"052 (B075) - The Land of Fear (1937-06) - Harold Davis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Greens Gordon's squat figure seemed to swell, then deflate, as if a balloon had been punctured. His beady, close-set eyes clouded, only to flare with sudden decision.
"I could make a million dollars, if I knew how to do what you did," he said huskily.
"And we'll make more than a million dollars when Doc Savage is out of the way," his companion purred.
"But Doc SavageЧ"
The big man smiled thinly. "You know your part of the bargain. I know mine. And you do have an executive mind."
Greens Gordon's squat body lost its seeming flabbiness. His head came up; beady eyes sparkled with greed.
"There's nothing I wouldn't do for a million dollars!" he rasped viciously, regaining his carefully developed poise. "Doc Savage or no Doc Savage!"
"And you've prepared for the next step?" his companion asked acidly.
"There isn't a man in the woild who can dodge what is going to happen," Greens Gordon said solemnly. He was almost his suave self once again.
He raised the window before him, leaned out. His hand first was on the window sill. Then that hand reached up, came down.
A man directly across the street from him sighed gently and turned to the score of others lounging about the room.
"The boss says go," he said quietly. Quickly, the group slipped from the room, headed silently for the stairway that led down to the floor where Doc and his aids worked over the girl.
"SHE'S coming out of it," said Ham.
Monk looked down at the white face of the girl, growled fiercely, "About time! If she'd had any smelling salts around here, we'dЧ"
"Step back to the door," Doc Savage said suddenly.
Monk and Ham forgot their bickering. They obeyed without hesitation. If the girl would only talk, at least part of the mystery would be explained; and they knew that no one could do more toward getting information from her than the bronze man.
The girl's eyes opened, stared blankly. Doc Savage sat by her side.
"You wanted to see me, Miss Jettmore," the man of bronze asked.
Virginia Jettmore stirred restlessly on the lounge. It was as if she was collecting her courage against some hidden, almost overpowering fear. Gradually, her eyes lost their wildness, regained the look of sanity.
"Doc Savage?" she asked calmly.
The bronze man nodded. "You called my office and asked if a Harlan Spotfield had been there," he reminded.
Ham put his head out the door of the room, glanced quickly up and down the corridor. Nothing was to be seen. Silently he closed the door, drew nearer the lounge.
Monk showed his curiosity without shame. Frankly, he moved up until he was standing right behind Doc, his homely face alight with interest.
The girl looked long and searchingly at the bronze man.
"Have you ever known fear?" she asked.
Doc Savage's gold-flecked eyes looked at her without change of expression. Monk's mouth dropped open. Ham smiled slightly.
I've heard the word," Doc Savage said simply.
Virginia Jettmore nodded. "My father was not mistaken," she stated. "He'd heard of you, said you were just such a man. And we need you. We need your help. I'll tell you the entire story."
She paused, breathed deeply, seemed almost to relax. Monk and Ham were unable to take their eyes from her. She glanced beyond them, stiffened suddenly.
The knob of the hotel-room door was turning, slowly and noiselessly.
Doc's gold-flecked eyes narrowed. He did not turn his head; his gaze remained squarely on the girl's face. But his huge frame tensed.
The hotel-room door opened.
"Watch out!" the girl screamed.
MONK'S homely face had been alight with interest, his hairy figure leaning forward. It would have taken an anthropologist to have analyzed the change that occurred when the girl cried out. Monk spun, long arms sweeping up from below his knees, teeth showing in a fighting snarl.
Dapper Ham's reactions were equally as swift, but entirely different. The lean lawyer's form pivoted, like that of a dancer, and as rapidly. His face didn't change expression, but the end of his cane dropped off; naked steel now gleamed in one hand.
The bronze man's movements were blindingly fast. And he did many things at once. One huge, muscle-corded fist shot out, pushed the girl back against the lounge so she would be out of range; the second swung up as he spun, came to his feet.
Each of the three had recognized the warning as the girl's face had altered; each had known danger was near before she had cried out.
Men were crowding into the roomЧhard-faced, cold-eyed men. The hallway seemed packed with them. A veritable avalanche of human forms surged forward.
No guns were in their hands. Guns make noise. And some things can't be hushed up even in the best of hotels. But each man was swinging a small, rubber blackjack, rubber loaded with lead at the end. It was probably one of the most dangerous weapons that ever came in contact with a human skull. Innocent-appearing on the surface, those blackjacks could dent a sheet of solid steel.
Monk and Ham had been fast. Few could ever equal them on speed. But fast as they'd been, they were slow compared to the bronzed giant, whose fists already were cracking jaws of their foes. And each time a fist swung, a man went down.
But hope died in the girl's eyes. At least a dozen men were inside the room; more were pushing into it. As one man went down, two more would step forward to fill his place.
When Monk went into action, he moved as the big apes did: slowly, but with great precision and deadly menace. His long arms swept up, wrapped around the first of his foes.
The man attempted to swing his blackjack, but he'd been too slow. His hands were pinned to his sides, and his ribs cracked under Monk's bone-crushing pressure.
Ham danced back and forth, like a fencer, his slender sword darting in and out. Some men it seemed barely to touch, but they fell, victims of that sleep-inducing drug.
Two more men went down under Doc's powerful fists. Then the leader of the attackers barked a sharp order. The gangsters spread out, drifted away from the door, leaving room so that more could enter.
It seemed impossible that only three men could escape the overwhelming number of blackjack-swinging killers.
But Doc and his men were accustomed to fighting against heavy odds, A fighting grin was on Ham's slender face; Monk's homely features were alight with the lust of battle.
Only Doc Savage seemed emotionless of all those in the struggling mass. And there was nothing emotionless about the way he was fighting. His huge, corded hands snapped out, caught a pair of his foemen by the necks, snapped their heads together. They dropped, unconscious.
Hands reached out, grabbed the bronze man by the knees as one of the men who'd been knocked down early in the struggle came to and started to rejoin the fight. Another jumped at Doc from one side.
And behind him a huge manЧalmost as big as Doc Savage himselfЧswung a blackjack for a killing blow.