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

"Yes. Merely some motion pictures projected against the mirrors, with a few added sound effects. Sometimes the sight of those pictures suffice to frighten away intruders. These fellows were of sterner stuff."
Baron Vardon swallowed hard, and an admiring grin appeared on his face.
"It was wonderful," he said. Then his expression changed, became serious. "But you see, this attack alone proves that we are up against something desperate. It would have to be if hired gunmen were sent all the way from Switzerland to kill you and, just because I am asking your aid. You must help us!"
"I think it might be interesting at that, Doc."
Baron Vardon glanced up swiftly. Long Tom had returned to the room. His thin, unhealthy-appearing face was blank of all expression, but one big ear wiggled slightly as he looked at the bronze man.
Doc Savage's flake gold eyes looked long and hard at Baron Vardon. "We never refuse help where we may assist in any way to correct injustice, or to prevent evil," he said quietly. "We will undertake the task, Baron Vardon."
Emotion twisted the baron's mobile face. His features came alive. He leaped to his feet, raced forward and grabbed Doc's hand, shook it hard.
"I am delighted. I had hoped, of course, for your help. But to hear you give me your promise makes my trip really worth while. You will leave at once for Switzerland?"
"We will start our search for The Leader as soon as possible," the bronze man said.
"Good! Get in touch with me at my hotel if I may assist you in any way." The baron turned to leave, hesitated at the door, his face becoming solemn. "But be careful. I have heard much of this hand of death. I will not rest easily until I know you have succeeded."
The door closed behind Baron Vardon.
"He's O. K., Doc," Long Tom said. "I checked with Geneva. He's an accredited representative, and was sent here to contact you. Funny, I had him figured out as a phony."
The electrical wizard pulled one lobe of his oversized ear thoughtfully. "When you tapped that code in Mayan for me to check on him, I thought you believed him a fake, also," he added.
"I do not care to embarrass guests," the bronze man said. "Baron Vardon might have understood the code had it been in English."
Long Tom looked up sharply. "And by the way, Doc. Isn't it time to be hearing from Blanco Grande? Shouldn't another gold shipment be on its way?"
"I expect such a message at any time. Probably weЧ"
The bronze man broke off suddenly. A scream of dreadful agony, of pain and knowledge of death, penetrated the office walls. It was a thin cry, high-pitched. It came from the hallway.
LONG TOM moved fast. He appeared slow beside the bronze man. Almost before the electrical engineer had unlimbered his long legs, Doc Savage was out from behind his desk, had reached the door. He moved with the smooth, unbelievable speed of a man in the perfection of physical condition.
The office door came open. Doc Savage leaped into the hallway, knelt beside a body that lay there. A low, trilling sound seemed to fill the air. It appeared to come from no one spot, yet from everywhere. It was a strange, eerie thing.
Long Tom hurtled over the bronze man. He understood what that trilling sound was. It came unconsciously from the lips of Doc Savage when he was either surprised or sounding a warning.
The thin electrical wizard did not halt. Whatever had happened to that limp figure on the floor, he knew Doc could take care of it much better than he could.
He glanced once at the elevator indicator, saw no change was within six floors of them, then his thin legs darted like pistons as he raced toward the end of the hallway and started down the stairs.
It was five minutes before Long Tom returned. His unhealthy-appearing face wore a look of chagrin. He was breathing heavily.
"No one in sight," he said, his tone filled with disappointment.
Doc was still kneeling beside the fallen figure. The bronze man had a physician's kit beside him.
"Adrenaline did not work. No restorative I had succeeded," the bronze man said.
Long Tom looked down. The fallen figure was that of a boy. He wore a messenger's outfit. His visored cap lay upside down on the floor. Inside it was a yellow envelope.
Then Long Tom's eyes opened and he whistled slightly. On the boy's neck, growing more clear with each passing instant, was the shape of a hand. It was a hand of bloodЧblood that came from the boy!
"The hand of death," Long Tom grated.
Doc Savage rose to his feet slowly. His flake gold eyes were sad. It was seldom that his astounding knowledge of medicine failed to save a life.
Carefully, he opened the envelope that had been in the messenger boy's cap. Again came that low, trilling sound.
"What is it?" Long Tom asked swiftly.
Silently, the bronze man handed him the message. It read:
GOLD HAS ARRIVED OKAY STOP WILL SHIP TO YOU TO-MORROW
CARLOS AVISPA
Chapter III. DEATH STRIKES
DOC SAVAGE stood motionless, his eyes riveted on the message in his hand. Abruptly he turned, strode into the office.
Long Tom, his mushroom complexion a blank, followed him. Doc's silence had indicated there was something peculiar about that message. What it was the bronze man had seen, Long Tom didn't know. And he knew that he wouldn't find out until Doc had proved himself right or wrong.
The bronze giant went quickly to the laboratory. First, he treated the message and the envelope with his own development of Flemming's solution. He put it on an automatic drier and then dipped it in a square container of dye.
Long Tom knew Doc was using the most modern method of developing fingerprints. Prints undetectable under ordinary methods stood out like bold landmarks with this new treatment.
Doc placed the paper under an ultra-violet lamp. The body of the papers fluoresced with a brilliant, blue-green luminosity. Only two fingerprints were on it. They stood out stark and black.
"Those are mine," the bronze man clipped. "There is no other print on either the envelope or the message. And the boy did not have any gloves."
"ThenЧ" Long Tom began.
"The message was switched." Doc said flatly. "Whatever did happen to that gold shipment, someone is trying to keep us from finding out."
Long Tom opened his mouth to speak. He stopped. A low whine and a swish of air told him that the private, high-speed elevator was soaring up from the basement garage.
No one but Doc and his aids were supposed to know the existence of that private lift. It could shoot upward, as if flung by a catapult, and dropped like a plummet. It took both experience and fortitude to ride in it at all.
No one else was supposed to know of itЧbut attacks on the bronze man and his aids came always from places least expected. Neither Doc nor Long Tom said a word.
They heard the automatic doors open. Then there was a crash of glass; a heavy body fell on the floor. Low, angry mutterings reached their ears; then there was silence. The only sound that came was a stealthy shuffling of footsteps.
LONG TOM reached quickly into a desk drawer and took out a weapon that looked like an oversized pistol. It was equipped with a large ammo drum. It was one of Doc's superfiring machine-pistols, twice as fast and deadlier than a machine gun.
Doc Savage did not move a muscle. His bronze face was expressionless.