweight sagged; lost his clutch completely. The Shadow whipped
him sidewise to complete his daze. Lunging toward the corner by the fire exit,
The Shadow was planning an abrupt stop when the unexpected came. The big man
on
the floor, though half groggy, managed a lucky grab at The Shadow's ankle.
That
move completely changed the climax.
Carried by his own lunge, The Shadow lost his hold upon the second man;
he
tripped, and dived toward the wall. His hands, thrust ahead of him, found
vacancy. Headlong, The Shadow plunged through the open doorway of the fire
exit
and somersaulted down the steps, to finish with a crash upon the landing.


THE big man came to hands and knees, snapped a harsh command to his
shaken
pal. The other came up beside the wall; supplied the glow of a flashlight. By
the glimmer, the big man found his gun and his own flashlight. He rose and
flicked a glare of light down the fire tower steps.
There, he saw The Shadow in motion. The cloaked fighter had taken the
fall
with the skill of a professional tumbler. Instinctively, The Shadow had drawn
an
automatic; though he had lost all sense of direction, the flashlight's shaft
gave him a target.
Without waiting to take sure aim, The Shadow raised his arm and jabbed
shots upward. Bullets sizzled past the ear of the big assassin above.
The killer did not chance a return fire. He flattened on the floor,
grabbed the fire exit door and slammed it shut. He knew what combat with The
Shadow could mean; he did not care to risk it further. All that he wanted was
a
chance for a get-away, out through the front of the apartment, taking his
smaller pal with him.
The crook's move struck The Shadow, a few seconds later. Though his head
was swimming, The Shadow recognized the quickest course by which he could
follow the fleeing men. That was down through the fire tower. Finding a
flashlight, The Shadow stumbled down the stairs, hoping to cut off his enemies