"Kuttner, Henry - Red Gem of Mercury" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

Lankershim's hard-bitten, tired face was suddenly ludicrous with amazement.
"Vuh--" he said, and tried again. "Vane!"
"Hello," the intruder smiled. "How are you, Chief?"
Lankershim's eyes flickered to Vane's hands, empty at his sides. Then he looked
again at the other's face.
"Give a dog a bad name," Vane observed. "I'm not armed."
"How the devil did you get in here? I--" The chief of police abruptly shot out
his arm toward the call-buzzer on his desk.
"Stop," Vane said.
Lankershim's forefinger touched the little button, but did not press it. The
chief stood there, his left hand flat on the desk, his right arm extended.
Slowly his gaze swiveled toward Vane.
His mouth gaped for a shout to summon aid, but no sound emerged.
"That's it," the lawyer nodded. "Remain perfectly quiet and don't say a word.
Just listen. I've got a prisoner for you. I left him outside--Stohm, one of
Pasqual's men. He'll talk. All you have to do is ask him questions."
Vane glanced at his watch. "I've an appointment soon. See you later. You're an
honest cop, Lankershim, and I remember when you used to pound the pavements on
the East Side. So I'm turning Stohm over to you. You won't need to third-degree
him. For myself--" He hesitated "--I'm not going back to prison. It'll do you no
good to throw out a dragnet for me."
Vane turned to the door. "You'll be all right in three minutes. Adios, Chief."
He went out, leaving Lankershim an apoplectic statue. The hall wasn't empty.
Vane pulled the Homburg lower over his eyes and walked swiftly toward the door.
Uniformed men eyed him and turned away.
But one man didn't turn. Vane saw his face light with recognition. He opened his
mouth and thrust out a finger in a swift gesture.
He stayed that way, briefly. He was paralyzed, immobile, with one foot in the
air and his arm extended. Then, off balance, he flopped to the floor, while a
nearby officer stared and came hurriedly forward to administer first-aid.
No one else recognized Vane, and he left. Nobody expected to see him in police
headquarters, so he had no difficulty in walking out and hailing a taxi. He was
driven to Pasqual's home.
It was an old-fashioned mansion set alone amid wide grounds. Vane noticed a
number of cars parked near by. He remembered that Big Mike was throwing a party
that night.
He was again conscious of an overwhelming hunger, and a strange, inexplicable
lassitude that weakened him. He fought it down, staring at the frog-faced man
who opened the door.
"Yeah?"
"Tell Pasqual Steve Vane's here," the lawyer said.
The other stepped back a pace. His hand dived into his pocket.
Vane extended his arms slightly from his sides.
Frog-face said, "Come in," and closed the door as the lawyer entered. Then he
deftly frisked his guest. After that he nodded to a chair set against the wall
and vanished hurriedly.
VANE sat and looked around. This had once been a palatial Georgian mansion, but
Pasqual had redecorated it to suit himself. The bright hall was furnished in the
height of garishly bad taste. Vane blinked sleepily. He felt very tired . . .
Frog-face returned. "Come along, he grunted, and led the way upstairs. He paused