"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 039 - The Seven Agate Devils" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The lower portion of his face was loose and rubbery. The folds of it lay in gullied lines.

"What’re we gonna do with him?" pondered the gun-wielder aloud. "There’s too much involved in this, and too
many men have died already, to let one guy mess the works."

"Savage isn’t wise to what it’s all about," growled the man whose lower face was like rubber. "We will give
this fellow the same thing we were giving the other one."

Mention of another victim caused Monk to peer around again.

The room was a ground floor garage, rather large, and the ceiling was supported by a number of
pillars—heavy girders of steel encased in a covering of concrete.

To one pillar, a man was tied. The manner in which the fellow’s head sagged down on his chest indicated he
was senseless. A rope, passed around the man and the pillar many times, held him erect. The fellow had
dark and very baggy clothing, and rather gray hair.

A vicious jab from the gun took Monk’s attention away from the other prisoner.

"Over by that post!" directed the heavily built thug.

Monk was never loath to fight. He made a grab at the gun, but he was too dazed. He missed it, and the thug
promptly employed it to crack him over the head. Dazed, Monk was rushed over to the same post to which
the other man was tied. A wadded handkerchief was used for a gag.

Monk was jerked around so that his back was to the post, and they began to tie him.

Monk was mad, but not too greatly worried. Doc Savage was close. These men would surely say
something—at least ask questions before they did anything drastic. Doc would come to investigate before
long.

A moment later, Monk came to the chilly conclusion that he had been too optimistic. The men finished tying
him. They went to the back of the garage, got into a car. They started the engine.

"Everything set?" asked the man behind the wheel.

"Everything set," agreed the man with the hybrid face.



THE car started forward. It came fast. Monk experienced exactly such a feeling as would result were the
contents of an ice water cooler emptied down his back.
The automobile was going to smash not only himself, but the other prisoner!

It was a clumsy way of doing murder. Also, it was a grimly reasonable one. The bodies could be dumped
beside a road somewhere and, when found, they would look as if they had been victims of a hit-and-run driver.

Monk twisted, squirmed. He tried to jump up, and he tried to sink down. But the ropes held him. He tried
shutting his eyes. That did not work. He had to look, somehow. The front of the car seemed to get bigger and
bigger.