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

"They all five went out a few minutes ago to get something to eat," explained the youth.

"When they come back, tell them I was here," Doc directed.

He did not depart immediately, though. His next actions were unusual.

From a pocket, he took a bit of colorless substance shaped like a crayon. He wrote rapidly on his office
window with this - putting down a lengthy message.

Yet when he finished, there was no trace of what he had written. Even a magnifying glass would not have
disclosed the presence of the writing.

The elevator carried him down to the street. He walked away rapidly.

Some ten minutes later, his five men returned. Their faces mirrored the satisfaction of men who had just
eaten a hearty shore dinner after some weeks of dining in the grease-soaked interior of a submarine.

"I missed the pint of grease I've had to take with my meals recently," Monk grunted contentedly. Then he
leered at Ham. "Them pigs' knuckles and sauerkraut was swell!"

The distinguished, snappily clad Ham scowled at hairy Monk. Any mention of pigs that Monk made was
sure to aggravate Ham. This hearkened back to a couple of incidents in the War.

Ham had taught Monk certain highly insulting French words, and told him they were just the thing to
flatter a French general with. Monk had used them-and landed in the guardhouse.
Monk had barely been released when there occurred one of the most embarrassing incidents of Ham's
career. He was hailed up on a charge of stealing hams. somebody had framed him!

To this day, Ham hadn't been able to prove the framing was Monk's work. That rankled. Especially since
Ham had received his nickname from the incident; a nickname he didn't care for in the least.

"After the way you stuffed yourself, I have hopes!" Ham snapped.

"Hopes of what?" Monk queried.

"That you'll croak of indigestion!"

The elevator operator spoke up eagerly when he saw them.

"Mr. Savage was here, and has gone," he said.

Doc's five men exchanged sharp glances. They lost no time getting up to the eighty-sixth floor.

LONG TOM, the scrawny-looking electrical wizard, hurried into the laboratory. He came out with an
apparatus which might easily be mistaken for an old-time magic lantern.

The lights were switched off. Long Tom flicked a switch on his machine. He pointed at the window on
which Doc had written.

Doc's message sprang out on the darkened windowpane. Glowing with a dazzling electric blue, its