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

"Idiot!" Liang-Sun howled at the gunner. "Stop shooting! Do you want to kill us all?"

It was Liang-Sun who put a finish to the fray. He caught a momentary glimpse of Doc. The bronze man
stood in the center of a large rug. Dropping swiftly, Liang-Sun seized the rug and yanked. Doc was
brought down.

Liang-Sun flung the rug over Doc in a big fold.
"Are you snails that you cannot help me!" he squawled at his men.

A brisk twenty seconds followed - and they got Doc rolled up like a mummy in the rug. They brought tire
chains from the garage and tied them securely about the rug.

Liang-Sun was proud of himself. He beat his chest with a fist.

"Single-handed, I did more than the rest of you dogs!" he boasted.

He plucked open one end of the rug roll and threw his flash beam inside.

He could see Doc's face. The bronze features bore absolutely no expression. But the cold fierceness in
the strange golden eyes made Liang-Sun drop the rug folds and stand up hastily.

"Half of you go outside, my sons," he commanded. "Should any one be drawn here by sounds of the
fighting, kill them. This house stands alone, and probably the sounds were not heard. But if any one
comes, show them that curiosity is indeed a fatal disease."

A part of the Orientals hurried out into the moon-bathed court.

"Watch the prisoner closely!" Liang-Sun directed the others. "If he should escape, I can promise there
will be heads lopped off. I am going to call the master to see what he wants to do with the bronze devil."

LIANG-SUN strode through rooms, playing his flash beam about, until he located a telephone. He
swept the instrument up with a flourish.

When the phone operator's voice came, Liang-Sun spoke in English. He handled the language well
enough, except that, Chinese fashion, he turned all the "R's" into "L's."

"Give me numbel Ocean 0117," he requested.

It was almost a minute before he got his party. He recognized the singsong voice at the other end of the
wire. Without delay. he launched rapid words in his native tongue.

"We have secured the merchandise after which we came, oh lord," he said. "We now have it rolled in a
rug and bound securely. This lowly person wishes to know how you want it delivered."

"In two pieces, dumb one!" rasped the voice in the receiver. Cut the merchandise in two in the middle.
Then you may leave it there. I have other work for you to do."

"My understanding of your wishes is perfect. What is this other wok?"

"The sugar importer, Scott S. Osborn, has a brother who lives up on Park Avenue. We are holding