Текст книги "[Magazine 1966-­06] - The Vanishing Act Affair"

Автор книги: Dennis Lynds

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ACT III: THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST

MAXINE TRENT lifted her skirt to climb up out of the old sewer onto the ledge of dry stone. Solo followed her. Together they stood in the dark far below London. Rats scurried against the ancient stone walls, and ahead there was a door.

"That's it, Napoleon," Maxine said. "One of our men located it last week."

"Where does it lead?"

"Into the old tunnels and corridors. There are new corridors, but I think we can find a way through."

"Stay here," Solo said.

The agent inched along the stone ledge to the old door. It was rusted and locked, but there was a trace of oil around the lock. The door had been used. Solo took out a small strip of what looked like foil and stuck it to the door next to the lock. The foil was self adhesive. Solo polled a small metallic thread and jumped back.

The foil burst into an intense white heat. The door glowed around the lock, melted, and when the white hot glow died away in the dark sewer, a gaping hole had appeared in the metal around the lock. Solo stepped forward and pushed the door open. He motioned to Maxine.

Together, Solo and Maxine stepped through the door and into a short stone tunnel that led to a flight of stone steps going upward. Carefully, they moved up the stairs in the pitch dark. The steps did not go far, and came out in a low room that stank of slime and ancient decay.

They crossed the low room and went through an archway into another low stone room. The second room was low but vast, its corners hidden in the dark. Solo flicked on his ring flashlight. The ultra-powerful beam picked out all the corners of the vast room.

Rusted metal rings hung from the walls; rusted metal cages littered the floor. Spikes that had once been sharp protruded out from the walls. There was a cauldron and a brazier all turned to dust at Solo's touch. What had once been skeletons lay on the floor, nothing now but white dust.

"Things don't change much," Solo said. "It reminds me of a Thrush headquarters."

"Ah, ah, Napoleon dear. Remember, we're partners; speak nicely about us," Maxine said.

"I'd rather speak nicely about how we're going to get out of here," Solo said, his powerful miniature light playing around the walls. "I don't see any way out, and no one's been in here for centuries. There must be another way in; that door had been oiled."

"Then we better find it," Maxine said.

They turned and retraced their steps to the smaller stone room. As they passed out of the vast room into the smaller one, Solo suddenly crouched and pulled Maxine down. His U.N.C.L.E. Special was out. Maxine held her pistol.

Something moved along the right wall of the smaller room. Solo and Maxine waited, watched. His light out, Solo crouched with his Special trained on the wall. A Stone moved, a large stone.

The stone fell into the room.

Someone, a figure, came through the hole in the wall. A second figure followed. The two figures turned to replace the stone.

Solo switched on his miniature flashlight ring.

The two strangers dove for the floor.

Solo and Maxine shone the light directly on the two and stepped forward with their weapons.

* * *

DEEP beneath the city of London, in a large, soundproof room lined with thick sheets of lead, the twelve men sat at the long table and watched their leader. They were all deformed, disfigured men, and their leader was Morlock The Great.

The tiny magician stood before a great map of the world. His thin, delicate hands swept an arc in the air that took in the whole world and the many red pins on the map. His eyes gleamed in his large head.

"They are all completed. We are ready. We will not wait now."

"And Kuryakin?" one of the men at the table said.

"He does not matter. He and Dabori cannot escape from her," Morlock said.

"Dabori perhaps has found a way. I never trusted him," another man said.

"It does not matter!" Morlock said. "If they escape it will be too late. We know they have not yet escaped. I am telling the Inner Council, you men, that the day is at hand! We move—tonight!"

The twelve men at the table looked at each other, and their eyes glowed like the eyes of their leader. Morlock The Great laughed a diabolical laugh that filled the large room where the Inner Council of the Brotherhood held their secret meetings.

"They all want to stop us, but they will not!" Morlock said. "After tomorrow the prophecy will be fulfilled—we will inherit the whole Earth!"

Excitement ran through the room like an electric current. The members of the Inner Council began to talk, to congratulate their chief. Suddenly, there was a low buzz and a light over the single door began to blink. Morlock pressed a button.

"Yes?" the tiny magician said.

"Report strangers entering the old vaults from the sewer!"

"How many?" Morlock snapped.

"Two, sir. The detector shows that they are armed."

"Very well. Deal with them!" Morlock snapped, and then said, "No, wait. I will come and deal with them myself."

The midget switched off his communicator. His satanic features twisted into a crazy grin as he surveyed the members of his Inner Council.

"As a precaution, we will find out who they are and what they know. But, whoever they are, they will not stop us now. Tonight, gentlemen! Tonight the morlocks take over the world, as predicted long ago!"

In the large, secret room far below the great city, there was a savage shout from all the leaders of the Cult

* * *

AS HE stepped toward the two figures on the old stones, Napoleon Solo grinned. But he didn't feel as happy as he looked.

"Really, Illya, you look silly lying there," Solo said.

Illya raised his head. The small Russian stood up and dusted himself off.

"What took you so long, Napoleon?"

"I was delayed," Solo said, "but I brought a friend. Step forward, Maxine."

Maxine Trent came into the light of the tiny ring flashlight. The beautiful Thrush agent smiled at Illya.

The blond U.N.C.L.E. agent raised an eyebrow.

"A friend, Napoleon?"

"In this case, apparently," Solo said, and explained the details of Thrush's participation in the affair.

"It should be an interesting experience," Illya said as he eyed Maxine from under his lowered brows. "I, too, have a friend. Paul Dabori is the man who sent the warning to Interpol."

Illya recounted his experiences and the four of them squatted in the dark, the light out now, to plan their next move. Solo rubbed his chin.

"Atom bomb shelters," Solo said slowly.

"That explains why the house in Salisbury was so empty. A bomb shelter underneath it," Maxine said.

But Solo was not listening. He was rubbing his chin, thinking. Now he looked at Illya and the morlock, Paul Dabori. The hunchback waited eagerly to see what he could do.

"Atom bomb shelters," Solo said again, "and robberies for money to stock them, probably. And hallucinations that make men think they are being attacked."

Illya nodded. "Are you thinking the same thing, Napoleon?"

"When you had the hallucination," Solo said, "you thought Thrush was attacking you."

"The enemy most on my mind," Illya said. "Yes. And those armored car guards thought they were being robbed—what was most on their mind."

"And the Cult believes that they will survive while the rest of the world goes under," Solo said.

There was a silence, and it was Maxine Trent who finally spoke. Maxine had listened, and now she spoke.

"And they have built atom bomb shelters. So it is clear that Morlock The Great intends to help his Cult survive. He doesn't intend to wait, he's going to make the atom bombs drop!"

Illya sighed. "It looks very much that way. I'm afraid that rather than wait for us to kill each other off, he's going to help us—by starting an atomic war!"

Dabori finished it. "And soon. I know it is soon. They are worried that they will be discovered."

This time the silence was deeper. Maxine Trent seemed lost in her own thoughts. Solo and Illya were seeing the horror of what they had just said. Somehow, Morlock The Great intended to set the powers of the world at war with each other—an atomic war in which the only survivors would be the Cult itself, deep in its shelters. Illya moved.

"You brought weapons for us?" Illya said.

"Of course," Solo said.

Solo hands the extra U.N.C.L.E. Special he had brought to Illya, and handed Dabori the small pistol he carried as a spare. Maxine drew her own pistol from the holster on her leg.

The four crawled back through the opening in the wall into the inner corridor. They followed Dabori as the hunchback led them back along the old stone corridors until they reached a lead door. Dabori opened this door with a key he had stolen, and the four stepped through into the new shelter-headquarters of the Cult.

TWO

AFTER A time, moving down the silent concrete concrete corridors with their faintly whirring air-vents and lead doors, they became aware of a strange silence. Dabori was the first to raise his head. The hunchback was puzzled.

"We should have met guards. There should be noise, some activity," Dabori whispered.

"How many men are down here?" Solo asked, his voice low.

"Normally fifty who are the regulars, and some fifty more who come and go. Morlock did not want too many of us to vanish from the surface at one time. Most of the Cult hold down regular jobs. Only a cadre of elite are permanently down below," Dabori explained.

They continued along the concrete corridors, so silent they could have been buried beneath the Sahara Desert. Illya was worried.

"Do you think Morlock could have started his plan?" the blond Russian said.

"I don't know," Dabori whispered. "He could have. I know it was to be soon."

"You mean you think they have all gone to start whatever their plan is?" Maxine asked.

"It is a possibility," Illya said. "We have no idea what the plan is."

"How can we find out?" Solo spoke quietly to Dabori.

The hunchback shrugged. "The Inner Council. They are the only ones who would know, and they will be very hard to reach, very dangerous."

"Can you get us to them?" Illya said.

"I can take you as far as I know," Dabori said. "That is to a chamber I have seen them enter. The chamber is not where they meet, but it must lead to where they meet. It is always empty after they enter, and there must be some secret exit because they do not come back out for a long time."

"Let's find out," Solo said.

Dabori nodded and, when they reached a cross corridor in the maze of thick concrete tunnels and lead-lined rooms, led them down the corridor to the right. They twisted and turned through the catacomb of concrete. Still they met no one, heard no one. Maxine became nervous.

"It's not right," The Thrush agent said. "It's not natural to meet no guards, hear nothing, Napoleon."

"Until we know better, let's be thankful," Solo remarked.

"Unless we are too late," Illya said grimly.

They moved on through the silent tunnels with Illya's words in their minds. Already hell could be breaking loose above, and they would be trapped down here—safe, but for how long? They would survive the holocaust above, but there was not one of them who thought they would be welcome guests of Morlock the Great.

"There," Dabori said.

They had reached a widening of the corridor, a long, narrow room of benches and tables, obviously a kind of dining hall, to be used during the long, lonely days of waiting for the surface to be safe again. Doors were cut into the concrete walls. It was a small door to their left that Dabori pointed to.

"Stand back," Solo said.

He placed another strip of heat foil on the lock and pulled the metallic cord. The foil burst into white heat. The door melted around the lock. The four hurried through into a small, empty room. Solo indicated the four smooth walls.

"Look for a secret door," Solo said.

The voice that answered was not one of the other three. It was a voice from nowhere.

"Spare yourself, Mr. Solo," the sardonic voice said. "I will show you where the door is."

There was a rumble of concrete and the wall on the left slid, moved and there was a door leading into blackness. The voice was faintly mocking.

"Voila, gentlemen, and lady—the door!"

Illya crouched, let his eyes search the walls around. There was nothing. Solo looked carefully for the source of the voice. Maxine Trent held her pistol and looked form wall to wall. Only Dabori did nothing. The hunchback stood there calmly. Unafraid, but aware that there was nothing to be done.

The voice spoke. "You wish to see me? That could be arranged, but what is the point, gentlemen? We have you now. Look behind you."

They looked.

In the doorway through which they had entered the small room there were a horde of shaggy-haired creatures whose eyes seemed to glow in the dark.

"Take them!" the voice commanded.

Illya and Solo raised their weapons. There was a puff o smoke that instantly filled the room. Then all went black.

* * *

AT FIRST both Solo and Illya seemed to be having the same dream. A dream filled with a face of the Devil himself bathed in a red glow. Their most deadly Thrush enemies crowded behind the face of the Devil and fired at them. The Thrush agents were small, tiny, and the face of the laughing Devil filled their minds.

Then they became aware that they were seated on a damp floor, and the face of the Devil became the satanic face of Morlock The Great.

The magician was not alone. Behind him his deformed, shaggy-haired guards held very efficient-looking machine pistols.

"So, gentlemen, we meet at last. Ah, you have caused me a certain trouble. That little affair in Santa Carla was most inopportune. We had to move our location."

"You should have told us it would be inconvenient," Illya said.

The tiny magician laughed. "Bravado, gentlemen? I expected more from you. Your Mr. Morgan led me to admire U.N.C.L.E. Most resourceful, that one. No one else had ever penetrated out little fortress down here." Morlock looked at Dabori. "Not counting traitors, of course. Ah, Dabori, I was worried about you. Never enough hate for the healthy and handsome. No gall."

"I am not insane," Dabori said softly.

The brilliant eyes of the tiny magician flared as he looked again at the hunchback. Dabori did not flinch. He stared back at his former leader.

"Insane," Dabori said again, softly.

Morlock drew a deep breath, smiled. "It is always the excuse of the weak and faint-hearted. So you have thrown in with the doomed ones, very well. I have no more time to waste with any of you. I don't suppose you will tell me just how much you know, how much your organizations know of my plans."

"We won't," Solo said.

Morlock nodded his grotesquely enlarged head. "I thought not. Well, I leave you now. This prison, you note, is not within my shelter. After it is all over perhaps the death form above will not reach here for some hours, even days. You will have time to think about being almost alone as you die."

Morlock turned to go. Suddenly, Maxine Trent leaped up. None of them had been tied. The beautiful Thrush agent stepped toward Morlock. The shaggy-haired guards rushed forward. Maxine laughed.

"Don't be a fool, Morlock! You can't hope to succeed alone. But with that powder of yours, the powder that causes those men to fire at nothing, we in Thrush could help you gain the rule of the world!"

Morlock held his guards back. He smiled his sardonic smile at Maxine.

"Ah, Thrush! So, the lion and the wolf lie together against me? Thrush and U.N.C.L.E. I must be far more powerful than I even dreamed."

Maxine stepped closer to the magician. "Listen to me, Morlock. U.N.C.L.E. knows essentially nothing. I brought them here. Thrush can offer you real power, true mastery inside a perfect organization. U.N.C.L.E. has no idea of what your powder can do."

"And do you?" Morlock said coldly.

"We know that in our hands it would bring the world to its knees. Don't be a fool," Maxine said. Why destroy the world when you can rule it by the threat of destruction? Why rule over a burned out cinder? Bring them under your thumb. Only Thrush can help you. With that powder we can destroy all their defenses, take over, rule—"

Morlock's eyes flashed insanely. "They will die! All of them, the beautiful and the healthy. All the pigs who glory in the arrogance of their normalcy! We! We deformed and cast out will rule! We are the future! Our Brotherhood!"

Dabori struggled to his feet. In the pain of his twisted body the hunchbacks' voice was loud and clear.

"No! The sane do not envy. Our bodies may be twisted, but we do not wallow in self-pity! We face the world as what we are—men! Only an insane few hate as you hate.!

"You can lead, join Thrush!"

"Enough!" Morlock thundered. The grotesque magician sneered at Maxine. "So beautiful and so doomed! I will deal with no one, work with no one. Thrush is no better than U.N.C.L.E. you will all be destroyed!"

With a curse, Maxine suddenly bent and tore off her left shoe. She leaped toward Morlock. The rubber lift, and a sheath of leather, came away from her spike heel and a thin metal blade gleamed.

The Morlock guards tried to aim their weapons. But Maxine had Morlock himself between her and the guards. The guards milled. Morlock shouted. Maxine cursed. Illya and Solo leaped to their feet. Dabori grappled with a guard.

In the wild melee, Maxine nearly reached Morlock. But a guard caught her arm and she slashed at him. Her sharpened heel stabbed into the guard, who screamed. But he had saved Morlock. Other guards forced Maxine down.

At the instant Maxine was stopped, Illya suddenly hurled himself forward and tackled morlock around the ankles. The small Russian made no further attempt to attack. On the ground, with Morlock also on the ground in front of him, Illya smiled.

"She almost got you. I'd rather save you for an insane asylum," Illya said.

Morlock struggled up. His guards herded them all back now. The macabre magician stared down at Illya.

"So, you saved me from her? I thank you, but it will not help you. Tie them up! They cannot escape, but let us not take any further chances with them."

The guards roughly tied up the four. Then the damp stone room was empty. In the silence Maxine breathed heavily. The beautiful Thrush agent glared at them all.

"You could have helped me, you idiots! Now look at us!"

Solo laughed. "Helping you, Maxine, is a dangerous game. No, Morlock or Thrush, that's no choice."

"Do you have any other choices?" Maxine screamed.

"Well," Solo said, "perhaps we do."

And he showed his fee hands to them all. In one hand was a tiny razor in the shape of a fingernail. His ropes were neatly cut through.

THREE

IN THE silence of the slim room, Solo stood up and bent to use his fingernail razor on the ropes that bound his feet. Then he freed Illya and Dabori. He replaced the innocent seeming fingernail-razor in his pocket.

"They tied us up too fast. Usually they would see the razor, but I thought they might miss it this time," Solo said.

"I always said you can think very well at times," Illya said.

"Thank you," Solo said.

"My pleasure," Illya said. "But what do w do now?"

Solo looked around the dark room. "Well, I would say we find a way out."

Dabori limped slowly around the walls. "If we can escape from this room, I think I can get us out. But I do not know this particular room. I must find my bearings."

"Then we better get out of this room," Solo said.

"That seems reasonable," Illya said. "What do we have?"

"Well, they left me the heat foil," Solo said.

Illya shook his head. "There isn't a door, just a stone slab. This is an ancient room. What about explosives?"

"I've got my belt," Solo said. "But if we blow the door, we don't know who is outside. It won't do us any good to blow out and walk right into their hands."

"Then we better get them into the room," Illya said.

"Perhaps some smoke?" Solo suggested.

"That might work. They don't care about us, but it could make them curious, Napoleon," Illya agreed.

"Smoke then," Solo said, "and a small explosion. Let's have your cuff-link. You better keep the other, and I've got mine."

Illya removed one of his tiny cuff-link bombs and handed it to Solo. The agent took the bomb and set it as far away from the stone slab entrance as possible. Then he crossed the room to the slab and bent down. He felt in front of the crack beneath the slab.

"Draft blowing out," Solo said. "It should work. When I drop the smoke bomb everyone start yelling as loud as he can. Illya, you get ready to set off the bomb when they come in."

"Check," Illya said.

Illya went to the small cuff-link bomb. Solo stepped back from the stone entrance slab. He looked around once to be sure all was ready, then pulled off his tie clip and hurled it to the floor directly in front of the slab.

A thick cloud of smoke billowed up instantly in front of the stone slab. In the dark dungeon Solo, Illya and Dabori began to shout, yelling, as if in frantic panic.

For a moment nothing happened. The thick smoke choked them as they shouted, but the draft from the old dungeon was sucking the smoke under the slab.

Then there was noise outside, and the slab began to swing inward. Four armed guards ran through the opening into the slimy dungeon.

Illya set off the tiny cuff-link bomb.

The explosion rocked the ancient stone room. Two of the morlocks fell, blown down by the explosion as the limped in. Solo grappled with the third, and Dabori leaped on the fourth.

Solo chopped down his morlock with a single karate blow to the throat.

The hunchback wrestled his man to the floor. The morlock attempted to use his machine pistol. Dabori wrested it from him and smashed the morlock across the head. The morlock lay still. Dabori stood up.

"Quick!" Solo cried. "Get their weapons and let's go!"

Illya, Solo and Dabori scooped up the four pistols. Solo carried two weapons. The three men dashed for the open stone slab. Two more morlocks appeared in the opening. In complete silence, Solo and Illya leaped on them and clubbed them down with the machine pistols.

No more morlocks came.

"Which way?" Solo said.

Dabori peered out through the opening. The eyes of the hunchback glistened.

"Left! I recognize the corridor."

"Now," Illya said, "before more guards come."

The three men stepped into the opening. Behind them there was a loud swearing. Maxine Trent, where she was still tied like a bundle, swore at them.

"Cut me loose, damn you!" Maxine shouted.

Solo turned, grinned. "Sorry Maxine dear. You didn't turn out to be a very helpful partner. I think you'll be cosy right where you are."

Maxine squirmed in her bonds. "Napoleon! You wouldn't!"

"But I would," Solo grinned. "Have patience. We'll probably be back for you."

"Napoleon!" Maxine screamed. "Damn you! I'll kill you for this! I'll—"

The beautiful Thrush agent squirmed in her bonds, cursed, flopped on the floor like a furious seal. Solo laughed as he went out through the opening into the dim light of the corridor. He followed Illya and Dabori along the corridor at a slow trot, the hunchback limping valiantly to keep the pace.

Behind them Maxine's curses echoed like the wail of an outraged banshee.

FOUR

THE THREE men moved as fast as Dabori could trot. The hunchback led them down the new corridors with the softly purring air vents. Again they saw no guards, but this time they could hear noise and voices somewhere in the distance toward where the long dining room was.

"It is a conference," Dabori said. "That is where they meet. And that is why we have met no guards."

"How much farther before we can get out of the new part?" Solo said.

"Not far, but they will discover our escape at any—"

The sudden clanging of the alarms drowned the next words of the hunchback. Their escape had been discovered.

They began to run, Solo helping Dabori along the dim corridors. Two morlocks appeared from a side corridor. Solo and Illya fired at the same instant. The morlocks went down.

They jumped over the fallen enemy and ran on; no more need for care or silence.

But the search for them was at the other end of the secret shelter. Once they heard the boom of Morlock The Great's voice from the distance, urging his men to find them, but they saw no more guards before they reached another door that led into the old dungeons and the sewer.

Dabori had a key to this door, too.

"I think they will be watching the other way," Dabori said. "They do not know about this way."

The door led into a storeroom piled with food for the survival of the morlocks, and, across the room, behind giant cases of canned water, Dabori indicated a loose stone in the wall. Together they pulled it out, crawled through, and replaced the stone.

They were in another low room that had not been seen by human eyes for centuries. The dust lay a foot deep on the stone floor. Dabori pointed to the far end where there was a low archway. They went through the archway and down a circular stone staircase. At the bottom there was the last door.

Solo burned the door open and they emerged again in the sewers of London. Ten minutes later they came out into the mud at the edge of the river. The Thames stretched dark in the night. Together, the three climbed up the embankment to dry land.

"We must get the police!" Dabori said.

Illya shook his head. "No time now. With us loose, Morlock will move even faster. We don't know what he plans or where it will happen."

Dabori was desperate. "But what can we do then? We must do something. We are out, but.. ."

Solo smiled in the night. "We follow Morlock, right, Illya?"

Dabori blinked under his mop of shaggy morlock hair. "Follow? But how—"

"I think Illya has arranged that, eh, Illya?" Solo said.

"Of course," the small Russian said. "Come on."

Illya led them through the streets and past the now dark and silent pub with its blazoned sign, The End Of The World. When they reached a building a block past the public house, Illya stopped and looked at Solo.

"There?" Illya said.

His hand pointed to one of the ruins still left from the second world war. It had been a church, and was now only rubble and jagged walls against the night sky. Solo nodded.

"By distance from the river, and general location, that should be right above the Cult shelter," Solo agreed.

"It would be just the place they would pick," Illya said. "I don't imagine anyone in the whole city knows what is down there. And we don't have any time to waste, do we? Napoleon, you better get us a helicopter, and quite fast. I'm getting a signal!"

In the hands of Illya Kuryakin a miniature gauge had appeared. Paul Dabori looked at the gauge, and at Illya. The gauge had a white dial with black numbers and a black pointer. Closed, it seemed no more than a cigarette lighter, and there was a small receptacle attached that was empty now.

Illya smiled. "When I tackled Morlock, I managed to plant the sensor on his trouser leg. A radioactive sensor. This gauge picks it up as far away as fifteen miles. You see, we don't know where he is going, so I thought we would probably have to follow him."

"The gauge is moving!" Dabori said.

"Yes," Illya said. "Morlock is coming out."

Bent over his ring transmitter-receiver, Solo called for help. "London Control, this is Sonny. Come in, London Control. Sonny and Bubba, Mayday. Come in, London Control!"

The ring seemed to speak. "London Control. Go ahead, Sonny."

"Request helicopter. Repeat. Request helicopter immediately," and Solo gave the location.

"Helicopter at the river near The End Of The World. Roger, Sonny. Helicopter already in area; will be there in two minutes!"

"Over and out," Solo said.

Illya watched his gauge. "He's out!"

The three men ducked down in the shelter of a doorway. From the ruins of the church across the street four men appeared as if by magic. Three were morlocks, armed and wary, and the fourth was Morlock The Great himself. The four walked quickly to a long black car that suddenly glided down the street.

Solo pointed upward. "There!"

The helicopter circled the area, keeping well away until the black car had pulled away and vanished toward the west. Then the helicopter swooped down toward the river. Illya, Solo and Dabori hurried down the dark city street to the river. The helicopter floated on the river.

"Paul," Illya said to Dabori, "this time you must stay here. Watch the old church until we get back."

Dabori nodded. The hunchback stepped back and smiled at Illya and Solo as the two agents waded through the mud and swam to the helicopter. Aboard, the helicopter lifted off at once.

"Where to?" the pilot said.

Illya looked at his gauge. "West, about fifty miles an hour, make a zigzag and stay ten miles back. I'll guide you."

"Roger," the pilot said.

The helicopter swung off to the west across the great city. Illya and Solo bent close over the gauge that tracked Morlock The Great.