Читать книгу Cold Death: A Doc Savage Adventure - Lawrence Donovan - Страница 6
ОглавлениеGHOST VOICE AGAIN
“Further search here would be useless,” announced Doc Savage. “Monk’s captors undoubtedly have returned directly to the city. I judge that, for the present, he will be unharmed. We are confronted by an organization in control of a hitherto unknown force.”
In a remarkably brief space of time, Doc’s car was piloted down the ramp of his special garage under the skyscraper headquarters. When they had ascended, the bronze man apparently had arrived at some definite conclusion.
For some time, he said nothing. His smoothly corded hands were assembling some small, but powerful, electrical amplifying coils. His knowledge of explosive forces, especially of electromagnetic energy and powerful rays and waves surpassed that of any other living man.
When he spoke, Doc’s words had little connection with what his hands were doing.
“There is a woman in the strange happenings of the night,” he said, calmly.
“Holy cow!” exploded Renny. “I didn’t see any evidence of one!”
“Yes, there is a woman in it,” stated Doc. “She was speaking, only a murmur, but perhaps arguing with this man who calls himself Var. All of us heard a ghostly voice in speech. I was listening to two voices.”
Renny exhibited no further surprise. Doc’s auditory perception was maintained by his daily two-hour exercises on a specially devised scale of vibrations. His hearing was selective.
“You’re planning some form of new electrical detector,” Long Tom remarked, watching Doc’s skillful bronze hands assembling some wound copper coils and a series of tiny, but powerful, generators to be combined in a single power unit.
“Hardly that,” stated Doc. “The explosion was brought about most likely by the accidental unleashing of tremendous electrical force. A hitherto undiscovered means of producing high voltage seems to have been involved. The day is close when we shall find vast explosive energy confined in small, compact machines.”
The special device established in the elevator corridor of Doc’s headquarters gave a warning buzz. In the square of glass at one side of the laboratory a figure appeared, walking from the elevator toward Doc Savage’s door.
He was a youthful, smiling-faced telegraph messenger. His expression seemed proof he was somewhat awed, but much pleased, at this opportunity to visit the headquarters of the famed Doc Savage.
The messenger stood by as Doc signed the book and opened the yellow envelope. The message read:
HAVE UNEARTHED BONES OF PREHISTORIC PLATYPUS WHICH PRE-DATES PALEOZOIC MAMMALS STOP WILL BE DOMICILED AT CASPER FOR FORTHCOMING FORTNIGHT IF YOU SHOULD DESIRE TO COMMUNICATE
JOHNNY
“Johnny” was William Harper Littlejohn. He was the archæologist and geologist of the Doc Savage group. For several weeks, he had been in Wyoming investigating a new discovery of prehistoric bones.
When the book was signed, the messenger reddened a little and stammered, “M-Mr. Savage—c-could I just have one look into your laboratory—p-please?”
Absorbing the telegram, Doc said, “Certainly. Stand here by the door.”
The youthful messenger gasped as he gazed upon the hundreds of glittering devices of polished metal and glass within the big room.
“Gee!” he exclaimed. “Gee!”
He turned and walked toward the outer door, crossing the office as if he were a little dizzy from what he had seen. At this instant, the ghost voice came again, thin but strident.
“Doc Savage—I am too strong even for you! I have your man Monk! Keep out of this or he will be destroyed without a trace! One by one, your other companions will be taken! You, too, must die if you persist! Nothing can stop me before my purpose has been accomplished, for I am—Var!”
The messenger boy stopped an instant, eyes widening. He looked at Doc and his two companions. None of the three had spoken. The messenger turned and fled toward the elevators.
“Holy cow!” growled Renny. “They’ve planted something here while we were out! Come on, Long Tom!”
Long Tom joined him in the beginning of a search. They were pulling out desk drawers. Long Tom started to lift a corner of a rug.
Doc picked up the telephone. He gave the number of the nearest telegraph office. In a few seconds he replaced the instrument.
“We won’t tear up the place,” the bronze man announced, calmly. “The voice walked out with our smiling messenger boy. I could have stopped him, but just now, perhaps, it is better to permit this Var to play his hand a bit farther. There has been no telegram sent from Johnny.”
“No message?” grunted Long Tom. “Then this fellow who calls himself Var must know all about us and what we’re doing.”
“That’s it,” Doc said, grimly. “Var not only has remarkable scientific knowledge, but he is clever-brained in other directions. Brothers, we are opposed to perhaps the most dangerous mind of our experience!”
A buzz of the desk phone interrupted further speech. Doc picked up the instrument.
“This is the police commissioner. Doc Savage? ... Well, there’s Hades popping! You’re probably the only man who can be of help. This is something too big for my men to grapple with.”
Doc said, “What is it?”
“It looks as if that explosion over in Jersey wasn’t any accident,” said the commissioner.
Doc said nothing, waiting.
“And we’re up against something else,” continued the commissioner. “The next blast is scheduled for Long Island. It’s due to happen any time! You know J. Afton Carberry, the fellow who made millions lending money in South America and Europe?”
“I know him,” said Doc. “Retired after the depression trimmed many other financiers dealing in foreign stuff. Disappeared for a year. Announced he was writing a book on cellular origin of the human species. Quite a smart chap.”
“You know everybody,” grunted the commissioner. “But Carberry isn’t so smart, right now. He’s scared green! Called in a few minutes ago. Had a crazy warning, he said, from some sort of a voice where there wasn’t anybody. Carberry’s lost his head!”
“What was the message?” interposed Doc. “Did it fix a time?”
“Nearly as he could repeat it, the message said: ‘You have forty-eight hours to accede to my demand and place your fortune at my service. Other financiers will be quickly forced to follow your lead. I have a force none can oppose. Before dawn, you will see a demonstration of it. You can’t combat me, for I am—Var.’ ”
“I shall be awaiting you at Carberry’s home,” stated Doc.
The bronze man delayed only to direct Long Tom to carry out the electrical experiment he had begun. The electrical wizard returned reluctantly to the laboratory.
“You’ll accompany me, Renny,” Doc instructed.
Renny, who had gathered part of the phone conversation, already was inside a special bulletproof vest of Doc’s invention.
The bronze man flowed toward the rocket elevator. They dropped with the speed of a falling plummet to the basement garage. Doc’s powerful, armored car threaded through the thinned traffic of the darkened streets.
While he drove, Doc was considering the possibilities of the threat against J. Afton Carberry. Doc’s amazing, many-sided brain also was recalling all known forces which might be employed to give explosive energy a definite path of destruction.
