"059 (B061) - The Living Fire Menace (1938-01) - Harold Davis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"Right!" snapped Ham.
"Hmm."
The corners of "Renny's" mouth drew down disapprovingly. "I wonder. Don't seem likely. But I wonder if that girl I saw going down the stairway could have had anything to do with this. She sure was a beauty, but beauty doesn't alwaysЧ"
A howl came from Monk. His piglike eyes were staring with complete disillusionment at the sofa where the girl had been.
That sofa was empty now. The girl was gone.
DOC turned, looked at Monk. The hairy chemist's eyes dropped.
"Yeah, IЧI know," he apologized weakly. "I was supposed to watch her. But I got excitedЧ"
"The girl may not hold the key to this mystery, but I am sure she has information that we need," the bronze man said slowly.
"And this ape let her get away," Ham jeered.
Doc walked over to a small, square box on the desk. He opened the back, took out half a dozen slips of paper, handed one each to Monk, Ham and Renny.
"ButЧbut these are pictures of the girl," Renny said.
"Right." Doc's voice was matter of fact. "I tried out this new camera while she was here. Complete prints are made in the matter of seconds and dropped through a slot into the rear of the camera to dry."
Renny's mouth dropped open, but he said nothing. He had seen too many of Doc's inventions to be greatly surprised.
"That girl was from the West. Her accent showed that," the bronze man went on. "She must be stopping at some hotel. Check each one, find out where she is, and find out what she knows."
As the door closed behind the three, Doc went to a bookcase near the far wall. That bookcase had been pulled out, disclosing a niche that held a machine.
The machine was a telephonic monitor, and recorded all telephone conversations. No disks were on the monitor now, however. The girl had found them. They were shattered on the floor.
The bronze man worked swiftly. Soon the disks had been put together again.
Doc played them over. He heard Z-2's conversation with Johnny. He heard Johnny's conversation with the filling-station attendant.
For a moment the bronze man's flake gold eyes were half closed. He went to the telephone, placed a call. A few minutes later and he was talking to the youth at the Sandrit filling station. He asked only one question. His queer, trilling sound filled the room at the answer he received.
Soon afterward Doc left the building.
DOC SAVAGE had friends in many places. Thus it was that he had no difficulty in gaining access to the morgue of the city's largest newspaper.
A newspaper morgue contains clippings from scores of papers on everything that is printed.
The editor looked at the bronze man queerly when he heard the type of clippings Doc wanted to see, but he asked no questions. Soon several folders were laid on the editor's desk.
Doc Savage ran through them swiftly. He was interested only in those dated during the last six months.
The small mountain of clippings gradually faded. At last only five remained of the many he had read.
These five the bronze man reread carefully. The stories they told came from widely separated points. One said:
San Quentin, Cal.ЧTen prisoners escaped mysteriously from San Quentin penitentiary to-day. The men, all trustees, were tending flowers in the outer yard. In some manner they overcame and killed Herbert Yokes, thirty-two, the guard. His body, badly burned, was found shortly after the men must have escaped.
A strange feature of the case is the fact that the iron gate at the entrance to the yard seemed to have been melted as if an acetylene torch had been used, although prison officials say this was impossible.
Among those who escaped was Frederick Scone, a former university professor in chemistry, serving a life term for the murder of his wife. The others wereЧ
Another clipping read:
Albuquerque, N.M.ЧA man, later identified as "Slug" Bremer, an escaped convict, was killed instantly here to-day when struck by a train. Bremer evidently had fallen from a freight train, on the main tracks only a mile from town, and was run over by the California Limited. His body was badly mangled. Strange burns that seemed to cover the entire body could not be explained by Coroner Smith.
Of the three other items, two told of more escapes, one from a prison, in which more than twenty trusties had gotten away at the same time. The second told of a break at a Missouri asylum. The third reported the mysterious death of another of those who had gained freedom.
The editor was studying Doc's face curiously. "If there is anything more I can do," he began hopefully, "or if I can get you any more informationЧ"
"This is satisfactory, thank you," Doc said.
The editor watched him leave with a long face.
In a telephone booth in the lobby, Doc called his office. The telephonic monitor had been put back in working order. At Doc's voice, another mechanical robot put the record into operation. It repeated the last call received.
"Renny calling in to report," came the recorded voice. "I have located the girl. She is staying at the Midtown Hotel, has just come in and gone to Room 1412. I'll keep watch."
Doc hung up, started for his car in front of the building.
THERE was a small, private alleyway only a hundred yards from the front of the newspaper building. In this alleyway, two men were crouching.
One rubbed his hands nervously on a handkerchief, flicked that handkerchief back into one sleeve.
He spoke out of one corner of his mouth. "You're sure everything is fixed? There must be no slip-ups. I was told to get this bronze devil alive, but that's too dangerous. I want him dead."
His companion squirmed uneasily. He wore greasy overalls, and his face was smeared with dirt. He held an odd-shaped object in his hands.
"It'd take more than a miracle to save that mug," he growled sourly, "even if he isЧ"
He broke off as Stinger's hand came down on his arm.
Doc Savage had emerged from the building. The bronze man glanced up and down the street rapidly.
The car at the curb was a big, inclosed job, similar to the one Long Tom and Johnny had used. The door was locked. Doc took out a key, reached toward the lock.
At the alleyway, Stinger drew a long sigh of relief. "I still wish we had the real thing to work on this guy," he muttered, "but the plaything you've got rigged up should work."
Doc inserted the key in the car door, started to open it.
Beside Stinger, his overalls-clad companion worked on the odd-shaped object he held in his hands. There was a faint, humming noise.
Doc's big figure seemed to jerk erect. Fire danced about the car. Flames crackled and jumped. Women screamed. The editor stood frozen, face vacant.