"071 (B066) - Mad Mesa (1939-01) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"You didn't," Doc Savage suggested, "get the number of the plane?"
"Nope."
"Can you describe the plane?"
The man scratched his head . "Well, I don't know much about these flying machines. This was one of them kind that only had one wing, whatever you call 'em."
A man who did not know what a monoplane was called was not going to be of much assistance in identifying a plane.
Doc said, "You might show me where the ship landed."
"Sure."
The bronze man's idea was to measure the span of the plane wheel tracks. Different planes had assorted wheel spans, and it was possible he could determine the manufacture of the plane. But in the field, he ran across luck.
"Here was where I cleaned the stuff outa the plane wheels," the garage man said.
Doc looked at him. "You what?"
"Some weeds had got stuck in the wheels and in that skid thing the hind end of the plane drags on," the man explained. "The feller gave me fifty cents to clean 'em off."
"Where did you throw the weeds?" Doc asked.
The garage man squinted at Doc Savage as if he thought the bronze man's interest in weeds might be a sign of mental deficiency.
"Over here," he said.
Doc Savage found the "weeds." He studied them thoughtfully.
The garage man lifted his head and looked about, seeking the source of a sound which had come into being. It was a strange sound. A trilling, low and exotic, mellow and not unpleasant, a note that was as fantastic as the noises of the winds among the ice pinnacles of an arctic waste.
"What's that?" the man demanded.
The sound ceased then, but Doc Savage did not answer, did not explain that the trilling was a small, unconscious habit, a thing which he did in moments of mental or physical stressЧand did most frequently when he had discovered something of importance.
Doc made a package of the "weeds" from the plane wheels, wrapping them in paper and placing them in a pocket.
He went back to the roadside dining room.
"What'd you learn, Doc?" Monk asked.
Before Doc Savage could answer, three strangers stood up in the dining room and took guns out of their clothing.
"If one of you guys move," one of the men said, "there'll be quite a party!"
HIS five aids had frequently remarked on Doc Savage's apparent lack of emotion, and it was true that he had trained himself to a point where he could control his feelings. But his training had not overcome his natural instincts, and it is the instinct of a surprised man to give a start.
Doc started. But after that he stood very still, only the animation in his flake-gold eyes showing he was not exactly composed.
"Have they been entertaining you long?" Doc asked.
"Holy cow!" Renny rumbled. "They just came in, sat down and ordered hamburgers. Fifteen minutes ago, maybe. They hadn't said nothin'."
Long, thin Johnny said, "They interlocuted the viand purveyoress infinitesimally."
Ham snapped, "Why not just say they asked the waitress somethin'."
"Probably asked her if we were the guys," Long Tom said. He scowled at the waitress. "So you tipped 'em off we were here?"
The waitress grew nervous and started to back out of the room.
One of the men with guns beckoned her back. "You stick here, sister."
To Long Tom and the others, he said, "And you birds lay off barkin' at her!"
The raiders were organized. One whistled. Promptly, an engine started outside, and a large moving van drew around in front of the dining-room door.
"Get in!"
Monk bowed his thick arms and pulled his big mouth into a fierce shape. Monk wanted to fight. He liked to fight. He always howled and bellowed when he fought, and now he drew air into his lungs and got ready to bellow.
"Too risky!" Doc warned.
Monk subsided. With the others, he went out to the van. The van driver searched each of them hurriedly, and from everyone but Doc Savage, he took one of the machine pistols, very like overgrown automatics, which the bronze man's aids carried. On Doc, the man found no weapon.
The waitress had been trying to sidle away again. "You too, babe!" a man rapped. "You go along!"
She began to look horrified. She screamed, "But I tipped off your boss that they were here!"
"It was the boss said take you along," a man told her.
"ButЧ"
"Go on and get in that van, hasher!" the man snarled. "You know too much."
They had to toss the screeching waitress into the van, where she at once clamped herself on Monk's arm and demanded that he, "For God's sake, save me!"
Monk steered her toward Ham. "Have him save you. He was makin' passes at you all afternoon."
Ham yelled indignantly, "You made as many passes as I did!"
Big-fisted Renny let out a rumble of disgust. "You two clowns sure got a choice for girl-friends!"
The truck began to roll. The three men with guns rode inside, lined up in the rear, holding their weapons ready and making the prisoners sit on the floor.
There was considerable silence. Monk and Ham were regretting their attentions to the waitress, and she made it no easier by clawing at both of them frenziedly and squalling, "Save me!" incessantly.
Finally, Doc Savage asked, "What is this all about?"