"044 (B077) - The South Pole Terror (1936-10) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"Not yet," said the expressionless voice. "When we finally located this hide-out, by spotting the cars on which had been smeared a compound that later in the night became luminous, there were six men there, holding the girl, Velma Crale.
"We managed to plant a microphone and run the wires to this room. What we overheard indicated these men expected the return of some person who is their chief, and had orders to wait there until this boss appeared."
"And he hasn't come?" Monk grunted.
"Not yet," agreed the rather remarkable voice. "They have been waiting almost five days, now. And they are becoming rather impatient."
Monk sighed loudly. "Nothing overheard yet to show what this is all about?"
"Nothing."
The dapper Ham interposed, "What are we going to do about this Regis thing?"
"We will abandon the business of patient waiting for what we can pick up and grab the girl and the mob holding her prisoner. When they are disposed of, we'll take a plane and go out to look into this Regis business."
Monk sighed. "That means the mob will learn that Doc Savage is not really dead."
"Not necessarily," said Doc Savage, his remarkable voice still expressionless.
DOC SAVAGE listened for a time at the headset connected to the dictagraph microphone. There was nothing interesting.
"They do not talk much at this time of the afternoon," the bronze man said. "We might as well close in on them."
He switched off the eavesdropping device, and preceded Monk and Ham through the door. They climbed stairs.
Monk said, "If the public learns you aren't dead, it's going to create a sensation."
"Nobody is going to understand why you did it," Ham added.
Doc Savage spoke quietly.
"That the bomb sent to our headquarters did not kill me was due simply to the precaution that moved me to withdraw to the library and turn the X-ray apparatus on by remote control," he said. "Whoever sent that bomb had reasoned the package would be X-rayed, and had connected an electroscopic device of some sort in the package, hooking it to a detonator."
Monk agreed, "Yeah. And then you fixed up that wax image and got the police to let the idea get out that you were dead. Only I don't see yet why such elaborate preparation was necessary."
"Whoever thought of providing against the bomb being X-rayed was clever," Doc Savage explained. "No simple trick would have fooled that person. That the would-be killer should think the death trap had succeeded was convenient for the simple reason that no more attempts would be made on my life, leaving me free to make an investigation unhampered."
"Urn-m-m," said Monk. "I'd still like to know what is behind all of this mystery."
Doc Savage did not reply. Instead, the bronze man went up a particularly narrow flight of steps, poking the beam of a flashlight ahead of him. He reached an overhead trapdoor.
A shove caused this to open silently. They climbed out upon a flat roof top which was comparatively private, because it was surrounded by a high parapet.
The roof top was crisscrossed by a web of wires, apparently portions of radio aыrials. This was nothing to attract attention, there hardly being a roof top in Manhattan which was not so cluttered.
Doc Savage drew a pair of pliers from a pocket and calmly cut one of the apparent aыrial wires.
Ham muttered, "I hope that works!"
"It will!" Monk grunted. "I made the plant and hookup myself."
"That," flipped Ham, "is why I have some doubts."
Monk snorted indignantly. "Listen, shyster! That was fixed up three days ago. Cutting that wire causes a relay to open in the basement of that house where the mob is hanging out. The opening relay closes an electrical contact which starts a phonograph loudspeakerЧthere it is! Fan your ears out and listen!"
It was hardly necessary for ears to be fanned out to catch the sounds which were now coming from the lower part of the building. First, there was a series of great crashes, as of wooden doors being burst inward; then came a great yell.
"Police raid!" thundered a great voice. "Watch the back and front doors!"
In the shelter of the roof coaming, Monk chuckled.
"Believe it or not, that's my voice," he said. "Boy, would I make an actor!"
"Come," Doc Savage said.
THEY were on the adjacent roof by now, and, looking about, they had no difficulty discerning a roof hatch. Doc Savage had scouted the layout previously. To the left of the roof hatch was a bank of chimneys which offered excellent concealment. Doc and his aides crouched behind these.
The bronze man produced, from inside his clothing, a small object which might have been a cigarette case, except that he never used tobacco. There was a round button on the edge of the case. He rested a metallic thumb against the button and pointed the case at the roof hatch.
The loud-speaker device was still rapping orders downstairs. A police siren whine came from the contrivance. A coarse voice exhorted speed, caution.
"Sh-h-h!"
Monk breathed. "Here they come!"
The roof hatch flew open. A man popped out. He was a stocky, questionable-looking fellow, was wearing a scared expression. He started across the roof top, as if his sole idea was to get to some other roof, from which they evidently had an avenue of escape ready.
A very sharp ear might have caught the small sound from the case which Doc Savage held.
The runner grunted loudly, stopped, looked about vacantly, then laid himself down on the roof top.
Another man appeared. He was calmer. Turning, he spoke to some one below.
"Take it easy, Miss Crale," he said. "There's not a chance of them grabbing us."
Velma Crale's voice said, "Well it would be too bad if the police busted up the thing at this point."
Velma Crale then came into view. Three men followed her. The young woman was not bound, gagged, nor in any way confined to indicate she was a prisoner. In fact, she seemed perfectly free, and as anxious as the others to leave the vicinity with speed.
"I wonder how on earth the cops found us?" she snapped angrily.
The small object in Doc Savage's hand made several of its small noises. Velma Crale's companions made gasping noises and sank into immobility. As the last was going down, the young woman comprehended what was happening.
"Darts!" she snapped, and tried to run.
Leaving the concealment of the bank of chimneys, Doc Savage overhauled her. She fought him briskly for a moment after his hands were on her, but saw the futility of that, and gave up.
"It looks," she said, "like I've got myself in a pickle."