Read Online Doc Savage: The Secret of Satan's Spine (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage Book 15) by Kenneth Robeson, Lester Dent, Will Murray - Free Book Online Page B
Tags: action and adventure
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an honorary commission and a great deal of influence with City Hall.
He gave a rapid recitation of the events that resulted in the partial demolition of the Old Sailors Home. Then, to the amazement of the officers, he gave them complete descriptions of the makes, models, and license tag numbers of the cars that had just quit the neighborhood.
The police rushed to their vehicles to call descriptions in to headquarters, then they tore off in opposite directions, seeking the fleeing machines.
Ham wandered up and asked, “Are we not going to join the chase?”
Doc Savage shook his head silently. “There may be no need. I have a good idea where those men decamped to.”
Ham stared wordlessly. Despite long years of association, the bronze man’s uncanny ability to deduce facts that seemed to have no antecedents baffled him.
Doc entered the dwelling, picked up the two hundred and sixty pound Monk Mayfair as if he weighed two hundred pounds less than his grown weight, and carried him down the street and around the corner to the bronze man’s own waiting machine.
Ham followed with alacrity, a dozen questions on the tip of his tongue.
Doc Savage deposited Monk in the back seat where he could sleep off the lingering effects of the blackjack, then claimed the wheel while Ham inserted himself in the passenger seat.
The car—it was a nondescript black sedan—hummed into traffic. Doc Savage headed south.
Ham began asking questions, “What on earth happened here?”
Doc Savage declared, “I have been tailing a number of the individuals involved since yesterday.”
“So you agreed with my suspicions?”
Doc nodded. “Certain details did not add up.”
“What did you discover?”
“To begin with, the girl who called herself Davey Lee is not who she said she was.”
“Then who was she?”
“That I have yet to determine,” said Doc, piloting the sedan through traffic. “But after she was abducted from Pennsylvania Station, she was taken to a certain house in a secluded neighborhood.”
“How did you know that?”
“Because I witnessed the kidnapping, and followed the taxicab that spirited her away.”
“Strange. I was there as well, and I did not notice you. Nor did Monk, apparently.”
Doc Savage said nothing to that. Despite his great size, he was highly skilled in the art of disguise, as well as possessing the ability to lurk about unnoticed, even by those as sharp-eyed as the alert barrister.
“The girl was being held under guard, but appeared to be safe. I followed one of the captors to this Old Sailors Home which, by the way, is a fake. There is no Old Sailors Home registered in Brooklyn. Evidently, the man calling himself Diamond and his gang set it up to discourage neighborhood curiosity during their occupation.”
“Peculiar thing to do,” mused Ham.
“Think of it as a kind of camouflage,” stated Doc. “How did you come to be here, Ham?”
“A taxi driver called headquarters, demanding to know if I was good for Monk’s fare. When he told me the address, I came straight away.”
“We did not acquit ourselves in our usual efficient manner,” remarked Doc.
Ham said in a determined voice, “No doubt we will make up for it when we rescue the girl.”
THE RESCUING of Davey Lee—or whatever her real name happened to be—did not exactly go according to plan.
Doc Savage cruised by the address, which was a modest, two-story cream clapboard home, with the traditional white picket fence. There was nothing unusual about it. Doc circled the block, driving past it twice, looking for signs of activity.
The cars which had fled the vicinity of the Old Sailors Home were not in evidence.
Doc said, “The one calling himself Diamond instructed his men to meet at a second location. It stands to reason that this would be it.”
Ham wondered, “Perhaps they have not yet arrived?”
“It is possible the police ran them down, although that was not my expectation,” allowed Doc.
“Why did you
He gave a rapid recitation of the events that resulted in the partial demolition of the Old Sailors Home. Then, to the amazement of the officers, he gave them complete descriptions of the makes, models, and license tag numbers of the cars that had just quit the neighborhood.
The police rushed to their vehicles to call descriptions in to headquarters, then they tore off in opposite directions, seeking the fleeing machines.
Ham wandered up and asked, “Are we not going to join the chase?”
Doc Savage shook his head silently. “There may be no need. I have a good idea where those men decamped to.”
Ham stared wordlessly. Despite long years of association, the bronze man’s uncanny ability to deduce facts that seemed to have no antecedents baffled him.
Doc entered the dwelling, picked up the two hundred and sixty pound Monk Mayfair as if he weighed two hundred pounds less than his grown weight, and carried him down the street and around the corner to the bronze man’s own waiting machine.
Ham followed with alacrity, a dozen questions on the tip of his tongue.
Doc Savage deposited Monk in the back seat where he could sleep off the lingering effects of the blackjack, then claimed the wheel while Ham inserted himself in the passenger seat.
The car—it was a nondescript black sedan—hummed into traffic. Doc Savage headed south.
Ham began asking questions, “What on earth happened here?”
Doc Savage declared, “I have been tailing a number of the individuals involved since yesterday.”
“So you agreed with my suspicions?”
Doc nodded. “Certain details did not add up.”
“What did you discover?”
“To begin with, the girl who called herself Davey Lee is not who she said she was.”
“Then who was she?”
“That I have yet to determine,” said Doc, piloting the sedan through traffic. “But after she was abducted from Pennsylvania Station, she was taken to a certain house in a secluded neighborhood.”
“How did you know that?”
“Because I witnessed the kidnapping, and followed the taxicab that spirited her away.”
“Strange. I was there as well, and I did not notice you. Nor did Monk, apparently.”
Doc Savage said nothing to that. Despite his great size, he was highly skilled in the art of disguise, as well as possessing the ability to lurk about unnoticed, even by those as sharp-eyed as the alert barrister.
“The girl was being held under guard, but appeared to be safe. I followed one of the captors to this Old Sailors Home which, by the way, is a fake. There is no Old Sailors Home registered in Brooklyn. Evidently, the man calling himself Diamond and his gang set it up to discourage neighborhood curiosity during their occupation.”
“Peculiar thing to do,” mused Ham.
“Think of it as a kind of camouflage,” stated Doc. “How did you come to be here, Ham?”
“A taxi driver called headquarters, demanding to know if I was good for Monk’s fare. When he told me the address, I came straight away.”
“We did not acquit ourselves in our usual efficient manner,” remarked Doc.
Ham said in a determined voice, “No doubt we will make up for it when we rescue the girl.”
THE RESCUING of Davey Lee—or whatever her real name happened to be—did not exactly go according to plan.
Doc Savage cruised by the address, which was a modest, two-story cream clapboard home, with the traditional white picket fence. There was nothing unusual about it. Doc circled the block, driving past it twice, looking for signs of activity.
The cars which had fled the vicinity of the Old Sailors Home were not in evidence.
Doc said, “The one calling himself Diamond instructed his men to meet at a second location. It stands to reason that this would be it.”
Ham wondered, “Perhaps they have not yet arrived?”
“It is possible the police ran them down, although that was not my expectation,” allowed Doc.
“Why did you
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