"077 (B041) - Merchants of Disaster (1939-07) - Harold Davis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The tall man nodded. "I'll take care of it." Still smiling, he left the room.



Les Quinan was unaware that his interest had attracted attention. He probably would have ignored it if he had known.



His secretary had repeated the sequence of letters he had seen several times. His mind was accustomed to grasping details.



Pencil in hand, making huge letters and frying hard to see more clearly, he was working with deep concentration. Slowly, word by word, he was piecing the message together.



His jaw dropped. Perspiration appeared on his forehead. Something was wrong, radically wrong. Yet no one would believe him if he tried to tell what he knew.



The message he had decoded was too horrible.



For a moment he wondered who that message could have been intended for. No one could see that light, flashed up into the air. Yet had it been directed at anyone close at hand, a personal call or a telephone would have served the purpose just as well, probably better.



Then he dismissed that problem from his mind. He had to call help, had to get someone to aid him. He could call police, or Federal men, but then, if this proved to be a hoax or false alarm, he would be the subject of ridicule.



But he knew instinctively this wasn't a false alarm. And if it meant what it said the police and Federal men probably would be helpless anyway.



Les Quinan was unaware of the passage of time, did not realize that his secretary had gone to lunch, that he was alone in the office.



Inspiration had struck him. He would call Doc Savage- Clark Savage, Jr. A smile lighted his features. He should have Thought of that before. Doc Savage was the one man for this job. For Doc Savage had fought mysterious forces before. He had been victorious, and conquered even when the odds were peat.



The lawyer swung around, reaching blindly for a telephone.