The Assassination Affair - Holly J Hunter (читать полностью бесплатно хорошие книги .TXT) 📗
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The Piper farm was quiet when Solo careened into the driveway, but Mr. Piper wasn't long in coming out. He was a big blond man with the same candid eyes Gloryanna had except that they squinted with worry. He knew nothing that helped Solo. Gloryanna hadn't come home from her breakfast date in town, he had seen no trace of a blond man named Kuryakin, and he wished someone would tell him what was going on. For a sendoff, after he repossessed his car, he made oblique threats against Solo.
"Now that I see you, young man," Piper said, "I would just as soon my daughter stopped making dates with you. You're not the kind I have planned for her. She's very special, you know"
Solo's assurances that he did know got him nowhere. Piper kicked him off the property and he went docilely. He'd been thrown out by fathers before.
Solo walked a wary quarter of a mile on the road, then stepped off into the sumac, hid himself, and tried to raise Illya on the transceiver. It came up blank. Concern lightened in him. Illya must be in trouble some where. And where was Gloryanna? There was nothing to do but return to the Thrush establishment and take his course from the balloon by the walnut grove. He'd find Illya one way or another.
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Illya hung limply on his scarecrow post, telling himself that his tongue was not swelling, be was just miserably thirsty. Sweat poured into his eyes, his hair was soggy with it, and every bone in his body ached. He was incredibly alone. One bird had peeped at him on its way by, but that was all. He estimated that he had hung here for two and a half hours. He had a lot more time to go.
The sound of cars approaching lifted his head. It brought pain to his neck and dizziness spots before his eyes. Two cars came, both station wagons. Saturn, Charles, Barber, and three other men got out, dragging Gloryanna with them. Her blond hair was mussed and tangled, her face tear-streaked, but they had to pull her along. She was too stubborn to submit without a fight.
Illya only moaned, "Oh, no!" at the sight of her. He hated to drag innocents into these things.
When Gloryanna spotted him she threw off her captors and ran forward. "Illya! I didn't recognize - Illya! What have they been doing to you?" She whirled around, confronting Saturn. "You can't do a thing like this! People can't do things like this!"
Illya murmured through his thick tongue, "People can and do, Gloryanna. Don't make him any more enraged than he is. Be careful. He's no fool. He just pretends to be."
She patted his leg comfortingly, unaware that she brought him pain. He had thought his legs were entirely numb, but she proved him wrong.
"I was waiting by the balloon for you," she said, "and they grabbed me. Why?"
Saturn smiled. "Now, Miss Piper, we'll do for you what we did for him. We'll let you play a part in this drama. How would you like that?
Gloryanna was frank. "I don't think I would."
"But you have already started by poking about the estate, by being with Solo when he came prowling. You've chosen your side. You must bear up."
Barber interrupted, still impatient. "Saturn, I came out here only because you said it wouldn't take much time. Dundee is due in two hours. Now hurry up or I'll put bullets in both of them."
"Patience, Barber. Things are well in hand. I have the perfect way to place Miss Piper here with the scare crow. Charles! Bring the equipment. Miss - start undressing.
Gloryanna recoiled and backed into Illya, swaying his post out of balance and bringing a groan from him.
"Well, hurry up!" Saturn said. "Have you ever seen a crow in red slacks?"
Gloryanna gasped. "A crow?"
Illya watched Charles unload two containers from the second station wagon. One was warm, liquid tar; the other was a great box of chicken feathers that spewed out as be walked, making a snowfall behind him.
"Oh, come on, Saturn," Illya protested. "You're not that crazy."
"You shut up! This is entirely my affair. You're a dead man." He moved in on Gloryanna. "Are you going to undress, or must I rip your clothes off?"
Gloryanna was trembling from head to foot, one hand clutching at her shirt, the other reaching for Illya. "Illya! Please - tell me what to do."
Illya closed his eyes. He couldn't help her. "Do as he says, Gloryanna. And be slow about it," he added in a whisper. He damned his profession where the best hope often meant stalling for time. Time for a girl to suffer, most probably.
Gloryanna faced Saturn bravely. "I'll do it, myself." Her fingers moved up to her shirt buttons. "But I'll keep on my underclothes. You'll have to kill me to get those off."
She cried and shivered and unbuttoned her shirt, and Illya forgot the heat and glare as he watched her. He only hoped that Napoleon would do well for Saturn when the tall, skinny man's turn came at dramatics like this.
Chapter 13
"Kiss the Maiden All Forlorn"
SOLO WAS PANTING in the heat, running from one stand of trees to another, trying to keep to cover. It was nearly impossible in these dead fields. The balloon had been no help. Red and black and gold, it was alone. Red, black, and gold. Ink bottles flashed in front of his mind. And gold paper for printing. Saturn was running more of a Chinese circus than a road show with his choice of colors.
He was nearly to the back of the estate. There would be one field left, and if he found no Illya there, where could he search next? He made the final dash to a thin row of trees and caught his breath.
The brown field before him was surrounded on three sides by woods, the deeper stand lying at the back. In the middle of it were two station wagons, six men, and Gloryanna Piper, standing by a scarecrow. Gloryanna was unbuttoning her blouse. The scarecrow's head moved, lolling and falling forward. Solo stifled his groan of recognition and immediately edged down the length of trees.
The odds were six against one, but he had to take them. He saw the feathers strewn on the ground, smelled the heavy odor of tar, and realized what was going on. "She's very special, you know," Piper had said about his daughter. That, she was. And she wasn't going to be covered with that slime!
Solo thought frantically for a way to help. He had to protect himself, because if he fell they would be lost. All he had was his pistol. They were all in range and he was a dead shot, but against six men? Five of them with rifles?
There were more men about somewhere. He had counted at least another eight in his dash to this field. Noise would bring them down on him, too. He shrugged. Gloryanna had most of the buttons undone and he had to hurry.
He scrambled on until he was even with the scene but still inside the narrow band of woods. He changed clips in his gun, substituting tranquilizing darts for lead, wanting their silence. He was as ready as he'd ever be.
Gloryanna had her shirt off entirely and appeared terribly vulnerable standing in the sun in her white cotton bra and red slacks. Solo slapped at his pocket, felt the shape of what he wanted, and pulled out three capsule-size explosives. He had to scatter the men so they couldn't turn on him in a body. He reared up and heaved one bomb with all his might for the front of the field. Before it hit the ground, he heaved another to the rear. The two bombs burst one right after the other, shooting up flame that ate the withered grass and created a frightening sight of fire and sparks.
Two men broke from the group to dash for the first fire area and one man ran to the rear. Grass fire was something they couldn't let pass. With the entire farm withered, it would flame its way to the barn and summon the fire department. So they ran to put it out while Saturn bobbed about like a crazy man on stilts.
