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

THE other cop, who had come over and heard the last of the conversation, demanded, "Who is this guy
Doc Savage?"

The first officer looked dumfounded. "You ain't kiddin' me?"

"Oh, I've heard gossip about him," said the other. "But nothing first hand. What's the dope on him?"

"He's probably the most unusual bird alive," said the first officer. "He's the biggest and strongest man you
ever saw. And he's a whiz! He can do anything. Electricity, chemistry, engineering, he knows all about
'em all."

"What's his business?" demanded the other.

The first policeman shrugged. "High adventure, I guess. He likes excitement. And he goes around getting
people out of trouble. But what I mean, he tackles things on a big scale. He saves thrones for kings and
stops wars. That's his calibre." The cop who was asking questions said, "He has five birds who help him,
hasn't he?"

"Yeah. Scientists, electricians and so on. Each one of the five is a topnotch specialist in some line."

The other policeman nodded at the body, then at the telephone. "How come you called him?"

"That identification disk

"I know. But that's business for Inspector Hardboiled Humbolt. He won't like it, your calling this Doc
Savage."

"I don't give a damn," said the other officer. "This Doc Savage has done more good for the world than
any other ten living men you can name. Yeah - any fifty you can name."

"Hardboiled Humbolt is gonna lay an egg because you called Savage," grunted the first cop. "You could
call the president and the governor and the marines, and Hardboiled would still kick. He likes to run
things."

"Let him lay the egg," snorted the other policeman.

They went out to stand guard. Down in the street, the caterwauling of a police siren was becoming
louder.

THE roadster had a long wheelbase, but it was not flashy and there was nothing particularly outstanding
about its appearance. Only close inspection would have shown that the body was moulded of armor
plate and the tires were filled with sponge rubber which would not be affected greatly by bullets. The
glasswork was also of bulletproof construction, and the machine was fitted with apparatus for laying
either smoke or gas screens.

Under the hood, a siren whined softly.

It was hard to say whether it was the whining of the siren or the appearance of the remarkable bronze
man at the wheel which caused traffic to be parted with alacrity. The siren was the type reserved for