"039 (B073) - The Seven Agate Devils (1936-05) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

MONK GASPED, "what killed the guy, Doc?"
Doc Savage, apparently not hearing, dropped a handkerchief over the little satanic image. It was too hot to hold in the bare hands, but did not quite burn the handkerchief. He picked it up.
"Come on!" he rapped.
They ran through the hallway searching, but found nothing before the crowd, drawn by the cries and finding of the body, overran the place.
"Hm-m-m," Monk scratched the bristles atop his bullet-shaped head. "It would be kinda hard to find anything now. But, say, this is the queerest dang thing I ever saw!"
Monk started to say something else, then gave a violent jerk. He had just noted that Doc was carrying a bundle under his right arm—the stratosphere suit which the airport attendant had been directed to put with the rest of the baggage. This suggested things to Monk.
"Lookit, Doc!" he gulped. "Remember the funny odor? It was on that suit!"
Instead of answering that question, Doc Savage, who had paused to examine the little satan image, said, "Here's something almost as strange. Notice the face of this image." The bronze man handed Monk a tiny magnifying glass.
Monk observed the face of the little devil image. The workmanship was exquisite.
"Recognize the face?" Doc asked.
"Yours!" Monk squalled. "Doc, this thing has your face!"
"Exactly!" Doc Savage said. "Now, let us look around."
The bronze man had spent almost no time around the body of the slain attendant, but this did not mean he was not going to make an investigation, for he now roamed over the operations office, flake-gold eyes searching. Finding nothing, he went outside. He was soon recognized, and became the center of a seething throng of autograph hunters. He gave up the search.
Some time later, Monk stood on tiptoe under the brightly lighted marquee of the administration building and stared over the thinning mass of parked cars. He frowned and shook his small head.
"A car was to meet us, wasn't it, Doc?" he asked. "Funny it don't show up."
"Nothing was said about the car having a driver," Doc Savage reminded him.
MONK still carried the black document case, and Doc now took this, opened it. It held, among other things, money and at least two, folded telegrams. Doc removed one of the telegrams, opened it and extended it for the scrutiny of Monk and Ham. It read:
DOC SAVAGE
NEW YORK CITY
BLUE CAR LICENSE CALIFORNIA 9K7376 WILL BE AT AIRPORT FOR YOUR USE.
MONTGOMERY MEDWIG PELL
"Uh-huh," Monk grunted. "Let's look around."
They found the car shortly. It surprised them somewhat, for it was a very big, very expensive town car, with the driver's compartment open.
"Match you shyster, to see who drives," Monk suggested to Ham.
"Nothing doing!" snorted Ham. "You look the part! The job is yours."
Monk got behind the wheel. Doc and Ham entered the rear, and the machine was put in motion. Doc Savage rolled down the glass partition which separated them from the driver's compartment, in order that Monk might hear what was being said.
Progress proved very slow. There was something of a traffic jam near the airport.
From the front seat, Monk called, "Hey, read that first telegram we got, will you? I'd like to hear it again."
Doc Savage drew back the flap of the document case and extracted a second folded telegram. The traffic jam was holding their speed down, so Monk had time to read it:
DOC SAVAGE
NEW YORK CITY
HAVE CLIENT WHO HAS AUTHORIZED ME ENCAGE YOUR SERVICES FOR JOB OF SAVING NUMBER OF LIVES STOP CLIENT SAYS WILL PAY FOR YOUR SERVICES BY CONVERTING ANY REASONABLE SUM TO ANY CHARITY YOU NAME STOP CAN YOU COME LOS ANGELES AT ONCE STOP IT MIGHT BE ADVISABLE USE PRECAUTIONS
MONTGOMERY MEDWIG PELL
LAWYER
Monk passed the message back, said, "And so we wired him we could come, and he sent us the other message about the blue car being at the airport."
Ham said, "It looks as if it were advisable to use precautions. Wonder just what's back of this?"
No one answered. The big car worried at the traffic stream, making a little better time.
"Blazes!" Monk exploded, suddenly. "Look! This was fastened to the brake lever with a rubber and I just noticed it!"
He passed back a bit of cardboard. A business card, it bore on the front:
MONTGOMERY MEDWIG PELL
Attorney at Law
Suite 720 Western Bldg
Doc Savage turned the card over. The back of it bore a penciled inscription:
DOC SAVAGE:
Please come immediately to my office in the Western Building.
PELL.
"That," Monk said, "seems to fix us up."
THE Western Building proved to be a gaudy piece of showmanship. The terra cotta facade was illuminated much too brightly by a profusion of floodlamps. It had a distinctly cheap look.
The neighborhood bore out the feeling of cheap flash. It had been given what is slangily called a "front" at the outlay of the least expense possible. The sidewalks were too wide, and too cheap, because they were beginning to crack.
There was an alley alongside the Western Building.