"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 176 - Terror Wears No Shoes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Mr. Goltinger. I'm your escort.”

“Escort! What the hell is this?” Goltinger gasped.

“A quick voyage home for you, Mr. Goltinger.”

“By God, nobody can do this to me!” said Goltinger feelingly. “I'll talk to our diplomats about this!”

“Then you can spill it to me,” said the seat-mate. “I'm one of your diplomats.”

Two hotel servants had been near enough to hear Goltinger hail the big man as Doc Savage. One of
these was from Yu San, and by now he was home in Yu San, not a little confused. He'd received a
month's vacation with pay, something that had never before happened to a servant in that hotel. The other
lackey was in jail in Canton, which was also quite a few miles from the hotel lobby where Goltinger had
hailed the big man. He could have had a paid vacation as well, except that it happened he was wanted by
the Canton police for a little matter of skull-thumping an Englishman a few months previously.
Having made these arrangements, the short homely man who had all the rusty hair got around to tapping
on the door of the big man who had given the woman Canta the name of Jonas.

“Who is it?”

“It's me.”

The man using the name of Jonas opened the door, and said clearly in a pleasant voice, “Thank you for
returning the suit so well-mended, Mr. Wang. Thank you very much. I shall call at your shop and take
care of the bill.”

The homely man, who hadn't brought a suit, and couldn't have mended one either, said, “Thank you, Sir.”
He winked elaborately. “It is a pleasure to have your business.” Then he went away.

He went to a rather expensive room in a hotel patronized by many foreigners, Americans plentiful among
them, and which had the not inconsiderable virtue of exits opening on four different streets.

There was another man in the room, a slender and very dapper one who wore afternoon clothes because
it was afternoon, and who carried a slim cane of dark wood. The homely one addressed the
overly-dressed one as Ham, and was in turn addressed as Monk. That was the extent of their civility.
They began quarrelling, not as men who really had a deep-seated grudge, but more as a matter of habit.
They spent the next forty minutes thinking up insults, and the dapper one unjointed his cane, which
proved to be a sword cane, and while continuing the squabble, freshened an application of some sticky
drug which was applied to the tip of the sword blade. He made no comment about the cane, and Monk
did not seem to think it was extraordinary, hardly noted the operation.

Jonas came finally.

Monk looked at him. “Doc, you think your place may be wired?”

“No point in taking a chance,” Doc Savage said. “How about Goltinger and the two hotel employees?”

Monk, rather pleased with himself, explained about that. “No fuss. No feathers. They're gone with the
wind and won't be missed.”