Maxwell Grant - The Shadow 330 by The Shadow's Revenge

Author:The Shadow's Revenge
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-11-15T00:42:30+00:00

the car turned left toward the great itself. Allard heard the moving of the wide water. The car turned right again, driving along close to the river. Perhaps two miles, a little more, with the sound of the Lubilana to the left. Then the car stopped. Allard was pushed out and across some soft, grassy ground toward the flow of the river. Boards beneath his feet. Narrow boards with spaces between them and moving, the boards moving as if laid loosely on the soft earth. Then more boards but firm now, and a slight incline upward. A loose door opened and he was pushed through. His footsteps echoed in a large empty space. He was seated in a chair. Beneath him he heard the sound of the river.

"Now, Mr. Kent Allard, just who are you, why are you here, and where are you from!"

It was the voice of the girl who had captured him, the one who called herself Maria Berger.

He sensed the other two women close by. And there were other people. He heard the sound of a man's footsteps, two men. The men were standing close behind him. There was a light, a strong light shining on him, but he could not see through the blindfold. The blindfold was more than a simple cloth, it had inside it a thin layer of something very opaque, something like metal. The blindfold was specially prepared for its purpose with thin metal foil inside the cloth. The woman called Maria Berger stepped closer to him.

"There are no more safaris in this country," the girl said crisply. "Why did you talk to Angus McNair?"

"I'm planning an expedition into the Kanda Tract," Allard said. "McNair is the last. . ."

"Stop it!" the woman snapped. "Kent Allard might plan an expedition into Kanda, but you are not Kent Allard!"

Before he could speak again, Allard felt the woman's hands on his face. His false mustache was torn off. Fingers rubbed against his hair, and pressed against his nose. There was the sound of low and angry voices in the large room. The woman stepped away again. Her voice was grim when she spoke.

"A false mustache, the hair has been dyed, and there is something under the skin of your nose," the woman said. "I suspect that you have no real limp, either. You are in disguise, Mr.

Allard! Why? it is an excellent disguise, but not quite good enough for us. Why are you?"

"That you will have to find out for yourself," Allard said coldly.

"You will not explain yourself?"

"No."

"Or tell us some reason for your association with Angus McNair?"

"No," Allard said.

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