"Robeson, Kenneth - Doc Savage 1937 12 - The Golden Peril" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

His voice ended almost in a scream at what he saw in the general’s face. He made
a dive for the radio key.
The gun came up. Once again it spoke. The operator died, the radio key
untouched.
A faint grin cut the general’s face. He patted the gun in his hand.
"Unless Doc Savage is a clairvoyant, I do not think he will ever receive that
message," he said dryly. "And he couldn’t hear those shots in New York."
Two men came in then at the general’s barked command and gathered up the dead
bodies and wiped up the blood. Some might wonder what had happened to the radio
operator that he should disappear. But none would ever know just what had taken
place. It would remain a mystery.

Chapter II. A PLEA FOR HELP
FEW sounds penetrated to Doc Savage’s office on the eighty-sixth floor of one of
Manhattan’s skyscrapers. That office might have been in a world by itself, far
aloft, with view unhindered by surrounding structures. But there was a curious,
strained tension in that office.
"You’ve got to help, Mr. Savage. No one but you can do so. For you to refuse may
mean unreckoned tragedy."
The speaker’s voice was urgent, pleading. A tall man, he was dressed entirely in
black except for a brilliant, white shirt. His eyes and hair were black, but his
thin, mobile face, detracted from the somberness of his costume.
"Already there have been riots, some indication of what is afoot," he went on
quickly. "I am sure the peace of the world is at stake, perhaps the fate of the
world as well. You must act!"
His black eyes flashed entreatingly to the man seated behind the only desk in
the room.
That man stirred slightly. He was a big man, but did not show it. He was so well
put together that the impression was not of bigness, but of power. His face and
hands were the color of golden bronze—a bronze that exactly matched the color of
his hair.
But it was his eyes that held the attention of his visitor. They were like pools
of flake gold. They were penetrating, with an almost hypnotic influence.
"What definite information have you that such a plot exists, Baron Vardon?" Doc
Savage asked. His voice was low, but it had a peculiar timbre, one that made it
carry clearly and distinctly.
The black-clad man sat more erect in his chair. His fingers toyed with his black
felt hat.
"As I explained, I am on the League of Nations staff. We receive much
information that is not made known to the general public—information that comes
to us from all our member States. Recently, we have heard much of a mysterious
man known only as The Leader. Who or what he is, we do not know. But of his
actions we know much."
Baron Vardon paused, frowned as if collecting his thoughts. "We know that a
skeleton organization of well-trained fighting men is being organized in every
country in the world. Already, there have been a few outbreaks. You remember the
recent ones in China, Africa and South America. Those were merely tests of
power. The big coup is still to come. It awaits some signal. What this signal
is, we also do not know."
"And just what do you wish me to do?" the bronze man asked.