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

"I might also add," said Waverly, "that there were recently several unexplained crashes here. It seems that about three or four months ago there was a series of incidents in which in aircraft's engine stopped suddenly while actually on the glide path. There were three such incidents in the space of a week, and one since, according to our reports. They no longer appear coincidental."

Baldwin said, "I am expecting momentarily a call from our intelligence branch, who were instructed to trace the ownership on every one of those hangers. Some are deserted, some are in full-time commercial use. One of them has a faulty cover story, and when we find it, we will have found our DAGGER."

Exactly on cue, the telephone rang. Baldwin limped over to the stand, and picked up the receiver. "Baldwin. Yes...Yes...Very good. Thank you." He replaced the receiver and returned to the table. He leaned his cane gently against it with an almost exaggerated carefulness, and looked around the group clustered about the map.

"That was, of course, the expected report. There are two possible sites which could not be absolutely guaranteed. One is owned by the Flaherty Air Taxi Service, on which no information could be found. The other is in the name of Miss Gloria Fisher, of Ascot Drive, Oakland. Yes, Mr. Solo?"

"Miss Fisher was one of the larger contributors to Kim Keldur's work. I was visiting her just yesterday, trying to get some information on DAGGER. She — ah — knew nothing."

"Circumstantial though this evidence may be, I think we have now come to the end of the search." Baldwin's long forefinger touched lightly on the map, and this time it did not move but rested steadily on one building. "Gentlemen," he said, "this is the place."

* * *

Half an hour later the attack party set out for Oakland. They had discussed the idea of a full-scale raid, but Waverly had pointed out that any advance warning could let Keldur escape, and the area was probably guarded. Surprise was the most important factor in this operation.

"All indications are that the full-scale Energy Damper is almost ready to go into operation. If it can be captured intact, an examination of its circuitry could be of inestimable value. If Keldur is allowed to escape, he can build another one with the support he will get when his supposedly peace-guaranteeing project is actually raided and destroyed." He paused, then added thoughtfully, "I suppose in a way it is something that would guarantee a permanent peace to the entire world. But there are a few things worse than war..."

After some discussion Robin and Irene were to be left behind. More than one car would double the chance of detection as they approached, and the Rolls would be full. Waverly was opposed to Garnet's coming, but she remained absolutely adamant. "Kim is my brother, Mr. Waverly. If I could just talk to him for a few minutes, I'm sure you would be saved a lot of danger. He's sick. He needs help." Waverly made irritated noises, but finally gave in and allowed her to be the fifth in the party.

At 9:00 P.M. they started for Oakland.

At nine forty-five the Rolls stopped without a sound some hundred feet away from the hangar they had picked, and they made their way on foot across grass and soft bare earth.

Napoleon had retrieved his own U.N.C.L.E. Special from the warehouse that afternoon, and had taken some time to check it over and clean it, so that it was in perfect functional order again. He felt much better with it tucked back in his hand.

Baldwin was in the lead, picking his way through the darkness with his cane in one hand and a Thrush infra-red spotlight in the other. He and Waverly were equipped with goggles, and as they approached the building he gestured the rest of the group to stop.

He moved carefully up to the small door at the side, and checked it over carefully. He leaned his cane against the wall, and bent over the doorknob in a position Napoleon recognized. Again in some fifteen seconds he straightened up, and returned to them.

He gestured them to gather closely, then whispered, "Mr. Waverly, they shouldn't know you are here, so I would like you to be our hole card. Come in after either five minutes or a distress call, and be ready for anything. Garnet, you will wait with Mr. Waverly. If we can catch your brother off guard, you will have your chance to talk to him. Napoleon, Illya, you will go in first. Keldur will certainly recognize any of us, and I am somewhat limited in a fight. This is our order of battle. Don't fire unless fired upon, and have your gas-filters in. And try not to damage any more equipment than is necessary."

They all nodded, and Waverly checked over his pet Webley. Garnet noticed his use of non-standard equipment, and asked if it were a special kind of gun. Waverly said, "The best gun depends on the man behind it. I prefer the way this one handles. Besides, we've been through a great deal together, and we've always taken good care of each other."

Napoleon and Illya made one last check around, and then, side-by-side, started for the door, Baldwin stumping along behind them. They paused at the door, which stood ajar a crack, and listened.

There was a distant hum of power and an occasional clatter that told of machine tools in use. Napoleon gave Illya a brisk nod, and they pushed the door open.

It led into a small cubicle, an office of some kind, with a second door and window facing out into the hangar itself. And under a few glaring lights high overhead squatted a huge tangle of cables, panels and circuitry. It looked somewhat as he had expected, Napoleon thought — as if half the mad scientists from countless films had combined their efforts in one superhuman attempt to create some ultimate horror.

The Energy Damper stood almost thirty feet high and over fifty feet square. There were jury-rigged scaffolds around it, and electric cords draped like festoons over an idol. Rising from the top of the machine almost to the roof of the hangar was weirdly twisted coil, about ten feet in diameter. It appeared to be made of some heavy cable, each strand of which had been wrapped with a finer wire which shone under the lights. The panels around the base were a maze of meters, switches and tally lights.

Some of the panels were polished and gray, some of them rough and blue, or green. Some were unfinished aluminum sheeting with holes cut and dials stuck through. The whole machine gave an impression of a gigantic experimental rig put together by a theoretician or a technician who was only interested in the insides. And since most of the equipment was probably there only to be used once, it somehow seemed reasonable to put less effort into a neat appearance. Still, Napoleon thought, it's such a sloppy-looking thing to end the world with.

* * *

A weapon to destroy ten thousand years of human development — or half a billion years of evolution — should be sleek and polished, bright and deadly. A cobalt bomb the size of a submarine, fat, streamlined and gleaming. A clear glass vial of mutated virus, almost indistinguishable from distilled water. A glittering crystal of ice-nine. It should look...efficient.

This faintly ridiculous conglomeration of junk looked no more deadly than another collection of miscellaneous parts Napoleon had seen pictures of — a stack of graphite blocks and U-235 slugs which had been constructed on a handball court in Chicago, and had been the world's first atomic power pile.

There were only a few people in sight — most of them in makeshift coveralls of one type or another. There were no guards; even the workers were unarmed. It looked like a movie set, or a graduate research project built with limited funds.