"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 022 - The Annhilist" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

towering buildings of the city.
Doc called again, "Monk, Ham."

The childlike voice of Monk said, "On deck, Doc," from the loudspeaker.

"Did you manage to trail the sniper?" Doc Savage asked.

"Sure," Monk answered. "We've got him spotted. He's in a taxicab going down Broadway."

"Don't lose him," Doc Savage requested.

THE bronze man now wheeled the roadster to the right, and shortly afterward was traversing the rich
canyon of Park Avenue, passing towering apartment houses which housed more wealthy persons per
block than perhaps any other thoroughfare in the world.

Shortly afterward, the roadster pulled up before an elaborately modernistic structure situated in the most
exclusive section of the avenue. Two doormen in resplendent uniforms bowed Doc Savage inside and the
bronze man entered a reception room where he was met by an exquisitely gowned redheaded young
woman who politely inquired his business.

"I want to speak to Pat," Doc said.

The titian receptionist was a beauty, but she was completely overshadowed by the young woman who
soon put in an appearance.

This young woman was tall, had an exquisite form, and wore a stunning gown. The striking point about
her appearance was her wealth of bronze hair - it was almost the same hue as Doc Savage's hair. She
looked very regal in the long, trailing gown.

Several males of varying ages waiting in the large, sumptuously furnished reception room sighed as they
saw the bronze-haired vision.

"Hello, Pat," Doc Savage said.

Pat asked, "Well, who's trying to kill you now?"

Pat was Patricia Savage, cousin to the man of bronze, Doc Savage. Pat liked excitement, and had long
ago sought to join the unusual group of five assistants with which Doc Savage had surrounded himself.

Doc, considering association with himself too dangerous, had refused to consider it. But the bronze man
frequently employed Pat's aid. Between adventures, Pat devoted herself to running this combination
beauty parlor and gymnasium which catered to the very rich. Financially, she was very successful.

"Want to help me?" Doc asked her.

"That," laughed Pat, "is equivalent to an invitation to be shot at, stabbed, drowned, beaten up and no
telling what else. Sure, I'll help you. Who are we fighting?"

"So far, the whole affair is strange," Doc told her. "A gunman killed Leander Court, then the gunman had
a fit and fell over dead with his eyes protruding. The way he died was very mysterious."