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

"Now you know." Corre flicked the piece of paper back to Corbaccio.

He picked it up and re-read part of his fate. The paper said, "To whom it may concern... and you know
who I mean, Corbaccio... the records of my criminal transactions are on file in the morgue at the Clarion.
They are filed under Waldo Teller. If... and when... I die, the first thing my paper will do is go to the
morgue to get the details of my life. When they do they will find a lot more than that... won't they?" It was
signed Waldo Teller.

"You got this letter this morning," Corre said unbelievingly, "and you just opened it a half hour ago?"

"You know I was... busy... today," Corbaccio said. "But I'll go down to that office and blast it apart if I
have to!" He got to his feet.

"There's been enough blasting for one day," Corre said. "By the way, why did you shoot our two boys
who were dressed as cops?"

"Teller knew me even with the mask on my face. I had to, Corre. You woulda done the same thing in my
place." He whined. "Let me go knock off the paper office."

"Sit down there and shut up." Corre's voice was like dry ice. "Teller must have had this dope on you for
some time. Why did he tip you off today and why... this is the real big question, why did he tell you
where the dope was stashed?"

"How do I know?" Corbaccio was sunk in depression. His head snapped when Buster caught him with
the back of his hand across the cheek.

The sound made a splat.

Buster said. "Now that's no way to talk to the boss. He don't like to be talked to that way. Do you
boss?"

"No.., but it's all right, Buster." Corre ran one of his small hands across his forehead. "Why would Teller
have revealed where he had hidden the info?"

The fat man walked back and forth across the floor. He kicked a chair out of his way. It splintered
against the wall. He said, "That was a stupid thing to do and Teller was not stupid. Therefore he had a
reason."

"Maybe." Buster said hesitantly, "maybe he did it because the information was no good any more."

"How could that be?" Corbaccio asked.

There was a silence. Corbaccio broke it. "How could that be?" he asked again. "Either Teller had the
dope or he didn't."

"You've put your grubby finger on it, Buster," Corre said softly. "It's like the riddle about when is a door
not a door, the answer is when it's ajar. Our riddle is, when is good info no good. The answer is when it's
been given to the world. No blackmail hold is any good if everyone knows it. Teller must have planned to
blast you today, Corbaccio! Sure, that explains why he suddenly blossomed out with those private