"Robeson, Kenneth - Doc Savage 1933 07 - Pirate Of Pacific" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

THE news broadcaster paused to give emphasis to the name he had just pronounced.

The listening man was leaning over the cockpit edge, all interest. He did not see the yellow murder mask of a face framed in a small, open side door of the hangar. Nor did he see hands like bundles of yellowed bones as they silently lifted a strange death instrument and trained it on him.

"Doc Savage!" grunted the man. "Never heard of the guy!"

The voice from the radio continued. "Doc Savage is a man practically unknown to the public. Yet in scientific circles, he has a fame that is priceless. His name is something to conjure with.

"Last night, I was fortunate enough to attend a banquet given by scientific men here in New York. Many learned men attended In the course of the evening, I heard references to important discoveries made by Doc Savage. The really bewildering thing about these discoveries was that they were made in widely different fields, ranging from surgery, chemistry, and electricity to the perfecting of a new, quick-growing species of lumber tree.

"Amazement seized me as I listened to eminent scientists discuss Doc Savage, the man of mystery, in the most glowing words. It seemed impossible they could speak in such terms of one man without exaggerating. Yet these were men certainly not given to exaggeration. I am going to give you a word picture of this man of mystery of whom they talked.

"Doc Savage is, despite his amazing accomplishments, a young man. He is a striking bronze giant of a figure. His physical strength, my informants assured me, is on a par with his mental ability. That means he is a marvel of muscular development. One of the scientists at the banquet told me in entire seriousness that, were Savage to enter athletic competition, his name would leap to the headlines of every paper in the country.

"This man of mystery has been trained from the cradle, until now he is almost a super being. This training, given by his father, was to fit Doc Savage for a definite purpose in life.

"That purpose is to travel from one end of the world to the other, striving to help those who need help, punishing those who deserve punishment.

"Associated with Doc Savage are five men who love excitement and adventure, and who have dedicated themselves to their leader's creed of benefiting humanity.

"A strange and mysterious group of men. this! So unusual that the hare facts I am telling you now cannot but sound unreal and far-fetched. Yet I can assure you my information came from the most conservative and reliable sources."

The listening man blinked as he digested the words that came to his ears. "This Doc Savage must be quite a guy," he grunted.

Then the sneaking face was near. As unknowing as the watchman's companion at the gate, the man in the plane fell before the blow of the weapon, crumpled in his seat, unconscious or dead - the attacker did not look to see.


SLANT-EYED men poured into the hangar. No orders were uttered. The half-caste Orientals were still following their plan. Their efficiency was terrible, deadly. The whole group worked as one unit, an expert killing machine.

Two opened the hangar doors. Others busied themselves making four pursuit planes ready for the air. These ships were the most modern craft. yet the sinister men showed familiarity with the mechanism.

Three yellow raiders rushed up to the planes. carrying guns and bombs. The guns were quickly attached. the bombs were racked in clips on the undersides of the planes.

More men secured four parachutes from a locker room. No time was wasted in scampering about the airport hunting for things. They knew exactly where everyt hing was located.

The planes were strong-armed out of the hangars. Four Orientals dug goggles and helmets out of their clothing. The helmets were a brilliant red color.

The men cinched on the parachutes, then plugged into the cockpits. The scarlet helmets made them resemble a quartet of red-headed woodpeckers.

Exhaust thunder galloped across the tarmac as the motors started. Prop-streams tore dust from under the ships and pushed it away in squirming masses.

The planes flung along the runway, vaulted off, and slanted up into the now moon-whitened sky.

The Orientals who had been left behind lost no time in quitting the airport. Racing to the three laundry trucks, they entered, and drove hastily away.

Three or four minutes after the planes departed, no one was left at the airport. The two watchmen lay where they had dropped, still unconscious. In the ditch beside the road sprawled the three slain drivers of the laundry trucks.

The adjacent countryside slept on peacefully. The four planes booming overhead attracted no attention, since night flying was not unusual even at this quiet port.