Текст книги "[The Girl From UNCLE 01] - The Global Globules Affair"

Автор книги: Simon Latter

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April's voice said: "Thanks, darling. You gave the temporal blow almost to perfection. A half an inch to the right and you'd have killed the big swine. They had to carry him out, though. Are you okay?"

"Your voice is an alka-seltzer, me old darling."

"Well, fizz you too—what a compliment!"

"Crazy, you are," said the man. "In your coffins, yet you can make the jokes."

"Hey, gorgeous!" April called. "How come these coffins? You expecting a bunch of zombies?"

"These are from the old days when sick people came here. Sometimes we had to ship their bodies back to their own country. Sometimes we bury them here."

Mark said: "How would you like ten thousand dollars, friend?"

The man chuckled. "Me? I have ten thousand dollars. You offer the bribe, yes? Don't be silly. If you have a million dollars you do not bribe me. It is worth nothing. In a few days—nothing at all. Now—if you have ten thousand esparas, that would mean something."

"And to think I had my hands on hundreds of thousands of them!" said Mark.

"You did? You have seen our new esparas currency?"

"Certainly I have. Very pretty too."

"How do you see them?" The man's face again peered down into Mark's coffin. "We see only pictures of them. How do you see them?"

"In France—a place where they printed them. We blew it up after we cleaned out the esparas."

"Ah! Yes, a plant was blown up—this I heard. You still have the esparas?"

"We still have them. Not here, of course, but we've got 'em right enough."

"Make it twenty thousand," said April. "All you need to do is to slit this muslin on me, leave me the knife and forget to collect our gear from over by the wall before you leave."

"It is tempting. It needs thinking about. With twenty thousand esparas I could live like a millionaire. An esparas will be worth fifty dollars." He obviously was pacing around the plinth, for they could hear his feet thumping. "But—how do I get paid?"

At that moment a repeater alarm began to sound. They could hear its echo, or some other amplifier, relaying its call. The man's face appeared over the coffins.

"We all must obey that call. It means there are more intruders." He grinned lopsidedly. "Don't go away—I'll be back. My name is Mindano—Josef Mindano. Maybe we work something out."

"Sure, Jo," said April. "We'll lie around and wait for you.',

"I like you," said Josef. "You are fun—and so pretty."

He disappeared. They heard his footsteps pounding away.

"One of us," said April slowly, "one of us is going to have to think up a good line to feed our Josef, else I'm going to become a dead mummy before I've had a chance to become a live one."

"Chance, me old darling, is something of which you've had nothing else but," said Mark, equally slowly. "it's taking them that makes mummies."

"If you live," said April, "they won't retire you–they'll put you out to stud."

"A horse of my acquaintance tells me it's a wonderful life. All the vitamins you need and a field full of fillies." He paused. "April, darling—you are a lovely, sweet piece."

A short silence. "And you're a swashbuckling dog."

Mark sighed. "Heigh-ho! I suppose this is the nearest I'll ever get to being next to you in compromising circumstances."

"Yes," she said. "It can't be much fun for mummies."

In the silence which followed they heard the soft swish-pad of slithering footsteps coming towards them. These halted somewhere beyond the coffins. There were rustling movements and a gasp.

"Hi, Jo!" April called softly. "Is that you?"

Quick, pattering footsteps; then a face peering down at them.

"Oh, Jimmy!" said Randy Kovac. "So there you are!"

"I won't ask it," said April, adding swiftly: "Knife—fast. Come on, Randy—move!"

Randy moved, slit the lower folds, then up one side. April's hand appeared. "Okay, give it me. Go and unwind Mark. Pull out the underfold around his ankles."

Mark raised his legs. Randy worked feverishly at unwinding the muslin. April got free and began slitting the muslin from the top. At last they climbed to the floor. Mark swayed a little, head buzzing, but this soon cleared.

"Gear!" he snapped. "They didn't have time to tamper with it."

They fitted it on, drew their U.N.C.L.E. guns, gave Randy a small automatic for his own protection, then stood at a vantage point near the opening.

"Okay, hero!" said April to Randy. "Now talk. How?"

Randy gulped. "Mr. Waverly told me I could go with some of the C.I.A. men in one of the encirclement cars—just for experience in field work and to see how an incident is escalated into a resolvement…"

"Oh Gawd!" Mark interrupted. "Spare us the Pentagon prattle. You're here—how?"

Randy grinned. "They didn't want me. I didn't want them. I took to the hills. I knew your position." He hesitated. "You weren't really smooching, were you?"

"Peeping Tom!" April exclaimed. "You were it!"

"Not peeping—honest."

"Okay, honest. So?"

"I saw a woman—back of the ridge. Sneaked up on her hideout. She must have been there for weeks. A cave stocked with stuff. There's a sort of crack in the hills over that side."

"A fissure," said Mark. "Let's be correct. We know it."

"It's a way down," said Randy.

"Dammit, there usually is in a great crack!"

Randy grew brisk again. "You mean fissure."

Mark raised a fist. "In your head if you don't get on."

"Under an overhang—another cave. The other side of the fissure a track wide enough to take a small car. Inside the cave, a doorway into a passage. Very steep, then levels out. Rooms lead off it—rooms like this. Some well furnished. One is a monitoring room. Screens show all the garden, every part of the house. A big room next, with almost empty racks and hangers. A few metal suits and some containers still left."

"Their stockpile," said April. "And they've distributed it. Anything else?"

"Passageways to this end. I kept ducking in and out. I think I set off an alarm."

"He thinks!" said Mark, then grinned. "We thank you. How many men?"

"Ooh, dozens!"

"Well, thank you again!"

"They've gone. They went hours ago by that fissure cave."

"They'll have been collected by now," said April.

"There's a big man groaning in a room with four beds. And one or two others roaming about the passages," said Randy. "I hid under one of the bunks until they'd gone. Then I came into this part and heard your voices."

"Story ends," said Mark. "We now clean up Sirdar and his top boyos, and"—he grinned again—"I think we could escalate this to a resolvement, don't you?"

"That woman bothers me," said April. "Who? And why? You think she comes in here?"

"Oh yes," said Randy. "I watched her go in and come out."

"But she doesn't set off an alarm when she comes in?"

Randy shrugged. "I needn't have, if I'd been more clever. They're only a few trip wires and a couple of photocells. I ducked under the cells."

"She may be just a good friend," said Mark. "A sort of electronic camp follower."

"I doubt it," said April. "Knowing how Karadin feels about women, he wouldn't stand for any female hanging around here. And if she was attached to him, there'd be a room for her—not a cave." She looked at Randy. "Keep back of us, and watch how you use that gun. You can use one?"

"Oh yes; I'm a pot shot."

"There ain't no pots," said Mark. "Just people—so watch it, William Tell. Ready, April, me old—hmm—mate?"

"Yus, mate!" April grinned, mimicking his London accent.

They moved out of the coffin room. Mark was ahead of them. Sirdar—a cloth pressed to his head but a leveled gun in his hand—lumbered out of a passageway. The bark of his gun was merged with the "spat-spat" of the U.N.C.L.E. gun. Sirdar staggered, hit the wall, the gun lowered as he slid down—his other hand, strangely, still pressed to his wounded head.

Mark felt warm blood oozing down his neck. He had swayed and fired in a lightning reflex action. Sirdar's bullet had wanged his ear. Another inch... "Messy but marvelous," said Mark. "Press on."

April dashed ahead. A man in a metal suit loomed out of a doorway. She tangled with him fiercely, dropping him part to his knees. As she gun-butted him, Mark leapt past her. Two men came pounding along a passage to his right. Guns crashed. Stone chippings spattered. The two men, flung back, fell, then lay still.

As Mark watched them, another man came stealthily from a left-side passage. His gun was leveled. April and Randy saw the danger at the same time, but she couldn't fire, for the awkward angle meant that she might hit Mark. All in this split second, Randy took the most difficult decision of his young life. To be swift to kill? To be cool to cripple? He aimed, squeezing the trigger. The gun leapt out of the man's hand, and spun away. Mark whirled, and his gun butt crashed down. Poor old Jo!

April said: "Right—this is it. Cover me in case there are any more." She pulled out the U.N.CL.E. communicator. "Channel D. April Dancer. Mark Slate. Hear this! Hear this! Close in. Repeat—close in. We are in basement. Karadin isolated. Am going to trap him. Nothing is wrecked. Keep it that way, huh? Message ends—out."

Mark said: "Trap?" He and Randy followed her to the monitoring room. She waved them to remain outside and be silent.

Inside, she searched for the correct keys and switches, adjusting the camera to cover herself. The screen flickered and Dr. Karadin's head and shoulders appeared. Amazement spread over his face. But April kept the gun out of sight.

"Be merciful, Dr. Karadin. There are dead men down here, and I am afraid. I cannot get out." She smiled sadly. "You are still the master."

"Dead men? Who is dead? That fool, Sirdar!"

"He's dead too. I am sick and afraid. Are you so ruthless that you would destroy me too?"

His expression changed. "Ruthless? Others are ruthless with me. Perhaps I too am sick and afraid? But we each walk into our own hell, Miss Dancer." He shrugged. "All right—I will come down to you. But I shall have to keep you prisoner. You understand?"

"Anything you say."

"Wait," he said, and moved from the screen.

April reached over and moved a control which swiveled the upstairs camera. She saw Karadin press a button and stand aside for the trap floor to open, then went swiftly into the passage.

"Corny, but effective." Mark grinned.

"You were wonderful!" said Randy, eyes glowing.

"No mistakes now," said April. "We let him get clear of the steps—part-way here—then take him. Go now—out of sight."

He came slowly off the ladder and walked towards her as she stood in the passage opening. Then suddenly he was not looking at her, for his gaze, wide and startled, was directed to a passage which opened to her left.

"Mon Dieu! Mimi! No—no– Mimi!"

His hand flashed to his pocket. The gun was halfway out when the woman fired. She kept firing until her gun was empty. She threw the gun wildly away from her. It hit Randy on the shin. He yelped. She turned.

"The young man on the hill," she said in a deep, warm voice. "So you found my cave?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mark and April were bending over Dr. Karadin. Mark shook his head. "At least two bullets could have killed him instantly. One in the head, one in the heart."

April stood up slowly.

"Mimi!" she said softly. "Yes, of course. Mimi Karadin."

The woman smiled. She was tall, well formed, with a sad face, steady eyes, soft dark hair graying. Poised, quiet, no hysterics. An air of resignation, or was it—resolvement?

"I set him up for you, Mimi," said April. "I made it possible."

"No," she said. "Just the time—it didn't matter when. I could have done it a dozen times before. But it had to be just before his great moment. He denied me, you see. He denied me my own daughter. He denied me love and life—everything—for this—this fanaticism. So I was to deny him too. Deny him success, recognition, fortune, world power—all the myths for which he's spent his life searching."

"He was about two minutes off hearing he had failed," said Mark.

She shook her head slowly from side to side.

"Oh no, that would never do. He had to die believing he was on the verge of success—as once I was." She raised her left hand. The fingers were withered and crooked. "I was his wife, the mother of his child. They called me a great violinist. The night before my debut at the Albert Hall in London, he plunged this hand into a solution of what you may know as K.S.R.6."

"Oh no!" April breathed.

"Oh yes. He could not bear my success, so he took it from me. When, for a time, I lost my reason, he took my child." She walked over to stand over the body and spat. "Au 'voir, Carl!"

Men came rushing down the steps. April looked at Mark. He smiled gently.

"Resolvement, me old darling."

She blinked back her tears.

"The hell with it! she said.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE: CHICKS IN ARMOUR

CHAPTER TWO: WATCH IT – LOVER BOY!

CHAPTER THREE: WHERE BIRDS CAN FLY

CHAPTER FOUR: CHOPPERS AWAY

CHAPTER FIVE: THE PLUS FACTOR

CHAPTER SIX: GO– GAL– GO!

CHAPTER SEVEN: PRETTY LADY LIKE LIFT?

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE WRECKERS

CHAPTER NINE: OPERATION PHAGOCYTE

CHAPTER TEN: KEEP FINGER OFF BUTTON!

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THEY'RE ALL YOURS!

CHAPTER TWELVE: RESOLVEMENT