Читать книгу The Munitions Master: A Doc Savage Adventure - Harold A. Davis - Страница 5

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Doc Savage probably should have been torn to pieces.

As the mob rushed him, the bronze man dropped. He was not knocked down. He dived forward, breaking free from the grip of the false gendarmes.

As the crowd swept over him, he broke several small capsules on the pavement.

A thin powder seemed to fill the air, directly in the center of the mob. From the outside, it appeared merely dust stirred up from the pavement. It enveloped those nearest the bronze man.

Some minutes later, a man appeared on the outskirts of the rioting mob. His shoulders were stooped, his hair gray. His clothes were tattered, and his head sagged.

He did not look anything at all like Doc Savage.

He moved after two men in the torn uniform of gendarmes.

Those men were making their way to the Metro entrance. The two would be safe as soon as they got rid of the uniforms they wore.

They did not see the old man who trailed them.

But others did. Carloff Traniv grinned evilly. Monk grabbed Ham’s arm, pulled him out of a struggling mass. Chemistry, for once, appeared willing to stop fighting.

Monk did not speak, he merely pointed. Ham’s breath came out in a relieved sigh.

“I knew he’d do it, but I must confess I feel better now that I can see he did get away,” the lawyer admitted.

With the ape between them, they started after Doc.

The bronze man darted down the Metro entrance. The two men he was trailing were using an old New York trick of going in one subway entrance, then across and out another in order to cross a crowded street.

Doc made no attempt to overhaul them; he appeared content to trail along. Monk and Ham lost track of him momentarily.

But there were two others who didn’t.

As the bronze man emerged from the subway entrance on the opposite side of the street, two figures pressed against him. Guns bored into his ribs.

“You will come with us,” said a girl’s voice. It was the girl who had been watching the street fighting.

“We think you will prove very valuable to us,” her dancing partner drawled. “But don’t attempt to escape, or we will shoot.”

Both spoke excellent English. Doc’s expression did not change. He walked along without protest.

“How did you get away from that mob?” the girl asked. Frank wonderment was in her voice.

“It really was quite easy,” Doc explained conversationally. “I merely released a powder that momentarily deprived those closest to me of the power of sight. As well as hampering their powers of locomotion. Before they recovered, I altered my appearance and moved away.”

“Cute,” the girl said shortly. “Clever, aren’t you?”

Doc made no reply. He permitted himself to be ushered into a taxi on a side street. The man spoke rapidly in French.

Monk and Ham burst into view just as the cab sped away at a neck-breaking pace.

“They got Doc!” Ham said incredulously.

“Got him, nothing,” Monk protested loyally. “If Doc went along, you know it was because he wanted to. He thinks they’ll lead him to who really is behind this.”

The hairy chemist sighed deeply. “I hope that girl ain’t mixed up in it. S-she’s too beautiful.”

The girl really was beautiful, but the gun she held was steady as a rock. Her companion’s eyes showed that he would not hesitate to shoot if it should be necessary.

Neither knew that Doc wore bulletproof underclothing, that he was not in the least impressed by their guns.

The girl and her companion showed no disposition to talk. Doc surveyed them in silence.

The cab stopped before a ramshackle building in the Latin quarter on the left bank of the Seine.

Both the girl and her companion had been watching out the rear window of the cab for some moments. Now they looked at each other anxiously. The man nodded.

Doc was ushered out, taken inside the place. He was pushed into a small room, far back in the building.

The girl sighed. “Made it,” she said.

Doc suddenly went into action. One hand shot out with such speed that it was only a blur. Before the man opposite him knew what had happened, his gun had been transferred to Doc’s fist.

A faint squeal came from the girl. She tried to bring her automatic up, squeeze the trigger. Her gun also appeared to move into Doc’s hand without effort.

“Now you will tell me who you are, and what this is all about,” the bronze man said quietly.

The girl’s face was sullen. Her companion appeared disgusted.

“Your names?” Doc repeated softly.

The tall young man took a desperate chance. He hurled himself directly at Doc.

The two guns disappeared in Doc’s pockets. He faded back. As the man lunged by, one of Doc’s hands floated out. His fingers appeared to caress the back of the fellow’s neck.

The young man halted, jerked erect, then stood absolutely motionless. His eyes had a queer, vacant look. The girl stared, amazed.

“Your names?” Doc repeated.

“John Marsh and Mary Standish,” the other said. His voice was dull, lifeless, without emotion.

A scream came from the girl. “Don’t, John! Don’t talk!” she shrieked.

Doc turned toward her. Her gaze riveted on his hypnotic eyes. A faint shiver passed through her body. She quieted.

The man who called himself John Marsh had not moved. Doc’s fingers had struck nerves in the back of Marsh’s neck. He was semiconscious, but did not know what was going on. In a comatose state, he would answer any question truthfully.

“Who are you, what do you do?” Doc went on quietly.

“We are dancers. We appear at the Trempe Café,” John Marsh replied.

“And your other job, the one that caused you to attempt to kidnap me?”

“We would kill you, if necessary. We are——”

Heavy footsteps pounded in the hall outside. The sound appeared to penetrate John Marsh’s mental fog. He broke off. A frightened expression crossed the girl’s face. She darted toward a small radio, turned the dial.

Outside, fists pounded on the door.

The radio made queer noises. Then words came from it.

“—so Doc Savage evidently escaped,” an announcer said in French. “Members of the Sûreté have taken up the trail. The archfiend cannot escape. One incredible rumor is that the man we had thought our friend was assisted in getting away by a girl and a man. It is believed the girl can be identified——”

A startled gasp came from the girl. Fists pounded more heavily on the door.

Doc Savage did not move, did not speak.

“Open the door, Mary!” a voice shouted.

The girl dived toward a closet in a far corner of the room. With frantic haste she yanked open the door. She moved a suitcase and lifted a concealed trap door underneath. A short ladder led downward.

Doc Savage remained quiet.

The girl shot down the ladder. John Marsh’s eyes suddenly regained intelligence. He fled after her.

Voices were raised louder in the hallway outside.

John Marsh pulled down the trap door. The bronze man walked forward, replaced the suitcase over the hidden exit, and closed the closet door. He turned toward the entrance to the hall—and halted.

Strange sounds were coming from the radio. At first it seemed as if a tremendous belt of static had been unloosed, completely drowning out the words of the French announcer. Then there was a piercing whistle that could only mean a stronger station had come on the air on the same wave band, or else it was a huge spark set that was blanketing the entire dial.

Words blared from the loud-speaker.

“This is Doc Savage speaking,” a voice said. The voice was more than a credible imitation of the bronze man’s tones. No one—not even his aids—could have detected that an impostor, not Doc Savage, was talking.

Monk and Ham heard the announcement from a radio in their hotel.

Monk gave a satisfied grunt, and relaxed on the bed. “I knew Doc would pull one out of the hat,” he said in satisfied tones. “Now he’ll be able to convince this bunch he had nothing to do with the crippling of those soldiers.”

“And we’ll go find who really was responsible,” Ham said.

Then they both sat up suddenly. “Holy Moses!” Monk ejaculated. Ham, facile lawyer as he was, for once was speechless. For the radio went on, in the voice of Doc Savage:

“Let me repeat, this is Doc Savage. You all have heard of me. You know that at various times I have invented many strange things.

“The crippling of your soldiers today was the result of one of my inventions!”

There was a dramatic pause. Then the voice continued:

“You heard, but did not believe, when I struck in China. I struck also in Soviet Russia. An entire regiment was crippled there. The report was hushed up. I arranged the demonstration today to reveal the extent of my power.

“And to prepare you for what is to come!”

A second time there was a pause. Millions clustered breathlessly about their radios.

“T-that ain’t Doc!” Monk burst forth. He leaped to his feet, his face contorted in a deadly snarl. Chemistry also leaped up, paced beside the chemist.

“No, it isn’t Doc,” Ham agreed. A worried look was on the dapper lawyer’s features. “It isn’t Doc, but the world won’t know that. Doc’s being made a fall guy——” He held up his hand quickly, listening.

“You have all heard rumors, although your newspapers have not printed accurate reports of many strange happenings in the world recently,” the fake Doc’s voice went on. “No need for me now to recount those happenings. That is past history. Suffice to say I was responsible for them. I have started minor revolts and large-scale revolutions. It all is leading to one thing. Listen closely.

“I, Doc Savage, am going to rule the world!”

Monk’s long arms went over his head in a gesture of helpless rage. Ham motioned for silence.

“It would be better for you, people of France, to be with me, rather than against. Rebel, overthrow your government, put your army out of commission. If not, I will; and my methods, as I have demonstrated, are not pleasant. Besides, I would regret exceedingly if it became necessary to use such methods on civilians.”

The voice stopped. There was a long pause. Something more had to come. It did.

“You may still doubt my power,” the voice concluded. “I hereby make you a promise. Within a few hours—and I could give you the exact second—one of the largest battleships of one of the most powerful nations in the world, is going to disappear with all on board.

“It will be destroyed! I, Doc Savage, who am to become the ruler of the world, so promise!”

The high-pitched whine of the transmitting set died out. The French announcer in the Eiffel Tower station could be heard stuttering wordlessly.

“D-doc had better come soon. We’ve got to stop this!” Monk said hoarsely.

It was at that moment that the door was knocked down in the room where Doc Savage had been listening intently to the words of the radio speaker. He turned.

Five men poured into the room. Two carried submachine guns. The others were heavily armed.