"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 005 - Pirate of the Pacific" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Monk was proud of his secretary, maintaining she was the prettiest in New York.

"Nothing doing," said Doc. "There's no need of any army of us interviewing Juan Mindoro."

The slate-hued pigeon on the window ledge had not moved.

"You know where to find Juan Mindoro?" questioned Monk.

"His wireless message said he had gone into hiding at the home of the man who was with him when I saw
him last," Doc replied. "I last met Juan Mindoro in Mantilla, the capital city of the Luzon Union. The man
with him at the time was Scott S. Osborn, who is a sugar importer doing a large business in the Luzon
Union trade. Osborn has a home near the north edge of the city. I'll go there."

Johnny had been squinting owlishly through his glasses which had the thick left lens - studying the pigeon.
He took off his spectacles. As a matter of fact, he saw very well without them.

"That's - what I call a sleepy pigeon!" he grunted. "It hasn't moved."

Doc glanced at the pigeon - his gaze became fixed.

Suddenly, a weird sound permeated the interior of the office; a trilling, mellow, subdued sound. It might
have been the dulcet note of some exotic jungle bird, or the sylvan song of wind filtering through a leafless
forest.

The strange trilling had the weird quality of seeming to come from everywhere within the office.

Electric tension seized Doc's five men They knew what that sound meant. Danger!

For the sound was part of Doc - a small, unconscious thing that he did in moments of mental stress, or
when he had made some astounding discovery, or when death threatened.
The pigeon abruptly flipped backward off the window sill.

Doc reached the window with flashing speed. The bird was some yards away, flying sluggishly. Doc
watched until it was lost in the moonlight.

"That pigeon was where every word we spoke could reach it!" he said dryly.

"What if it was?" Monk snorted. "Pigeons can't tell what they hear."

"That one could."

"Huh?"

"It had a small microphone attached to its tail feathers."

MONK gaped after the departing pigeon. "For the love of Mike! But the thing flew away as though no
wires were attached!"

"The wires were very small, about like silk threads," Doc declared. "They had to be small, or we would