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

"Right under the nose of the Feds?" Buster asked.

"Umm. If it can be rigged so it looks like a suicide..." The fat man waddled to the phone.

The office was sparsely furnished. Well furnished, but bare, lots of room. The man behind the desk, tall,
spare, greying at the temples, said to the man who faced him. "This is the kind of break we rarely get."

"It was luck, let's face it," said the younger man. "If the suitcase hadn't fallen out of Rowley's hand and
split open..."

"Yes, but we had them under observation."

"Still it was a break that he dropped the suitcase. You should have seen Rowley's face to say nothing of
the three pick up men! They were caught so flat footed they didn't even object when we arrested them!"

The grey haired man said, "Good. How's the interrogation going?"

"Slowly," the younger man said almost sadly. "You know these rats. We're concentrating on Rowley. I
don't think the others know much. They look like peddlers to me.

"You're probably right."

"There was a fast two hundred grand's worth of the stuff packed away in those bundles! That means
Rowley must have been pretty high up."

"Let me know if he cracks."

"Sure." The younger man turned to leave. As he did so the door opened. Simultaneously the interoffice
communicator buzzed. The man at the desk flipped it on. A voice barked. "Rowley did the dutch!"

The man who entered the door said, "Beat me to it. I was just coming to tell you the same thing. He's
dead as the proverbial door nail!"

"How?" the grey haired man clipped.

"He was writing a letter, we let him, hoping he might give away something in it. He signed his name to it,
put the pen away, and that's all. He died about thirty seconds later!"

"Skunked again!" the young man said. "This is the closest we've come since the post war revival of the
drug trade from Europe. Now we're back where we started, nowhere!"

The phone rang in Ed Corre's apartment. He answered it. He said, "Good news? I see. Thank you for
calling."

He turned away from the phone. He rubbed his small hands together. "This day may not be a complete
loss at that."

"How come?" Buster asked.