"056 (B028) - Repel (The Deadly Dwarf) (1937-10) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

All five assistants were curious about the reason for their hurried flight to Fan Coral Island, and particularly curious about the reason for taking so many weapons.
Ham asked, "Are you figuring we'll have some trouble, Doc?"
"We have got to keep the thing coming out of that volcano from falling into the wrong hands," Doc Savage said quietly.
"Is it that bad?"
"It would be almost impossible to estimate the terrible possibilities of Repel," the bronze man stated.
He ran the plane's motors with the throttles wide open.
THE next development that followed the strange eruption of Ethel's Mama occurred in Shanghai, China. Shanghai boasts of a newspaper printed in English.
A man sat in a Shanghai bar and read this newspaper. He was a lean and fit-looking fellow. And he was very interested in the accounts of Ethel's Mama. He also watched the bar.
Soon another lean and fit-looking man drifted into the bar and ordered a drink. The two men were very much alike in build and face. But the new arrival had hair which was white on top, but black at the temples. He also had a square of adhesive tape stuck over the back of his right hand and another on the palm.
The first man joined the second. They had recently met, their casual remarks revealed. After a while the first man suggested trying a second bar which he knew about. The other agreed, and they left.
The man who had been reading the paper steered the course into a deserted street. He stopped.
"Listen," he said, "you are Snowball Eagan, a newspaper writer, aren't you?"
"That's right," agreed the man with the white scalp lock and the taped right hand. "But what—"
"And you're headed for Fan Coral Island, to cover the eruption of Ethel's Mama, aren't you?" asked the second.
"That's right."
"We're about the same build."
"So what?"
"If I was to dye my hair white on top and put a piece of tape on my right hand I'd look like you."
"Listen here," snapped newspaperman "Snowball" Eagan, "what are you driving at? Who are you, anyway? You haven't told me your name, and I saw you duck when you saw a cop coming."
"I'm one of the most dangerous international criminals alive," the other man said calmly. "The Shanghai police are watching every road, steamship, railroad and airplane leaving Shanghai. I cannot get out of the city. My pal, Bert, got out. He was lucky. He is now on Fan Coral Island, and I've got to get there. The only way of getting there that I can see is to take your place. You newspapermen have a plane chartered which is leaving to-night for Fan Coral Island. The other newspapermen don't know you very well, and I could easily get by as you."
Snowball Eagan, the newshawk, exploded, "But what is there on Fan Coral Island for a crook like you?"
"If that volcano has coughed up what I think it has, it will make a guy like me just about able to run things in this world," the international criminal said grimly.
"You're crazy to tell me this," snapped Snowball Eagan, "because I'm not going to change places with you! You can't bribe me!"
"I wasn't going to bribe you," the other said.
With which he whipped up a knife and cut the unfortunate journalist's throat as neatly as could be.
The newspaper plane left Shanghai that night and carried the fake Snowball Eagan.
Counting Doc Savage's group, that made two parties interested in what Ethel's Mama was coughing up. And both were headed for the spot by plane.
The false Snowball Eagan, having the shorter distance to go, arrived first.
The world did not know when Doc Savage arrived. He brought his big plane in at night, planted it in a little cove on the opposite side of the island, and he and his five men did not make their presence known. They did not want to attract a lot of attention because Doc Savage disliked newspaper notoriety.
ON the day following the arrival of Doc Savage's plane on Fan Coral Island, a very tall and wonderfully bony man walked down the street in Fan Coral City and had a narrow escape.
A chunk of lava the size of a football came sizzling down from the sky. It exploded with a loud report on the sidewalk beside the bony gentleman. The latter jumped into the nearest door with the alacrity of a rabbit which had been shot at.
"I'll be superamalgamated!" the bony man gasped. "A comminatory indubitably examplifying perrorative incidentation."
A newspaper writer in a near-by store overheard this and grabbed excitedly at an arm of a companion writer. "Did you hear that?"
"Yes," said the other writer. "And I could hear it again and still now know what he said."
This other writer was lean and fit-looking enough to fill the public conception of a tiger hunter. There were two other remarkable things about him: His hair was black at the temples and white on top, exactly reversing the usual order. A two-inch square of white adhesive tape was stuck on the back of his right hand and another square on the palm. He had introduced himself as Snowball Eagan from Shanghai, and some of the other newshawks had heard of him.
The first writer said, "Nobody ever understands that tall drink of water unless they've got a late dictionary and plenty of time to look up the words."
"You know him?" asked Snowball Eagan.
"No. But there can't be any mistake. He uses the words and looks the part. He's William Harper Littlejohn."
Snowball Eagan patted the piece of adhesive tape on the back of his right hand gently. "So what?"
"Good night! Don't you know? Littlejohn, or Johnny, as they call him, is one of Doc Savage's five assistants."
Snowball Eagan suddenly looked very interested.
"Savage!" he exclaimed. "You mean the American they call the man of bronze?"
"The gentleman of mystery himself. This chap Johnny is one of five aids who work with Doc Savage. Johnny is a top archaeologist and geologist, and Savage's other aids are all experts in some line. But the bronze lad himself is better than any one of them at his own profession."
"That's hokum!" sniffed Snowball Eagan.
"Don't kid yourself."
"It's just the old bushwa for publicity."
"If you ever tried to interview the bronze man you'd know about how he goes for publicity. Just like a fish goes for the Sahara Desert."
"A lot of gargle," said Snowball Eagan. "Watch me interview this assistant of Doc Savage's for a starter."
The two scribes walked up to the bony word user and Snowball Eagan said, "Greetings, Professor Littlejohn. We are newspapermen. Will you tell us what you are doing here? Is Doc Savage with you? And if so, why?"
The bony gentleman frowned. His right hand fumbled absently at a ribbon which ran from his lapel to his upper coat pocket and almost drew into view a monocle, then stuffed it back hastily.