"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 261 - The Museum Murders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

safeguard the vans that came from this vicinity. His call hadn't come from the commissioner.

It was a call from Burbank, The Shadow's contact man, notifying him that certain crooks were on the
move. Reports from agents in the underworld attributed the mobilization of crime's hordes to a notorious
malefactor named Wolf Lapine, whose ability at cracking into banks was equaled only by his skill at
covering such operations.

In brief, Wolf's criminal listing was "known" rather than "wanted," where the law was concerned. But
Wolf was wanted by The Shadow, who was quite as anxious to crack down on Mr. Lapine as the latter
was to crack down on banks - or the Argyle Museum.

There was something that The Shadow noticed even before he left the limousine. Cars were sliding into
this area to join a few others that were parked inconspicuously near the museum. Those cars were
already established before The Shadow saw the armored trucks arrive, to be greeted by the private
detectives outside of the museum.

Those private dicks were the giveaway!

They'd been here all day, easy for Wolf's spotters to observe and report that this was to be moving night.
The cordon the police were forming, unknown to The Shadow, was geared to the arrival of the armored
vans, no sooner. Hence it was too late for anyone to thwart the infiltration of Wolf's notorious criminal
band.

Already, huddly figures were stealing from those parked cars, the rangy, stoop-shouldered figure of Wolf
Lapine among them. On the outskirts, The Shadow paused by the last car that had rolled in place and
suddenly made himself known to its occupants, two in number. Usually, The Shadow's process was to
use his automatics as cudgels, thus silently chopping down the size of an invading mob.

This time, he gave a commanding whisper. The two men came about. One was brawny, blunt-faced; the
other, a small, wizened man with sharp, quick eyes. Cliff Marsland was the blunt-faced chap; he was a
strong-arm specialist who served The Shadow in the underworld. The wizened man was Hawkeye,
craftiest spotter in the badlands, also an aid of The Shadow.

They'd sent the tip-off to Burbank regarding the moves of Wolf Lapine. True followers of The Shadow,
Cliff and Hawkeye had trailed the motley crew, expecting contact with their chief - and they were getting
it now.

Posting Cliff on the fringe, where he was at present, The Shadow started Hawkeye on a sneak along the
street, to the opposite flank. Timing his own action to the wizened man's, The Shadow moved through
streaky blackness across the street toward the Argyle Museum, intending to work into the very midst of
Wolf's unsuspecting tribe. The crates were just beginning to come down the long front walk. Logically,
Wolf would wait until all were out.

And then - the unexpected!

The fault lay with the drivers of the armored vans. Instructed to make a quick pickup of their cargo, they
didn't wait for the crates to arrive. Like mechanical puppets pulled by a single string, four men popped
from the bulletproof cabs of their individual vans, bounded to the back and flung wide the loading doors.

This happened just before The Shadow could reach Wolf's lurking mob. A commanding snarl broke the