Читать книгу The Metal Master: A Doc Savage Adventure - Lester Bernard Dent - Страница 3
ОглавлениеTHE SCARED OLD MAN
Doc Savage’s headquarters in New York City are on the eighty-sixth floor of a ponderous midtown skyscraper. The building is in a business section. Late at night, the region becomes comparatively deserted. There are many dark doorways in the neighborhood.
The scared old man lurked in one of these darkened doorways.
The old man had something on his mind, something that was worrying him. He crouched in the shadowy entry and devoted his time to peering about. He was evidently very frightened, too.
It was sleeting a little. Cold. A taxicab, when it swung to the curb near the old man’s hiding place, skidded a bit.
A girl got out of the cab. She was tall, in a mannish cloth coat and a felt hat that was not far from being masculine. She paid off the driver and the cab went away, after its wheels had spun for a while on the sleety pavement.
The girl walked to the darkened doorway. She had a flashlight in her hand and she turned its beam on the old man.
“Don’t!” he cried out wildly. “No light!”
The girl blackened the flashlight lens. Its momentary glow had flashed more than the suit full of bones that was the old man. It had disclosed the girl’s face. She was a redhead, and sweet.
“What is wrong, Seevers?” she asked. She had a voice that went with her sweet face. Full of throaty tones.
Old Seevers was plainly very scared. His teeth made a clatter that the cold was not causing.
“I’ve just found out an incredible thing,” he gulped. “That’s why I telephoned you to meet me here, Nan. You’re Louis’s sister.”
“And you have been Louis’s laboratory assistant for years, and always seemed to have good sense, or I wouldn’t have come,” said the girl. “Now just what are you talking about, Seevers?”
“I’ve learned that some people are going to be killed,” said Seevers. “Murdered in a horrible fashion! And that’s not all.”
The girl was silent for a long moment.
“You’d better take a vacation for a few weeks,” she said. “You’ve saved your money. Why not go to Florida for the winter?”
“I’m not crazy!” snapped old Seevers. “I knew you would think so. That’s why I’m taking you along with me to-night.”
“Taking me where?” she demanded sharply.
“To Doc Savage,” said Seevers. “Doc Savage must believe my story.”
“Oh,” the girl said.
She had heard of Doc Savage. It was in her tone. Man of bronze, being of mystery, one who performed miracles: That was Doc Savage. Yet no one knew much about him. An aura of mystery hung about him. He shunned publicity. Yet he got plenty, because reporters have imaginations and he was a mystical, interesting figure. Because few facts about the bronze man were actually available, the legends springing up around and about him were often fantastic.
One thing the public did know: Doc Savage’s unique profession. His life was devoted to righting wrongs, aiding the oppressed, meting out a queer justice to evildoers. A sort of modern knight in armor. It carried him to the far corners of the earth. And it got him into incredible scrapes.
“Look, Seevers,” said the girl, Nan. “Tell me what is on your mind.”
“You can listen when I tell Doc Savage,” said Seevers. “You can verify certain facts that will make the story more credible.”
“All right,” said the girl. “I’ve always wanted to meet this Doc Savage. I don’t believe he’s half what they say he is.”
Seevers took her arm in a thin claw. “Come on. I’m in a terrible hurry.”
“Why?”
Seevers hesitated, peering about. “I am afraid of being killed.”
“By whom?” She sounded skeptical.
“By the Metal Master, probably,” muttered Seevers.
The girl gave the feminine equivalent of a snort. Plainly, she was not convinced that the old man really had anything of importance. She thought him a little mad.
“I never heard of anything called the Metal Master,” she said.
“You will!” Seevers shuddered. “Don’t make any mistake about my sanity. The Metal Master exists, and it is going to do some awful things to this world, unless Doc Savage can stop it!”
The girl gave her skeptical snort again.
“You sound too melodramatic to be in earnest,” she said.
Old Seevers did not reply.
They passed under a street light. The girl was more than pretty. She was little short of ravishing. She was not a doll face. Her beauty was classic.
“We’ll stop at this cable office,” said old Seevers, pointing. “I am expecting a message, a cablegram.”
The cable office was one that remained open all night. There were two young men on duty. They ogled the young woman, hypnotized by her beauty.
“Anything for Jonathan Seevers?” asked the old man.
One clerk came to life and produced a blue envelope.
“Just came in,” he said.
Old Seevers opened the message. It was from a town in South America, and read:
INFORMATION WHICH YOU CABLED ME VERIFIES WHAT I HAVE SUSPECTED STOP IMPERATIVE CALAMITY BE AVERTED STOP GO TO DOC SAVAGE IMMEDIATELY WITH STORY STOP I AM TAKING OFF NOW IN MY PLANE HEADED FOR NEW YORK STOP BE CAREFUL
LOUIS
Having read the missive, the girl glanced up. She looked stunned.
“From my brother, Louis!” she gasped. “And he is flying from South America, right now!”
“Exactly!” said old Seevers. “Your brother knows just how horrible this thing is.”
They hurried out of the cable office.
Hardly three minutes later, a stranger walked into the cable office. He was a lean fellow whose clothes looked as if they had been slept in. He wore a rubber apron and a green celluloid eyeshade was over his eyes.
“Jonathan Seevers let his cablegram blow out of the window of his shop,” he said. “He can’t find it. He wants you to give me a duplicate.”
The cable clerk was still in a coma, thinking of the beautiful vision who had just left. He riffled through the sheaf of carbons, came to the one desired, and pulled it out. Then he hesitated.
“It is customary to have identification before we deliver a message to any one other than the person to which it is addressed,” he said.
“I work for Seevers,” said the man.
The statement was a lie. It had that sound. The clerk frowned.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’ll have to identify yourself. Bring a note from Seevers.”
The man made a snarling sound. He reached under his coat, brought out a pistol and aimed deliberately. The pistol went off twice. The clerks fell on the floor, bullet holes through brains.
The killer got the cablegram carbon and ran out of the office.
