"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 042 - The Midas Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Three other cars followed. These machines held newspaper reporters, who had orders to keep tab on young
Mandebran.

The three cars of the newspapermen started out with full expectations of keeping the machine ahead in sight.
They received a surprise. The dark limousine traveled faster and faster. The newspapermen pushed their cars
to the utmost, but they were rapidly left behind. Within twenty minutes, the newshawks had lost all trace of
the black car. Thus they missed a bit of drama which would surely have been good for headlines.

Alex Mandebran in the black car became alarmed at the excessive speed.

"I say, driver!" he called. "We are hardly going to a fire!"

This got no results. Alex Mandebran rapped sharply on the glass which separated the driver’s compartment.
The big Negro piloting the machine did not even look around. The young man tried to crank the glass down. It
would not budge. He endeavored to open the doors. They would not open. He tackled the windows. No luck
there, either.

"What the hell does this mean?" Mandebran shrieked, completely shedding his English accent.

Getting no answer, he wrenched off a shoe and employed it to beat against the glass. The glass was like
armor plate. Alex Mandebran sank back on the cushions, somewhat pale.

The black limousine had left the main highway by now, and was jouncing over rough roads. Turning off sharply
into a grove of trees, it stopped. The driver got out, calmly opened the rear door.

"Damn you, whoever you are!" Alex Mandebran gritted, and leaped to the attack.

The thirty seconds or so which ensued were brisk and discomfiting to Mandebran. Not only did he fail to bear
the other down with his charge, but he was seized, lifted and slammed to the earth so hard that the breath
left his lungs.

The captor held his wrists easily, searched him for a weapon, but found none.

"Blast you! What are—"

Alex Mandebran went abruptly silent, for he had gotten a look at one of his captor’s wrists.

Some of the disguising color had been rubbed off the wrists in the struggle. The captor was unmistakably a
white man.

"What’s the meaning of this?" Alex Mandebran demanded.



THE reply of the mysterious black driver was to begin wiping more of the coloring off his features. He worked
rapidly, employing a chemical remover which came in a tube, and which he had been carrying in a pocket.

Alex Mandebran began to stare in amazement. He all but rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

"Good night!" he gasped.