"061 (B050) - Devil on the Moon (1938-03) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"Them guys must've had a bulletproof car!" he muttered.
Lurgent cleared his throat. He wore the expression of a man in the middle of a bad dream.
"What the blazes ails you?" asked Behemoth.
Lurgent rubbed his forehead with palm. He didn't say anything.
"A fine brave bunch of mugs you turned out to be!" Behemoth said scathingly to Lurgent and his men.
Lurgent croaked. "Didn't you recognize those five men?"
"Huh."
"I didn't think you did!" Lurgent said grimly.
"Whatcha mean?"
"Those five—with one exception—are the five most dangerous men you could probably find."
Behemoth looked bewildered. "I don't get you."
"They were Doc Savage's five assistants!"
Lurgent said grimly.
Chapter V. THE IDEA MAN
LURGENT lost no time in getting his men away from the vicinity of the inlet. Lurgent's first terror wore off, and was replaced with a grim seriousness. They rode in two cars, with both Behemoth and Lurgent in the lead machine. There were three others in this car, and all but Behemoth looked as if they were coming from a funeral. Behemoth showed no concern, and seemed amused by the long faces. He fell to chuckling.
"This Doc Savage seems to have an Indian sign on you fellows," he said.
Lurgent looked at Behemoth disgustedly. "It must be your ignorance! Haven't you ever heard of Doc Savage?"
"Sure. Just a guy who helps people, ain't he? Kind of a philanthropist."
"Philanthropist!" Lurgent groaned. "That's what I thought! It's not bravery! It's stupidity!"
"Whether I got brains or not is a matter of opinion," Behemoth muttered.
Approaching their tourist-camp hideout, the men became cautious and looked about for traces of ambush.
Behemoth, watching them curiously, seemed to become infected with their uneasy virus, and muttered, "You don't expect to see Doc Savage around here?"
"Oh, pipe down!" Lurgent snapped. "If you knew anything about this bronze man, you wouldn't be so cocky!"
"Bronze man?"
"That's what they call Doc Savage," Lurgent growled.
Satisfied that no menace to themselves lurked in the vicinity, the group entered the tourist cabin where the girl was being held. Behemoth threw away his chewed cigar stub and substituted a fresh weed.
Lurgent said, "Drive one of the cars up to the side door. Roll that girl in a blanket and put her in the machine. The rest of you get ready to leave here."
The men collected their belongings; in a few minutes they entered the cars, and the machines rolled away.
"Where we goin'?" Behemoth wanted to know.
Lurgent frowned at him. "There's a lot you ain't wise to yet."
Behemoth did not appear offended.
"This looks like a good job to me. That green guy Vesterate, or whatever his name is, sure puzzles me. Who is he anyway?"
"What do I look like, a mind reader?" Lurgent growled.
Behemoth flicked some ashes out a window. "Seeing you're the boss I thought you might know."
Lurgent scowled. "Sometimes you get in my hair," he admitted sourly. "Don't you ever do anything but ask questions?"
Behemoth overlooked the sarcasm in the other's voice.
"There's only one more thing I'd like to know," he said. "What did those fellows clean things back in the cabin for?"
Lurgent seemed about to explode, but managed to calm down.
"You probably wouldn't know if I told you!" he gritted. "We ain't taking chances on leaving fingerprints, that's all. Only a dumb ox like you wouldn't know that!"
"I wouldn't say I was dumb," Behemoth came back. "I'm just naturally curious, that's all."
"It's a bad disease to have," Lurgent pointed out meaningly. Something in his voice made the driver shudder. Behemoth obviously didn't catch the hidden meaning. He settled back, seeming to enjoy his cigar. He looked larger than either of the two men in the car.
THE cars traveled at a moderate pace, carefully obeying traffic rules. Making a left turn, the little cavalcade proceeded along a road where there was much less traffic, and then took an even more deserted road, finally turning into a farmyard.
Their destination presented all the outward appearances of a modest country estate of a gentleman of small means. The buildings were ancient, but had been kept up; the house was white clapboard, and the barn was of stone, with a shingled roof.
Two people appeared—perfect farmer types. The lady was elderly, wrinkled and wearing gingham. The old gentleman chewed tobacco and wore overalls.
"You stupid apes!" the nice-looking old lady yelled. "You should have better gumption than to bring such a mob here!"
She was obviously a man in masquerade.
"Shut up!" Lurgent said. "Hell has broke loose. We have to contact the Man on the Moon without fooling around."
They entered the old farmhouse. Behemoth took notice that there was an extremely modern-looking radio aлrial atop the farmhouse.
A youngish-looking fellow met them inside.
"Get us through!" Lurgent said. "This is important."