"143 (B094) - Violent Night (The Hate Genius) (1945-01) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"The request came directly from the White House, which sounds rather wild also," he said, uncomfortably.



He crouched beside the red-headed man still dangling Pat's six-gun idly in his fingers.



He added, "Here is what I'm trying to tell you. No one seems to know the whereabouts of this man we are to catch. However, I have a means of locating him which should work -- and will work, providing no one interferes with us. Everything hinges on that -- no one interfering with us. For that reason, we have to get tough with this fellow here. I do not know who he is, or what his game was, but he's out of luck. We can't have him interfering now. Because if things work out right, we'll be able to lay our hands right on this man we're supposed to catch."



He closed his eyes and thought: God help me, that is close to lying. He had never lied to Monk or Pat or Ham. Not exactly. He had shaved the truth a few times, and always regretted it.



While he was repenting, the red-headed man snatched the big six-shooter out of his hands.





THE red-headed man was quick and violent. He was coming to his feet when he said, "Don't move, babies, or I'll blow you apart!"



The fellow stood there, as if afraid to make another move. He held the big gun too tightly, and it shook a little, enough to worry Monk and Pat -- and it would have worried Doc if he hadn't unloaded it a while ago.



Pat stared at the gun. It was large, so much larger when you were looking at the producing end. Age and use had made the metal shiny and smooth, and the large ivory grips were as smooth as pearls from much use. The red-headed man's hand looked so strained that it was a little yellow on the grips, and It was sweating. Leaving a beautiful set of finger prints, Pat thought. She hoped she wouldn't be shot with her own gun, not with a weapon that was a cherished heirloom like this one.



The red-headed man began backing away.



Doc said, "There are no shells in that gun."



The man laughed, but not as if it was funny. "You should know," he said.



"That's right, I should know," Doc said, and went toward him.