"036 (B027) - Mystery Under the Sea (1936-02) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Captain Flamingo spoke again.
"I'd like to know just what happened," he said. "What kind of a storm laid these two swabs out like this?"
He walked over and kicked Ham again.
Ham winced, as if the blow had actually fallen again, and said, "I object strenuously to that."
The voiceЧit was coming from the corridorЧcalled to Captain Flamingo, "Well, what're we gonna do about it?"
"We will not drop anchor here, that's certain," said Captain Flamingo. "We'll see if we can't find a cove across the street where we can watch the channel into this little harbor."
He walked out with, the rolling gait of a seafaring man.
The film ran through to its end without anything more of importance occurring. Doc stopped the projector, reversed it until one of the best shots of the ink marks on the rug was depicted, and stopped it.
"An enlargement of this would help," he said.
The bronze man started the process of making an enlargement from the miniature film frame.
Monk snorted and stabbed a big forefinger in the general direction of the street below.
"You heard what our sailor visitor with the bright duds said, Doc," he squeaked. "Him and his buddy was gonna watch this place. Ain't we gonna glom onto 'em?"
"That is one of the few excellent ideas Monk ever had," Ham said. "If we catch those fellows and question them, it might clear the whole thing up."
"Want to take care of that while this enlargement is being made?" Doc asked.
Monk rubbed his ribs where, as he had discovered in the picture, he had been kicked. "Do I!"
"Go ahead," Doc consented.
Monk and Ham lost no time, but seized powerful binoculars, opened the windows, leaned out and began to scrutinize the street below, first turning out the lights in the room behind them. There was little chance of their being observed. The sky above was cloud-gorged, intensely black, and luminance from the street lamps did not penetrate this high. Ham's eyes proved the most alert.
"See that!" He pointed.
Monk looked and saw an individual who was unmistakably their late visitor of the rainbow clothing. This fellow was stationed in a doorway from which he could observe the skyscraper entrance.
"He's waitin' for us, even if he don't know it," Monk grunted. "Come on."
MONK and Ham managed to gain from the rear the roof of the building in front of which their quarry stood. A bit later they left the roof, descended stairs, and peering around an angle in the corridor, they could discern through the frosted glass of an outer door the lurking watcher.
There was little light where Monk and Ham stood. They swapped scowls by way of assuring each other that they were ready. The door had a spring lock, which meant it could be opened from the inside. They turned the knob and went out suddenly.
The rainbow-hued man heard them, turned. He looked very much surprised, but let Monk take one of his arms, Ham the other.
"Well, reef my jib," he muttered. "I been boarded!"
He did not seem too greatly concerned about it. The reason for that was evident an instant later.
"You're on a rock, mates," said a quiet, bitter voice.
Monk and Ham looked up. The areaway was old, elaborate, built for merchandise displays, and there was a line of show windows and a tiny balcony above.
A man was leaning over the balcony with a sawed off shot-gun.
Monk hunched his big shoulders and started to rumble. It was a peculiar trait of Monk's that he lost his small voice when he got into a fight, his shouts assuming a deep, bass resonance; and he liked plenty of noise at his fights.
Ham emitted a slight, "Ps-s-st! Get smart!"
The bitter-voiced man with the shot-gun spoke casually.
"You two birds may have yourselves decked out in bulletproof vests," he said. "But me shooting down this way kinda takes care of that. This scatter gun is loaded for deer."
Monk muttered, "Now, how'd that guy know about the vest?"
"It shows under your coat, stupid," Ham told him. "If you would get a decent tailor and have your garments padded so that vest would not show itselfЧ"
"You two can argue fashions later," said the man in the rainbow attire.
"I'm comin' down, Cap'n Flamingo," said the one above. He tossed his shotgun down to Captain Flamingo, then grasped the railing, swung over and descended without much difficulty.
Flamingo, with his gun, had kept Doc's two aids covered.
"Get going," the two prisoners were ordered.
"You guys were all set for this," Monk complained.
"Sure," chuckled Captain Flamingo. "Why do you think I been standin' down there where I could be seen from Doc Savage' windows?"
"I'll bite," Monk gritted. "Why?"
"Why, you might say we were fishing," Captain Flamingo told him. "Fishing for just what we got, see?"
"But whatcha want with us?" Monk grunted.
"Observe, and ye shall learn," chuckled Captain Flamingo. "Now, reef the tongues and let's steer a course."
THEY got underway. A series of hallways led completely through the block. When they reached the next street, Captain Flamingo showed himself on the sidewalk. A car promptly came cruising toward the unmistakable beacon which his gaudy raiment made.
The car was a sedan, not expensive, not new, and not well-kept, but very large. The driver had a thick neck and a round face. His skin had a raw, red look, as if it had been sandpapered recently.
He wore a sailor hat. There was a name on it.
Captain Flamingo looked at the sailor hat and gave an excellent demonstration of a man about to have a fit. He grabbed the driver's throat with one hand and the sailor hat with the other.
"Have you plumb lost your ballast?" he snarled.
Then he got a look at the name on the cap: