"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 035 - Murder Mirage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

the dull leaden masks. But they did not shoot. The sedan from which they had come remained standing.

The air was filled with a low, slow hissing. The rolling globe lost the impetus it had been given. It was close to
the young woman.

The woman, then in front of one of the plate-glass windows, gave forth a scream. The cry was high-pitched,
almost animal in its utter anguish. Only death could wring such an emanation from a human throat.

There was another, lesser scream. It was like a minor echo of the death wail. This came from the yellow
coup├й from which the young woman had come. A slender figure, closely hooded and cloaked, slipped from
the little car. This was the other woman.

The glowing of the strange globe on the sidewalk was blinding in its intensity. The two men armed with
automatics skidded to a halt in the snow. They cursed wildly and swabbed their coat sleeves across their
eyes.

The slim figure from the car crossed the sidewalk. It reached the building front. The woman ran along the
buildings, guiding herself with one lightly touching hand. Arriving at a cross alley between streets, she darted
into it.

For a few more seconds the whole street was filled with the low, slow hissing. The invisible particles seemed
to fill the air with a minor crackling. The fluorescent, greenish glow gave the snow an unearthly aspect.

With the one soul-chilling scream, the young woman who was attempting to reach the elevated, vanished
from before the tall plate-glass window. The space between this spot and the stairs of the "el" was brightly
illuminated. But the woman did not reach the steps of the "el."

For a matter of seconds, it appeared she might have fallen in the snow; that the fleecy downfall had buried
her. But all around, the snow was melting as if touched by sudden, fierce heat. And when the pavement in
front of the plate-glass windows was smooth and bare, the woman was not there.

The four men in the masks of leaden color moved like automatons. The pair with the long-handled tongs
reached the sidewalk. Between them, they trapped and nipped the globe that had come from the sedan. With
the tongs they swung it back into an opened door of the car.

All climbed in quickly. The sedan jumped away with a clashing of gears. The driver did not appear to be an
expert, but he was in a hurry to leave. The car skidded around the corner, following the line of "el" pillars.



PATRICK BRENNAN, the patrolman, was ringing in at a box in the next cross avenue when the woman
screamed. The patrolmanтАЩs teeth had been playing like castanets. His light, summer uniform had not been
made for a July blizzard.

Dropping the patrol box phone, Brennan whipped toward the corner.

Blinding luminance shut off the policemanтАЩs vision as if a camera shutter had clicked. He groped with one
hand around the corner building.

Patrolman Brennan first saw the outline of the yellow coup├й. He hard-heeled toward it. His feet were hitting