The Hollow Crown Affair - McDaniel David (читать книги онлайн без .txt) 📗

"Thanks anyway. But how did you even know I was in trouble?"

"Oh—I'm a witch. Irene is too. She taught me."

Napoleon smiled, and somehow she caught it though she never took her eyes from the road.

"We are," she said seriously. "You know Ward's physical condition—how do you think he's survived so well all these years?"

Napoleon didn't want to hazard a guess.

"There are all different kinds of witches, Mr. Solo. You might pick up a book called Conjure Wife, by Fritz Leiber. I know Fritz—he's a marvellously talented warlock himself."

Napoleon felt the desperate need to change the subject—this one was making his head ache even more. "Uh—where's Ed?" he asked.

Chandra's bright laugh tinkled over the noise of the car. "Oh, he can take care of himself. In case you're wondering, your suitcase is repacked and in the back of the car—it includes the stationery from the dresser drawer and a bath towel with the lodge emblem done in needlework."

"You should have gotten an ashtray, too," said Napoleon. "I think I would have liked one of them."

"Look in the glove compartment," she said. "I got two, but you can have one of them."

"Thank you," said Napoleon weakly and sagged back into the seat as a wave of exhaustion swept over him and bore him down into sleep.

Chapter 11: "I'm Glad They're On Our Side!"

Dr. Fraser found opportunity to converse with several of his students on Sunday, and with several more on Monday morning. Napoleon and Illya stayed quietly in the background, wondering at Baldwin's sudden sociability and exchanging sketchy notes on their weekends.

"I'm not really sure what happened Saturday," Illya said. "I'd rather not go into it for a while."

"I have much the same feeling," admitted Napoleon. "At least you didn't get anything broken."

"Well, not exactly," said Illya. "What happened to you, anyway? You look as if you went four rounds with a tree and lost."

"It was very confusing," Napoleon said. "Let me think about it for a few weeks."

The Russian nodded. They were alone over lunch when their communicators signaled. Napoleon's mouth was full—he flapped a hand at Illya, who answered the call.

"Kuryakin here."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kuryakin," said Waverly's familiar voice. "The information has been found. According to the inexhaustible knowledge of Section Four, monkshood means danger is near; white clover means think of me. It could mean she will be standing by to help him."

"Uh, we knew that, sir," said Napoleon, having swallowed. "Chandra told us. You were there."

"Of course, Mr. Solo. But she might have wanted to remind him, or to specify that an attack was expected. Is all well?"

"It's been quiet all weekend, sir, and nothing has happened today."

"Very well. See that nothing does. Waverly out."

Illya replaced the little transceiver as Napoleon said, "You didn't mention anything about Baldwin getting away from us for a few hours."

"No—I imagine he saw Irene during that time, and that shouldn't be any of our business. He's still all right, isn't he?"

Napoleon had to agree that he was.

* * *

Shortly past five o'clock Baldwin turned from his desk and addressed the three other residents in his cramped office. "I feel you all should know that it will be relatively unsafe for any of us to venture out of this office for the next hour or two."

Napoleon and Illya looked up from their homework; Lyn stopped checking tests.

"Miss Stier, do you know where Mr. Whalen would be now?"

"I think he's out at the practice field, but he might be at the Delta Sigma Chi house."

"Do you remember that telephone call we discussed?"

"Oh, yes sir. Do you mean..."

"Yes. The time has come to make the call."

Both Napoleon and Illya started to say something, then paused in deference to the other. In that moment of silence, Baldwin fixed them with a raised forefinger which said patience as Lyn lifted the phone and dialed.

"Hi, Billy—this is Lyn. Is Ed there?...Well, if somebody goes out that way, could you send a message? Some guys who said they were from Crawford called and said they'd found out how Dr. Fraser had been mixed up in that business a couple weeks ago—remember? And if he wanted to be one of the boys he was going to get the same thing, and pretty soon...Uh-huh. That's what I thought. Okay. Thanks, Billy. 'Bye.

"Was that right, Dr. Fraser?"

"A little overdone, my dear, but perfectly believable."

This time Napoleon spoke first. "Dr. Fraser, would you mind just a few words of explanation?"

"Not at all, Mr. Solo. Go ahead."

Napoleon bit his tongue and looked helplessly at his partner. Illya coughed.

"Sir," said Illya, "please—what's going on?"

"I am about to teach a group of men respect for both an elder and a younger generation," said Baldwin. He picked a set of powerful binoculars from the lower drawer of his desk and slipped off the lens caps. "And hardly any further action will be required of us."

"You're using innocent bystanders for your first line of defense!" said Illya in dawning realization. "How did you ever..."

"They feel they owe me a favor," said Baldwin simply, and focused his binoculars out the window, elbows braced on the sill.

"For 'that business a couple weeks ago'," said Napoleon. "What did you do for them? Blow up a police station?"

"Makes you homesick for Ireland, doesn't it," added Illya.

"Mr. Kuryakin, let us say I conducted a few badly needed extracurricular practical seminars. Vermont was the home of one of the first guerilla forces in the world, and it seemed a shame to lose such a fine native tradition."

Illya looked blankly at Napoleon and then at Lyn.

"He means the Green Mountain Boys," she said. "They were sort of our Viet Cong in the Revolutionary War..."

Baldwin spoke smoothly across her explanation without taking his eyes from the binoculars. "Miss Stier, politics has no place here. Would you please telephone Mr. Whalen? Tell him that the bogeys are all dressed in gray sweaters and blue shirts and there are..."

Napoleon and Illya rose as one and looked over his shoulder as Lyn dialed. Across the Old Quad they could see three plain black cars just pulling up in a row. All twelve doors popped open and tiny figures piled out.

"... about two dozen of them."

"Oh, Ed, I'm glad I caught you. There's twenty-five or thirty of them...uh-huh, right!...and they're wearing gray sweaters and blue shirts. They're in the Old Quad right now...Good. We'll be ready."

Illya and Napoleon looked at each other and sat back down as Baldwin lowered the binoculars and turned around. "Miss Stier, how many did you say there were?"

"Well, I thought if they thought there were more, they'd be careful or bring more people..."

"Miss Stier, I had already allowed for that factor. There are, in fact, fifteen. If matters ever devolve to a body count, the discrepancy may be noted."

"Oh, come on," said Napoleon. "Who'll remember the number by the time they get here?" He stood up again. "I'm not really quite sure what's happening, but I think it'll be fun. And I want to watch."

Out on the lawn in the gathering twilight an uncertain number of gray-sweatered figures slipped along the walks and among the trees, approaching Williams Hall.