[Magazine 1966-12] - The Goliath Affair - Jakes John (библиотека электронных книг TXT) 📗
"Isn't that heil THRUSH routine pretty sticky?" Solo asked as he and Helene walked on. "Who is your leader, anyway?"
Helene said thinly, "We have but one leader. The spirit of der Fuhrer."
"How did you manage to hook up with THRUSH?"
"We had no formal, world-wide organization," Helene explained. "Here and there we had isolated cells, pockets of agents such as one in South America directed by General Klaanger. Certain approaches were made by THRUSH, inviting our participation in a joint effort. We accepted because THRUSH possessed the organizational structure by means of which we could return to our rightful place of leadership. We have been promised an elite position in the government which THRUSH will set up as soon as this current operation is successful."
The explanation was interrupted by the pneumatic hissing of another pair of doors at the corridor's end. Beyond, a hodgepodge of weird electronic equipment towered up at least two floors. A number of people were gathered in the vast chamber. Helene made a mock bow to indicate that Solo should go ahead. With considerable reluctance he did.
The conversation of the assembled group came to a halt. Heads turned. Smiles appeared, all of them gloating.
Solo stopped inside the double doors. They promptly shut and locked.
On a low balcony all around the cement-walled room, banks of computers blinked their lights and chattered their printouts, manned by THRUSH technicians in laboratory outfits. The other items of bizarre apparatus were ranged around the stone floor of the chamber, but the centerpiece was a kind of leather-padded operating table.
On each side of it a tapered stainless steel pipe was mounted in a drum-shaped concrete socket raised from the floor. These two pipes shot upward. At the point where they came together, a round stainless steel ball perhaps three feet in diameter hung between them. Something black and cylindrical, resembling a lens mount, protruded from the lower surfaces of the ball, aimed at the leather-padded table below.
Nearby stood several control board consoles bolted to the concrete. All the switches, dials and light-indicators on the board were powered down, dark. The lab-coated THRUSH technicians presumably in charge of this nightmarish conglomeration of equipment formed the group which had fallen silent as Solo and Helene entered the room.
A small man in a rumpled coat broke free from the crowd and scuttled toward them. He was a strange, untidy figure, carrying a clipboard in one hand and an immense liverwurst sandwich on dark rye in the other. His rimless spectacles had quarter-inch lenses. He was as bald as an egg. He must have been well into his sixties, but he walked with a springy, nervous step, his eyes large as brown pingpong balls behind his glasses.
The little man gave Helene a peck on the cheek.
"My liebchen, my little girl! We have been waiting for you all night long!"
"We came as quickly as we could, Papa," Helene responded.
The little bald man scrutinized Solo. "This is the U.N.C.L.E. operative?"
"Yes, Papa. Napoleon Solo. One of their best men."
"He gave you no trouble?"
"Naturally not, Papa. We were far too strong."
"Yes, yes, isn't that the truth?" The little old man emitted a maniacal titter and immediately took an immense bite out of his liverwurst sandwich.
Solo didn't know whether to tremble or laugh. The little old man finished munching his bite of sandwich and threw the rest of the sandwich away carelessly over his shoulder. Then he subjected Solo to a withering gaze. Solo could practically feel his shoulders, chest and biceps being found wanting.
"We have neglected the formalities, Herr Solo. My name is Doktor Klaus Bauer." Dr. Bauer marched back and forth in front of him. "Do you know why you are here, Solo?"
"I expect that it's because U.N.C.L.E. got curious about your little tea party, and I got a bit careless back in Munich."
Herr Doktor Bauer demonstrated how serious and formidable a foe he could be. He drew himself up to full height and cuffed Solo viciously across the cheeks, twice.
"Make sport of us at your peril, Herr Solo!" he warned. "At this experimental station we are forging the weapon which will bring U.N.C.L.E. to its knees, whimpering and cringing for mercy. Do you know who I am? Of course you don't! I have been forced to live in secret these past twenty years or face prosecution as a member of the Nazi party. That is a gross insult I will not willingly or lightly forgive—"
"And now that THRUSH has given you a chance to crawl out of the wormwood into the light of day, Herr Doktor—" Solo began.
"Be careful!" Helene said. "He is my papa, remember."
"I don't care if he's the reincarnation of Adolf himself; you're all mad as hoot owls."
Bauer squinted behind his rimless spectacles. "So you believe that. You simply dismiss us?"
Solo shrugged. "That depends on who operates this place. I know the capabilities of THRUSH. But I'm a little doubtful about the capabilities of a bunch of ex-storm troopers—"
"You have seen my capabilities!" Dr. Bauer shrilled. "You have seen General Klaanger, have you not? He was a weakling, a small, twisted weakling until I subjected him to my three-diode enzymatic physio-energizer—there."
With a slightly melodramatic gesture, Bauer indicated the sinister-looking table and the camera-lensed ball suspended above it.
"A mere courier, an errand boy such as you, Herr Solo, could not begin to comprehend the scientific principles behind the apparatus. Sufficient to say that by means of a process known to me alone—a process of ray bombardment which acts upon certain growth enzymes within the body—I am able to literally transform a human being into a superman.
"I can increase strength and size until a man is so powerful, no other human being can stand against him. Why, the process even renders a person less susceptible to death by such things as bullet wounds. Physical resistance to injury, the body's ability to fight off harmful accidents, is increased tremendously.
"Had I had enough money to implement my theories with this kind of equipment during World War II there would have been a different outcome. And, as it is, THRUSH has sought me out, financed my research and the construction of this equipment. In return, we of the Fourth Reich have joined forces with THRUSH to bring a speedy end to those governments which stand against us!"
In the silence which followed his harangue, a silence punctuated only by the deep, murmurous humming of a power plant somwhere beneath the chamber, Solo waited tensely, wondering what would happen next.
The THRUSH technicians had grouped themselves behind Dr. Bauer. They were watching the back of their leader's head with expressions testifying to their loyalty. One even applauded.
Suddenly, from directly behind Solo, a throaty feminine voice boomed out:
"He sounds as mad as a coot, doesn't he, Solo? But he isn't, you know."
Solo whipped around. A door had opened between two of the computers on the low balcony. At the balcony rail stood the woman who had spoken, a tall, splendidly-built girl with stunningly beautiful features and shoulder-length blonde hair.
She wore extremely tight-fitting tan trousers, a hugging sleeveless scarlet jersey and the black boots which seemed to be the hallmark of the shock troops around here.
With one lithe movement she climbed over the balcony rail. She jumped the short distance to the concrete. She walked toward them, swining a riding crop from her scarlet-nailed right hand. At her wide leather belt she wore a pistol in a holster. Her hair glinted with radiant highlights.
