"Doc Savage Adventure 1934-07 The Thousand Headed Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

His words did not have the sound of a shout, yet the crowd heard them over the noise; there was power, timbre, in the bronze man's remarkable voice.

Doc Savage stepped out of the plane.

Five men alighted after him. The five made a striking group, although the throng did not get much chance to observe them.

One of the five could almost have passed as a hairy gorilla. This individual had a pig, evidently a pet, tucked under one arm. The shoat had enormous ears and long legs, and was as homely an example of the porker species as his master was of the human race.

Another was a big fellow with fists of unearthly hugeness, while a third was extremely tall and gaunt. Of the re maining pair, one was pale, unhealthy-looking; and the other a nattily clad man carrying a black cane.

"Doc Savage's five aides," somebody offered.

"I say - thought he worked alone!" exclaimed another.

"No. Those five men help 'im. Each of them is a bloomin' famous scientist."

Doc Savage and his five men formed a compact wedge; then they drove through the crowd.

The bony man who had been shot at struggled to reach Doc Savage, but the bronze man's party chanced to take the opposite direction. The thin man cast about frantically; his gaze lighted upon a tractor which was used to move planes in and out of hangars. He hesitated, as if fearful of exposing himself above the crowd, then sprang atop the tractor.

"Doc Savage!" he yelled. But scores of other voices were also shouting, and the bronze man paid no attention.

Diving a fist into his coveralls, the bony man extracted the packet wrapped in oiled paper, then calculated carefully and threw the packet. The flung object hit Doc Savage.


COLLIDING WITH the bronze man's shoulder, the packet bounced. But the bronze man drove a hand up and caught it before it was out of reach - a catch that was executed with such blinding speed that those who saw it blinked unbelievingly, and quite a few failed to even glimpse it.

Doc Savage half wheeled and his strange golden eyes located the thin man. The fellow who had thrown the packet made violent gestures, indicating that Doc should pocket the object.

"Keep it!" he screamed. "Please! I'll come to your hotel and explain!"

It was to be doubted that Doc Savage distinguished the words. Lip movement told him what was said, however, the bronze man being a proficient lip reader. He pocketed the packet, and his flying wedge of men went on, himself in their midst.

The bony man looked after the bronze giant. He seemed happy, since a broad grin was on his wasted face.

The grin suddenly convulsed to a blank, hideous grimace. A shrill squeak; a sound like a hand slap and the cadaverous man, throwing his arms in the air, fell backward off the tractor. His collision with the ground was violent.

Some one helped him to his feet. Both hands clamped tightly to his left shoulder, the man stumbled away.

Red liquid began crawling out through his fingers and trickling down his wrist into his sleeve. He had taken a bullet through the shoulder. Like that other shot some minutes ago, this one had gone unnoticed in the uproar.

The wounded man reached the edge of Croydon Field.

"Damn Sen Gat!" he grated.

The fog and the darkness gobbled him up.