Текст книги "The Cross of Gold Affair"

Автор книги: Fredric Davies

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

“Very good, Solo,” Arnold said from the doorway. “Now all you have to face is me.”

The small Thrush was also wearing one of the night-sight helmets. In one hand he carried a slender wand, in the other

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a light cloth. Napoleon dropped the shattered tape transport on slumbering Apis, and turned to face his new foe.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Arnold,” Napoleon said with a smile. “After that, you ought to be a vacation.” He leaped forward as he spoke, and the small Thrush drifted to one side in a perfect Veronica. Napoleon reached out to grasp his foe and the slender rod spoke. It hummed as Arnold spun it through the air and it popped once as he touched Napoleon on the right wrist. The wrist bone cracked on impact, and a numbing pain ran up Napoleon’s arm.

Arnold stepped forward and tapped Napoleon twice on the side with the humming wand. Two ribs cracked from the blows. The U.N.C.L.E. agent fell back as Arnold pressed on across the room, the wand in his hand humming like a wasp, and striking like a hawk.

Napoleon reached down and grasped Apis’s impromptu club. He swung it forward, taking on a fencing stance. Arnold’s wand hummed and danced, and Napoleon thrust and parried in a counter. The pain in his side and wrist was nothing to the concentration he was putting into stopping that deadly little wand.

With a shift of tactics, Arnold flicked the cloth toward Napoleon’s eyes. He caught the cloth on his make-do foil, and Arnold slashed forward with the wand. The stool-leg j club vibrated, stung Napoleon’s fingers, and flew across the | room. Napoleon feinted to follow, and, as Arnold countered, struck with his damaged hand. The blow was too light; Arnold fell back and then slashed out with the spinning wand again.

Napoleon gave way, step by step. Finally his back was to the wall, and Arnold smiled as he spun the wand toward the U.N.C.L.E. agent’s face.

Using the wall as a brace, Napoleon kicked out, catching Arnold low. The little Thrush staggered back, but regained his offensive position instantly. Napoleon’s hand darted down to the calf of his wetsuit and came up with a slender blade. Arnold brought the wand up, and Napoleon flipped the little knife across at him.

Arnold screamed and collapsed, the knife quivering in his knee, splitting the cap.

“So help me, I’m going to spend a week in bed when this is all over,” Napoleon muttered as he slumped down next to the two unconscious Thrushes.

Chapter 15

“I do believe you’re upset with me/7

BULLHORN at the ready, Matt waited for Napoleon’s signal. The watch on his wrist read fifteen to, and all of the lights on the pier flickered and went out. The U.N.C.L.E. assault squad went into flawless action. Two portable spot lights flashed on, bathing the open pier with light from two angles. Four armored vehicles pulled out onto the beach and arranged themselves in skirmish formation facing the fun house. Their headlights finished the lighting and not a shadow remained unplumbed.

“All right, we know you’re in there,” Matt’s voice echoed through the bullhorn. “Let’s make this as easy as possible on all of us.”

There was no response from the Space House, no sign of life, no sound.

“Avery Porpoise, send your men out with their hands raised,” Matt called out, and then repeated. There still was no response. The U.N.C.L.E. agents pulled forward, expecting to be ordered to invade.

Matt lowered the bullhorn and signaled a squad leader forward. The two agents were picking out objectives for the attacking squad when the first sign of life appeared. Three figures in black, their hands raised, and all laughing, danced out of the entrance to the Space House.

“We surrender,” their leader shouted, as she broke into a dance. Mai and the boys had made it through the maze. Noting Mai’s new step, one foot free to dance wildly, the other dragging behind, the two boys fell in.

“Allee allee in free! We’re doing the ‘Bird’, the ‘Jailbird,”’ Andy shouted as he picked up an imaginary ball and chain on his leg and started dribbling the ball.

The U.N.C.L.E. agents dropped their jaws, and lowered their guns in disbelief. They had all tangled with Thrush before, but never with Thrushes quite like these. “You three kids get down and out of the way,” Matt ordered over the loud hailer. “You on the inside, come out with your hands raised.”

The flower children continued to dance, Mai putting all the curves of her healthy young body into her newly invented “Jailbird.” None of the U.N.C.L.E. agents noticed, until three Thrushes grabbed the children, that three more figures had come out of the maze.

“All right,” the self-styled leader of the three thugs commanded, “open up and let us through, or well kill the-whooof!”

It’s doubtful that “whoof” was really the intended target of the threat, but Mal’s elbow shooting into the thug’s diaphragm made any other pronouncement impossible. His lungs emptied, and instant unconsciousness followed. Andy stomped the instep of the Thrush holding him and gained release. He then double-teamed the thug holding Charlie. The two boys soon had that situation in hand; one of them wrapped himself around the thug’s legs, the other sat on his chest and arms and smashed his head into the ground.

Mai, in the meantime, wasn’t letting the third thug go unnoticed. He was just getting over his sore foot when the girl grabbed him by the ears and yanked his head down, to smash his nose on her forehead. She brought her knee up sharply between his legs, and left him curled in a fetal position.

Then, as if they had choreographed it, the three flower children fell back into the comic steps of the “Jailbird.”

Thrush bullets spat from the loading door, and Matt and the squad leader reacted instantly. Matt leaped, picked up Mai in one arm, snagged Charlie with his free hand and yanked the two to relative safety. Andy was plucked into the air and carried to the skirmish line by the second agent. U.N.C.L.E. returned fire with a vengeance, and two Thrushes tumbled out of cover. The firing let up and Matt scrambled to his feet, discovering he still had an armful of Mai.

“Are you a spy, too?” she cooed, kissing him on the forehead. “I just love spies.” Matt reluctantly disentangled and picked up the abandoned loud hailer.

“Come on out with your hands raised. You haven’t got a chance. We have the exits covered, and were ready to shoot if we have to, so let’s make it easy. He repeated this several times and then ordered his men into the attack.

Bullets flew, and four of the Thrushes tried to make a way over the side of the pier. They fell into the waiting firenets of U.N.C.L.E. and were wrapped up and put away with no trouble at all.

Inside the darkened pool room, Illya stopped to orient himself. The muggy heat of the room gave all surfaces a strange unshadowed appearance. Next to the pool* a darker blob stood out as the only cool thing in the room. The blob moved, and Illya raised his U.N.C.L.E. Special to cover Avery Porpoise.

“Stand very still, Mr. Porpoise,” the Russian said, moving constantly to keep the fat man from pinpointing the source of his voice. “We have your little place surrounded, and I have a pistol pointed at your fat little tummy.”

“My, Mr. Kuryakin,” Porpoise answered in a conversational tone, “you U.N.C.L.E. people are quite talented. I presume Mr. Solo is behind all this. I knew once he had effected his escape that I would have to leave my little retreat, but I must admit I doubted he could work up any sort of annoyance for me in so short a time. And you, Mr. Kuryakin, you appear to be able to walk through walls and see in the dark. Yes, you U.N.C.L.E. people are very talented.” Porpoise, under cover of his monologue, finished adjusting the straps and zippers of his wetsuit. Illya, circling wide to avoid the pool, kept continual watch on the dark blob.

“You had better step back from the pool’s edge, Mr. Porpoise. You’re right, I can see in the dark, and as I’ve mentioned, I’m aiming a pistol right at you. I’m not at all sure just what kind of ammunition I was provided with; it may only be mercy bullets, or it may be the real tiling. If you do what I say, neither of us will be forced to find out.”

He had brought himself to within a dozen feet of the fat villain. The deceptive shadowy quality of the cool rubber

suit kept him from really seeing what Porpoise was about.

“Oh dear,” Porpoise continued as he edged closer to the pool. “I do believe you’re upset with me over that little conversation we had earlier. Really, Mr. Kuryakin, there was no offense offered there. It’s just that I was in something of a hurry, and you U.N.C.L.E. people, among your other qualities, are noted for your lack of cooperation when being put to the question.”

“It wasn’t a matter of faith,” Illya corrected. “And I don’t hold it against you personally; it’s just that despite having broken your crossword code, it turns out we will need you to add the corroborative evidence against the five thousand or so people you have buying and selling Breelen’s common.” He was within three steps of Porpoise now.

“You lied to me about the crossword.” Porpoise sounded crestfallen. “You really do seem to have the upper hand. You can see in the dark, you have a gun, and you’ve broken my code. I must admit that compared to all this I can do very little. But there is one thing I can do.

“What is that?” Illya asked as he placed one hand on the fat man’s shoulder.

“This,” Porpoise answered as he twisted from Illya’s grip and plunged into the pool.

The U.N.C.L.E. agent swung his pistol to follow the fat form. What does he think he’s doing? He can’t stay down forever, even with a re-breather9 and even if he could we could always drain the pool.

The water splashed and rolled, showing activity below, but Porpoise failed to resurface. Illya peered into the pool to try and catch a glimpse of his quarry, but the infrared goggles caught the heat radiated from the pool’s surface, and gave^ it the appearance of a glowing, molten bath.

The activity ceased and the water settled. Illya completed a circuit of the pool, failing to spot any sign of the fat man. Tucking the U.N.C.L.E. Special in his belt, he dived into the pool, prepared to drag his prey out by his rolls of fat.

The pool was empty.

Illya dived twice more, doubting his senses. No matter what pattern he searched, there was no one in the pool. His searching fingers touched a wheel. Instantly he surfaced,

took several deep breaths followed by a shallow taking of air, and dived back to the same spot.

He turned the wheel and opened a circular door. Below there was an opening; the warm water kept him from seeing anything at all inches from his nose, so he dived deeper to search the opening out. A second wheel, six feet below, turned easily in his grip. Suddenly it was torn from him as he and the tons of water above were flushed through the open lock into the ocean below. Illya spun and bounced in the massive current. He slammed into a huge metal eggshelllike covering. He spun, senses blurry, and was swept down the metal egg and slammed into the ocean bed.

Porpoise, swimming up under the empty shell, was in a panic. His submersible craft gone, U.N.C.L.E. surrounding the pier, he was lost. The sudden blast of water from above shook the ovoid hangar, but the eddy pocket of water around him wasn’t disturbed. The thundrous noise of the swimming pool emptying into the sea shocked him back to sanity, and when he saw the limp form of Illya pounded into the sea floor his mind came up with a rational plan.

First he must kill the unfortunate Kuryakin, then he could swim at right angles to the pier until he was beyond U.N.C.L.E/s cordon. Without him, U.N.C.L.E. would have no case against the Thrushes actually involved in the buying and selling of Breelen s. He resolved not to be taken alive; even in death he would win. For U.N.C.L.E. couldn’t reverse what had already passed, and Thrush already owned more than a third of Breelen’s.

Illya, dazed and needing air, drifted up from the ocean floor. Instinct kept him from letting out any of the precious oxygen he had stored up before his spectacular exploration of the deeps.

Porpoise hit him across the back, trying to knock out of him what little air he might still hold. Illya reacted slowly, spinning to face the fat frogman. Porpoise drew him in as a mother might her child, hugging the Russian to him, trying to smother him in fat as well as drown him in water. Illya brought an elbow up, knocking Porpoise’s mask askew. Cold

brine filled the mask, and his eyes. He released the weakened agent to clear his mask, and Illya struggled feebly for the surface.

Matt and an assault squad and three energetic flower children hit the loading door in a rush. The dozen Thrushes inside put up a short battle, but fell to the withering fire of the U.N.C.L.E. agents. Mai liberated a Thrush repeating rifle and smashed it over a would-be Thrush hero shouting, “No war toys!” Andy and Charlie took up the chant, and the three seemingly bulletproof flower children routed the last of the Thrush.

“What are you doing here?” Matt roared, his voice without the bullhorn hardly a decibel less loud than with it.

“Napoleon said we should get out and stick with you ” Mai answered innocently. “Besides, we’re native guides, and we work real cheap.”

The three set out after the retreating Thrushes. Gunfire from outside attested that the fight was far from over. Matt shrugged and sped after the three children, wondering how he was going to phrase this development in his report on the evening’s action.

The gang of Thrushes trying a sortie from the maze entrance were driven back to cover by U.N.C.L.E/s rear guard. The darkness of the maze, plus the dangers of the outside, had just about convinced them to surrender. From behind, lights appeared, and Matt and a part of the assault squad with miner’s lights on their heads filled a myriad of mirrors.

“I told you,” Charlie exulted. “That door had to lead to the maze, or there wouldn’t have been so many baddies around to pop off.” Matt collected up a dispirited group of Thrushes and passed them on to the men outside, then he and his group with Charlie went to meet the group following Mai and Andy. The flower children led the agents quickly through the confusing maze, with no false steps or turns, into the Spaceship Room, and through the open spacelock to the corridors beyond.

Shots echoed ahead, and the group broke into a run. Rounding a turn, they spilled into the pool room, to view the disarming of the remaining Thrushes. Mai and Andy

were doing the “Jailbird” to entertain the captured Thrushes. Charlie joined the others with a rebel yell and leaped into the pool. Instead of the expected splash, there was a crash and a yell of laughter as the boy scrambled back out. “Hey, somebody drained the pool. What kind of hospitality is that?”

A panel swung open in the wall, all lights in the room swung to pinpoint the action, and Napoleon staggered into the room, dragging Arnold in his good hand. “Here’s one more for you, Matt, and there’s another inside.”

“Hey, look,” Andy shouted. “Napoleon took Arnold, and HI bet Apis is the other one. Nobody can beat our favorite spy!” Napoleon smiled at the accolade, and scanned the room.

“Where are Illya and Porpoise?” he asked as he collapsed from the pain of his broken ribs.

Illya was taking in long deep pulls of life-giving air under the pier with Porpoise racing to the surface below. The fat shark grabbed an ankle and yanked the Russian under, and Illya stopped breathing instantly; his reaction to water honed by Apis earlier kept him from a lungful of brine. He twisted full length and seized the diving mask and pulled. Water spilling in over his face blinded Porpoise for a second time, but he held tightly to the Russian, pulling him down as he rose to the surface himself.

Porpoise sucked in the night air and pulled the struggling agent into his soft stomach. Illya, breath nearly gone, kicked out and struck a piling. Using the piling and its barnacles for footholds, he lifted the two of them out of the water, and broke the fat man’s grip.

Porpoise panicked again. The fight was going wrong. Even in his own element, where he should have had the U.N.C.L.E. agent at a disadvantage, he wasn’t winning. The fat man fled into the sea, his flippered feet giving his kicks great thrusting power.

Illya gasped in badly needed air, and followed, not gaining, not losing ground. His lack of fins was perfectly matched by the huge cross section Porpoise had to drive through the water. Both men were forced to stay near the surface for air, although Porpoise could have cleared his mask again had he dared take the time.

Ultimately, Illya’s greater endurance proved to be the difference. He drew closer and then pulled alongside. Porpoise was straining in panic flight, but again, when stimulated from outside, snapped back to instant rationality. When Illya seized him the fat man dived and twisted, bringing his flippered feet up into the Russian s face. He kicked hard and fled to the depths.

With cool precision he re-donned his mask and cleared it in time to receive Illya’s charge. He easily dodged the grab for the mask, and again pulled the Russian into his arms. This time there would be no hurry, no pushing. He would simply hold the Russian under for ten minutes or so, and then be on his way.

Illya, wondering disgustedly why he let Porpoise do this to him three times running, opened his mouth and closed it again, taking as large a bite out of the rubber and fat as he was able. Porpoise squealed with the pain as the Russian chewed his way through the wetsuit and through his stomach.

Overhead the platform of knives offered Porpoise a solution. He would hang the Russian on one or more of the blades; it didn’t really matter how he died. Porpoise kicked strongly to raise them back to the surface.

Illya, blacking out from lack of air, felt his struggles grow weaker. He spat out the mouthful of Porpoise and tried to twist around. Passing his face he saw a pair of U.N.C.L.E. swim fins. As if in a dream he reached out and took hold of one of the fins. It hung up on the blade it was hanging from, and the two men swung around the blade in a large circle.

Porpoise felt the first blade enter him in total disbelief. He dropped the limp Russian and tried to back off the blade in his shoulder. The second knife entered in his lower back, I and he rocked back and forth trying to free himself-but he .was slowly driving one and then the other into his vitals.

The absurd humor of losing his life to such a fluke set him laughing, and he finished in hysterics, confident that despite not living to enjoy the fruits of his work, he had still beaten U.N.C.L.E.

Chapter 16

“We’re the Urban Renewal/’

“HEY, LOOK AT THAT. The Soldier in White!”

Napoleon came up out of a sedative sleep for the third time that day, and decided maybe he was hallucinating. The voice was Andy’s but the face leaning over him was carefully barbered and rode above a gold and red vest and pin-striped black shirt.

“Don’t go back to sleep, man. We’ve been waiting half an hour for you to come to. They said we could come in a minute ago, and here you’re trying to sack out again.”

“Napoleon, please wake up.” He forced his eyes open and turned towards his window. Framed against the late morning sunlight was Malista, her hair sculptured in a mass of Helen of Troy ringlets, twined with miniature orchids. She was wearing bell-bottoms and a clinging top, all in radiant white, with her clay medallion riding proudly on her bodice.

“You are a picture in three-dee,” said Charlie from the foot of the bed. “A better ad for Johnson & Johnson I never saw.” Charlie himself was a picture, with one American Beauty rose hanging where a watch fob should be. He lounged against the wall in Seville Row gray flannel, a snappy bowler pushed back on his gold locks. Napoleon came wide awake, but found himself speechless at the change in the flower children. He just lay there, looking from one to another of them and smiling broadly. Finally the three of them broke into laughter with him, but they all stopped when he laughed once and collapsed under the pain.

“I guess this is the first time I’ve tried to laugh since last night.” he whispered, trying not to disturb his broken ribs.

At that they all laughed again. Mai wiped his forehead, almost the only part of him that wasn’t bandaged, and handed him water with a flexible straw. “It wasn’t last night, Napoleon. They got you into Emergency about 5:00 A.M., and started snipping and sewing. You were kept unconscious

for two nights, Wednesday and Thursday. Today is Friday, and it’s almost noon.”

“Clay lies still,” said Andy.

Napoleon looked at him, and looked down at his cast, the plaster around his ribs, and the multitude of places where bandages covered cuts, bums and abrasions. “Nobody likes a smart kid,” he said. “Not even a smart literate kid. Where did you pick up Housman, anyway?”

“Mr. Waverly reads Housman, and he let me look at A Shropshire Lad while Mai and Charlie were arguing about our contract with the whole staff of top brass from the Masked Club yesterday.”

“All Andy had to do was sign; it’s pretty finky, letting us do all the haggling about money.”

“Money? Contract? Do you three own the Masked Club now, too?”

“Nope. We’re just their star routine,” said Mai smugly. “Some bunch of stars,” interjected Andy. “We come on between acts and stomp up a little adrenalin in the crowd.” Napoleon closed his eyes and tried to envision it. A sultry torch-singer goes off left, to bored applause, the lights go up, and-

“The three of you come on doing rough-and-tumble, challenging anyone in the house to two falls out of three. Does the Masked Club have a police permit to put on a show featuring three deadly weapons?”

“Naw, you got it by the wrong end. We sing a little, Charlie improvises on the guitar, Mai does some dancing to my drums, that’s all. We’re folk-rock artists. You know the Jefferson Airplane, the Strawberry Alarm Clock, the Blues Project?”

“Not personally,” Napoleon said.

“Well, we’re the Urban Renewal. We sing songs from the IRA and the Civil War, like Goober Peas. Maybe we a cappella something.”

“Gregorian chants,” suggested Napoleon.

Charlie brightened up. “I bet with some sock-dollager rehearsing we could sneak one in. Only backwards, with sitar accompaniment.” He grinned, leaned forward and tapped on the foot of the bed to lead his troupe.

“No, no!” cried Napoleon, remembering just in time not to breathe too deeply. “This is a hospital room. They insist on quiet here, and I’m not ready to hold a lease-breaking party just yet.”

“Well,” said Mai, “maybe we can have it ready for tonight. We’re going on at 9:30 for ten minutes, and Mr. Waverly said we might even get it on closed-channel to your tv set here.”

“I’ll keep the volume ‘way down. Do you go on in those costumes?”

“Costumes?” asked Andy, looking down at his dark purple slacks. “These are street-wear, man. When we come up outa that wilderness to find somebody paying for our steak and beer, we went out and bought some in-type clothes. For the show, Charlie and I slip into matching union suits with measles on ‘em, and Mai wears this psychedelic muu-muu, with flair.”

“Mai seems to be wearing the outfit she has on now with considerable flair. Your hair is very lovely up, Mai.”

“Thank you,” she said, beaming at him. He reached out his good arm to take her hand. “I can have it down, for the show, just by taking out this headband of orchids. It takes a while to do up again, though, or I’d-” She was interrupted by the entrance of Illya Kuryakin and Beth Gottsendt.

“We didn’t know you had company,” said Beth.

“Oh, we were just leaving,” replied Mai.

“There’s no need for that,” said Napoleon. Illya started to say something, but decided against it. The girls looked each other over, while their audience looked from one to the other. Mai didn’t let go of Napoleon’s hand, but let her eyes travel right up from the floor over Beth’s smart tweed suit and modest jewelry. Beth swept her eyes from Mai’s orchid-filled hair down to flowered sandals, and slowly back up the well-filled pantssuit to the Greek girl’s face. Neither girl said a word, neither girl quite believing that the other could offer much in competition, but both fully aware that competition was there.

Illya, noting with amusement his partner’s growing social discomfort, finally broke the silence: “Beth called for you

yesterday, and since you were ‘out/ I took the call. The doctor said you would be ‘in’ about now. Since all you can do is look anyway, and you’ve always told me that where looking is concerned ‘the more the merrier,’ I figured you wouldn’t mind having two pretty girls come see you at the same time.”

The girls exchanged grins as Napoleon closed his eyes and tried to sink through the bed. “Besides,” Illya continued, “I thought you would want to know how our little tea party came out.” Napoleon opened his eyes again and groaned as he tried to pull himself up. Both girls were instantly at his side, easing him back down to a more comfortable position.

Illya grinned, and went on. “I lost Porpoise to some knives, and it turned out he carried all his records in his head. We were just about where we started in saving Breelen’s until Charlie here suggested we carry on the good work.” The flower child in question pulled the paisly handerchief from his pocket and waved it to the adoring crowds.

“Yesterday we contacted Breelen’s, and, after plucking a Thrush from their midst, convinced them to sell all the stock they had at the prevailing market. Porpoise’s short sales from the day before held the market up for a bit, but the bottom soon fell out. Breelen’s dropped from sixty-two to five in one day. Then Crypto and I sat up all night working on this.” Illya opened the newspaper in his pocket to the crossword puzzle.

“You’ll notice it’s signed Avery D. Porpoise. It also has all three of the key definitions, and the instructions to ‘sell’ at ‘six and three-eighths.’ Breelen’s spent the day buying the flood of Thrush stock, and when I left the market this afternoon they had regained all the stock they had lost in the manipulations and a small margin over. Of course the price is still down from what it should be, but now that Thrush is no longer in the picture things will get back to normal in a month or so.”

Charlie pulled a large gold turnip watch from his vest and announced, “Hey, we got to flit if we’re going to make the first show.” He and Andy arose, and, bidding the soldier in white goodbye, stepped into the hall.

“I’ve got to go too, Napoleon,” Mai said, as she rose to leave.

“Beth, would you care to have dinner at the Masked Club, and take in the hottest new group in town?” Illya asked in his most courtly style. Mai smiled at the compliment. Beth nodded her approval of the plan and Illya offered her one arm, offering the other to Mai.

“Hey, what about me?” Napoleon asked, as everyone prepared to leave.

“This is for you, old chum,” said Illya, placing the open newspaper on Napoleon’s chest. “Work it in good health.” The three left the room, leaving Napoleon staring blankly at the crossword that had solved the case.