"Robeson, Kenneth - Doc Savage 1938 01 - Living Fire Menace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

DocТs men should have gone down under that first rush.
They didnТt. Their attackers had been too anxious. They had massed too closely
for their charge, got in each otherТs way.
A bellowed shout came from Johnny. Long Tom tried to dive back into the car.
Hands grabbed him, yanked him back into the street.
Then the fight was on.
Johnny, fists swinging, head low, plunged into the men bearing down on him like
a long, lean dreadnought. Speed and the very unexpectedness of his hammer-like
blows, carried him across the sidewalk to a wall. He whirled, back firm against
boards, clenched knuckles cracking with dazzling speed.
Long Tom sprawled forward, almost went to his knees. Still doubled up, he hit
like a charging football guard. Small, weakly as he appeared, he spun men in all
directions, got clear for a moment.
A swinging blackjack caught the electrical wizard across one arm, almost
paralyzed it. He did not hesitate, did not pause. Lifting one big thug from his
feet with a right that came from his shoetops, he made a second dive for the
car.
This time Long Tom got as far as the car door before a terrific blow caught him
across the head. A shower of sparks seemed to flash before his eyes, but even as
he fell he yanked a queer-shaped weapon from the car door pocket. He whirled,
his finger tightening on the trigger.
There was a sound like a bullfiddleТs roar. Attackers tumbled limply.
The weapon was one of DocТs own inventions. The "mercy" bullets it shot produced
unconsciousness, not death; but it was as effective as a machine-gun.

LONG TOM was still dazed from the blow on top of his head. He could hear Johnny
battling desperately. He thought only of that. He should have jumped inside the
car. It had bulletproof glass, was as impregnable as a tank. From there he could
have rescued Johnny easily.
Instead, he darted around the rear of the car, weapon in hand.
A small man, a wicked grin on scarred features, reared up behind him, swung a
blackjack coldly and efficiently.
Long Tom went down, sprawled awkwardly on the cobblestones.
Something resembling a moan came from JohnnyТs tight lips. He went berserk. For
a moment, his flaying fists beat back the men who crowded upon him. But he saw
there was no hope. There were too many assailants.
"Help, Doc!" he bellowed instinctively.
A second later he, also, went down. A billy caught him squarely behind an ear.
Then the attackers suddenly froze.
Clear and cold came a voice. It was low, but it had a peculiar timbre, one that
made it carry plain and distinctly. It was the voice of Doc Savage.
"IТll soon be there," Doc said.

Chapter III. A GIRL CALLS
BUT Doc Savage was far from the water-front battle scene.
His bronze skin gleaming in the reflected glow from an instrument board, his
flake gold eyes intent on the story those instruments told, he was far even from
civilization.
Seated in the inclosed cockpit of a speedy plane that was the type pilots call a
"flying motor," Doc Savage did not appear big. But that was due to the