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

restraining grip. Again, Weston jarred an edge of the crumbled wall; The
Shadow
pulled him back as a gray stone dislodged and clattered almost at Weston's
feet.
Trapped club members poked their heads from a stairway at the rear of the
lobby. They had been in the downstairs grillroom when the explosion came.
Their
panic ended when they saw Weston and The Shadow threading their way out to the
street. They congratulated themselves because the explosion had come during
the
dinner hour, when the lobby was almost deserted.
By the time The Shadow had brought Weston past the pitfalls that blocked
their route, the commissioner's need for a call to headquarters was ended.
Shrieking sirens announced the arrival of police cars. Bluecoats recognized
the
commissioner, when he reached the street.
While Weston was giving orders, another car pulled up; from it stepped a
swarthy, stocky-built police inspector. Weston uttered a pleased exclamation
when he saw that the arrival was Joe Cardona, ace investigator of the New York
force.
Cardona had heard the explosion while riding in his police car more than
a
dozen blocks from the Cobalt Club. He had made a rapid trip to the location of
the blast. Weston gave brief details and put Cardona in immediate charge of
the
search for the man who had delivered the bomb to Zanwood.
That done, Weston looked for a spot that would serve him as temporary
headquarters. There was a drug store on the corner nearest the Cobalt Club.
Accompanied by The Shadow, Weston strode there and commandeered the place for
his own use.


PLAIN-CLOTHES men had arrived. Weston ordered one to look up Zanwood's
telephone number and call to learn if anyone was there. The call proved a
blank.
By that time, Throckmorton and other members of the Cobalt Club were
arriving at the drug store. One of them was well-acquainted with Zanwood. He
told Weston that Zanwood's family had gone out of town; that the Wall Street
man had been staying alone at his apartment and having his meals at the club.
"We shall go to Zanwood's apartment later," decided Weston. "It is named
in the telephone book: the Everglades Apartments. I must make a note of the
address."
Weston found the address and jotted it down. Hardly had he done so before
Cardona appeared, followed by two husky patrolmen who were helping a wilted
man
into the drug stone. They let the dazed fellow sink heavily into a chair.
Weston
recognized the stocky cab starter who worked for the Cobalt Club.
"Found him in the gutter," explained Cardona, "half under a parked car.
He's been trying to tell us something, commissioner. He mentioned a green cab