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

Once around the corner he switched his single headlamp on and pushed his cart to top speed. Fire sirens wailed by one street away, going the way he had come.

He zipped into the shadow of the steps before Williams Hall, extinguished the light and climbed awkwardly out of the wide seat. Briefcase firmly in hand, bracing himself on his stick, he made his way up the outer stairs and the inner stairs to the entry hall. Twenty-six shallow steps to climb up to the second floor, with two landings; he was up them in a little over a minute.

Napoleon and Illya were both resting with their feet up as Baldwin opened the door and said, "Gentlemen, I am here. Please don't take too much longer."

Both of them were on their feet before he finished speaking, and Illya had the Gladstone bag in his fist. "Ready any time you are," he said.

"Very good. We have one more stop to make, and then we must be on our way."

Another flight of steps led to the third floor, and Baldwin was able to negotiate them with little difficulty. "The zoology lab will be deserted," said Napoleon. "Are we going down the fire escape or hiding on the roof?"

"Do be quiet, Mr. Solo," said Baldwin. "This will take less than a moment."

Just around the corner from the head of the stairs stood an old white refrigerator, humming quietly to itself. A neatly lettered sign taped to the door said, CAUTION—LIVE VENOMOUS REPTILES.

Baldwin opened the door, rummaged around in the freezing compartment for a moment and withdrew a small cardboard box. "Spare gas charges for my stick," he explained briefly as they descended the stairs. "They keep best at low temperatures."

Napoleon thought a minute. "What about the sign on the door," he asked. "What's really in there?"

"Live venomous reptiles," said Baldwin simply. "They're torpid at that temperature, and don't need to be tended. Perfectly safe."

"Unless someone leaves the door open," said Illya.

"The door," said Baldwin, "is balanced to close itself."

They got to the dim main floor hall as the clock ticked over to 6:57. The street outside was empty. "We heard some sirens go by," Illya commented. "Just before you came in."

"I believe they were answering a fire alarm, Mr. Kuryakin," said Baldwin.

"At the Bomb Shop?"

"I fear so—but the damage will be light and easily repaired."

"If you ever come back."

A huge car pulled silently to the curb at the foot of the steps, and Baldwin said, "Ah. Irene is just two minutes early."

Napoleon's eye traced the graceful bulk of the car as the three men hurried down the wide stone steps. Illya stepped ahead and opened the back door. Napoleon got in as Baldwin ignored the Russian and got into the right front seat. His leg buckled awkwardly as he did so, and he half-twisted into the seat, gripping the edge of the door. He took his left leg in both hands and dragged it in after him.

"Good evening, my love," he said, with a grimace. "My manually-operated leg is being uncommonly difficult."

"Good evening, Ward, gentlemen. Do you have everything? We may not be back for some time."

Illya nodded, and Napoleon said," I've got a change of socks in my coat pocket and a toothbrush in my inside pocket."

The motor had been ticking over all this time, but so silently that none of the passengers were aware of it until Irene fed it fuel and eased in the clutch. As smoothly and gently as a passenger train, with the same feel of power and mass, the great car crept away from the curb and gathered momentum. As it started around the corner at the end of the Quad something went TUNGGG! against a door.

"Are all your windows rolled up?" Irene asked at the back seat. "I'm afraid we're being shot at." The car accelerated and leaned left, away from the shot.

Napoleon had his UNCLE Special out, and his thumb automatically checking the tiny protruding pin just above the hammer that told him there was a round in the chamber. He snapped off the safety and felt the trigger spring forward.

"Mr. Solo," said Baldwin with some asperity, "do as you are told and leave the windows rolled up. As a member of the faculty of this University, I would prefer to have as few bullets flying about the campus as possible. The windows are capable of withstanding a .30 calibre machine gun shell at ten feet, and the body is a good deal more sturdy."

"It's a Mercedes-Benz," said Irene. "A 580-K." She swung the wheel easily as two more shots were faintly heard. "Originally owned by the Nazi General Staff. It guzzles gasoline terribly, but it is beautiful." The car wove from side to side of the deserted campus street, presenting the most difficult target as it sped towards the Main Street entrance.

A low-slung black car moved out from the entrance and muzzle-flashes flickered at its near windows as the body of the Mercedes vibrated and rang. They swung left again, and a corner of the rear window starred with a sharp CRACK!

"Oh blast!" said Irene. "And I had it in perfect condition for the Concours d'Elegance next month."

"It's already been holed a few times," said Illya comfortingly.

"Holed? Good heavens! I hope not! Considering that they are probably not even using Magnum ammunition, I frankly doubt whether any damage will have been done that I can't repair with a paintbrush."

"Mr. Solo," Baldwin interrupted, drawing something from his wallet, "take this." Reaching diagonally across the back of the seat he handed a small plastic rectangle rather like a credit card to Napoleon, who looked from Baldwin to the card and back again. "Irene," said Baldwin, "take the next left, turn right into the first driveway, and pause for a moment."

"Certainly, dear."

"Mr. Solo, when we make the left turn you may roll down your window. Have that card ready, held as indicated on its face. When we stop, you will immediately thrust it into the metal box you will find within your reach. Do not drop the card, do not fumble when you insert it, and withdraw it the moment the buzzer stops."

They swung once more to the left, and through the radial cracks in the rear window Illya could see the black car full of blazing guns drawing up within a hundred feet...A buffet of chill air struck him as Solo's window went down, and then he lurched toward his partner as they swung right and Irene braked.

A buzzer sounded for less than a second as Napoleon performed his assignment to perfection, and Irene sent the Mercedes leaping ahead into the faculty parking lot.

Puzzled, Illya turned around to face the front seat, asking, "But how will..."

Something made a large bang behind them, then two more almost at the same moment. "You've missed it," said Napoleon, whose window was still down and whose head was out, looking backwards. "They ran up on those pavement prongs sticking up in the driveway, because they didn't have any authorization to use this lot, right?"

"Very good, Mr. Solo. Now pull your head in before a bullet or a tree removes it."

Illya gaped out the back window as they swung out the opposite gate. The black car, apparently with all four tires blown, sat just within the lot surrounded by men in identical black suits. Two of them seemed to be waving their fists after the Mercedes as it picked up speed and vanished in the general direction of Interstate 89.

Section IV: "And With A Little Pin..."