"033 (B015) - Murder Melody (1935-11) - Laurence Donovan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Some one had equipped Doc with a radio broadcaster-and-receiver of a miniature variety. His experience of the past night proved this to be far superior to any other he had ever encountered. But who had placed it there?
Lanta had shot him down with his own mercy pistol. At the time, she had been hedged in by those she had said were her enemies. She had named Zoro as her foe. Zoromen, she had said, were among her crew. Then she must have gained access to Doc while he was unconscious. But what use did she expect him to make of the portable radio set?
Each movement of Doc's sensitive hands caused him to tense his neck muscles against the devilish choker. Working out the intricacies of the broadcaster was an involved problem. If he could make use of it, would it connect by short wave with police radios?
The rushing speed of the Narwhal had lessened somewhat. The hull of the vessel seemed mushing through some substance more resistant than water.
"Brothers," announced Doc, "we are passing over the shallow Columbia River bar. We must devise some plan to reach one of the portholes."
"Dag-gonit!" exploded Monk. "I wish we could see somethin'! I'm beginnin' to feel like some kind of a mole!"
"Our present means of transportation apparently has been adopted with reason," observed Doc. "I surmise we are visiting one of the Columbia River ports for some definite purpose. Zoro told the ship captain he only wanted to borrow this steamer. He has a cargo of something he plans to take aboard."
"What makes you think that, Savage?" came the voice of Cassalano. "I'm inclined to believe you do know much more of this crazy submarine commander than you have admitted."
"The deduction is only obvious," said Doc calmly.
The bronze man betrayed no resentment at the open suspicion in the economist's voice.
"Very apparently he has a means of transportation of his own much superior to this iron ship," he continued. "For some as yet obscure reason, he wants this vessel to be seen. Perhaps there are other circumstances he desires to be made public."
"Just what do you mean by that, Savage?" Caulkins said, with more snappishness in his tone than he had previously used.
THE bronze man said nothing. He was suddenly engaged in a queer contortion of his body. The one porthole in the lower hold was open. The iron lid swung free on the clamping dogs. Doc had fixed his attention upon this.
The imprisoning metallic jacket kept his legs stiff. It did not permit his knees to bend. Only his hands and arms were slightly free. Now he had shifted until the back of his head touched the steel plates at the side. His feet were twisted over and his toes were working.
The bronze man turned over. His face now was against the steel hull. Propelled by his toes alone, he was working himself erect. The skin was rasped from his bronzed jaw. His hands were useless. Only his feet were free to work up and down. His chin came to the porthole.
Hooking his lower jawbone over the rough steel, Doc was in position to see the outside. So fast was the Narwhal moving, the green water was only a foot or so below the porthole.
"Holy cow, Doc!" exclaimed Renny. "Where are we?"
Before the bronze man could reply there was a soft whirring. Its vibration was close to his chest. Electrical waves ran through his muscles. Whispered words began to penetrate.
Doc knew these were not audible to his companions or to the other prisoners. The progress of the Narwhal was a great hissing sound.
"Clark Savage," spoke the vibration. "I am closeЧcan you speak to me? Press the second and fourth knobs to transmitЧyou can use this toЧoh!"
The words died on a choking sound. They had been in the liquid voice of Lanta. She had been trying to impart some new message. Doc pressed the designated buttons on the strange portable radio broadcaster. He spoke in a low tone.
"Where are you? What is it you want me to do?"
He could tell the words were being transmitted. But no reply was received. He tried three times. Still no answer. Something had happened to the girl while she was speaking. She had said she was close.
Doc conjectured if that meant the glasslike cylinder following the Narwhal. Perhaps the girl had managed freedom only long enough to attempt a communication.
Chapter 10. THE "NARWHAL" ANCHORS
Doc left the porthole, and suddenly started rolling across the iron grating. Without a word to his companions he was making for the darkened area beyond range of the light bulb.
His amazed men heard him speak:
"I was sure you were somewhere near by. Your men lost their battle."
A liquid, resonant voice replied:
"Of that, I am not sure. I was overcome and taken away by Zoro. Unless we can escape the metallic tunics, our cause is hopeless. Zoro will keep you alive. He will destroy your men. They cannot aid him."
FROM the darkness, beside Doc, appeared a slim form. One of the metallic jackets bound the girl's body securely. Only the gold of her other tight-fitting garment and the golden band around her lustrous black hair were showing.
When she rolled under the light, her face appeared. Ham gasped with amazement. The lawyer was not immune to the impression of a beautiful face. Never had he seen features more perfect. The girl's small, straight nose and her large, dark-pupiled eyes completed a lovely oval of patrician cast.
"So that is the girl Lanta?" Ham questioned softly. "Well, she is some looker."
"Huh!" grunted Monk, for once apparently unimpressed. "An' goes around shootin' people with their own guns! She's the one that shot me an' Doc an' Johnny."
"It's really too bad she didn't make it a more complete job on one of you," stated Ham. "An' you don't have to guess twice to know which one I mean."
Caulkins and Cassalano were staring at the girl. As she looked at them, Lanta murmured in a low tone to Doc, "Are these other two of your company? I thought there were but five?"
Doc made no answer, however.
He rolled nearer to the hull of the ship. His hands had been exploring as far as they could the inside of the metallic jacket. By twisting the garment he was now able to reach another of his concealed pockets.
The Narwhal was moving slower. The bronze man became too intent to note the direction the ship was taking. His agile fingers had succeeded in extracting a flat, little vial inside the metallic jacket.
With infinite caution, Doc tested the looseness of his prison. His hands could move only a few inches without causing the collar to tighten with choking effect. Between his body and the outside jacket was the scalelike, bulletproof vest. The metal of this was perhaps the most impervious material ever invented by the bronze man, or any other person.
Doc pondered grimly. If he failed in what he was about to attempt, he was threatened by torturing, terrible deathЧsuch a death as might make any man hesitate. It would be like having a hot iron pushed slowly into his vital organs.
THE bronze man glanced at his captive companions. He did not delay longer. He rolled carefully over. His back was toward the others. One hand pushed the metallic jacket as far from his body as he could hold it. To do this he was compelled to lie on his stomach, arching himself on his toes and chin.
No other man could have remained in that position for more than a few seconds. The bronze man's body became as rigid as a steel bar. With his thumb he cautiously worked the stopper from the small glass vial. He could only guess when he had permitted a few drops to spill upon the loose outer fold of the metallic jacket.
A vile liquid was trickling slowly from the bottle. Doc's stomach muscles contracted until nearly all of his vital organs were forced into the cavity of his upper ribs.
After some of the liquid had oozed out, Doc replaced the stopper of the bottle and managed to get it back into its protective pocket. Balanced on chin and toes, he waited. He scarcely breathed as a noxious vapor permeated the loose weaving of the metallic jacket.
Even then, the bronze man was not sure he would succeed. Perhaps the alloy of which the jacket was composed would be too resistant. If so, Doc knew he had trapped himself horribly.
Nearly a minute passed. The Narwhal was sailing at a much more normal speed than it had moved previously. Odors of pine and spruce indicated the vessel was being piloted close along some shore.
Doc judged that Zoro was now approaching some goal where he did not wish to be detected. The bronze man pushed experimentally with one hand. His arm suddenly emerged outside the jacket.
The liquid he had used had been a deadly, cutting acid. Often it had been employed to remove steel bars. Had any of it touched Doc's body before it evaporated, no remedy could have been found to prevent it eating inward.
Doc relaxed and rolled over. Ham was now lying close to him. Just beyond was the slim body of the girl Lanta. The bronze man whispered a caution.