The Mad Scientist Affair - Philifrent John T (читать книгу онлайн бесплатно без .TXT) 📗

The mare whinnied, shook her head, and began to back off, hauling on the line. He stooped hurriedly, grunted as he managed to get Bridget over his shoulder, took up the slack on the line, and shouted again, “Go! Go!”

Five awful minutes later, dripping with sweat and soaked with the slime that dripped from her, he tottered over the crest and sank to his knees, spilling her onto the grass. She lay quite still, but he had learned, as he had carried her, that she was still alive. He had felt her heart beating as she had dangled like a limp sack over his shoulder. He stared down at her and wiped the sweat from his face. A black bruise on her forehead showed why she was unconscious. She must have got that in the tumble down the slope with Foden. She was a slimy mess all except her face and one shoulder. She was, he had to admit, a very lovely girl.

He sighed, drew off his soiled gloves, tucked them into a pocket, and slapped her face, gently but firmly. She stirred, gave a muffled groan. On impulse he put his head down, slipped his hand under her neck and put his lips firmly on her red mouth in a firm kiss.

She stirred, stiffened, and began to struggle, but he held her tight until he could hear her snorting. Then he let go and lifted up and away, watching. Her eyes were open, staring. They were a bright and beautiful green.

“What—what was that for?” she gasped.

“Let’s call it the kiss of life, shall we?”

“But—” She came up on an elbow, confused. “That’s for drowning, for someone who—” And then he saw it all come back to her in a rush as she looked down along her body and saw the slime. She wrenched with sudden terror, her eyes. wide, her arms reaching for him, clutching fiercely, shivering with dread. He held her tight.

“Now now, no need for hysterics. It’s all over. It was touch-and-go for a while, and you’re a bit of a mess, but you’re safe now. Completely safe.”

She made little whimpering sounds, clinging to him, and then she began to weep. He held on, patiently, knowing this was a good sign, a discharge of tension. In a while her frantic grip eased and she pushed away from him.

“You pulled me out? Saved my life? Why?”

“You ask a silly question like that and you deserve a silly answer, but let’s just say I hate to see a beautiful girl going to waste.”

“I’m not very beautiful, right now,” she said dismally.

“I’ll tell you better after you’ve had a bath, but from what I can see, I suspect you’ll pass my rather high standards. I’m afraid I tore your dress trying to drag you out. Sorry about that—I don’t usually tear the clothes off women, but this was a rather special case.” She giggled, and he watched intently for signs of hysteria, but she had a grip on herself now. “You’re very kind to me,” she said. “But now you’re going to take me back and turn me over to the law, aren’t you?”

“Well now,” he said gently, “you’ve been a bad girl, you know. You must have known what Uncle Mike was up to, and the Thrush people. And you were on their side.” He moved a hand to touch the metal band on her wrist, with its dangling broken links. “I don’t see what else I can do.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said slowly. “It all seems like a bad dream now, as if it had happened to somebody else. Ever sine I was a little girl I’ve been Uncle Mike’s favorite. I always did what he wanted, and he said I was going to be taken care of, right until last night.”

“Then what happened?” Solo asked, suddenly dropping his mildness.

“He and that Dr. Trilli went off by themselves. They left the garrison and the two—Schichi and Foden—” She glanced up to the crest of the hill, remembered what had happened to Foden and shivered, and went on, “—they were to stop back and take care of things. And me. Uncle’s last words to Foden were, ‘One screeching female has escaped—you see that this one doesn’t do the same. I’ve no further use for her, but I don’t want her running around telling everything she knows!’ That’s what he said about me, after all these years. But I could see what Foden had in mind, and I was ready to run. That’s why I had Molly all saddled up, ready for the first chance I could get!”

Solo could appreciate her feelings at being betrayed, but he was far more concerned by the news of her uncle’s flight. He stirred and rose hastily, hauling her to her feet.

“When did your uncle skip with Trilli? What time?”

“About an hour and a half ago. Not long before you came with the guns and bombs.” She spoke dully, her shoulders sagging, but he had no time to waste on her grief. He groped for his transceiver, thumbed it and spoke:

“Emperor to Volga.”

Kuryakin’s reply came within seconds, the tone telling its own tale.

“Bad news at this end, Napoleon. Our mad scientist is nowhere to be found. We are rounding up the remains of the garrison and combing through all the rooms. Looks as if the Thrush has flown too.”

“I just pulled Bridget out of the bog and she tells me the same thing. Foden won’t bother us again. I’m on my way back. The birds flew about ninety minutes ago, according to her.”

He returned the instrument to his pocket, gestured to her to mount up on Molly, giving her a boost. As soon as he was up after her he set the mare into a steady gallop.

“You could save something for yourself from the shambles,” he suggested, “if you could come across with a clue of some kind as to where your uncle might have run to. If he has a hideout anywhere, you’d know about it.”

She seemed too stunned by her reverses to be very interested. He had to nudge her and ask again. Then she craned her head around to stare.

“Where else would he go except the plant?” she demanded, and he could have cursed himself for being thick-headed. Sarah had said the same thing, long ago, that Uncle Mike preferred to meet people at his laboratory in the brewery. He reached for his transceiver once again.

“Emperor to Volga. Illya, are you reporting to Mr. Waverly?”

“I’ve brought him up to date so far, yes. He’s not very happy.”

“I can imagine. He’s going to like it less when he hears this. One will get you ten Uncle Mike has gone to ground in the brewery!”

“Yes. You’re probably right. That’s not so good, is it?”

Solo grinned fiercely at the gentle understatement. From what he’d seen in the dark, the plant was all of a square mile in area, with a high wire fence. And it was daylight now. He could see the castle ahead glowing redly in the dawn sunshine.

Bridget stirred and turned her lovely woebegone face to him. “Would you give me that kiss-of-life just once more?” she whispered. “I have the feeling I’m going to need it.”

The little pickup stood just away from the castle gates, its engine purring. He slid down from Molly and looked back up at Bridget.

“Go on in there and give yourself up,” he instructed. “You’ll be taken care of. Don’t worry too much; you’ve been a big help so far. You can help a lot more by talking, loud and long, to our experts.” Then he slapped the horse’s rump and sent her cantering into the gates, muddy and weary. He was rather shaken to see that Sarah was in the truck along with Kuryakin.

“Haven’t you had enough danger yet?” he demanded; then, without waiting for her comment, he turned to his colleague. “What’s the situation, Illya?”

“Not very bright, Napoleon. Stephens is able to walk, and Haycraft is unhurt, so the prisoners will he taken care of. But that leaves just the three of us to take that brewery.”

“Three?” Solo shifted his glare back to the girl. “I don’t want to seem offensive, Sarah, but this is no place for you.”

“You can talk!” she retorted. “You got me into this in the first place, back in New York. You’re not getting me out of it now. Besides, I know that plant like the back of my hand. I can help!”

“She’s right, Napoleon.” Kuryakin had the truck rolling on its way as they argued. “She could start by telling us just how many people we can expect to run into. There surely won’t be a full staff, at this hour of the morning—?”