DOC SAVAGE: THE INFERNAL BUDDHA (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage) by Kenneth Robeson, Lester Dent, Will Murray
Tags: action and adventure
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throttles. The streamlined ship thundered along, got on step, and vaulted skyward like a great bronze eagle.
“Next stop,” Monk called out, “Singapore!”
Chapter 10
Message in Blue
FROM NEW YORK CITY to Singapore in the Orient is over ten thousand nautical miles.
Doc Savage pushed his flying boat non-stop to San Francisco, refueled there, and made the hop to Honolulu, Hawaii, across the Pacific in record time. Rarely did the bronze plane drop below two hundred and seventy-five miles an hour. At times, the three giant engines approached three hundred miles per hour. Tailwinds helped.
Inside the streamlined ship, the cabin was electrically warmed and soundproofed to a degree that permitted ordinary conversation. Doc Savage evinced little interest in that. He ran the great motors with the throttles pushed to their pins, seemingly immune to fatigue.
Monk and Ham spelled one another in the navigation bucket.
“This bus sure travels,” Monk muttered sleepily.
Ham queried, “What say, Doc, why not get a little sleep and let Monk and myself carry on?”
The bronze giant shook his head in the negative. He seemed determined to push toward their far destination in the shortest possible time.
Portly C. Startell Pompman kept to himself. In time, the sheer monotony of their voyage began to wear on his nerves and he struck up a conversation.
Ham was seated beside him. It was night over the twinkling Pacific, with the sea and sky a black mirror. Pompman turned to the dapper lawyer and remarked, “Studying the stars?”
Ham blinked his dark eyes. “I was merely attempting to see how many constellations I could identify by sight,” he sniffed.
Pompman clasped puffy fingers over his ample middle. “I myself am a student of the firmament.”
“Is that so?” Ham drawled in a disinterested voice. He had shown no sign of warming up to the big bluff businessman.
“Indeed. I am also a student of human nature, and the character of men. Take yourself, for instance. By reputation, you are one of the most brilliant minds in your chosen profession.”
Ham’s sharp features came away from the window. Interest showed in his expression. “I am given to understand so,” he admitted.
“You are also a fastidious dresser. A veritable modern Beau Brummell.”
“I take justifiable pride in my appearance,” allowed Ham.
“And so you should. You are a man of renown. It is only appropriate to cut a proper figure. It is incumbent upon a man of your station in life, and education.”
“I consider myself fortunate to count myself among the most noted alumni ever to come out of Harvard Law School,” Ham returned, warming to the subject.
“Quite so. With your keen mind and clever ways, I will wager that you were born in the month of May, or possibly June.”
Ham’s voice grew thin. “Why do you say that, my good fellow?”
“As I told you,” said Startell Pompman, “I am a student of human nature. And of the stars.”
“You are an amateur astronomer?” questioned Ham, puzzled.
“Not quite. I study the stars, true. But my interest is not in heavenly bodies, but in their effect upon mankind.”
“Are you speaking of… astrology?” asked Ham.
“I prefer a more dignified term, namely, Solar Psychology,” confided Startell Pompman.
“Do tell,” said Ham thinly. Abruptly, he excused himself and got up.
Going forward, the elegant attorney tapped Monk Mayfair on his burly shoulder.
“I will take over now, ape.”
“It ain’t your turn yet,” growled Monk.
“Nevertheless, I think you should listen to what our guest has to say about your personality,” Ham informed him.
“What’s he been sayin’?” grated Monk.
“I refuse to stoop to such language. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“I’ll do just that,” said Monk. Hoisting himself out of his seat, he worked back to the rear on bandy legs.
“What’ve you been tellin’ that shyster about me?” demanded Monk without preamble.
Startell
“Next stop,” Monk called out, “Singapore!”
Chapter 10
Message in Blue
FROM NEW YORK CITY to Singapore in the Orient is over ten thousand nautical miles.
Doc Savage pushed his flying boat non-stop to San Francisco, refueled there, and made the hop to Honolulu, Hawaii, across the Pacific in record time. Rarely did the bronze plane drop below two hundred and seventy-five miles an hour. At times, the three giant engines approached three hundred miles per hour. Tailwinds helped.
Inside the streamlined ship, the cabin was electrically warmed and soundproofed to a degree that permitted ordinary conversation. Doc Savage evinced little interest in that. He ran the great motors with the throttles pushed to their pins, seemingly immune to fatigue.
Monk and Ham spelled one another in the navigation bucket.
“This bus sure travels,” Monk muttered sleepily.
Ham queried, “What say, Doc, why not get a little sleep and let Monk and myself carry on?”
The bronze giant shook his head in the negative. He seemed determined to push toward their far destination in the shortest possible time.
Portly C. Startell Pompman kept to himself. In time, the sheer monotony of their voyage began to wear on his nerves and he struck up a conversation.
Ham was seated beside him. It was night over the twinkling Pacific, with the sea and sky a black mirror. Pompman turned to the dapper lawyer and remarked, “Studying the stars?”
Ham blinked his dark eyes. “I was merely attempting to see how many constellations I could identify by sight,” he sniffed.
Pompman clasped puffy fingers over his ample middle. “I myself am a student of the firmament.”
“Is that so?” Ham drawled in a disinterested voice. He had shown no sign of warming up to the big bluff businessman.
“Indeed. I am also a student of human nature, and the character of men. Take yourself, for instance. By reputation, you are one of the most brilliant minds in your chosen profession.”
Ham’s sharp features came away from the window. Interest showed in his expression. “I am given to understand so,” he admitted.
“You are also a fastidious dresser. A veritable modern Beau Brummell.”
“I take justifiable pride in my appearance,” allowed Ham.
“And so you should. You are a man of renown. It is only appropriate to cut a proper figure. It is incumbent upon a man of your station in life, and education.”
“I consider myself fortunate to count myself among the most noted alumni ever to come out of Harvard Law School,” Ham returned, warming to the subject.
“Quite so. With your keen mind and clever ways, I will wager that you were born in the month of May, or possibly June.”
Ham’s voice grew thin. “Why do you say that, my good fellow?”
“As I told you,” said Startell Pompman, “I am a student of human nature. And of the stars.”
“You are an amateur astronomer?” questioned Ham, puzzled.
“Not quite. I study the stars, true. But my interest is not in heavenly bodies, but in their effect upon mankind.”
“Are you speaking of… astrology?” asked Ham.
“I prefer a more dignified term, namely, Solar Psychology,” confided Startell Pompman.
“Do tell,” said Ham thinly. Abruptly, he excused himself and got up.
Going forward, the elegant attorney tapped Monk Mayfair on his burly shoulder.
“I will take over now, ape.”
“It ain’t your turn yet,” growled Monk.
“Nevertheless, I think you should listen to what our guest has to say about your personality,” Ham informed him.
“What’s he been sayin’?” grated Monk.
“I refuse to stoop to such language. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“I’ll do just that,” said Monk. Hoisting himself out of his seat, he worked back to the rear on bandy legs.
“What’ve you been tellin’ that shyster about me?” demanded Monk without preamble.
Startell
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