Читать книгу The King of Terror: A Doc Savage Adventure - Lester Bernard Dent - Страница 5

Table of Contents

Doc Savage took the little loudspeaker affair away from his ear and tugged at the wire which connected it to a small contact microphone that was held to the windowpane of Fraulino Jones’s living room with rubber suction cups. The microphone had picked up all that had been said without much trouble, although it was true the howling of the cold wind was somewhat of a nuisance.

The cold on the decorative ledge of the hotel building was more of a problem, though. Now in particular when Doc was ready to leave the ledge. But he managed, sliding down a knotted cord attached to a grapple, and getting in the window of a room on the floor below, which he had rented under the imaginary name of Herman Woods.

Doc got in the room, closed the window, and yanked a chair close to the radiator. He had not actually suffered from the cold outside as much as another man, probably, but that was because of his training in mind control. He had gotten just as cold as the next fellow.

When the stiffness was out of his fingers he unlimbered a small portable—pocket size—radio transmitter-receiver apparatus.

“Monk,” he said. “Monk or Ham. Come in.”

The apparatus picked up an answer immediately—two answers, for both Monk and Ham responded on their portable outfits.

Doc said, “The two men seem to be hired killers. They go under the names of Mr. Percy and Mr. Francis. In one sense the names are very appropriate, so no doubt they are false names adopted for the effect. In another sense the two men are as clever and conscienceless a pair of killers as I ever saw.”

Monk said, “That’s making quite a statement, considering how many killers you’ve seen in your time, Doc.”

“These are bad. Make no mistake.” Doc Savage was silent a moment.

The Fraulino Jones’s apartment was above, and now Doc got on a chair and clamped the contact microphone against the ceiling. It would pick up any walking around done in the apartment above in spite of the excellence of the soundproofing.

Back at the radio, Doc said, “The two reported to a woman. They call her the Fraulino Jones. I have not seen her, but she sounds like a very capable article. Percy and Francis told her I was killed accidentally. They lied to her because they had received orders from someone named Abraham Mawson to kill me, whereas the Fraulino Jones wanted me merely seized and held prisoner for a few months or weeks.”

“You say she’s a good-looking wench?” Monk asked hopefully.

Doc said, “I have not seen her, as I told you.”

Ham Brooks said, “Doc, any indication what is behind this sudden attack on you?”

“Nothing but the one obvious fact that something is afoot and they want to keep us from interfering,” Doc replied.

“Any hint of what it is?”

“No, but they seem quite impressed with the size of the undertaking. They are now desirous of obtaining assistants. They particularly want assistants who are not susceptible to being awed by the size of this undertaking.”

“Gosh!” Monk said.

“Monk,” Doc said, “do you awe easily?”

Monk was silent a moment. “Boy, oh, boy!” he said.

“How about you, Ham?” Doc inquired. “Do you awe easily?”

Ham laughed. “Lead us to it,” he said.

Percy and Francis had cocktails with the Fraulino Jones. Then the three went out to the Maison Malacia, a restaurant where the check took your hat off, and dined. They had squab under glass, apetits Norvegien, and some other stuff. They took in a theater, arriving late in the second act, too late for the plot of the play to make any sense to them. Then Percy and Francis left the Fraulino at her hotel, tucked their mufflers around their necks and set out on their business.

“A pleasant young woman,” remarked Percy.

His companion nodded agreement and added, “One of the most beautiful, I think, that I have ever seen.”

They took their private car, which had been parked in a nearby lot. They shivered and swore at the cold until the heater began warming the interior.

“A young woman with a cause,” Percy continued, speaking of the Fraulino. “I do not believe you have heard her story, have you, Francis?”

Francis shook his head. “I understand the Japanese did something rather unpleasant to her family.”

“To her father and mother. And to the family funds, I believe also. It was rather gory. You know how the peasant soldiery of any country become when aroused and maddened by killing and bloodshed and hate. Others are as bad as the Japanese, probably, but this was one of those particularly atrocious cases.”

Francis frowned daintily. “Oh, do we have to discuss unpleasant things? I’m sorry, Percy, but we’ve had a trying day, and couldn’t we discuss more cheering matters?”

“An excellent idea,” said his companion. “The Fraulino’s hatred of the Japanese, and her general attitude, which is a trifle exotic you’ll notice, toward humanity—all that is the result of what happened to her parents. She is, as I said—or was it you said that—a young woman with a cause. It is good for young women to have causes. Makes them interesting. And useful.”

Francis nodded. “But I do wish we could discuss more cheering matters.”

A stranger suddenly jerked open the car door and put his head, arm, and a pistol inside, and said, “I got a cheering matter to discuss with you.”

Percy and Francis sat very still. They acted like men who had learned it wasn’t wise to make sudden moves without knowing what was what.

The door on the other side of the car was yanked open. The car had stopped for a traffic light at the beginning of all this.

This second stranger grinned at them.

“Devil to the left of you, and deep blue sea to the right of you,” he said. “Jump, brother. Or don’t you want to?”

Percy and Francis didn’t want to.

One newcomer was squat and very wide, and very dark-skinned. The other was a lean man, also dark-skinned. Both had remarkable red hair.

Both spoke good English, but it was English with an effort. Now they gave up the effort of speaking such English.

“Keel them, Cuerpo,” said the lean man.

“Si, brother Cabeza,” said the other. “Si. I keel them and dump them in the back seat. You can sit on them and warm your feet, which you say are mucho frio.”

“Si, good.”

“But do not forget to search them, Cuerpo.”

“Si, Cabeza.”

This discussion and decision to kill Percy and Francis and then use their bodies for foot warmers was carried out in a casual tone. But it was still full of purpose. Percy and Francis were impressed.

“Damn!” Percy said. This was a very violent word for him.

“Keel them, Cuerpo,” said Cabeza.

“Keel them what with, Cabeza? Keel them weeth the knife? The rope? The gun? The hand around the throat? The leetle capsule with the poison in it? What with, Cabeza?”

Cabeza seemed discouraged. “They weel die with old age if you do not get busy,” he said.

Cuerpo pondered. “The hand around the throat weel be best,” he said.

He looked capable of it, too. He went to work on Percy and Francis, picking them up bodily, both at once, and hurling them into the back seat. It was a remarkable display of strength on Cuerpo’s part. Meantime, Cabeza got in the car and drove it up a deserted side street.

Percy and Francis found their voices. They didn’t howl for help, possibly because the only kind of help available would be a policeman, and they didn’t care for policemen.

“Wait!” Percy gurgled. “Hell, wait! Don’t be a fool! You’ll only get a few dollars this way. We can tell you how to make a lot of money.”

“Money. Ah, dinero,” Cuerpo said. “You hear that, brother Cabeza? Dinero.”

Cabeza registered interest. “Ask them to talk more about it.”

“Talk more pleasant words,” Cuerpo ordered.

Percy and Francis were frankly and unblushingly scared. Their two assailants were obviously a pair of freaks, but that didn’t make them harmless.

“Come to our hotel, you two,” Percy said. “And we will talk this over.”

“Una arana,” said Cabeza.

“What?” asked Percy.

“That is the Spanish word for spider—arana,” Francis told him.

It had puzzled Cuerpo, too. He looked enlightened. “Si, the spider,” he said. “Come into my house, thees spider say to the fly. He mean hees web. Where you pick up these wisdom, Cabeza?”

Cabeza said to shut up and let him think. He looked pop-eyed for a moment, which seemed to be his way of thinking. Good, they would go to the hotel of Percy and Francis, he said.

“Thees probably trap, Cabeza,” said Cuerpo.

“You bet,” Cabeza agreed. “If so, we keel them, so they die in their own trap.”

They drove to a subdued, expensive hotel off Park Avenue, parked the car and gave the doorman the keys, and entered the hostelry.

Cabeza and Cuerpo made a conspicuous pair crossing the lobby. The colors in their clothes looked somewhat as if a rainbow had had a bad night out. But they seemed to be completely unafraid and unconcerned.

An elevator took them upstairs and they inspected the suite of rooms which Percy and Francis occupied. It was an elegant suite, and they approved.

“Ah, maybe thees talk about dinero no joke,” Cuerpo said.

Percy took off his hat and started to place it on a small stand on which lay a telephone book and nothing else. Cuerpo promptly kicked Percy where his pants were tightest, sending him flying into a corner. Cuerpo then inspected the telephone book, finding it was hollow, and contained a formidable automatic pistol in its hollowed-out interior.

“Thees feller full of tricks,” he told Cabeza. “Shall we keel heem both now?”

“Shut up, Cuerpo,” Cabeza said. “Shut up and stay shut up. I will talk to them about the dinero.”

Percy rubbed the kicked area of his anatomy and favored that portion when he took a chair. Francis also seated himself.

“This is a job,” Percy told Cuerpo and Cabeza.

“Carramba!” Cuerpo said.

“We ees not friends with no job,” Cabeza explained. “All our lives we have trouble with heem.”

“Now wait a minute,” Percy said, holding up a hand. “This is not the kind of a job people generally mean when they talk about a job. This is different. This is a little like the work you are doing tonight, or were doing.”

“Work,” Cuerpo said disgustedly. “She ees no friend of mine, that word.”

“We are independent businessmen, señor,” Cabeza said. “We ees never work.”

“Once, Cabeza, only once,” Cuerpo corrected him. “Once, in a place called Georgia, when they ees put us on that theeng called chain gang.”

Percy and Francis smiled pleasantly. They were beginning to enjoy their two strange companions. Cabeza and Cuerpo were as queer as baked ducks, but there was a fresh, uncaring deviltry about them that was appealing to both Francis and Percy.

“By the way, gentlemen,” Francis said. “You speak English with a very strange Spanish accent. That is, sometimes you have the accent, and other times you do not.”

“What’s matter with thees accent?” Cuerpo demanded.

“Oh, nothing. It’s a delicious accent,” Francis said hastily. “The only thing is, you put it on and off like you would a coat.”

Cabeza shrugged elaborately. “She ees our great burden, that accent,” he said. “We can speak the most perfect English, like this. But the execution of such impeccable phraseology requires studious application to the task of speaking. This is naturally annoying. She ees easier to do her like this. Just say the hell with thees accent.”

“Where are you from?” Percy asked.

“Rivadavia.”

“Where is that?”

“In Salta.”

“Now,” said Percy patiently, “where is that?”

Cabeza told him, “Rivadavia is town. Salta is province. Both of them ees in Argentina.”

“Oh, I see, you are Argentina natives,” Percy said.

“Not any more,” Cabeza replied hastily.

“Thees sheriff there ees like see us,” Cuerpo explained. “Maybe he ees like run us ragged again.”

Percy leaned back in his chair. “Your name, in Spanish, means ‘head,’ doesn’t it?” he asked Cabeza.

Cabeza nodded. “Sure. I’m the head.” He indicated Cuerpo. “Hees name mean ‘body.’ I am the head, he ees the body. I do thees thinking, he do thees acting.”

Cuerpo complained cheerfully, “Cabeza’s thinking ees give me headache now and then, damn often.”

“What are your actual names?” Percy asked.

“Juan and Carlos,” Cabeza said promptly.

Percy laughed. The names were as common in the Spanish as any other, and meant about the same thing as John Doe in American. “I like Cabeza and Cuerpo better,” Percy told the pair. “Would you fellows really like to make a lot of money easy?”

“How many feller we have to keel, señor?” Cabeza asked.

“Not too many,” Percy told him.

“Carramba, what do we care?” said Cuerpo grandly.

Percy and Francis retired to another room in order to discuss the two prospective recruits. Cabeza and Cuerpo were so remarkable that they quite possibly belonged in a zoo. And yet there was a kind of deadly, careless efficiency about them. The consultation became favorable to introducing Cabeza and Cuerpo to the Fraulino Jones.

In the other room, Monk Mayfair and Ham Brooks exchanged winks. Monk was Cuerpo, the body. Ham was Cabeza, the brain. When Doc Savage had suggested this grotesque characterization of two clowns from South America, two bad men who were so bad they weren’t believable, neither Monk nor Ham had thought, secretly, that it would work. Doc Savage had explained that the very hooligan nature of the characters Cabeza and Cuerpo might make them workable. And, apparently, he was right.

Monk and Ham were enjoying the roles, anyway. It was their second nature to act like clowns.

Percy and Francis came back from the other room and Percy said, “All right, we are going to give you the jobs. But first, we will have to introduce you to the Fraulino Jones, who will have to okay you.”

“Ah, so you two hombres ees not your own boss,” Cuerpo said.

“Anybody could see they ees not have sense to be own boss,” Cabeza said.

“Thees señorita, I hope she ees easy to look at,” said Cuerpo.

“Cuerpo can’t bear to look at homely girls,” Cabeza explained. “It affect hees appetite.”

Percy laughed and said, “Cuerpo doesn’t need to worry about his appetite.”

Before they left the hotel, Francis gave Cabeza and Cuerpo a word of warning.

“The Fraulino Jones is not the real boss,” Francis said. “She only thinks she has equal say in what goes on.” Francis frowned impressively. “But neither of you are to tell her that. She isn’t supposed to know it.”

Cabeza squinted at them. “She ees sound like thees double cross.”

Cuerpo grinned. “What ees difference? Double cross ees make things interesting.”