"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 027 - The Secret in the Sky" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Monk picked the pig, Habeas, up by one oversize ear—a treatment the shote seemed not to mind.

“Then the dead man here in New York is not Willard Spanner,” declared the simian chemist. “Nobody
goes from Frisco to New York in not much more than two hours.”

“We will see about that,” Doc told him.

“How?”
“By visiting the New York morgue where the dead man was taken.”

Monk nodded. “How about Ham?”

“We will leave him a note,” Doc said.



APPARENTLY, it had not occurred to any one in authority on the New York civic scene that the
surroundings of the dead were of aesthetic value, for the morgue building was a structure which nearly
attained the ultimate in shoddiness.

Its brick walls gave the appearance of having not been washed in generations, being almost black with
soot and city grime. The steps were grooved deep by treading feet, and the stone paving of the entry into
which the dead wagons ran was rutted by tires. Rusting iron bars, very heavy, were over the windows;
for just what reason, no one probably could have told.

“This joint gives me the creeps—and I don't creep easy,” Monk imparted, as they got out of Doc
Savage's roadster before the morgue.

The roadster was deceptively long. Its color was somber. The fact that its body was of armor plate, its
windows—specially built in the roadster doors—of bullet-proof glass, was not readily apparent.

Monk carried Habeas Corpus by an ear and grumbled, “I wonder why anybody should kill Willard
Spanner? Or grab him, either? Spanner was an all-right guy. He didn't have any enemies.”

Doc listened at the entrance. There was silence, and no attendant was behind the reception desk where
one should have been. They stepped inside.

“Hello, somebody!” Monk called.

Silence answered.

There was an odor in the air, a rather peculiar tang. Monk sniffed.

“Say, I knew they used formaldehyde around these places,” he muttered. “But there's something
besides—”

Doc Savage moved with such suddenness that he seemed to explode. But it was a silent explosion, and
he was little more than a noiseless bronze blur as he crossed to the nearest door. He did not try to pass
through the door, but flattened beside it.