"065 (B056) - The Giggling Ghosts (1938-07) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The two were alike in only one way: both were associates of Doc Savage, assistants to the bronze man. They differed in every other particular.
Monk Mayfair came near being as wide as he was tall, had arms longer than his legs, and he was covered with a prodigious quantity of rusty-looking hair; he resembled, in fact, an ape. But despite his looks, Monk was one of the world's leading chemists. People did not follow Monk down the street to admire his erudition; they followed him because he was as funny-looking as a baboon.
Ham Brooks, on the other hand, was lean and dapper, and when people gaped at him, it was because Ham was living up to his reputation of being one of the world's best-dressed men. Ham changed his clothes at least three times daily, always carried a slim black sword cane, and was admitted to be one of the most astute lawyers Harvard had ever turned out.
Monk and Ham were riding in a large limousine, with Monk driving. Ahead of them was a taxicab which the girl, Miami Davis, had hailed.
While they trailed the girl, Monk and Ham diverted themselves by quarreling. They could quarrel on any subject. Now they were squabbling about marriage, both of them having barely escaped getting married in the course of a recent adventure.
Monk leaned back, gullied his homely face with a big grin, and announced, "The only reason I ain't never got married is because I don't believe in likes marryin' likes. Now, if I could find a girl the exact opposite of me, I'd marry her in a minute."
Ham said, "Surely you could find an honest, beautiful girl of high character?"
Monk said, "No, I don't—" Then he got the dirty dig and glared at Ham. "Hey, that was a crack!" he squealed.
"Merely a statement of fact, you hairy oaf!" Ham said.
Monk looked indignant.
"You—you seed!" he bellowed. "I could eat you alive, you overdressed runt—and you'd probably taste like a scallion!"
Ham snorted.
"In that case you'd have more brains in your belly than you'll ever have in your head!"
While Doc's aids drove along in the wake of the girl's cab, the two continued this type of discussion, doing so with a loudness and violence that was deceptive; for it seemed that they were continually on the point of stopping the car and trying to murder each other, whereas they were actually the best of friends. There had been a time or two when each had actually risked his life to save the other.
In the back seat of the car, a minor edition of the Monk-and-Ham bickering flared up occasionally between their two pets. Two pets named Habeas Corpus and Chemistry. Habeas Corpus was a remarkable-looking pig. The pig had long legs, winglike ears, a snout built for inquiring into holes. Chemistry was a freak edition of an ape. Chemistry looked rather remarkably like the homely Monk.
Habeas Corpus, the pig, belonged to Monk.
Chemistry, the ape, belonged to Ham.
The car made very little noise. The swick-swack of the windshield wiper was louder than the motor or the rain. Occasionally they crossed low places in the pavement, and the wheels sent water sheeting outward. It was beginning to get dark.
Monk stopped squabbling to remark, "The girl seems to know where she's goin'."
"Apparently she's going toward Sheepshead Bay," Ham admitted.
"Yep, as much as I hate to admit you're right about anything," Monk grumbled.
Later, the girl's taxicab swerved over to the curb and stopped.
Monk promptly turned off the street to get out of sight. They were a block behind the girl. Their car jumped over the curb and stopped behind a rattletrap building bearing a sign which said:
FRESH BAIT
Monk squinted at the sign.
"I hope that ain't an omen," he muttered.
Ham pointed suddenly. "Hey! Who's that?"
Monk squinted in the direction Ham was pointing and saw nothing but some old rain-drenched buildings and growing gloom.
"Who's what?" he asked.
Ham explained, "I thought I saw a man start toward us, then jump back out of sight after he got a better look at us."
"Maybe we'd better go see about that," suggested Monk.
Monk was happiest when he was in trouble.
HAM had actually seen a man. The man had come out of a long, narrow, discouraged-looking building of planks. He had fled back into the same building. This structure had no windows, and one whole end was open. The building was a place where small boats had once been built, and what was left of a marine railway sloped from the open end down to the bay water.
The mysterious man was the same individual who had attacked Miami Davis in Doc's headquarters.
The man watched Monk and Ham through a crack in the planks. He wore his yellow slicker, gray hat, gray gloves, gray suit and gray sport shoes, all rather soggy with the rain.
When he saw Monk and Ham coming toward the building—the pets had been left in the car—he gave a disgusted grunt and plucked his silk handkerchief from a pocket and held it ready to hide his face if necessary.
The man then ran to the open end of the building and made a quick survey of the marine railway. It was obvious that he could get on all fours, crawl down the bed of the abandoned railway, and get to the edge of the water. So he did this.
There was a retaining wall of piling and timbers along the shore, and many ramshackle wharves. The man found cracks which gave purchase for his toes and hands, and worked along until he reached a dock to which several fishing boats were moored. He crept out under the dock, clambering from one stringer to another, until he reached a fishing boat.
This fishing boat differed very little from several others. It was a party boat of the kind which, for a dollar and a half, took you out to sea a few miles, furnished your dinner and a hook and line, and you could fish over the side.
The man crept down a companionway into the lighted cabin of the fishing boat.
Three men in the boat cabin looked relieved when they recognized him, but when they saw the grimness on his face, they grew uneasy again.
"Somethin' wrong, Batavia?" one asked.
Batavia nodded.
"The girl showed up, like we figured she would," he said. "She's probably on Hart's boat now."
"That's hunky-dory, then."
"It's a hunk of trouble!" Batavia growled.
"Huh?"
"Two guys named Monk and Ham showed up right behind the girl," Batavia said.
The other man scratched his head. "Who're they?"
Batavia looked disgusted. "Two of Doc Savage's men; that's who they are!" he snapped.