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

smeared the dark decks.

Of Sailor Marco's mob, three were killed instantly. Another was painfully wounded by a slug that pierced
his kneecap. He thrashed around on the deck in agony.

The other two fled. Pike took after the man who raced toward the bow of the liner. He had no fear of the
Equator's crew interfering with his vengeance. There was only a skeleton crew aboard in port, and the
treacherous steward had locked them in the fo'c's'le. Pike's pursuing feet made a rapid echo on the
deck.

But the fugitive was racing with the fear of death in his heart. Squirming and dodging, he reached the
liner's bow before Pike's fuming gun could cut him down. He vaulted the rail and leaped desperately.

The bow of the Equator projected above the street. The crook landed among the piled cases of
merchandise stacked there. He was up in an instant. But a bullet from Pike ripped through his shoulder
and dropped his arm useless at his side. The blow staggered the wounded thug, but didn't stop him. He
vanished beyond the mountainous piles of merchandise.

Whirling from his botched attempt at murder, Pike raced back to his own men. The thunder of gunfire
had scared them. Already the alarm had penetrated to the shore. The distant bleat of a police whistle was
audible. The pier watchman was undoubtedly telephoning to the harbor police at Pier A.

Those henchmen of Pike wanted to get away.

They got, instead, savage orders to stay. Sailor Marco was still unaccounted for. Pike ordered an instant
search for him. Marco had recognized Pike. Davy Jones' lieutenant knew it from the shrill yell Marco had
uttered at the beginning of the fight. Unless Marco was killed, the secret of a master criminal was in
danger of exposure.

But Sailor Marco knew his peril. He was hidden within a few steps of his murderous foes, waiting for a
chance to reach the rail of the liner. His opportunity came when Pike's men separated swiftly for a hasty
search.

MARCO ran like a deer. He vaulted overboard as a hail of bullets whistled toward the blur of his body,
struck the black water with a plume of spray and vanished. Grim faces at the rail watched for him to
reappear.

But Sailor Marco didn't. Born and raised on the water front, he was an expert swimmer. He had gulped
in a quick breath of air during his dizzy plunge to the river. He swam underwater, hidden from sight of the
killers high above. He passed the squat hull of the derrick barge opposite the Equator and swam to the
pier beyond it with the speed of a water rat, vanishing to safety.

Pike, venting an oath of fury, knew that he had doubly failed in what had been planned as a perfect
crime. Two of Marco's gang had eluded the hail of bullets, including the cunning Marco. Pike's identity
was no longer a secret. And through Pike, the unknown master criminal who called himself Davy Jones
might be reached.

But Pike didn't lose his nerve for an instant - or forget the real purpose that had brought him to the
Equator.