"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 311 - Death Stalks the U.N." - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

clue as to where the bullet could have come from! Adding a touch of the bizarre to the circumstances is
the fact that a potato rolled across the floor towards the fallen body of Dom Brassle! Stay tuned to this
station for more developments!"
It was only minutes later that Lamont Cranston, apprised of the news by his aide, Burbank, took a plane
from Skillton. He was flying to New York, scene of the crime.

He had no facts as he sat in his seat high above the clouds. His brief case was on his lap. His hawklike
profile was stern as he sat in the hired plane looking down at the fleecy soft whiteness below him.

All he knew was that there had been murder committed. Where there was crime there was The Shadow.
In his brief case, safely hidden under a zipper, was the cape, that protecting, concealing cape that was
blacker than black, and his hat, the black slouch hat that cut off any light from his face, which had so
often covered his features from the eyes of men who would have given their last breath to fathom his
identity. Many and many had given their last breath... but without penetrating the stygian darkness that
masked The Shadow from any gaze.

Even The Shadow could not at this moment have more than a vague idea of the vast evil forces that were
at work in this latest case to occupy the attention of the master man hunter of all time.

There would be time and enough for The Shadow to make his appearance. Now it was more practical
for Lamont Cranston to do the primary investigating. For the United Nations meets in New York and in
New York, police commissioner Weston has more than one reason to be grateful to Lamont Cranston.
Cranston knew that Weston would be more than glad to give him every aid.

The steep slant of the plane was the only warning that Cranston had reached La Guardia field. The
wheels had barely stopped turning when Cranston dropped from the plane. He walked at a pace so fast
that most men would have had to run to keep up with him.

He hurried past the busses that wait to carry air passengers from the field in to the center of New York.
There were some cabs up ahead. His eyes flickered over them. There...

He was in the cab and sitting down. From the driver there came, "Blast it! Can'ch'a ever be surprised?
Not ever?"

He grinned at the reflection of Shrevvie's angry face in the rearview mirror. "Come now, Shrevvie, did
you really think I wouldn't expect you to be waiting for me?"

"Ah..." Shrevvie's voice faded off into mumbles for really, he was glad to see Cranston back. It had been
a while since Cranston had been there. Shrevvie thought, "Chee... it ain't been since 'Chi' that me and him
was on a case. I missed out on N'Orleans and Skillton."

He drove on.

"Shrevvie, have you any idea where you're driving?"

"Now that wounds me. To the quick it wounds me, see?"

Cranston glanced out the window. Shrevvie had known. Up ahead was the temporary headquarters of
the U.N.