[Magazine 1966-­04] - The Unspeakable Affair - Davis Robert Hart (читать книги онлайн бесплатно без сокращение бесплатно txt) 📗

The barred door opened. A small, fat man entered with two silent guards dressed in black. The guards carried Thrush rifles. The small man had the fat, round face that had watched them through the window of the weightless test room. The fat man beamed at them.

"I doubt that you will, Mr. Solo," the fat man said, "but I must say I admire your ability and resourcefulness. You got so much farther than the computer said you would. I have little faith in thinking machines. A man is the true thinking machine."

"Meaning yourself?" Solo said.

The fat little man laughed. "Well, in all modesty, I think that you will find Dr. Ernesto Guerre listed among the geniuses, especially after this project is completed. I imagine Waverly has a fair dossier on me. Too bad it will not help you."

Illya studied the little man from where he sat. The quizzical eyes of the small Russian were interested.

"Dr. Ernesto Guerre," Illya said softly. "I remember. You worked for the Soviet once. Before that—"

"Before that for that fool Hitler, yes. They all did not believe I could do it, but I have done it. And with my brain, not with a computer! I warned them that Diaz was a bad mistake, but they trusted their Ultimate Computer."

"Diaz found out?" Illya said.

"He managed to get past our personnel check and play the part of a rocket pilot," Dr. Guerre said, and laughed. "Luckily, he did not know about the side effects of metabala-G. You were quite correct, Mr. Kuryakin, metabala-G is a little development of mine to enable pilots to stand the speeds of the Q-ninety-nine."

"It affects the speech and language section of the brain?" Illya said.

"It does. We are working on it. But, after all, pilots do not need speech," Guerre said.

"The Q-ninety-nine is a plane?" Solo said.

Guerre nodded. "Nuclear propulsion, speeds never dreamed of, unlimited range. They all said I was crazy."

"Maybe they're right," Solo said.

Guerre narrowed his small eyes, but the perpetual benign smile never left his fat face. "Thrush does not think so, Mr. Solo, and I will give them rule of the world! They are men of vision! Not like your soft world powers. With my work, Project Condor will give Thrush complete world domination!"

"Not with a few aircraft, no matter how fast," Illya said.

"No, but—" Dr. Guerre started to say, and stopped. The happy- looking little fat man laughed. "I think I have told you enough. I dislike men to die curious, but you know enough. Now I think we will find out what you know. Personally, I would just kill you. Very simple, a bullet in the head. But my Thrush friends want to pick your brains."

The fat little man turned and walked out through the door. His place was taken by a smiling Maxine Trent. The two guards had not moved. Maxine smiled at Solo.

"My poor Napoleon, caught again. I'm surprised at you, walking right in like this. I believe you could have escaped after you pulled Kuryakin out of the quicksand. Our man was very careless there. He's gone."

"Hello, Maxine," Solo said. "You never give up, do you?"

"For you, my dear Napoleon? Never. I really have a strong attachment to you. I wouldn't have anyone kill you except me."

"I'm touched," Solo said.

"Besides, I owe you something for that Australian affair. My superiors were most annoyed by that. I think I'll give them your brain on a platter."

"A modern Salome," Illya said dryly.

Maxine looked at the small Russian. Illya grinned at the Thrush agent.

"We won't neglect you, Kuryakin. Our Russian section is most interested in you," Maxine said. "However, I think we'll start with the girl. I want our men well warmed up by the time they get to Napoleon."

"She doesn't know anything," Solo said.

Maxine laughed. "Gallantry, Napoleon? How interesting. But I imagine Miss Parsons knows more than even she is aware of. Take her out!"

The command was given to the two black-garbed guards. They led the shivering Penny Parsons out of the room. With a mocking wave, Maxine followed the guards and the girl.

The room became silent.

"She doesn't know anything," Solo said.

"They'll kill her then," Illya said. "They won't believe her, she was with us."

"I thought she'd be safer."

"You were right as far as it went," Illya said. "After she talked to you, they would have gone after her anyway. The question now is, what can we do for her?"

"First we better get out of here," Solo said.

"I agree," Illya said. "I'll watch the door."

Illya went to stand at the small barred window in the door. Solo bent over and examined the cuff of his trousers. After a few moments he reached down and gently pulled a long thread out of the trousers. He laid it on the floor in front of him and turned to the other trouser leg. He pulled out another long thread. He laid this beside the first long thread.

Then Solo began to twist the two threads together. He twisted them carefully, leaving the last inch of each thread spread apart. He ended with a stiff, braided, stringlike filament about a foot long.

"There are no guards in the corridor," Illya said from the door. "I wonder why?"

"We'll probably find out," Solo said.

Solo was removing the buttons from his suit coat sleeve. He took the four buttons, and tied them together in pairs with a third thread from his trousers. He left an inch of each thread protruding from the button hole. Then he stood up and looked at Illya.

"Did they leave you anything?"

Illya shook his head. The search had been thorough and expert. Neither agent had been left even his shoes or his belt. Nothing but the clothes they stood in.

"Nothing," Illya said. "We're lucky they left you your clothes. Mine were ruined by the quicksand."

Solo handed Illya one set of buttons tied into the tiny pairs.

"This will have to do then," Solo said.

"Ready?" Illya said. "I don't like there being no guards outside. They feel secure."

"Well, maybe we can change that," Solo said, grinning.

Solo picked up the stiff, braided filament made from the two threads from his trousers and carried them to the door. He doubled the string over twice, and pressed it against the door exactly where the lock was on the outside. The string struck there with self-adhesive.

Then Solo touched the two separated ends, rubbed them lightly together, and jumped back.

There was a tiny flash of flame at the ends of the braided threads, and then a blindingly bright glow. The glow, white hot, lasted a full minute. When the glow faded, there was a gaping hole in the steel door six inches across where the lock had been.

The door swung open at a touch from Napoleon Solo.

TWO

THEY SAW a light at the far end of the long corridor. Solo led the way in the opposite direction. The corridor ended in a solid wall of rock. They retraced their steps toward the light at the other end. The walls of the corridor were smooth, unbroken rock.

"It must be a cave in the hillside," Illya said.

"Which explains no guards," Solo said. "Down there is the only way out. That's where the guards are."

The two agents reached the end of the corridor. They peered out and saw that the cave opened into a room. This room was also steel, and two armed guards sat in chairs at a desk. There were windows in this room with light coming through them from outside. The windows were barred.