"coffinfortheavenger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepperman Emile C)

At the rear of the low-ceilinged chamber the tulip man pressed a button and a section of
the wall swung open, revealing a private office.

They entered and the door closed silently behind them.

On one wall of this office there was a rack of automatic pistols. Below it was a rack of
.38-caliber revolvers, all carefully oiled, shining and bright. And on the floor there were
a dozen wooden cases. One of these cases was open, revealing the contents. They were packages
of ammunition for the weapons.

There were no windows in the room, but--as in the outer chamber--the air was not stale.
On the wall behind the desk there was a large picture of Adolf Hitler, flanked by two swastika
banners. Other than that the room contained no decoration except for a single black tulip in a
glass on the desk.

The tulip man seated himself at the desk. He motioned toward the coffin.

"You have him in there?"

"Yes, Colonel Strake," Lambertini said.

"Open it!"

Lambertini took a small screwdriver from his pocket and knelt beside the coffin. He
loosened four bolts at the corners and removed the lid, which was perforated at intervals
with air holes to permit its occupant to breathe.

The man who lay in the coffin was incased in a strait jacket, just as Crawford had been.
In addition his feet were bound at the ankles and he was gagged. He was unable to move but
his eyes stared upward in a terrible sort of fascination.

Lambertini reached down and cut the cords that held the prisoner's ankles. Then he lifted
him by the shoulders, helping him to his feet. Roughly, he led the helpless man to a chair
and pushed him into it. He stepped around behind him and undid the gag.


The prisoner was about forty-five, with a thin and scholarly face, a high forehead and
wide-spaced blue eyes. He found it difficult to sit in the chair, for his arms were wrapped
around him in the sleeves of the strait jacket, which was pulled cruelly tight. He was able
to breathe only in short, quick gasps.

The tulip man's great bald dome shone brightly under the electric light as he smiled at
the prisoner.

"My, dear Forsythe! It is four months since we last met, is it not?"

"Damn you'" Forsythe gasped, trying to breathe against the constricting pressure of the
strait jacket. "Damn you, Strake, you won't get away with this!"