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

police squad cars. Furthermore, the license plate consisted simply of three letters and a number - DOC
1.

More than a few persons on the streets recognized the bronze man. His picture was often in the
newspapers; his name was mentioned even more frequently in the prints.

"Doc Savage," some one said, and there was a small stampede for the curb to get a glimpse of the
bronze man.

The roadster was a large one, a car in which an ordinary large man would have seemed small. But the
bronze man had the build of a giant, even in the open machine. Tremendous muscular strength was
apparent in his cabled hands and in the vertical muscles in his neck, which were like hawsers coated with
a veneer of bronze.
This bronze hue was the giant's motif throughout, his unusually fine-textured skin having a metallic hue
imparted by long exposure to intense sunlight; his hair, straight and fitting like a metal skullcap, was of a
bronze only slightly darker; the quiet brown of his business suit added to the symphony in metal.

Perhaps the eyes of the bronze man were the most impressive thing about him. They were weird, almost
fantastic eyes, like nothing so much as pools of fine golden flakes continuously stirred by tiny winds. In
them was a hypnotic, compelling quality.

THE bronze man wore no head covering, and his eyes roved ceaselessly, seeming never to devote
attention to the driving but rather to the streets through which the roadster passed. In spite of the seeming
inattention, there was an expert ease about the way he drove.

He reached the building which housed the Association of Physical Health, drew to the curb and switched
off the engine. Little more than the sudden death of the ammeter needle indicated the motor had stopped,
so silently had it operated.

The bronze man drifted a metallic, muscle-cabled hand under the dash and touched a switch. Soft static
crackle began coming from a radio loud-speaker. He brought a hand microphone to view.

"Monk - Ham," he said into the mike.

A voice that might have belonged to a small child came from the radio speaker.

"We're only a few blocks away, Doc," said this small tone.

"Ham with you?" Doc questioned.

"The shyster? Sure. He's along."

"Watch the outside of the building." Doc Savage directed quietly.

"Sure," said the child-voiced "Monk." "What do you know about this Association of Physical Health?"

"It is a concern which makes a business of giving physical examinations," the bronze man replied. "A
physician named Janko Sultman is the president and principal owner."

Monk asked, "Any idea what this means, Doc?"