"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 026 - The Spook Legion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Ham made croakings past the fingers constricting his throat. He tried to slug the apish Monk in the pit of
the stomach, and the sound was much as if his knuckles had rapped a hard wall. He grimaced in agony,
and fumbled at his black cane. The cane came apart near the handle, revealing the fact that it housed a
sword with a long, razor-sharp blade. This blade was tipped for three or four inches with a
sticky-looking substance.

Monk released his throat grip before the menace of the sword cane tip and dodged back. His
movements were so fast that they barely could be followed with the eye.

Ham swallowed twice, then snarled, тАЬI didn't kick that hog, but sometime I'm gonna bob his tail off right
next to his ears!тАЭ

The two looked at each other with what seemed genuine, utter hate.

From down the road, the sound of more shots drifted.

тАЬStep on it you overdressed shyster,тАЭ Monk growled

Ham put the car in motion. His driving was expert. They were far down the road before the last of the
gravel which their wheels kicked up had fallen back to the airport parking lot.

This was the same road which passed the airport, and from the city out to the airport it was wide and
well paved, but here, beyond the flying field, it was narrow, rutted, flanked by high weeds and
small-trees. Side roads, barely more than trails, branched off at infrequent intervals toward scrawny
shacks almost lost from sight in the shrubbery.

The car rocketed around a curve. Ahead, another car was cocked over into the ditch. It was the machine
driven by the pilot and his assistant. Three tires were flat.

Both fliers stood alongside the machine, arms held up rigidly.

Clustered about the car were the half dozen nice-looking men who had raided the hangar. All were
armed. With them was the fat man whom the two fliers had been taking to a police station.

There was no sign of the roadster bearing the individual who resembled a prizefighter.

Ham, bent over the wheel, clipped, тАЬWhat'll we do?тАЭ

тАЬBarge right in!тАЭ Monk grunted.

Ham put more weight on the accelerator. Monk grabbed door handles and cranked. It became apparent
that the unusual car was fitted with two sets of glass. The second had concealed panels, which now came
into view, were thicker and equipped with thin loophole slits re├лnforced with steel bullet deflectors.

When he had raised all of the shields, Monk dug a peculiar weapon from an armpit holster. This gun
resembled an oversize automatic with a drum magazine. Its mechanism looked intricate.
Ham trod the brakes, jockeyed the wheel. Tires shrieked on the roadway, the car rocked and finally
came to a stop not many yards from the ditched touring car.