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

Stooping swiftly, Doc slid the small end of the wire under the door. He glanced at the top of the knob at the other end, moved the wire several times, then nodded with satisfaction. One huge thumb pressed a small button on one side of the knob. There was a faint, scarcely discernible hum.
Doc straightened. The cap he'd taken from the gangster had pushed back on his head, revealing bronze hair. He pulled the cap down, walked quickly back to where Gats lay slumped by the door.
No one else appeared near. Doc opened the door of the girl's room and stepped inside.
Virginia Jettmore's eyes opened wide; her fists clenched.
Silently, Doc started stripping the shirt and trousers from the unconscious gangster. A wondering look crossed the girl's face.
Doc walked to her, cut the ropes that bound her hands and feet. "Slip out of that dress and put on these clothes," he said briefly.
A startled expression flared in the girl's eyes. "But whoЧ"
"Doc Savage," the bronze giant explained, his voice more gentle. "We must get out of here, and we certainly could not do so in that dress you are wearing."
The girl smiled suddenlyЧa smile that drowned for a moment the fear that always seemed to be with her.
"I should have known," she stated. "But whatЧ"
"I'll explain later."
Doc turned his back. A few seconds later, the girl tossed her dress to him. Unemotionally, Doc redressed the gunman in the girl's old-fashioned clothes.
"Do you know how to use a gun?" Doc asked.
The girl nodded. Doc retrieved Gats's gun, reloaded the weapon and handed it to her.
"Wait here," he commanded. "I'll be back in a few moments. Do not use this unless it is necessary."
The bronze man moved quickly. Closing the door softly behind him, he raced down the hall, picked up the wire and the strange knob he had placed there a few minutes before. The voices of Greens Gordon and his mystery companion still rumbled from within the room.
A sound came from farther down the hallЧa sound such as might have been made by a heavy footstep. Doc moved forward, swiftly but noiselessly.
He didn't see the scarred face that peered out of a room behind him, peered for an instant, then ducked back. It was the face of one of the men who had made the attack at the hotelЧthe one in fact who had swung his blackjack and knocked Monk unconscious.
MONK was no longer unconscious. He almost wished he was, his head hurt so badly.
"I told you he wasn't dead," came Ham's smooth voice.
"I thought I was in heaven until I opened my eyes and saw you," Monk grunted feebly.
He got up with difficulty, rubbed the huge knot on the back of his head and blinked rapidly. He was ringed by bluecoats and detectives. Ham was wavering slightly, but was on his feet.
"Where's Doc?" Monk mumbled.
Ham gestured airily, but his face was grave. "Gone," he said briefly.
"For the tenth time, I want to know what happened here!" rapped one of the detectives. "I'm tired of evasions, even if you do happen to be Doc Savage's friends!"
Ham turned to him gravely, eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Why, my dear officer, I thought I had explained." One eyelid twitched slightly as he glanced at Monk. "Doc Savage, this ape here and myself, came to this hotel to see friends. We were set upon. There was a fight. When I regained my faculties, I learned from you that a girl had been kidnaped, and that Doc Savage was gone. That's all I know."
"You know much more than that, and you're going to tell it!" the detective snapped harshly. "Maybe Doc Savage took the girl himself, for all I know. He's a mysterious guy sometimes, even if the commissioner does say he's all right."
Ham looked slightly bored.
"Start talking," snarled the detective.
"You've heard all we've got to say," Ham addressed the detective.
The officer scowled, seemed about to get mad, then thought better of it. There was finality in Ham's voice. He knew there was no use in trying to get more information if Ham and Monk didn't want to talk.
"There's something damned funny about this," the detective muttered. "But if you won't talk, I guess you won't." He shook his head dourly. "The papers are going to make a lot out of this. First a mug gets wiped out on a busy street, turns into a blasted skeleton, and then a good copper gets burned down when a fake squad car comes along a few minutes later; an' now a dame gets kidnaped!"
"We've still got the guy we found in the other room," reminded one of the other detectives standing by. "Let me get him down in the basement at headquarters and I'll find out what it's all about."
"Sorry." Ham shrugged slightly. "He's one of our helpers. He goes with us."
For a moment, another explosion appeared certain. Monk tensed visibly. Then the detective gave up, threw his hands out in a gesture of resignation.
"I've been told to coЎperate with you guys," he half yelled. "But sometimes you make it blasted hard, not telling us what it's all about!"
Monk himself was rather inclined to agree. He said as much when he and Ham had half carried the still groggy giant out, placed him in Doc's car and started back for the bronze man's offices.
"We don't need this guy. And what do you mean by saying he's one of our helpers?"
Ham smiled slightly. "I didn't lie, as you so crudely suggest," he said, with mock politeness. "You see the clothes this fellow is wearing, don't you?"
Monk looked, growled under his breath.
"They're Doc's clothes, of course," Ham went on dryly. "That means Doc is wearing this man's clothes. So this fellow is one of our helpers. Besides, Doc would want him to go to the hospital."
Monk's homely face lighted slightly. Doc had long maintained a secret hospital in up-State New York. Here criminals were sent by Doc. Their brains were operated upon. When they recovered, and were returned to the outer world, they remembered nothing of their past, started life anew as good citizens.
Ham wheeled Doc's big car into a basement entrance of the office building, went to a telephone. A few minutes later, an ambulance came. When it left, the giant gangster went with it.
Ham glanced at his watch, and a worried expression crossed his face. "It's almost the hour," he said laconically.
"And Doc's not here," Monk grumbled inanely. "Shall we send the message?"
Ham shook his head. "Our instructions might be followed, but we don't know yet that this is serious enough to warrant our going ahead."
A scowl crossed Monk's homely face. "Doc has taken an interest in it, hasn't he?" he asked rhetorically. "And that girlЧ"
"I see. The girl." Ham nodded with pretended gravity. "So you think she might be influenced by gold, do you? Why, you hairy ape, if you were King Midas himself no girl as good-looking as that one would ever be able to see you!"
"Howlin's calamities!" piped Monk, in his childlike voice. "She oughta like me after lookin' at a fashion plate like you, you shyster!"