"Doc Savage Adventure 1933-12 The Phantom City" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

"Get your hands up!" gritted one of the Arabs in fair English,


DOC SAVAGE studied the four. His bronze features did not change expression; the quartet might have been putting on some kind of a show, for all the excitement he showed. His hands remained on the wheel.

The body of the limousine was armorplate steel, although the fact was not evident to the casual glance. The windows were an inch thick, of the latest bullet-proof glass; it would take a steel slug from a tank rifle to get through them.

He spoke in a low voice, not moving his lips. His words were distinct.

"Four men!" he said. "They look like Arabs. They popped out of a doorway with pistols."

The dark gunman quartet saw no lip movement indicating speech. They heard no words. The limousine was soundproofed against normal noises.

"Anta sami'!" rapped the spokesman. "Do you hear? Get your hands up!"

Doc continued, still without moving his lips. "These fellows are strangers. Think I'll play along, and see what's on their minds. You men can cover us, if you crave a little action."

Once more the Arabs failed to realize words had been spoken. Had they heard, they would have been puzzled at the brief descriptive speech. It was unlikely that they would have understood its purpose.

Reaching over slowly, Doc unlocked the door. He started to get out.

"La!" grunted one of the men. "No! Stay where you are!" The fellow eased into the front seat, gun alert. The other three clambered in the back.

They did not notice the bullet-proof glass or the armor plate, and did not guess the bronze man's surrender was deliberate. They were jubilant.

"Talk freely, and you will not be harmed!" one advised.

"Shu biddak?" Doc asked in excellent Arabic. "What do you want?"

The four looked somewhat surprised.

"So you speak our tongue!" one muttered.

"Slightly," Doc admitted. He used the dialect peculiar to the part of Arabia from which these men hailed - the southern coast. He neglected to add that he had a fluent command of dialects from almost all other sectors of their native land.

This business about the language was the first contact the four had with the bronze man's remarkable knowledge. This giant, metallic man was something of a mental marvel. The fact that he could converse fluently in the tongue of nearly any race on the globe, was only one of his fantastic accomplishments.

"You have a submarine," said one of the Arabs. "A submarine with which you once went under the ice of the north pole!"

"That is right," Doc admitted in Arabic.

The brown man reached under his coat tail, squirmed, and drew his flat sword. He indicated the poison on the tip.

"We want that submarine!" he declared. He put the sword point against Doc's chest. The steel slit a few threads of the bronze man's coat fabric. "You will take us to it!"



Chapter II