Читать книгу Mad Eyes: A Doc Savage Adventure - Lawrence Donovan - Страница 4

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While Inspector Higgins was making his useless and profane effort to break down one small steel door, a closed car was smashing several speed records. This car slewed and skidded alarmingly in the rain.

“Listen, you misfit of nature, you either slow down or I’m getting out of this bus and walking the rest of the way!” rasped a stridently sharp voice. “You might bounce that solid skull of yours off the concrete without any damage, but I’ve got something inside mine I’d like to keep there!”

The apish-looking driver twisted the speeding car dangerously near the edge of the concrete. He seemed to have an uncanny skill at just shaving the soft shoulder of the highway.

“There wouldn’t be nothin’ much missin’, unless you happened to bite off your tongue,” said the driver, in a childlike voice. “Anyway, I could make this car climb a tree.”

“You slow down, or I’m ramming about ten inches of this sword cane into your neck!” snapped the other man. “Now what—— That cursed shote of yours has gone and bit Chemistry! In about a minute——”

The hunched-over driver straightened. One long arm whipped over the back of the seat. A hairy fist smashed into a flat nose. A voice much like that of some angry child jabbered.

The driver skidded the car to a stop with a reckless disregard for brakes and tires.

“Hey!” yelled the driver. “You take that wrench away from that bob-tailed monkey of yours, or I’ll wring both your necks!”

The thing in the back seat of the car did look much like a bob-tailed monkey. He was a baboon, and tailless. Also, he was a smart baboon. The thin, raspy-voiced man in the car was Theodore Marley Brooks, better known as “Ham.”

Ham was a lean man. He dressed in most perfect taste. And he was one of the world’s smartest lawyers.

His companion, Andrew Blodgett Mayfair, was everything in appearance that Ham was not. Known as “Monk,” though he was one of half a dozen leading industrial chemists, he really resembled a gorilla. His arms were too long and his legs too short. His forehead sloped, and his eyebrows were too near the top of his skull.

Added to this, Monk was thickly covered with wiry, reddish hair.

The wild scrimmage now taking place in the back of the closed car was between two of the world’s oddest animals.

One was an Australian woods hog, composed of mostly long ears and long legs. The other was a tailless baboon. The baboon came from South America.

The hog answered to the name of Habeas Corpus, which was a direct insult to the impeccable Ham. The baboon had been named Chemistry, with malice aforethought on the part of the lawyer.

Just now, Habeas Corpus had taken a good-sized bite out of one of the baboon’s legs. Chemistry knew better than to risk himself close to the razor-edged teeth of the hog. A tire wrench was handy.

Chemistry was in the act of trying to brain Habeas Corpus, when Monk interfered. The baboon chattered and cracked the heavy wrench across Monk’s arm.

“Daggonit!” squeaked Monk. “This time I’ll put that baboon brother of yours to sleep for keeps!”

“That would be no less than fratricide,” drawled Ham. “You can’t go killing off your own relatives.”

How far this bickering would have continued never would be determined. Monk twisted suddenly back in his seat.

“Good gosh!” exploded Monk. “Didja see that?”

“Well, what am I supposed to see, and where?” snapped Ham.

“Huh!” grunted Monk. “Well, it was either something that went past us on the road or up on the railroad or between the highway and the railroad. I just got a glimpse of it an’ then it was gone.”

“I knew it,” nodded Ham solemnly. “It’s been creeping up on you gradually. Nothing passed us. I see the lights of a car coming around the bend ahead, but that’s all there is.”

Monk scratched his furry head. His small eyes glittered.

“You didn’t see anything that might have been a train?” he said plaintively. “Not on the track—maybe down here on the road?”

“Too bad, too bad,” said Ham mournfully. “I’ll come and see you some time in the hospital. I’ll try and take good care of Habeas Corpus for you.”

Monk started the car. But he continued to stare up at the railroad. About ten minutes before a limited express had roared northward. Since then, Ham was sure nothing had moved on the lines of rails.

“Perhaps all this mystery about Doc’s new machine has gone to your head,” suggested Ham helpfully. “This must be about the biggest thing he’s ever tried. He hasn’t even taken Renny or Long Tom or Johnny in on it. They’re supposed to meet us out here at midnight.”

“Daggonit!” complained Monk. “You know, I don’t like this! We haven’t seen Doc for three days, then he calls us by radio. It must be somethin’ Doc’s afraid somebody wants to steal.”

Ham and Monk were speeding toward the tomblike plant they knew only as the Spargrove Laboratories. The same plant where even now one Inspector Higgins was jumping up and down because he had failed to break in the door.

The inspector, though, had succeeded in raising Professor Spargrove. The excited professor would not be more than half an hour in reaching his locked laboratories.

Habeas Corpus and Chemistry temporarily adjusted their war. They watched each other with bright, wary eyes.

Ham caught Monk’s right arm.

“Look out,” he cautioned. “That driver’s hitting seventy, and he’s taking most of the road.”

“Howlin’ calamities!” squawked Monk. “You think I’m movin’ over for any road hog! I’ll——”

Two blinding headlights leaped down the road directly toward their car. For the fraction of a second, it seemed as if the other driver intended crashing them head-on. Monk quit talking to hold as far to the side of the highway as he could.

“I told you!” rapped Ham. “Hey, hold her!”

The lawyer’s warning was too late. The flying headlights had stabbed on into the rain. But where the four tracks of shining, wet concrete had been brilliant, Monk was now driving into what resembled a floating pool of ink.

Monk’s hand reached out and turned a switch. He clapped huge, oversized goggles to his eyes. Still he was looking into a smoky cloud.

An infra-red beam of invisible light should have penetrated almost any smoke screen. But this was something more than mere smoke. It had the density and opaqueness of black velvet.

Ham let out a yell, but it was somewhat scattered by his head having been banged into the roof of the car.

The reason for this was simple enough. Their car was no longer on its wheels. In the black cloud, the automobile had plunged from the road. It was bouncing along on its top. It traveled thus for possibly fifty yards, before it rolled over and again stood upright.

Ham was bruised and scratched in several places. Only the glass being bulletproof and shatterproof had prevented serious injury.

“All right, you imitation of an ape, I hope you broke your nose!” yelped Ham. “Just why in the devil do you want to try driving upside down?”

Monk made no reply to this. The inky cloud was now clearing away.

Monk was whipping the car around. But few motor vehicles would have taken that shock and continued to run.

But the tires were of sponge rubber. The chassis was of special alloy. From wheels to top, nothing much less than a cannonball could have wrecked this car’s amazing motor.

“Run me offa the road, will they?” exploded Monk. “Daggonit, I’ll show ’em!”

“Good gosh!” groaned Ham. “Now I’m in for it!”

Riding with Monk on a normal drive was filled with dire possibilities. But riding with Monk when he was in a hurry was only a degree short of suicide.

The car which had emitted the inky cloud must have gained at least two miles. It was still being trailed by a dense screen of smoke. Monk was favored in one respect. A brisk wind was now whipping the rain in sheets across the highway. This gave glimpses of the concrete in Monk’s headlights. Ahead, the tail-lights of the other car jumped in and out of Monk’s vision.

“And when you get those fellows, then what?” inquired Ham sarcastically. “They haven’t done anything to us but throw a little smoke in our eyes.”

“I’m findin’ out what kind of juice throws that smoke screen,” announced the stubborn Monk. “Maybe we could use some of it.”

Ham was watching the red tail-lights of the other car.

“I wouldn’t be too sure we’ll catch up with that fellow,” he announced. “There’s something funny about that motor. You haven’t been gaining an inch.”

Monk had the gas in his car wide open. The big chemist was mad all the way through. He knew Ham was telling the truth. For ten miles, he hadn’t gained an inch.

“Suppose we call it off and get back to meet Doc,” suggested Ham. “The message said midnight. That isn’t far away.”

Monk was holding the car at close to a hundred. The lights bored around a curve. They picked up a pair of brilliant red reflectors. Ham’s fingers gripped Monk’s right arm.

“Grade crossing, insect!” he rapped. “Pull her down!”

The red reflectors told where the highway crossed the lines of the railroad.

Monk had made no movement to slacken the speed.

Abruptly, the red reflectors disappeared. They were blotted out as if a giant hand had smashed them off the crossing. The night was shattered with a rending, crackling crash. Two red tail-lights went up in the air.

These lights acted as if they were attached to pinwheels.

The crash died suddenly into a grinding drag. It sounded as if steel and glass were being dragged along the ground. One wild, human scream of pain came out of the darkness.

“Howlin’ calamities!” exploded Monk, jamming on the brakes. “That car got hit at the crossin’! It’s smashed to splinters!”

“Hit by what?” Ham grated. “There isn’t a train in sight! Pull over, Monk! Well have to look into this!”

The highway swung onto the railroad on a slight grade. Both of the red reflectors had been broken off. Nearly a hundred yards from the road crossing a bright flame flared up.

“Hurry up, Monk!” shouted Ham, running along one railroad track. “It’s that car, an’ it’s on fire! They’ll be burned up!”

Ham was correct in part. The blaze was shooting from what had been a pan of an automobile. Other parts were scattered along the track.

Monk had twisted the headlight beams of his own car to cover part of the space. Ham was using one of Doc Savage’s special generator flashlights. Both men were prepared for the shock of coming upon a scene of horror.

Monk and Ham reached the blazing fuel tank together.

“Good grief!” rapped Ham. “What became of the people in that car? Say! You don’t suppose they jumped and made their get-away before the car crashed?”

Monk was standing in the middle of a track, scratching his head.

“It’s confounded funny,” he muttered. “Ham, there ain’t any sign of anybody havin’ been in that car, an’ if there was, what hit ’em?”

“Why, it had to be a train——” Ham began, then stopped. Then he blurted, “Monk, we didn’t see any train! That car couldn’t have been hit! It’s been fifteen minutes since that last train passed us!”

“Daggonit!” growled Monk. “I don’t like this! I looked all along the road where we stopped! There ain’t any place the people in that car could have jumped out! Their lights were movin’ as fast as ours all the time!”

Examination of parts of the car’s seats showed no marks of blood. Monk took out a small bottle. He shook a greenish powder over the plush of the wrecked car’s seats. Immediately, there appeared a faint glowing.

“Every seat was occupied,” he announced. “There were five persons in that car within the past few minutes. So where did they go?”

Ham was kicking at the tire of one wrecked wheel. He bent down and ran his hand along the rubber.

“Listen, Monk!” he stated emphatically. “This is one of Doc’s own cars! That tire’s sponge rubber and can’t be punctured! Have a look at this!”

Ham’s foot kicked over a badly shattered infra-red beam projector among the wreckage.

“Howlin’ calamities!” squeaked Monk. “You don’t suppose Doc could have been in that car? I’ve been all around, an’ nobody got hurt! Ham, I’ll betcha something’s happened to Doc! Well——”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Ham. “Here comes something!”

The something was a thumping, banging gasoline car running on one railroad track. It came from the direction of Manhattan. The lantern of a railroad worker illumined a man in overalls.

The gasoline car chugged to a stop. The man climbed off.

“Hey! What’s all this?” he demanded. “Somebody smack off them crossin’ lights?”

Ham prodded Monk’s ribs.

“About five minutes ago one of your trains smashed an automobile, and these pieces along here are all that’s left,” stated Ham. “The train didn’t stop, and neither did the occupants of the car, so far as we can ascertain.”

The railroad man held up his lantern and looked closely at Ham’s lean face.

“You’re screwy, brother,” he announced. “There ain’t been no train up the line or down it since the express, an’ that went north more’n twenty minutes ago. I guess I oughta know, because I’m the track inspector on this line. I just come buzzin’ up the road an’ there ain’t a wheel turnin’ in this ten-mile stretch.”

“Is that so?” complained Monk. “That car could’ve smashed itself, but it didn’t scatter the pieces a hundred yards along the track!”

The railroad track inspector walked up and down muttering.

“It’s screwy, that’s what it is,” he repeated. “No automobile could be hit by a train where there ain’t been no train. It’s as nutty as what happened a while ago down in the yards. The watchman at that loony place they say is bein’ run by Doc Savage was knocked off tryin’ to climb over an express an’ one of the bulls got himself caught in a door that don’t have no locks, an’——”

“Good gravy!” rapped out Ham. “Monk, come on! Now we have got something to dig into! What did they find inside that Spargrove plant, if that’s the place you mean?”

The track inspector rubbed his dazed eyes.

“So far, they ain’t been able to bust in,” he said. “But the police is lookin’ for the fellow they call Doc Savage, and——”

Monk was loping back toward the car. He stopped abruptly.

A girl’s voice had cried out. It came from a clump of bushes several yards above the railroad. This was on the opposite side from the parts of the wrecked car.

“Howlin’ calamities!” yelled Monk. “Ham, there was somebody left from that car! It’s a woman!”

Monk’s flashlight beam picked out a face. It was the white, round face of a young woman. Her eyes were as snappy as black opals in the light.

“Well, can’t one of you help me out of here?” she demanded.