"143 (B094) - Violent Night (The Hate Genius) (1945-01) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

He soon discovered that they were sending for a welcoming committee to be composed of persons of local consequence. He hurried to put a stop to that.



He told them he was leaving immediately, that he couldn't linger in Lisbon to be entertained, that he was most profoundly sorry, and knew they probably didn't believe him. But they were polite about it, and he bowed out of their company, entering the airways terminal manager's office. He got from the office to the street via a window.



He walked rapidly for two blocks, then hailed a taxicab, one of the type which manufactured its own propelling gas in a furnace affair which rode on the rear bumper and which was as likely as not to cough handfuls of sparks at the passengers.



"Drive to the Cidac Baixa," he told the driver, then settled back to watch out for sparks, and to wonder if there was a red-headed young man following him.



There was.



Not wishing to jump at conclusions -- in his state of nerves, he could be imagining things -- he had the puffing, smelling, spark-belching cab take him around several streets in Cidae Baixa, the lower town. He became certain the red-headed man was on his trail, and that the fellow was fairly adept at snooping.



He said, in Portuguese, "Driver, do you know the Hotel Giocare?"



The driver said he did.



He gave the driver an envelope and said, "I want you to take this to the Hotel Giocare. Drive with it to the Hotel Giocare, and wait outside with it. Do not give it to the hotel clerk. Just wait outside. Across the street from the Giocare is the Ciriegia Park, where you can wait. I will pay you."



The driver turned the envelope in his hands and frowned at it. The envelope was sealed. As a matter of fact, it contained Doc Savage's driving license, pilot certificate, a few courtesy cards, a commission in the New York police department, and some other matter. He had emptied his billfold of the litter and put it in the envelope for no other reason than that the billfold was getting stuffed. He had done this on the plane, so the envelope still had been in his pocket.



"What will you pay me?" the driver asked.



Doc Savage named an amount equal to the fare.