[Magazine 1967-­05] - The Synthetic Storm Affair - Edmonds I. G. (читать книги онлайн бесплатно полные версии txt) 📗

"I'm sorry," the young lady behind the counter said, "but your reservations were cancelled from New York."

"When Waverly pulls a joke to relieve the tension, he doesn't know when to stop," Illya complained. "What do we do now?"

"Excercise your ingenuity, as Waverly would say. Don't worry me with your problems. You have to make the three o'clock report."

"I don't—"

"Are you Mr. Kuryakin?"

Illya turned. A young man in the uniform of a technical sergeant in the U.S. Air Force was at his elbow.

"Yes," Illya said brightening. "And which general are you?"

He smiled. "You're early by a few years. It takes a while to become a general. We are holding a plane for you. A Mr. Waverly, who really must be some big shot to arrange this, made a request through the department of defense for us to wait for you."

Illya Kuryakin looked crossly over at Napoleon Solo, who grinned back.

"He could have told us and saved me a lot of worry," he said.

"Just Waverly's idea of a joke. A tension reliever, you know!"

"Well, I didn't have any tension until he started that report-by-three stuff. You know Waverly never says anything even as a joke unless he means it. When he said report by three, he meant it."

"Let's not keep the sergeant waiting," Napoleon said.

They followed the airman out to an Air Force jet bomber. They learned from the pilot that it had been in the States for installation of weather equipment. It and the crew were being transferred to Hawaii to fly weather reconnaissance.

"Are you what they call hurricane hunters?" Illya asked.

"No," the pilot said. "Hawaii is outside the typhoon belt. Our job will be chart air masses below Hawaii and off the usual line of air traffic. Airline planes send back sufficient weather reports along their route, but we'll be covering an area where there is practically no air traffic."

"Why do that?" Illya asked.

"Several storms apparently popped up unexpectedly in that area recently," the pilot said. "Nobody knows why. We are supposed to look into it. Probably some freak atmospheric condition."

"Probably," Solo said and looked at his companion.

TWO

On the flight over to Honolulu, both men spent all their time with the crew's weather observer. By the time the weather plane's wheels touched down at Honolulu International Airport, they both had a thorough working knowledge of typhoons and tropical storms.

It was exactly three when they walked into the terminal at the air base. Illya Kuryakin stepped into a phone booth for cover and used his communicator to send a report of their arrival to Waverly in New York.

"Excellent," the U.N.C.L.E. chief said. "I have additional information for you. We have just received a fix on the Waterloo. It is just above the equator in the central Pacific. Apparently it is heading toward either the Ellice Islands or the Gilberts. However, the Pacific in this area is studded with tiny atolls, many inhabited by natives and many barren."

"Then the ship could be headed for some secret THRUSH station on one of these tiny islands," Illya said.

"It is possible. Arrangements have been made for the U.S. Navy and the U.S. Air Force to step up their weather flights into this area. Although there are no storms reported in the vicinity of the Waterloo, we want to keep a close eye on the ship's activity."

Illya gave Napoleon a terse summary of Waverly's report. Solo grunted.

"Well, I guess this is where the trail forks, as they say in those Western movies on the TV late show," he said. "I've got to hunt for a ship while you get to trail a pretty girl. It's obvious which of us Waverly is partial to!"

Illya Kuryakin grinned. "He just recognizes talent when he sees it," he said. "He knows what each of us does best."

The two men met the next evening to compare notes. Illya reported a complete blank on the girl. He found evidence that four separate women who might have been her landed at Honolulu International Airport. Two checked out to be vacationing school teachers. One left by another flight to Bali, while the fourth apparently disappeared.

"If it were me, I'd forget the disappearing dame," Solo said. "I'd check out those two school teachers. This is October. It's a peculiar time for school teachers to be vacationing."

"I did," Illya Kuryakin said ruefully. "One turned out to be a private detective chasing an errant husband. The other is a disguised woman reporter chasing the same story but for a different reason."

"Oh!" Solo said.

"See, what did I tell you? Leave the woman to me."

"Apparently so," Solo said sadly. He had just smiled at a pretty girl in a trim airline stewardess uniform and gotten a frosty stare. "Chasin 'shes' with stately lines and sails doesn't seem to be in my line either. All I can learn is that the Waterloo put in here a month ago for refueling. The crew was exceptionally close-mouthed. I've been unable to find anyone who has any idea what the ship is up to."

"Well, tomorrow's another day," Illya said. "I'm going to check the steamship lines in the morning. We get in such a habit of flying we forget there are ships. This stormy kid could have taken a boat."

"Boy!" Napoleon said with mock admiration. "Are you smart!"

Suddenly Illya leaned forward. They were seated on a lanai ringed with flickering luau torches. He shaded his eyes with his hand to keep the light out of his eyes. Solo turned to see what his companion was staring at. The lanai with its thatched palm roof fronted on Waikiki's Kalakaua Avenue. All he could see was the rear view of a shapely woman going away from them.

"Don't be so obvious in your girl watching, chum," he said reprovingly.

"There's something decidedly familiar! I'll be back as soon as I get a closer look at her."

"Maybe," Solo said cynically.

"Pay the check for me, will you?" Illya flung back over his shoulder.

"So that's it!" Solo said, smiling, as he leaned across the clipped hibiscus hedge to watch Kuryakin follow the girl.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. For all his banter, he had more than the average respect for his partner's ability. He did not himself get as good a look at the girl as Kuryakin had. Like any good investigator seeking for a missing person, he did not expect to find them looking just their pictures.

But certain things cannot be disguised. Hairdos can be altered. The shape of lips changed by curving lipsticks slightly. Different types of clothing can alter the outward appearances of personality. However, basic bodily shapes are difficult to alter. The way a person walks. The tilt of the head. And a hundred more little mannerisms are more tell-tale than the obvious features.

When Solo leaned out to look down the street the girl was out of sight. He glimpsed the back of Kuryakin just vanishing into the darkness. Solo grunted and started to turn back when his attention was arrested by the shadowy shape of two men who stepped out on the sidewalk behind Kuryakin.

Napoleon hesitated for a fraction of a second. The sudden appearance of the two men did not necessarily have a sinister meaning, but deep inside one of his famous hunches was nudging him into action.

"When you deal with THRUSH it is better to be safe that sorry," he muttered.

He motioned to the waitress, who glided up with a sway of her hips under the grass skirt which was more tourist than genuine Hawaiian. She smiled brightly.