"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 155 - Measures For a Coffin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

тАЬI'm damned if IтАФuh!тАЭ

The young man, with what seemed blinding quickness because it was so unexpected, had slugged Doctor
Benson alongside the head with his gun. Benson flopped back on the seat, senseless.

The man driving turned his head, asked, тАЬTrouble, Ole?тАЭ

Ole examined Miss Clayton. тАЬWhat do you say, toots? Is it to be trouble?тАЭ

Miss Clayton shuddered. тАЬNo,тАЭ she said. тАЬNo trouble.тАЭ

тАЬNo trouble, Sven,тАЭ Ole reported.

Sven said, тАЬThat's good.тАЭ Then, with a vicious abruptness that equalled Ole's handling of Doctor Benson,
he knocked the taxi driver senseless with the gun which he had been using to threaten the fellow into
silent compliance. He pushed the limp hulk of the driver down out of sight. тАЬWe'd better dump this
cookie somewhere,тАЭ he said.

Ole asked, тАЬWhere's a good place?тАЭ

тАЬOh, the parkway after we get out of town is as good as any.тАЭ

Ole fumbled inside his clothing. He brought out a small object. It was an ice pick. He passed the ice pick
forward to Sven.

тАЬIf you'll use the eye socket, it'll go in easier,тАЭ he said. тАЬBut be sure to slant it up enough to do the
business.тАЭ

Miss Clayton, watching the movement of Sven's shoulders in the front seat, closed her eyes.

Quietly and horribly, she fainted.



Chapter III
LIEUTENANT COLONEL ANDREW BLODGETT тАЬMONKтАЭ MAYFAIR had never been overly
fond of German cooking, and his ideas had become somewhat bitter on the subject during the past six
weeks, the length of his stay in occupied Germany. Except for the cooking, and the creepy feeling that
came from living in an occupied country that might not for many years change its ways, he was
comfortable. He should have been happy, because he was doing a big job in chemistry.

The business of altering the life and thinking of a people was complicated, and Monk was at the moment
functioning as a sort of advisory czar over the German chemical industry. The idea was to let the German
chemical industry reestablish itself only in so far as it would be unable to later convert itself to war use,
and Monk Mayfair, who was admittedly one of the world's great industrial chemists, was helping with the
job. He had boned up on the German language, armored himself with intense suspicion of the most
harmless-seeming Germans, and done the best he could with the job. He had done fairly well. At least,
there had been many squawks from the Germans, and none from anyone else, which was a good sign.

Monk Mayfair was a short man of great breadth, great length of arm, and a great quantity of homeliness.