"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 169 - River of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

that a raid was about to be made on a steamship named the Equator. The plans that had been cunningly
made to cover up the theft of priceless loot, made the crooks chuckle.

They were repeating tonight what they had cleverly done on other occasions. The police had no
knowledge of gigantic crime going on under their very noses. They had no suspicion of the existence of a
supercriminal who called himself Davy Jones.

The clifflike shape of the Equator loomed suddenly ahead. It was in a wide water berth between two
piers.

Everything favored the black-faced pirates. The shore line was piled high with crates and boxes,
preventing any view of the river from West Street. The pier next to the one where the Equator lay was
dark and deserted. A strike had interrupted repairs to that pier. A derrick barge lay alongside, with a
jumble of timbers and machinery.

The pirates expected help from a crooked steward aboard the Equator. Nor were they disappointed. A
rope ladder dangled snakelike above the water. But there was no sign of the peering head of the
steward.

Suddenly, Pike cursed. He had drifted close enough to see the shape of a second boat! It was a
blunt-nosed dirty craft, moored directly below the dangling rope ladder. It was empty.

Pike recognized the boat instantly. It belonged to a river thug named Sailor Marco, who earned a
precarious living by stealing whatever his gang could lay hands on. They sold it to cheap fences on the
Jersey side of the river.

PIKE'S action was swift. He boarded Sailor Marco's clumsy craft and scuttled it. The blunt-nosed boat
sank with a greasy gurgle. The speedboat took its place at the foot of the rope ladder. Not a sound had
been made to alarm the thieves already aboard the liner.

Leaving one of his henchmen below, Pike and the other two climbed the rope ladder noiselessly. They
found the steward dead on the deck. A blow from a blackjack had crushed in his skull.

There was no sign of the river thieves. But the littered surface of the shadowy deck showed what was
going on. Cases of merchandise had been brought up from the hold. One of them had been broken open.
The rest were still intact, waiting to be lowered over the side.

Pike and his two pals moved cautiously toward a companionway door which had been pried open. They
knew there were six men in Sailor Marco's gang. They wanted to trap them without the risk of gunfire.

But fate intervened in the shape of a flashlight that suddenly emerged from the companionway door. The
beam focused on Pike's snarling face. There was a yell of dismay, followed by the roar of a shot. More
men tumbled into view on the deck.

Pike didn't reply to that shot. He was a shrewd killer. His two henchmen were invisible in the deck
shadows. Pike cried out, as if in terror, and began to retreat.

The thug with the flashlight had seen only one man. He anticipated an easy victory. With a yell, he raced
forward. The rest of Marco's mob darted after him.
They ran into a deadly ambuscade. A hail of lead ripped from a Tommy gun. Men reeled and fell. Blood