"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 320 - Reign of Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)That seemed clear, too. Either the whole set up was designed that way, or Teller recognized the man
who had machine gunned him. If that were the case the gunner must have felt impelled to kill his own hirelings to protect his identity. This in turn would indicate that the killing had been done by one of the higher ups. This was no job consummated by a hired gun. It was too important. The next question then was, why was Teller's death so important? The Shadow looked at the paper and saw Teller's address there. He said, "Shrevvie, 58th Street." Perhaps Teller's effects might have a tale to tell. The cab drove into Fifty-eighth Street. The Shadow said suddenly, "Park here a second, Shrevvie. I want to think something out." "Just as well, the street is swarmin' with the boys in blue." The Shadow looked down the street. Policemen were filing into Teller's building. Leaning back in the darkness in the back of the cab, The Shadow thought, if Teller was as smart as he seemed, and if he did have a tie in with the underworld, wouldn't he try to cover himself? Of course. Any knowledge that he had he would probably keep somewhere as a threat to the men he had something on. Where would he keep such data? He was a reporter before he was a columnist. Once a newspaperman always a newspaperman. The street was thick with paper trucks. The cab eeled its way in and out between them. Shrevvie said, "This do?" "Around in back. I think I remember a fire escape there." This street was comparatively deserted. The Shadow said, "Shrevvie, park directly under that fire escape. See the ladder there?" Shrevvie nodded. "While I'm gone, open the sun window in the top of the cab. Leave it open and don't stir from here if you can help it." "I gotcha. Think you may be leaving in a hurry?" But there was no answer. Looking in the back of the cab, Shrevvie saw that the back seat was untenanted. He sighed. "No dice. You just couldn't keep an eye on The Shadow." Swarming up the fire escape, avoiding any stray light that might have given away his presence, the man who was dressed in the cape and hat made no more noise than the soft whisper of silk on silk. Baby blue eyes cold and direct, Ed Corre said, "How stupid can a man be and live?" "How was I to know?" Corbaccio almost whined. |
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