"064 (B063) - The Submarine Mystery (1938-06) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"You sure?" Dock asked.
"She said so. And she's wearing part of a chain-mail armor. Remember the newspapers said something about the armor?"
THE bronze man cut the siren, began to reduce speed. Traffic closed in around the machine, and they made no more commotion than other motorists.
"There," China said, "is where I live."
The building was tall, modern and brick, with many wide windows and an awning out in front, under which stood a doorman in uniform. A good class of apartment house.
The car drifted up and touched its running board to the curb. Doc Savage said, "You'd better stick here."
"ButЧ"
"The doors lock. The body is armor-plate, the windows bulletproof. The car's interior is gas-tight."
"Since there's no fort handy," China said, "the car suits me." She settled back. "Apartment 12."
Doc Savage got out and went to the doorman. "Anything strange happened around here?" he asked.
The doorman had a remarkably red face, pale-blue eyes and a long blond mustache. The utter blue of his eyes made them seem blank.
"Doc Savage?" he asked.
Doc did not quite show surprise. "Yes."
The doorman said, "I have a message for you."
He reached under the tails of his uniform coat and took out a pistol which was a flintlock weapon and must have been in excess of two hundred years old.
"Methinks thou best stand still," he said.
When Doc Savage reached for him, the man did not hesitate about pulling the trigger.
Chapter VII. MISSING DUCHESS
THE old horse pistol made enough smoke for a camp fire and enough noise for an earthquake, and it coughed out a ball as large as the head of a sparrow.
The slug hit Doc Savage in the chest, rooted through coat, vest, shirt, and slammed up against the metallic alloy-mesh bulletproof undergarment which he had been forced, because of perpetual danger, to wear for years.
Shock drove air out of the bronze man's lungs. He coughed, got it back in. Then he grasped the man, clamped him close with one arm and took hold of the back of the fellow's neck and put pressure on neck nerve centers. The man did some extra-size kicking. Then he went rope slack. He would probably be out for an hour or more.
China Janes was getting out of the car. Doc said, "Get back in there!"
"This means," the girl cried, "that they're already here!"
"Get back in the car," Doc said.
"Are you hurt?"
"No," Doc said.
The girl ducked back in the car. Doc Savage ran to the machine, and dumped the prisoner into the rear seat. The fellow slumped against the girl.
"Be back soon," Doc Savage said. "In case I'm not, take this fellow to the police."
China peered at the captive. "Don't I get a monkey wrench or something? Suppose he wakes up?"
Doc Savage left her to worry about that and went into the apartment house.
The genuine doorman and the elevator boy were lying in a small cubby used for storing mops and buckets. They were bound and gagged. The bronze man freed them, put half a dozen quick questions, and learned that about all they knew was that they had stood unsuspecting while strangers approached them, had been astounded when the strangers presented the business ends of large flintlock pistols, and had prudently thought it better not to resist.
Both had noticed that their captors spoke somewhat quaint English. More than that, they did not know. Miss China JanesЧyes, they knew her. The Duchess Portia Montanye-NorwichЧwas she the strange-looking girl who was visiting China? No, they didn't know anything about her. No, the raiders hadn't asked about her.
They must have known all about her, however. She was gone when Doc Savage went upstairs. She might have been gone about fifteen minutes. At least, some one had jerked the cord of an electric clock out of the light socket that long ago.
There was not much doubt but that the cord had been jerked during the course of a fight. There were upset chairs, a shattered vase, and furniture pushed askew.
Doc Savage went down to his car.
"Your duchess," he said, "seems to be a certain percentage of wildcat."
China dampened her lips. "They got Portia?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Not very long ago," Doc Savage said. "Can you drive?"
"If you don't mind taking chances."
"Head back for my headquarters." Doc Savage turned on the siren, added, "About all you have to do is keep in the middle of the street."
China drove. She had told the truth about her driving being all right if you didn't mind taking chances.
DOC SAVAGE turned on the radio transmitter-receiver, then turned knobs and took it off the wave length employed by himself and his men. He shifted to the frequency used by the navy. He contacted a navy shore station, and was, in turn, put through to an admiral.
"It has occurred to me," the bronze man explained, "that there might be interesting angles to the sinking of that submarine Swordfish near Boston."
"Who is this?"
Doc Savage made his identity known. The admiral seemed pleased.
"We thought of you," the admiral said.
"Thought of me?"
"Sure. This submarine business needs the kind of touch you've got."