"012 (B043) - The Man Who Shook The Earth (1934-02) - Lester Dent (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

And I think you can rest assured that he is quite a guy. The boss didn’t send us
no five thousand miles to watch a second-rater."
An automobile passed. Its headlights flashed briefly on Biff’s face. Shadows on
the bottom of the scar across his face gave it the aspect of a short black
snake.
He growled: "I ain’t afraid of any damn man—"
"Them has been the last words of more than one cluck," Velvet assured him. "I’m
running this show. You stay here, see? Stand around and think what a tough guy
you are. Do anything. Just keep away from that skyscraper, and give a man with
brains a chance to work."
Biff thought that over, then rumbled: "I don’t like your lip!"
Velvet ignored the remark and passed out a second dig. "Don’t run when you hear
the next subway train."
Biff made an ugly sound deep in his chest. "You know what I thought it was! I
had reason to be scared!"
Velvet reached out and gave him a not unfriendly shove.
"Sure, big boy, I know," he said. "If I hadn’t have known what it was, I’d have
been more scared than you were."
The street gloom swallowed him.

THERE are two skyscraper sections in the city of New York. One is on the lower
end of Manhattan Island, centering around Wall Street. The other is a few miles
to the north, in the midtown district. In the latter area was a structure which
was probably the finest in the city.
This building was a spike of steel and brick which jutted up nearly a hundred
stories. Its exterior was smooth stone and bright metal. Its architecture was
modernistic, plain, dignified. It gleamed richly in lights reflected from the
Great White Way, not very many blocks distant.
The lobby of this skyscraper was impressive. The elevators which served the
upper floors numbered in the scores. The lobby itself was remindful of the
interior of a cathedral.
Velvet, walking across the gigantic vestibule, felt as insignificant as a fly on
the floor of an ordinary room. He shrugged off the sensation and threw out his
chest. At this hour of the night only a few elevators were operating. Velvet
stepped into a cage as large as a living room in an ordinary home.
"Eighty-six," he said,
He had, of course, removed the black handkerchief from his collar. The somber
cloth had merely been in place to make himself less conspicuous while he
conferred with Biff in the side street. It reposed in his pocket, however, handy
for possible future use.
The elevator emptied Velvet into the eighty-sixth-floor corridor. He glanced
about. The builders of the skyscraper had not scrimped on space. The corridor
was high, wide; luxurious carpet covered the floor. Its nap felt an inch deep
when Velvet walked across it.
The man, appraising his surroundings, made a silent whistle of slight amazement.
"This Doc Savage seems to be a big shot," he told himself quietly. "He has to
be, to afford to hang out here. It’s a good thing I didn’t let Biff try his
strong-arm stuff."
Velvet waded the carpet down the corridor. His gaze roved over door numbers. He
reached the one he desired. Somewhat blankly, he stared at the panel.