Read Online The Man of Bronze by Kenneth Robeson - Free Book Online

an instant answer.
    “The airport manager is holding a man over in the field office who says his name is Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks,” the attendant explained.
    “Holding him—why?”
    “The manager is also a deputy sheriff. We got a call that this fellow had stolen an autogyro from a man named Clark Savage. So we arrested him.”
    Doc nodded absently. He was clever, this unknown enemy of theirs. He had decoyed Ham by a neat ruse.
    “Where is the autogyro?” Doc asked.
    “Why, this Clark Savage who telephoned the plane had been stolen asked us to send a man with it to bring him here and confront the thief!”
    Monk let out a loud snort. “You dumb dude! You’re talkin’ to Clark Savage!”
    The attendant stuttered again. “I don’t understand—”
    “Some one foxed you,” Doc said without noticeable malice. “The pilot who flew that plane to get the fake Clark Savage may be in danger. Do you know where he went?”
    “The manager knows.”
    They hurried over to the administration building. They found a Ham who was burning up. Ham could ordinarily talk himself out of almost any situation, given a little time. But he hadn’t made an impression on the blond, bulletheaded airport manager.
    Doc handed Ham a phone. “Get the nearest army flying field, Ham. See if you can raise me a pursuit ship fitted with machine guns. It’s against regulations, but—”
    “Hang regulations!” Ham snapped, and seized the instrument.
    From the blond airport manager Doc learned where the autogyro had gone to meet the man who had put over the trick. The spot was in New Jersey.
    Doc located it on the map. It was in the mountainous, or, rather, hilly, western portion of Jersey.
    Ham cracked the telephone receiver onto its hook. “They’re warming up a pursuit job for you, Doc.”
    It required less than ten minutes for Doc to ferry over to the army drome, plug his powerful frame into a cockpit, saw the throttle back, and take off. He had a regulation war plane now.

    FLYING northward, Doc had a fair idea of the purpose of their enemy in decoying the autogyro. The place was within motor distance of New York, so the villainous unknown one would probably be on hand. He would destroy the autogyro, thus hampering Doc and his friends all possible.
    “Whoever it is, they’re willing to do anything to keep us from getting to that legacy of mine in Hidalgo!” Doc concluded.
    Over the Delaware River, Doc dived and tested his machine guns by shooting at the shadow of his plane on the water.
    Knobby green hills sprang up underneath. Doc used a pair of binoculars to scrutinize the terrain.
    Farmhouses were scattering, ramshackle. Very few of the roads were paved.
    Doc discovered his autogyro at last.
    The windmill plane sat in a clearing. Near by ran a paved road.
    In the clearing with the plane was a green coupe and two men. One of the men was holding a gun upon the other.
    The gun wielder, Doc perceived when he came nearer, was masked. The man discovered Doc’s army pursuit plane, diving with motor cans a-thunder. The fellow took fright.
    Deserting the other man, who must be the autogyro pilot, the masked fellow raced to the windmill plane. The gun in his fist spat a bullet into the fuel tank of the plane. Gasoline ran out in two pale strings. The masked man struck a match and tossed it into the fuel. Instantly the autogyro was bundled in hot flame.
    One thing Doc noted about the masked man—the fellow’s fingers were a deep scarlet hue for an inch of their length!
    The man was also squat and wide. He ran with shortlegged, pegging steps for the green coupe, dived into it. The green car ran out of the field like a frightened bug.
    Doc’s cowl machine guns released a spray of lead that forked up dust behind the coupe. The car skewered onto the road and turned north.
    Again Doc’s Browning guns tore off their ripping cackle of death. After the army fashion, every fifth bullet in the ammo cans was a phosphorous-filled