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

detectives. He told you that was because someone he had nailed in the column threatened him. Really
they were supposed to protect him from you!"

"But..." Corbaccio's face went white. "You mean my goose is cooked!"

"Unless you can prevent a newspaper from printing the information Teller gave it."

"I can do it. I swear I can." Corbaccio scrambled toward the door. "I'll do it..." The door closed after
him.

Corre said. "Idiot. As if the paper hasn't already called the cops in. Once a leak starts you can never stop
it. No, the thing to do is get rid of the place the leak came front."

He rubbed his fourth chin. He said, "Buster, don't you think it would be nice if he was buried from his
own funeral parlor?"

"Yeah. With lots and lots of flowers!" Buster said. His voice sounded happy but his face was as immobile
as always.

Trying to drive fast and yet carefully was a trial. Corbaccio knew how sensitive the contents of the
satchel at his feet was, and yet he had to get to the Clarion office fast.

He risked a red light and the car high tailed across the intersection like a rabbit. He eased off after he had
crossed, no sense in being blown sky high.

A flash of reflected light in his rear view mirror caught his eye. He slowed down even further. The car
behind him slowed down too. He thought frantically. No... Corre can't do this to me... No...

He pressed his foot down to the floor boards. The car leaped ahead as though jet propelled. Ahead was
a busy cross street. No chance of jumping that. He twisted the wheel of his car sharply. It spun around.

His car skidded as he pulled it by main force around a corner. There, the car was no longer in sight.
Three seconds later its lights were flashing in his mirror again.

Was this what he had robbed and cheated and killed for? A scream welled up in his throat when he saw
a flash of red. They were firing at his gas tank... and if that went... He looked down at the bag.

There was no sanity in his eyes now. He jammed the brakes on. He leaped from the car with the bag in
his arms. The other car slowed down. As it did so, he raised the bag to throw it.

A burst of bullets from the car ripped the bag in half. That was all he ever saw.

The explosion rocked the street for hundreds of feet. Glass shattered by the force of the impact fell from
windows. Concrete where his feet had just been ripped and tore as though a giant had scooped it up.

Ten blocks away Shrevvie heard the deep dull boom and wondered what it was. He shrugged. None of
his business. All he had to do was stay put till his darkly clad passenger returned.

The cab moved a trifle under a sudden impact. The Shadow, who had dropped through the open roof,
said, "Hurry Shrevvie."