"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 272 - King of the Black Market" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

ADMITTED to the president's office, Chet found Biggs surrounded by half a
dozen visitors, all as serious of manner as the head of Pyrolac. With a wave,
Biggs introduced them, and Chet heard names he recognized. These men were the
customers who had received recent shipments of Pyrolac.
The final name impressed Chet most.
It was Humphrey Thorneau, and the man fulfilled all specifications.
Thorneau's name, like his industries, was widely known. He was a man whose
slogan was one word: results. And every factory that Thorneau controlled in
part
or whole, produced those results.
Under Thorneau management, aircraft factories sped their output. So did
the
plants that handled instruments, or products needed in anything from shipping
to
munitions. Thorneau was the man who opened bottlenecks wide. Having helped on
such a task in the Pyrolac factory, Chet was more than pleased to meet the man
who had done the same, single-handed, in every case that required his
attention.
The mere name Thorneau told Chet why this individual dominated the group
of
customers. They had automatically chosen Thorneau as their spokesman. Meeting
Thorneau face to face, Chet was impressed by a blunt visage with keen, though
deep-set eyes; lips that carried a friendly, understanding smile, yet
delivered
a heavy-toned greeting. In Thorneau's handclasp, Chet could feel a grip that
stood for power, even though its pressure was restrained.
Perhaps the satisfaction of meeting Thorneau caused Chet to overlook the
gloom that clouded this assemblage. It was Biggs who bluntly supplied the news
that these customers, Thorneau included, had not come to deliver testimonials
favoring Pyrolac.
"Those recent shipments, Conroy," spoke Biggs, abruptly. "Our customers
say
there is something wrong with them."
Chet turned about, puzzled.
"Something wrong?"
"See for yourself." Biggs proffered an open can of Pyrolac that he
brought
from beside his desk. "You won't have to make a chemical test to know that
this
Pyrolac has been adulterated."
Chet took a look at the gummy liquid. He poured some into a glass that
Biggs supplied. The stuff was muddy.
Shaking his head, Chet said:
"This can't be Pyrolac."
"It was Pyrolac," announced a voice near Chet's shoulder. "At least it
was
branded as such when it left your department, Conroy."
Turning, Chet faced the swarthy man with the dark mustache who had been
absent from the loading platform. He decided he didn't like the chap nor his
implications.