[Magazine 1967-­10] - The Mind-­Sweeper Affair - Davis Robert Hart (книги без регистрации бесплатно полностью TXT) 📗

"We were both caught, but we escaped. Danton is running the operation," Solo said.

"Emil himself? They must place considerable value on the affair," Waverly's imperturbable voice said. "Which I do myself, as I told you, Mr. Solo."

"Do you want us to go back and tackle THRUSH again?"

"That can wait, Mr. Solo," Waverly's voice said, and for the first time there was an edge to the voice of the Section-I Chief. "It seems that you may be safe, but I'm afraid no one else is. In addition to Forsyte, another man visited that health club today, gentlemen. He went there early this morning. Unlike all the others, who appear to have noticed nothing amiss, this man reported to his superiors that he was strangely 'groggy,' as he put it, when he left the health club."

"They must have used the machine, maybe too long," Solo said. "I heard their boss say it could have bad effects."

"Very probably, Mr. Solo," Waverly said. "But that is not my concern just now. What concerns me is the nature of the man in question. You see, he had the full details of the United States' nuclear detection program for outer space in his head."

Solo whistled. "The whole detection system?"

"Precisely," Waverly's voice sail. "You understand that in the wrong hands this top secret system information could mean the control of space. I do not want this data to be passed on—to anyone, especially not to THRUSH. The job has been put into our hands."

Solo and Illya looked at each other. The outer space nuclear detection program was so secret its very existence was not known out side the immediate military, the White House, and U.N.C.L.E. In the wrong hands—?

"We don't know where the machine or the men who use it have gone," Solo said. "THRUSH doesn't seem to know either."

"Mr. Solo," Waverly's dry voice said from the distant room of U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters, "never underestimate THRUSH or me. Or yourself, for that matter. You may recall that you reported the machine. Our men were outside the health club. Fortunately, one of our teams noticed some men carrying a bulky object out of the next building and followed them."

"They must have had a secret passage between the buildings," Solo said.

"Apparently," Waverly said. "Be that as it may, our team followed them to an electronics plant near Princeton, New Jersey. The plant is named Rand Electronics, Inc. A Mr. Edgar Rand is listed as president. We do not know if Rand is involved, or if his plant is simply being used. But I suggest you find out."

"Yes sir," Solo said.

"The team on watch there is Peters and Jenkins. I want you to contact them and assume command of the operation—at once."

"Yes sir."

"And Mr. Solo, get that machine."

"Yes sir."

The night became silent. Where they crouched on the edge of the village they could hear the sounds of revelry and whisky from a roadhouse in the center of the town. The people of the small town were at their pleasure, their momentary joys, while around them in the dark night a deadly game was being played by men they had never heard of, a game that could mean the end of their lives or their pleasures if it ended the wrong way. And one way or the other they would probably never know that the game had even been played.

"Well?" Illya said.

"I guess we go to Princeton."

"Perhaps we better stop and pick up our equipment first, Napoleon."

"Peters and Jenkins can supply us," Solo said. "The Rand plant may be only a short stop. From what I heard, they sounded like they were ready for a big move."

"Then we better move," Illya said.

The two agents searched the night carefully. THRUSH would not give up easily. It was certain that the black-garbed soldiers were still scouring the countryside for them. Solo and Illya entered the small village silently, like shadows in the night that flitted in and out of the light from the windows of the houses. They moved within the desperately happy noises from the tavern.

Outside the tavern there was a row of cars. One, parked farther away from the door than most of the cars, still had its keys in the ignition. Illya climbed in behind the wheel. Solo sat beside him. They started the engine and drove off. Illya turned into a side road that wound through the hills of Palisades Interstate Park. They did not see THRUSH.

An hour later, as the moon rose high, they crossed the border into New Jersey and headed south and east.

TWO

THE PLANT OF Rand Electronics was a long, low, two-story building of yellow brick set in the rich park-like countryside of the Princeton area. Once mainly farmland, and then big estates, the rich area had been caught up with by industry, and now many light, smokeless industries such as Rand Electronics were settling all across the landscape.

Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo parked their stolen car off the road a quarter of a mile from the plant. They walked cautiously closer. The low building of the plant was bright with lights behind its high cyclone fence and a long row of thick bushes that edged a fine green lawn. Shadows moved inside the main factory wing of the plant.

"Night shift," Solo said.

"It doesn't look much like they're carrying on clandestine production of secret machines," Illya said.

"That's probably what they want us to think."

"And it could be a trick. The health club people could have been throwing us off by coming here," Illya said.

"We better find out," Solo said.

"Peters and Jenkins should be able to tell us," Illya said.

They moved on with their eyes alert in the night for their fellow agents. They spotted the dark shape of the U.N.C.L.E. car back off the road just outside the drive up to the plant. At the gate of the plant there was an open gate in the fence and a lighted sentry house. All was quiet at the gate, and Solo and Illya approached the car of their fellow agents.

"All clear, Peters?" Solo said as they neared the dark car.

"All clear," a muffled voice said.

Illya, behind Solo, went for the THRUSH machine-gun he still carried. Napoleon Solo dove for the cover of dark bushes.

The "All clear" of the muffled voice was the wrong signal. All U.N.C.L.E. agents used a recognition signal in answer to the questions of "All clear?" The muffled voice had given the wrong signal.

The two agents reacted instantly—but too late. Before Illya Kuryakin could bring his gun up, two men sprang from the bushes beside him, their guns already aimed at him.

Solo, flat in the bushes, looked up at feet and faces that stood over him. The dapper agent got to his feet with his hands up. Illya already stood beside the car, disarmed and watched by the other two men. A fifth man got out of the car. There was no sign of Peters or Jenkins.

"Sit," one of the five men ordered.

They sat.

"Keep your hands in front of you and in sight."

They placed their hands in their laps in full sight.

"Report to the Boss," the leader of the men said to one of the other men. "Tell him we have two more U.N.C.L.E. agents. These two we got alive."

The man went off to report. Illya and Solo glanced at each other. Solo looked up at the leader above him.

"You killed Peters and Jenkins?" Solo said.

The man shrugged. "They resisted. You two were smarter."

Solo and Illya said nothing. They sat with their backs, against the U.N.C.L.E. car, and their hands in sight. The five captors ringed them but did nothing else. The five were clearly waiting.