The Dagger Affair - McDaniel David (читать хорошую книгу полностью .TXT) 📗

"Not exactly. What would interest the police about these tubes?"

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'? Look, mister, I reported the theft to the police the day after I found out about it — and I only spent that day making sure they weren't lost. You from the insurance company?"

"No," said Illya, fishing out his identification. "I represent the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement."

"Yeah? I've heard of you. Like Interpol?"

"Somewhat. Now what about these tubes? How many were stolen, and when?"

"Four. All we had in the warehouse stock. I found they were gone about six days ago."

"How?"

"Well, we always keep a couple handy — we get a lot of business from people who need off-beat stuff right away — and a guy came in and bought both of them. Last Tuesday, it was. And the warehouse manager couldn't find the replacement stock. So the next day, I had to get over to the warehouse myself to check a big order, and I took a look for the GX 40 B9s. And they weren't there."

"You checked..."

"Mister, I check that place all over! Now, I know those tubes were there, because I brought 'em in myself, see, and if I didn't trust Pat completely I'd probably say it was him stole 'em. Pat Frieden's my warehouse manager, and he's been with me twenty-three years. But I don't know how any burglars could have gotten in there — we've got the whole place wired with the best alarms we can get. And besides, burglars would have taken more than just four tubes. I mean, they're valuable tubes, but where could they sell 'em? Nobody could have any use for 'em."

"What about the man who bought the two you had here?"

"But he got his two. What would he need any more for?"

"Did he only ask for two?"

"Yeah. I handled the sale myself — the boys leave the special items to me. I keep the whole stock inventory right here," he said proudly, tapping his forehead. "The guy said, 'You got any GX 40 B9 tubes?' and I said, 'We sure do, mister. Got a couple right back here.' And he said, 'Fine. That's just how many I need' and took 'em."

Illya nodded.

* * *

Napoleon was still talking to the girl. She lay facing the declining sun within her glass-walled deck. Her butler occasionally came out with an iced pitcher of something to keep her glass filled. Napoleon had not been invited to join her, but at least she was speaking to him now.

"Really, Mr. Solo, the world is quite a large place. I should think it would be impossible to build something that would do...this...to all of it at once."

"A hundred years ago, it would have been impossible to build something that would carry a voice to every point on the globe. But the big radio stations can do it. And this man is onto something at least a hundred years ahead of present-day science, and on a different track. Believe me, I have had this machine very effectively demonstrated."

Her head turned slightly, and a slim golden hand came up to lift the plastic eye-protectors. Her cool gray eyes looked straight at him for the first time. She smiled. "Mmmm. You are much handsomer than I would have guessed from your voice," she said. "You may sit closer to me, and continue telling me...whatever you were telling me. Do you mind if I interrupt with a question once in a while?"

"Not at all," said Napoleon politely. "It'll show you're still listening."

She laughed as though she practiced it in private, and tapped her fingernail against her glass. "Godfrey, another glass."

She stretched like a cat, her arms over her head, fingers curling, body twisting a little. When the glass was placed before Napoleon a moment later, she said, "It's beginning to get cool, Godfrey. What you turn on the infra-reds as you go in?"

Godfrey gave a little bow of acknowledgment, and did something on the doorframe as he went back inside.

"Now," said the girl, "tell me all about this nasty machine."

* * *

"In here is where the GX 40 B9s were stored, Mr. Kuryakin. See the locks? Best ones we could buy. I guess Mr. Charmolian told you about the way we're set up."

Illya knelt by the doorframe and examined the area around the lock closely. There were no visible marks of any kind.

After a few moments, his guide said hesitantly, "Uh, Mr. Kuryakin, it's getting to be my quitting time. If you'll be much longer, I can tell the night watchman you're here and to let you out when you're through."

Distracted, Illya glanced up. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Friedan. I may be some time yet. I would like to examine the area where the tubes were stolen, and check over the detectors of your alarm system."

"I guess that'll be okay. I'll tell him when I go out. Just stop by the office on your way out and tell him you're leaving so he can secure after you."

Illya nodded and went back to his work.

An hour or so later, it had become fairly clear that if the tubes had been removed by someone from outside, it could have been done only by an expert with the best Thrush equipment, and probably a small Energy Damper to stifle the alarms. And they had been inconsiderate enough to leave no footprints, monogrammed handkerchiefs, matchbooks, or other standard clues behind them. The only sign of their passage was the absence of four uncommon electronic tubes.

He suddenly realized it was dark, and looked at his watch. The only light came from shielded bulbs spaced twenty feet apart in the dim distance of the ceiling. He was sitting on a packing case under one of the pickups for the alarm system, which he had just finished examining. It was chilly, and very quiet.

And softly, far back in the distance, there was the scrape of a footstep.

Illya didn't move, but every sense was suddenly extended to its fullest awareness. Without lifting his head, he shot his eyes around the part of the warehouse he could see. The shadows of the crates sat like puddles of ink around leaking bottles. There was no movement in his range of vision, so slowly and casually he leaned back against the case behind him. After a moment he yawned elaborately, and got to his feet. As he stretched, his hand slipped to his transceiver and palmed it.

Shifting his weight and looking around the edges of the ceiling as if for a leak, he crossed his arms and brought the hand holding the transceiver to his mouth. He thumbed the transmitter button, and the little device vibrated softly. He knew Napoleon was somewhere in the area, and would feel slighted if he weren't invited to the brawl, especially since it looked as though it might be a good one.

With the microphone touching his lips, he murmured his identification and a request for Agent Solo.

* * *

"But Napoleon, it still doesn't sound possible. It sounds like some insane gimmick from a horror movie."

"Believe me, Gloria, it is real. I know. And anything you could tell us about Keldur could possibly help."

She sighed and turned to refill her glass. They were inside the living room now, as the evening had grown chill, and she had put some more clothes on. "On the other hand, you are a government agent. And you could really want to suppress the device."

"U.N.C.L.E. is not a government agency of any kind. We are supported by most of the major governments of the world, but we are not responsible to any single government. Believe me, if we can stop Keldur from using his machine to destroy the human race, our own technicians will make every possible effort to use it to save the human race."

She sat down and shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just don't dare risk it. I can tell you nothing."