"005 (B019) - Pirate of the Pacific (1933-07) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"Hy'ah, yellow boy!" he grinned. "You can't poke around here at night. This is private property."



The Mongol replied with a gibberish that was unintelligible to the watchman.



"No savvy!" said the g"guard. "Splickee English!"



The Oriental came closer, gesturing earnestly with his hands.



The unfortunate guard never saw another figure glide up in the moonlight behind him. Moonlight flickered on a thick, heavy object. The weapon struck with a vicious, sidewise swipe.



The sound, as it hit, was like a loud, heavy thump. The guard piled down on the ground, out in a second.





THE other Mongols and half-castes now came up. They strode past the unconscious guard as though they hadn't seen him, passed through the gate in the high fence, and continued purposefully for the hangars.



No commands had been spoken. They were functioning like a deadly machine, following a deliberate plan.



Music from the radio was thumping a more rapid tempo - the musicians were working up to one of those grand slam endings. The radio instrument itself was a midget set, no larger than a shoe box.



Another night worker of the airport had plugged it into a power outlet on a workbench in a corner of the hangar. He lolled in the cockpit of a plane and listened to the music.



"Get hot!" he exhorted the radio, and beat time on the taut fuselage fabric with his palms.



Night traffic at this airport was negligible, and two men were the extent of the airport staff - this man, and the one at the gate.