"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 320 - Reign of Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Forty weeks... even in his best year the comic hadn't worked more than thirty. He said, "I'll have the
dough somehow." He paused, lowered his voice and said, "When'd you guys move in on this business?"

Looking down at the comedian, slit eyes said, "We've always been in it. We just decided to make it pay
off faster. Tomorrow night." It was an order.

They left.

Slit eyes was in a phone booth. He spoke with his lips barely moving. "A pushover. Yeah."

A voice on the phone said, "Good. Look, I'm sorry, but something has come up. All the other boys are
busy. Do you mind doing one more thing tonight?"

"What's on your mind?"

The phone said, "Look up James Ravvel."

"And?" The question hung in the air.

"He decided not to pay off tonight."

"Okay. His address is 342 Larren St., isn't it?"

"Sixteenth floor," the phone said. "He's there now."

"When we finish this shall I check with you?"

"No... don't bother. I'm going to bed now."

The phone clicked as the receiver slid into place.
The elevator door opened at the nineteenth floor. Two men stepped out. The door closed behind them.
They walked down the hall. At the end of it there was a fire door. They looked around them. No one in
sight. The door slid open and closed behind them. They walked down three flights of stairs. They walked
easily, unhurriedly. They might have been two men coming home from the office after working late. Or,
they might have been inspectors examining the walls. That is if it hadn't been three o'clock in the morning.

Unhurriedly they walked out the fire door on the sixteenth floor. No one in sight here either. They walked
perhaps twenty paces and paused in front of a door. A neat little tab on the door read James Ravvel.

One man stepped further toward the door. In his hand was a slim piece of blue steel. He inserted it in the
keyway of the lock. He pressed on the steel. Then he took another curiously shaped piece of steel from
his pocket. One end of it curved down. He inserted this on top of the slimmer object. He jiggled it
patiently. There was a series of clicks.

The other man reached his hand down and twisted the knob. The door clicked open. They stepped in as
though they were coming home.

The apartment was in darkness. They walked surefootedly through the foyer that led into the living room.
The fatter of the two men reached out and turned on a bridge lamp. The light was warm, comforting.
There was a door leading off the living room.