"032 (B032) - Dust of Death (1935-10) - Harold Davis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"Has White Legionnaire number two arrived?" was the question.
The small man who had left the bomb in Doc Savage's dirigible now stepped forward and identified himself. He launched immediately into a description of his feat.
"There was T.N.T. in that bomb," he finished, speaking Spanish with the difficulty of a man who has just learned it. "You can take all of that airship that they'll find and put it in your eye."
The Inca in Gray was ominously silent.
"A little more respect in your manner, please," said the voice back of the hood.
Although the voice of the disguised master mind was excellently disguised, a close listener might have detected one possibility. The English which the being spoke was better than the Spanish. The English words came more freely.
The assembled followers of the Inca in Gray seemed to know what they were there for. No orders were given.
The Inca in Gray simply said, "We will act now, seёors."
The meeting dispersed.
THE SINISTER cloaked figure of the Inca in Gray appeared alongside the presidential palace shortly afterward. There were no lights, but sentries could be heard shifting back and forth in the darkness.
The Inca in Gray listened to the sounds the sentries made. Some moments of this was sufficient to furnish an excellent idea of the beats the fellows patrolled. The vague form that was the Inca in Gray scuttled forward.
Santa Amoza had been at war a long time; and war means that political leaders must take more than the average precautions against an assassination. President Carcetas had, as a move to protect the life of his daughter, caused a tall, thick screen of shrubbery to be thrown up around the palace verandas.
Pretty Seёorita Anita Carcetas was at this moment resting herself on a veranda, where she not only was hidden from the street, but from any one in the palace grounds as well. The young woman was reading the local newspapers which were filled with the usual claims that Santa Amoza had the enemy, Delezon, practically whipped.
The young woman actually considered herself perfectly safe. If she heard a faint sound behind her, she dismissed it as being made by a servant. A large pad of cloth was over her mouth before she was aware of danger. The cloth was saturated and reeking with a well known hospital anaesthetic. The young woman struggled furiously. She could not see her captor. She kicked backward, contacted shins.
For a moment she got her face free of the wet cloth. She emitted piercing screams, and, because she had gotten a glimpse at the grim covering of her assailant, she jumped at a correct conclusion.
"The Inca in Gray!" she screamed. "Help!"
Then her attacker got the soaked cloth back over her nostrils, lifted her and carried her way. The anaesthetic had her senseless before she had been taken far.
EXCITEMENT RAN like fire through the presidential palace. Sentries dashed about. An attempt was made to turn the lights on, but it was discovered the power lines had been cut. The enforced darkness only increased the confusion.
President Carcetas of Santa Amoza dashed out of his private office. He asked questions of an excited sentry
"Seёorita AnitaЧ"
"Carried away," the soldier blurted.
President Carcetas became very pale at that.
"Stop this wild dashing about," he roared in Spanish. "Order all streets in the vicinity of the presidential palace blocked. Have squads of soldiers search the houses. Notify the police. Quickly!"
The soldiers scurried away.
President Carcetas moved to the left wing of the presidential palace and soon stopped in front of a closed door. He lifted his hand and knocked, got no answer, knocked again. His black eyebrows ran up on his forehead. He hesitated, then turned the knob and entered.
At first glance, it appeared the room was vacant. Sheets and blankets had been thrown back from the bed, as if had been slept in. A taboret near the head of the bed was upset. A glass of water that had been on it had wetted the carpet.
A groan sounded. It was muffled.
President Carcetas's eyebrows ran down, then up, and he sprang forward, hot lights in his piercing eyes. He sank beside the bed, looked under it, and a moment later pulled a bound figure into view. The fellow was gagged, but removal of this speech impediment took only a moment.
The bound man who had been under the bed was long and lean. The hair on his bullet-shaped head was close cropped.
The man was Count Hoffe, munitions salesman. His presence at the presidential palace was no mystery. President Carcetas of Santa Amoza had been placing a new order for munitions, and terms had needed discussing. Hence, Count Hoffe had remained at the palace for the night.
"What happened?" President Carcetas demanded.
Count Hoffe groaned. An ugly bump showed on the side of his head. One of his eyes was all but closed, and a small stream of scarlet crawled from one nostril.
"A sinister figure in a gray cloak was creeping through my room." Count Hoffe explained. "When I awakened, he struck me down."
"Did you see the face of this assailant?" Carcetas asked.
Count Hoffe hesitated, moistened his lips.
"I did."
"Who was it?" President Carcetas barked.
"The information will not be pleasant," Count Hoffe mumbled. "It will be a shock,"
"Who was your attacker?" the chief executive of Santa Amoza requested grimly.
"Ace Jackson," said Count Hoffe.
PRESIDENT CARCETAS was genuinely shocked, it was plain. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened.
"Ace Jackson," he said grimly. "Are you sure?"
Count Hoffe nodded painfully. "I am sure."
"But Ace Jackson is lying in the hospital badly burned," reminded President Carcetas. "He could walk only a few paces."
Count Hoffe was free of the fastening rope now. He sat on the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands.
"You might have the hospital called to see if Ace Jackson is still there," he suggested.
President Carcetas barked an order. One of his many secretaries immediately got in touch with the hospital where Ace Jackson had been confined. The secretary came scampering back with a surprised look on his face.
"Ace Jackson is gone," he said.
"Now we know the identity of the Inca in Gray," Count Hoffe growled.
President Carcetas said nothing in reply. He seemed to be too deeply stricken for words.