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

"The girl all right?" he snapped.
"Yeah," Gats replied dourly.
"See that she stays that way," Gordon ordered briefly.
With his masked companion, Gordon vanished down a hall, entered a room, closed and locked the door behind them.
"See, I saved you from gettin' in trouble," the giant remarked.
Gats's face lost its impassivity. Once more, the killer look was in his eyes.
"Big guy, you've earned yourself a one-way ride," he grated softly.
"And if I spoke up maybe you would have become a skeleton," the giant said, calmly.
THE effect of those words on Gats was instantaneous and hideous. He lost his arrogance, quailed with sudden fear.
"TheЧskeletonЧdeath!" he gasped, features ashen.
Gats gulped, paused. Slowly, his face regained its color, but he ran his tongue over dry lips, looked nervously in each direction. He seemed to have forgotten his threat to kill the giant.
"Be a good guy an' get me a drink of water, will you?" he asked. "I'll stand guard, an' somebody's got to be here all the time."
The giant didn't ask why Gats couldn't go for water while he remained on guard; he merely nodded, walked toward a door.
Behind his back, the little man's face had changed; his lips became a single tight line. Murder was written in every wrinkle of his crime-ridden features.
The giant disappeared from view, went down a small passageway. And once out of sight, his actions changed.
Gone was his seeming indolence. He moved quickly, raced down the hall. Doors were on all sides of him. The passageway ended in a blank wall. He retraced his steps, tried various doors. Some opened; some didn't.
The water cooler was located easily, but the giant took his time about drawing the drink Gats had requested. He seemed curious. Once, he heard the faint mumble of voices, leaned his head against a wall; but the sound was too indistinct to make out.
An impatient hail came from the outer lobby. The giant filled a paper cup hurriedly, walked out.
Gats gulped the water down hastily. His eyes were glowing feverishly.
"Ain't heard a sound outta the girl," he said, brushing his lips. "One of us oughta take a look, an' since you're afraid to have me go in, you do it."
He took the key from one pocket, unlocked the door. The giant walked inside.
Across the room, tied to a chair, was Virginia Jettmore. Her face was scornful, although her full lips trembled just a little.
Behind the giant, Gats whipped out his gun, lifted it until the muzzle bore directly against the big man's back.
"The boss said not to let anythin' happen to this girl, Bunko!" the little man rasped viciously. "It seems to me you're about to bother her, so I'm going to kill you!"
GATS never did know just what happened. He was tightening his finger to fire. Then, so suddenly it seemed no human could move that fast, the giant had turned. One hand snapped out and a finger caught in the trigger guard of the revolver, preventing Gats from shooting.
A second fist came up. It opened palm wide and strong fingers pressed the nerve centers at the base of Gats's brain.
Gats sank to the floor, a bewildered expression on his face. His eyes had the appearance of a person shell-shocked, or under the influence of some strong narcotic.
The giant took the gun from Gats's hand and extracted the shells. The gun he replaced in one of Gats's pockets; then he pulled the little man from the room and closed the door behind him.
"What type of house is this?" the giant rapped.
"A crazy house." Gats's voice was without expression or inflection. It was as if he was speaking while filled with truth serum.
"What do you mean, a 'crazy house'?"
"It has two hundred rooms, a thousand doors, a dozen death traps."
"How do you get out of it from here?"
"The elevator. Or the stairs."
"Where are the stairs?"
"They're hard to find. You go down the passageway to the right, enter the third door, turn to your left, go into what seems to be a closet, lift up a trapdoor an' go down a ladder for five steps, then turn and step. You'll be in another passageway; follow that andЧ"
On and on, the instructions ran. They presented a queer picture of a queer house, truly a crazy house. One such as might exist only in a madman's brainЧor in Coney Island.
"Who built this place?" the giant asked, at last.
The little man shook his head. "Some nut who died. Greens Gordon bought it. The nut used it as a playhouse, played tricks on his friends. Greens has found a better use for it."
The giant nodded, as if satisfied. Once more his hand came up, cracked the little man at the base of the brain. Gats's eyes closed; he slumped forward, unconscious.
The first blow had merely temporarily paralyzed him. He could talk, but his answers were dictated from his subconscious mind. He had no realization that he was speaking. The second blow had left him senseless.
The giant propped the little man's body against the wall, sat him up, so it appeared he was only resting, head down, as if sleeping.
Then he rose, with catlike tread, retraced his steps to the door from behind which he'd heard voices.
His eyes were glowing strangely, gold-flecked eyes that missed nothingЧthe eyes of Doc Savage.
Chapter V. A WARNING ALARM
THE gangster giant had fallen an easy prey to Doc Savage when the two had crashed into the hotel bedroom. Finding a gun on the man, Doc had fired it, correctly deducing what the gangleader would believe.
It had been a simple matter then for the bronze man to trade clothes with his victim. A master of make-up, he'd even transformed his face, so that it looked like that of the man he'd overcome. The deception had not been noticed in the speed of the get-away and the semi-gloom of the big van.
One of Doc's ears now went against the door. Voices could be heard, but not plainly. The door was thick, exceptionally thick. Even Doc's hearing, acute as it was, failed to pierce the way.
There was a thin strip of space between the bottom of the door and the wall.
The bronze giant reached inside his shirt, into the emergency kit he always carried strapped to his body. He brought out a long wire. At one end was a small, pin-sized opening, covered with a convex glass. At the other was a small knob, scarcely as large as an ink bottle and built along the same lines.