"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 010 - The Phantom City" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)pistol, but did not shoot. He was not too excited to realize the shot sound would draw the police. Wildly,
he clutched for his sword. Great steel jaws seemed to clamp his ankles. He was lifted as lightly as if he had been a rabbit. He swung head downward. His whole body was carried up and down with a tamping motion, causing his head to bang the solid planks. He became limp as a punctured inner tube. The trio piled against the rope bale untangled themselves and sought to arise. Then the blackness above them seemed to ram huge bronze fists. Metallic fingers touched various parts of their persons, seeking nerve centers, leaving numb paralysis and excruciating hurt. "Mercy of Allah!" a man croaked. "He is not human!" The three found themselves without pistols. With rippings and snappings, the swords were torn from place. The weapons sailed away to drop into the near-by river. One sought to flee, plunging blindly through the stacked boxes and machinery. He covered a score of yards, and began to entertain visions of safety. Then he was snatched up. A great arm banded his chest, tightened. Air went out of the Arab's lungs with a sound as of water pouring from an upset bucket. His ribs ground together. "0 Allah, I am dying!" he gurgled. He was mistaken. His ribs did not break, although one or two cracked. Doc Savage, possessing a profound knowledge of human anatomy, knew about how much pressure they would stand. Doc carried his victim back to the other three. The one who had been dropped on his head was flippering his hands nervelessly with returning consciousness. The remaining two were too dazed for flight. Roughly, Doc slammed them against the mound of rope bales. Then he waited for them to recover. AT first, the quartet showed more fight. Doc drove out bronze hands, open, and cuffed them back. The men shrank against the rope, shivering. They squirmed on the greasy boards. They peered at the metallic giant as if he were some incredible Titan from another existence. They numbered four, and they were fighting men. Yet their best efforts had seemed puny, childlike. He was something new in their experience, this big man of bronze. Doc produced a tiny flashlight. He gave the lens a twist, causing the beam to widen to a fat funnel, and placed it on the wharf boards. The glow sprayed over the four prisoners, and back-splashed on Doc himself. The Arabs continued to stare at Doc. One by one, their gaze rested upon his strange golden eyes - stayed there. "Wallah!" one repeated his earlier declaration. "He is not human!" Doc did not change expression. His lips did not move. He was waiting, knowing that the more the men thought of the recent fight, the more frightened they would become. |
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