"050 (B033) - The Terror in the Navy (1937-04) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

As an associate of Doc Savage, he got his excitement.
Renny dropped out of a freight car near the water front. He had a newspaper in his hand and he rustled it in the murk.
"Queer thing about the wrecking of them five navy destroyers," he said. "I've just been reading about it."
"It is queer," Doc agreed.
"Queer!" Renny tossed the newspaper aside. "Say! Long Tom and Johnny and me have been watching them guys in that beer-sign balloon for almost a week. How much longer do we have to keep it up?"
Renny had difficulty pitching his tremendous, rumbling voice in a low tone.
Doc said, "We'll look into it now."
They advanced through the murk, using care to avoid noise, and shortly came upon two other men crouched in the darkness on the river bank.
"I'll be superamalgamated!" whispered one of the pair, who was very tall, and thinner than it seemed a man could be and still live.
He was William Harper Littlejohn, eminent archaeologist and geologist, and an inveterate user of big words. He was commonly called "Johnny."
"They've got one guy watching the balloon cable winch," said the second of the two men.
This second man was not an impressive physical specimen. He gave the impression of having grown up some place where it was always dark.
He was Major Thomas J. Roberts, electrical wizard, a man whose appearance of being a physical wreck was deceptive. He had secured the nickname of "Long Tom" somewhere.
"How many in the balloon?" Doc queried.
"Two," said pale Long Tom.
"And one watching the winch," added Renny.
"Can you grab them?" Doc asked.
"We can have a swell time trying!" grinned big-fisted Renny.
"Question them," Doc directed. "Find out what connection their watching me has with the wrecking of the destroyers and the aircraft carrier."
The darkness then absorbed him, or seemed to, so silently did he depart.
Chapter 5. PERSISTENT PAT
DOC SAVAGE'S three aidsЧRenny, Long Tom and JohnnyЧlooked at each other questioningly after their chief had gone.
"What's he up to?" Long Tom grunted.
"An interrogatory promulgation concerning what might be called an Ethiopian enigma," said Johnny.
"I'll bet Doc already has this covered from all angles," said Renny. "He covers things like the dew."
"Doc," said big-worded Johnny, "is a compendium of Machiavellian callidity."
"He's what?" asked Long Tom.
"A lad who doesn't overlook any bets," translated Renny.
Long Tom snorted quietly. "Let's give that balloon our attention."
They crept forward, and before long could make out details. The balloon cable was of alloy wires wound around a core of two insulated telephone wires. The cable was attached to a winch turned by a gasoline motor. The winch was mounted on a heavy, ancient barge which was moored securely to the end of a dock.
A watchman sat on a box, his back against the winch. He was a blond man who looked as if he needed exercise. He was having difficulty keeping awake. At intervals, he reached up and slapped his own face.
The man was slapping his face when Renny leaped soundlessly from behind and grabbed his arms. Long Tom clamped a hand over the man's mouth. They held the fellow helpless.
"We could double as spooks, eh?" big-fisted Renny chuckled.
Tall, bony Johnny leaned close to the prisoner. He used small words.
"What's the idea of this balloon spying business?" he asked.
The man gritted, "You can kindly goЧ"
He did not finish, because Renny took the fellow's whole face in one huge hand. It was almost as if the big-fisted engineer had palmed an apple.
"If I squeezed, I think it might pop like a melon," Renny rumbled, referring to the head.
"Let's get that balloon down first," suggested Long Tom.
Doc Savage never used violence where it could possibly be avoided. This was a characteristic of the bronze man. His five aids, however, tended to the other extreme. They were not loath to use rough stuff occasionally.
They knocked their prisoner senseless to save the bother of tying him up.
They examined the balloon winch. There was no hand crank. They would have to drag it down with the gasoline motor, which would mean noise.
"No other way, though," said Renny, "unless we can talk Long Tom into climbing the cable after them."
"Don't be silly!" sniffed the pallid electrical wizard. "We should have Monk for that."
They started the motor, and the winch drum revolved, winding the balloon down.
Doc Savage's three assistants kept a close watch. They held flashlights and peculiar machine pistols which Doc Savage himself had perfected, guns firing unconsciousness-producing "mercy" bullets at a tremendous speed.
The balloon seemed to get larger as it came down. It was like a fat wiener, not too well stuffed, with a basket hanging underneath. Its electric beer sign got brighter and brighter.
"This is as simple as catching catfish!" Renny grinned.
Then the wire cable came hissing down upon them, giving them a belaboring, and the winch engine raced madly.
The balloon bounded away into the night sky!