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

Doc SavageтАЩs bronze skin over his corded neck merged with the smooth mask of similarly tinged hair. He
was so motionless in concentration that his head gave the effect of being that of a carved statue.

"There is no doubt but what the snowstorm of itself is isolated and purely local in the New York area," stated
the bronze man. "But there are indications possibly of other distant spots similarly affected. She said there
might be sudden weather changes."

The bronze manтАЩs words were more musing tone, rather than a statement to the three companions then with
him. For nearly an hour, he had been studying the freakish July snowstorm. With the radio and other
instruments, he had been checking many widely separated areas of the world.

The scientific equipment in the eighty-sixth floor headquarters of the noted adventurer was advanced in its
design. With but a touch, Doc Savage could contact almost any latitude.

"Johnny," who never used a short word where a longer one would serve, was busy with the radio.

"This barometric phenomenon is indubitably a solaric manifestation beyond the scope of casual elucidation,"
observed the scholarly geologist and archeologist of Doc SavageтАЩs adventurous group.

"That would be sun spots to you, Monk, if even such simple words come within range of simian
understanding," grinned "Ham," flicking some dust from the sleeve of a suit that was the latest in summer
fashions.

"MonkтАЩs" broad body nearly filled one opened window. His figure was almost as wide as it was long. He
turned and his small eyes snapped with fire under his gristled brows. Hair the color of rust stuck out like
clipped wires around his ears and on his neck. His hands were covered with it. It looked like shaggy fur.

MonkтАЩs body shook with indignation. One furry hand scooped snow from the window ledge.

"In less than a minute, one crackpot shyster will be in the market for a new suit of dude clothes!" he
squealed.

For HamтАФBrigadier General Theodore Marley BrooksтАФone of the most astute lawyers ever graduated from
Harvard, and MonkтАФLieutenant Colonel Andrew Blodgett Mayfair, famous chemistтАФconsidered any day
misspent without the exchange of caustic insult.

Johnny continued his observations on the weather. The keen, scholarly geologist was tall and bony to the
point of emaciation. As William Harper Littlejohn, he had occupied one of the highest chairs of learning in a
leading university. He spoke in one-syllable words only when he was excited or the going got rough.

"She said there would be sudden weather changes," Doc Savage repeated, glancing at the barometric
reading on the black marble board.

Though the repeated statement was cryptic, none of his three companions questioned its meaning. The
bronze man would explain in due time.

Just now, the blizzard, or snowy tempest, was at its height. Snow swirled around Monk in the opened
window. The impressive skyscraper, with its tower thrusting into the sky, seemed to sway and rock in gusty
blasts.