"058 (B055) - The Golden Peril (1937-12) - Harold Davis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The general paid no attention to the bodies. Callously, he stepped on them, as he walked toward the still-trembling, frightened donkeys. His men, also, had leaped toward those donkeys. With anxious, feverish hands they were tearing loose the covering on the packs the donkeys carried.
"Gold!" one breathed softly.
"Much gold!" said a second.
"Retie those packs!" snapped the general. His lips were working with quick anger. "This is only a drop in the bucket compared with what we will have later."
UNWILLINGLY, the covers were restored. The khaki-clad men looked at the packs with greedy, cunning eyes.
"This must be taken to Blanco Grande. You shall be its escort. Do not try to escape with it!" the general went on harshly.
One of the men shivered slightly. Escape! That would be impossible! Well he remembered the scarred, evil shape of the mountainous country over which they had been flown to reach this point of ambush. And they had dropped from those planes by parachute. There was no way of returning except to walk. They could have walked to this destination, but that would have meant loss of time. Other troops of gold-hungry men would meet them when they left the mountains.
The men had to do as they were ordered.
"This will be a blow to Doc Savage," the general's aide said craftily. "Are you not afraid?"
The general sneered. "Why be afraid of him?"
"But I have heard of many marvelous exploits of his," said the aide. "He is dangerous to evil-doers. He has done almost uncanny things."
For a moment, a faint flicker of worry passed over the general's hard face. Then it was gone. "Do not worry," he jeered. "The Leader knows how to handle him. Besides, Doc Savage will know nothing of thisЧuntil it is too late."
"And when will that be?" There was a cunning, shrewd look in the aide's eyes.
"When we have launched our plans. When the entire world is rocked. When power such as men seldom dreamed ofЧ" The general broke off. One hand strayed to the heavy gun at one hip.
"It could not be that you desire too much information, that you are a spy, could it, mi amigo?" he queried softly.
The aide took a step back. "NoЧno!" he cried. "I am just naturally curious. That is all."
"Curious!" A peculiar expression flared in the general's glacier-cold eyes. The gun came to his hand, lifted. "We do not encourage curiosity in our ranks, mi amigo."
The other jumped back, turned to run.
Blam!
The general's gun spoke once. A section of the other's skull vanished. He was dead.
"I think you were not a spy, and that you were just curious," the general said. "However"Чhe whirled on the other khaki-clad menЧ"let that be a warning. You will take my orders. You will be paid in goldЧas long as you obey those orders. You will be paid in bullets if you become curious. In bullets by me, or paid by The Leader in another way."
The khaki-clad men were silent. They had heard how "The Leader" paid. Hard-bitten, vicious as they were, they showed fear.
"Now take the gold in. I have a plane waiting for me near here. I fly back to Blanco Grande. The man who escaped must be stopped at all costs. No word goes to Doc Savage."
ZUM didn't know about the plane. He did know that no one could catch him on foot. Through winding canyons and deep gorges he ran at a steady, tireless pace. His feet ate up the miles.
Zum's heart was sad. Many of his friends had died in that murderous ambush. Hope of seeing those murderers brought to justice was one of the things that spurred him on. For he knew Doc Savage would act.
The gold that had been stolen had been on its way to Doc Savage. The men who had been guarding it were Mayans. All the world knew of Doc Savage and his men, and of their unceasing fight on evil. Until now, few had known where the money came from that financed that fight.
It really was a legacy left Doc by his father. It came from the Valley of the Vanished, where the bronze man had found pure-blooded Mayans, long lost from the outside world.
When Doc had left the Valley of the Vanished, he had arranged with King Chaac, chief of the Mayans, to listen in on a radio on every seventh day. When his funds ran low, Doc would send a call for gold. Mayans would take it to Blanco Grande, the capital of Hidalgo, where the president, Carlos Avispa, would see that it was sent on to Doc.
Dusk was falling as Zum came in sight of Blanco Grande. The mountains long since had been left behind. Zum's pace had slowed. He was weary. His face bore long lines of strain.
But steadily he went on, entered the narrow streets of the capital of Hidalgo. Zum had been there before with gold trains for Doc. He knew where the radio towers were. He knew that in some way it was possible to send messages from there that would reach Doc Savage. He turned that way.
Had he not been so weary, Zum might have noticed the unusual activity in the ordinarily sleepy Central American city. Many soldiers were about. They were fully armed and in small detachments, moving with evident purpose.
Zum did not notice. He had only one thought, only one driving motive: He alone was alive to let Doc Savage know what had occurred. He intended to fulfill that trust.
A LONE operator was on duty in the shack beneath the radio towers. He had difficulty in understanding what Zum was saying. The Mayan was breathing hard, his words came in gasps. His Spanish was not good.
"Seёor Clark Savage!" Zum blurted at last.
The operator understood that. His eyes became wide. He had heard of Doc Savage.
"Gold stolen! Mayans killed!" Zum panted. "Send message!"
The operator stood as if paralyzed for a moment, his brain trying to digest what he had heard.
Blam!
A pistol shot came loudly. Zum fell to the floor, twitching. A short, heavy-set man with glacier-cold eyes and wearing a general's uniform stepped into the radio shack, gun in hand.
"Don't send that message!" he ordered crisply.
"ButЧbutЧ" The operator's mouth dropped. "ItЧit's to Doc Savage, general. IЧI've got to send it."
His voice ended almost in a scream at what he saw in the general's face. He made a dive for the radio key.
The gun came up. Once again it spoke. The operator died, the radio key untouched.
A faint grin cut the general's face. He patted the gun in his hand.
"Unless Doc Savage is a clairvoyant, I do not think he will ever receive that message," he said dryly. "And he couldn't hear those shots in New York."
Two men came in then at the general's barked command and gathered up the dead bodies and wiped up the blood. Some might wonder what had happened to the radio operator that he should disappear. But none would ever know just what had taken place. It would remain a mystery.
Chapter II. A PLEA FOR HELP
FEW sounds penetrated to Doc Savage's office on the eighty-sixth floor of one of Manhattan's skyscrapers. That office might have been in a world by itself, far aloft, with view unhindered by surrounding structures. But there was a curious, strained tension in that office.
"You've got to help, Mr. Savage. No one but you can do so. For you to refuse may mean unreckoned tragedy."
The speaker's voice was urgent, pleading. A tall man, he was dressed entirely in black except for a brilliant, white shirt. His eyes and hair were black, but his thin, mobile face, detracted from the somberness of his costume.