(I get the impression from search terms that people are looking for examples of pulp fiction. This is a longer work, so it doesn’t strictly adhere to Lester Dent’s formula; on the other hand, you can see how the author does things like switching viewpoint, and so on.)
BEQUEST OF EVIL
A Doc Savage Adventure by Kenneth Robeson
Chapter One: The Kidnappers
THE car was long, low and built for speed. Its driver was not.
He was about as wide as he was tall—if he had been standing up—and he took up most of the front seat. The dapper, well-dressed man seated beside him was practically jammed against the right-hand door.
The car came out of a side street, swung left into Fifth Avenue, and almost took the fenders off a car parked near the corner.
Then a broad grin hit the face of the homely-looking driver. He was squinting ahead, down the wide avenue.
“Wow!” he said. “Fifth Avenue deserted. Watch this!”
It was true. The most traveled thoroughfare in Manhattan was empty of traffic. The street should have been crowded at this hour of the morning. It appeared like a phenomenon.
The driver stepped hard on the gas. The car shot ahead like a frightened hare, directly down the center of the street.
The machine was an open model, and the dapper man seated beside the driver had to hang on to his pearl-gray hat with one hand while he gripped a slender black cane with the other.
“Dunce!” he snapped. “Are you trying to break our necks?”
The homely fellow behind the wheel looked worried. “Blazes!” he exclaimed. “Maybe you’re forgetting we were supposed to meet Doc.”
He took his eyes off the road to glance at his watch. The car careened wildly. “We’re ten minutes late already.”
The man beside him gasped as they missed the curb by inches. Then the fast car straightened out and continued its dash. The driver grinned. His mouth threatened to join his ears.
“I can’t figure it out,” he commented. “But it’s a break.”
“There’s somebody that’s going to figure it for you,” put in the passenger who was clinging to his expensive hat.
It was a traffic cop, standing in the roadway directly ahead. He was waving his hand warningly.
The driver slowed the car, but did not stop. He shot past the intersection.
The dapper-looking passenger yelled, “Hey! That cop wanted you to stop.”
“Hell with him!” announced the driver. “The light was green. Why should I?”
There was a traffic officer at the next corner, too, and though the light was also green, he was waving his arm at the homely-faced driver.
But he did not stop. He kept going at a good clip down the street. Ahead, more lights were green.
At each corner there was a cop, and all tried to flag down the car.