"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 116 - Intimidation,Inc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

take?"
"Klondike" Greems was one of the half dozen lieutenants who had served
under Sack Balban and Nobby Kilgan. Klondike always brought in the day's haul
from the racing bets. Other lieutenants handled the numbers racket, the
baseball pools and the profits from the slot machines.
There was a savagery to The Shadow's question, that commanded a reply.
Uneasily, the bookie answered:
"Klondike's up with the other big boys. They're going to hold an
election."
"Yeah?" snorted The Shadow. "For what?"
"To pick the guy that takes Nobby's place. There's got to be a main guy
in
town."
"Sure there has to." The Shadow's faked lips were fixed in a significant
smile. "You're looking at him! You lugs don't need to wait until you hear from
Klondike. Just pass the word along that Link Delvo is top guy in Dorchester.
Get it?"
With that, The Shadow strode out through the front door. The bookie
whistled.
"That guy's taking a lot for granted," he declared, "but he sounded like
he meant it. We figured Klondike had a chance to be the big-shot. That's out,
boys. I'm stacking my money on Link Delvo, if he ever manages to get into that
meeting."


STRIDING along a dark street, The Shadow reached the obscure entrance
that
led up to the meeting place. He rapped a signal on the door. It opened. A
brawny
lookout recognized Link Delvo and gave an ugly challenge:
"You're back, huh? You don't belong! On your way, Link -"
The lookout was reaching for a gun. The Shadow's left hand snapped
forward; his fist hooked the man's forearm. A quick backward jerk whipped the
rowdy toward the street. Clamping a swift right hand upon the fellow's neck,
The Shadow propelled him clear across the sidewalk. As the lookout hit the
gutter; his gun went clattering into the street.
Immediately, The Shadow rammed the door shut and bolted it so the lookout
could not reenter. Swinging about, he whipped out a gun, just as an inner door
swung open. An inside guard was coming to support the lookout, for the clatter
had told him that something was amiss. The second thug had a drawn revolver,
but he never gained a chance to use it. Before he could aim the weapon, he saw
himself covered by the muzzle of a bigger gun, with Link Delvo's leering face
above it.
"I'll take that heater," rasped The Shadow, plucking the rowdy's .38 from
the listless fist that held it. "Take a look at this smoke-wagon" - The Shadow
brandished the .45 revolver that he held - "and remember it! This rod is going
to back any orders that you get from upstairs!"
Pocketing the guard's gun, The Shadow gave the fellow a hard elbow jolt
that nearly doubled him. Pocketing his own big gun, The Shadow strode up the
stairs and entered the swanky apartment where the lieutenants were in session.