Doc Savage: The Ice Genius (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage Book 12) by Kenneth Robeson, Lester Dent, Will Murray Read Free Book Online Page B

nations over which he flew. Now, with the world dividing itself into armed camps, the sight of a bronze plane no longer meant merely the world-famous adventurer, Doc Savage, but symbolically the United States of America. Although not formally at war, the U.S. had sided with certain of the warring parties against others. This had all but erased United States neutrality.
    Thus it was that Doc had started painting his planes silver, and they remained unmarked. While that meant his flying boat would not be targeted as a United States aircraft straying into foreign skies, an unmarked plane was always a suspicious thing.
    Despite those theoretical complications, the big silvery flying boat passed over Mongolia without attracting trouble or antiaircraft fire.
    Doc had elected not to alert the local Mongolian authorities that he was coming. This was a calculated risk, but one which he thought prudent to make. The bronze man suspected that Russian officials had slipped word of his coming to their Mongolian compatriots, however. Mongolia was a vassal state of the U.S.S.R.
    IN the navigation compartment, big-fisted Renny Renwick suddenly rumbled, “If my calculations are on the money, we’re getting close to the spot where Johnny was doing his digging.”
    Hunkered in the co-pilot bucket, Monk Mayfair gazed down at the desolate wilderness unrolling below. “How can you tell? It’s all dirt and dead yellow grass.”
    Bored, Ham Brooks said sharply, “By navigating, you nitwit!”
    Monk growled out, “In a place this big, all anybody can do is pick out a general spot. Finding Johnny’s camp ain’t gonna be easy.”
    Doc Savage interrupted, “With any luck, Johnny will have provided a beacon.”
    “Beacon?” muttered Monk. “It’s broad daylight. How are we gonna spot any beacon?”
    Doc Savage did not reply. The bronze man was intent upon his flying. He dropped the leviathan flying boat closer to the flat endless Gobi, which was a desert unlike any other on earth, for it was not comprised of sand dunes, but arid steppeland.
    This caused everyone on board to become concerned. It was one thing to fly high over Mongolia, quite another to drop closer to the ground. It was true that the great expanse of snow-dusted scrubland lying below was sparsely inhabited. And there were few land radios. That did not mean there were none.
    Before long, a trio of airplanes came charging up to greet them.
    Monk grabbed for his binoculars and examined them.
    “Russian-style fighters,” he said. “Old jobs. Two of them are biplanes.”
    Doc cautioned, “They will be armed with machine guns regardless. Best to take them seriously.”
    The bronze man got on the radio, and dialed around until he found the frequency on which the Mongolian Arat Air Squadron operated.
    He spoke in the Mongolian tongue, one he knew very well. Doc Savage was a master of many languages. This was but a small part of his intensive training.
    The exchange was brief, and pointed. Before long the three fighter planes had them surrounded.
    Doc Savage continued speaking to the pilots, and after a period of silence they broke away in different directions, returning to their desert base.
    “What did you tell them?” rumbled Renny.
    “The truth,” said Doc. “We are on a rescue mission for a missing associate. They accepted my story.”
    Ham Brooks said carefully, “Word will get out that we’re here.”
    Doc nodded. “That may or may not complicate our mission.”
    After a short period of time, Renny remarked, “I’m pretty sure we’re about where Johnny last reported his position.”
    By this time, Doc Savage had dropped the plane to about one thousand feet, and throttled back the engines.
    Everyone had their binoculars out now, including Monzingo Baldwin. He seemed very eager to help.
    It was late in the Fall season, and nomadic Mongol herdsmen had already moved to their winter pasturage. So there were a few visible felt tents of the type called yurts dotting the