The Power Cube Affair - Phillifent John T. (версия книг .txt) 📗

"Just a minute," he breathed. "What was all that Green said, about you not going to the ball? What ball? You were being taken by his chief, I think he said, didn't he?"

"That's right!" she nodded her coppery head. "Mr. Green got me a lovely dress for it. Would you like to see it?" Before they could say anything she was away into the bed room and groping in a wardrobe there. Seconds later she came out putting the last touches to a jeweled clasp on her left shoulder. The material was something sheer that looked like spun gold foam, like an intangible shimmer between them and her. It swooped from either shoulder and met under her thrusting bosom, then molded itself and clung like metallic haze down to the ground.

"Do you like it?" she asked uncertainly. "Do you think it's just a wee bit too revealing? Mr. Green said it would be just right for this one evening, as it's a rather special affair. He said the topless fashion is the 'in' thing with private parties now."

"It would have to be a very special affair, for that," Kuryakin said. "Do you know where?"

"Let me guess," Solo interrupted. "The Danby place."

"How did you know that?" Her voice was shrill.

"Tricks in all trades, Louise. This chief of Green's, do you know him? Who he is, I mean?"

She shook her head. "No. Green just told me where to go. It's tomorrow evening, and I'm to go and meet the chief at his house. It's all arranged. At least, it was!" Her face fell.

"Wait!" Solo thought hard. "Green said he would be out of touch, that he wouldn't be able to inform his chief."

"Steady on, Napoleon. Remember what happened to Mary Chantry."

"I haven't forgotten. You're right, Illya. Once of that is enough. Forget all about it, Louise."

She turned and went back into the bedroom while they carried out their final checkup. Solo managed to find one unbroken bottle amid the wreckage and rescued it. "We can use this for atmosphere in the car," he decided. "I think that's just about everything." He turned to see her return, as naked as a baby and with a determined look on her face.

"It's not everything," she declared. "Please, you two, look at me. You were going to ask me to do something and then you stopped because it might be dangerous. And it's not fair. I told you I would do anything. I want to. Look at me!" She spread her arms wide and appealingly. "What would I be now, if you two hadn't saved me? Let me help!"

"You don't need to be told what kind of people we are dealing with."

"Of course I don't. I know. What do you want me to do?"

"There's nothing much to it," Solo said swiftly. "Just go through with the party arrangements as they were made, go to meet the chief man—where's that, incidentally?"

"It's a private estate, a house called Piedmont, about twenty miles the other side of Norwood. I'm to take a taxi from the station."

"All right. If you do that, carry on as planned, go to the Danby affair—we will be there too. Don't acknowledge us. Just give some kind of sign, a touch of the hand to your hair will do, so we can identify the chief. That's all! We just want to know who he is."

"Nothing more than that," Kuryakin stressed. "And you can still back out, if you want to. Just say."

"I certainly won't back out. The one bit I don't like is that you'll be there and I won't be able to speak to you. I suppose you'll be with some other girls? Beautiful ones?"

"Only one," Solo grinned. "And—yes, she's beautiful, but not in your class, Louise."

"I'm glad you think I'm beautiful. I never really cared before, but I'm glad now. I suppose"—she was suddenly wistful—"once you're done with this job I'll never see you again, either of you."

"Hard to tell," Kuryakin said.

"You'll always be welcome."

"Yes. Well now..." Solo cleared his throat. "You know what to do? As soon as you hear the car drive off, wait five minutes and then ring the law. You know what to tell them? Right. Until we meet again." He had half-turned to the door, but she came quickly to catch him, to pull his head down and kiss him. Then Kuryakin. Then she stood back.

"Until the next time," she said.

Solo settled himself behind the wheel. Ponti's body lay stretched on the floor by his feet. The other two were in the back. Kuryakin was keeping his feet on them.

Solo let the car purr out of the alleyway and into the road, then up the gradient. Villas slumbered on the left, secure behind their hedges. On the right the slope fell away steeply, with young saplings here and there to provide a semblance of a wood. They came to a sharp left hand curve.

"This will do, Illya. Get down there, see if the road is clear. I don't want to smash up some innocent bystander." He kept the engine purring while Kuryakin went slithering and skidding down the grassy slope to the road below. Out of the gloom, within a few seconds, came a shrill whistle, twice. Solo sighed, tilted the whiskey bottle liberally over the bodies, let in the clutch, steered the car at the slope, then threw the door open and fell out briskly, rolling over and over three times before he could seize a sapling to halt himself. In the gloom he saw the pale bulk of the car go rolling onward and down. In a moment he saw Kuryakin come back up the slope, using hands and feet and staring back over his shoulder. Then there came a most satisfying crash and jangle.

They regained the road and began to walk back, nodding a silent goodnight as they passed The Nest. Five minutes more brought them to the stone steps and down in an official manner to the main road below. An elderly couple waited dismally at a bus stop. The man eyed them.

"Been here ten minutes," he complained, "and not a sign. I reckon it's gone. The last one."

"Last bus?" Solo queried. "Shouldn't worry, sir, I think it will be along. We're in a lucky mood tonight. Ah, there it comes now!"

The bus growled to a halt to let them aboard. They ran upstairs and were hardly seated before they felt the bus take a violent swerve to avoid a flaring obstruction. There, just off the left hand lane, a car stood on its nose in the ditch, ablaze. Five more minutes and the bus driver had to swerve again as a fire engine roared past, closely followed by an ambulance. Solo sat back and smiled.

"That's that," he murmured. "Up to Louise, now. I hope she tells the story properly."

"She will," Kuryakin said. "She's quite intelligent, despite her shape," and he whistled softly, paying no attention to Solo's stare.

NINE

NEXT MORNING, the room phone rang again. Solo answered it, to hear the switchboard girl tell him there was a lady on the line. With a fast gesture to Kuryakin he said:

"Thank you. Put her on," and he held his breath. But it wasn't Miss Thompson this time, although the voice was equally familiar.

"Mr. Solo?"

"Good morning, Miss Perrell. Nan. Nice to hear you. I was about to ring you, as it happens."

"Oh! Why?"

"Well, you remember that business about us being invited to the orgy at Danby Hall? We'd like to take it up."

"Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?"

"Not at all, but it seems a pity to miss such an occasion, especially since there doesn't seem to be anything else urgent. Or is there? I'm sorry, you rang me, didn't you?"

After a pause she sighed. "It wasn't urgent. I wanted to give you the name and address of a dealer who will fix you up with a small car and ask no awkward questions."