The Power Cube Affair - Phillifent John T. (версия книг .txt) 📗

"Hagen!" Her voice was like a silver bugle. "Come on out, nice and slow. Try anything funny and the next one's for you!"

Kuryakin watched, saw the car heave and shake as the buckled door jerked open and Hagen tottered out, raising his hands in abject surrender.

"Nice shooting, Nan," murmured Kuryakin, and lowered his palm to pat her, a gentle pat, more like a caress.

"Time and place for everything, Illya, remind me some other time. Now—Napoleon! You can go down and get him. Careful not to get in the line of fire, mind, but I doubt if he'll give any trouble."

She was right about Hagen. He came meekly back with Solo to the room where Nan was once more decorous but still holding one weapon, in case. In a chair, Lady Herriott sagged and looked like a mourner at her own funeral.

"It's dreadful," she wailed. "Those rubies—they're antiques. I can never replace them!"

"I shouldn't worry," Kuryakin comforted her. "It's my guess that Hagen has them stashed away somewhere, for insurance. Else why did he bolt?"

"I don't understand!" Evadne cried. "What's he done?"

"Cue for speech, Illya. You're the one who knows all the twists in this thing. I know some, I think."

"All right." Kuryakin returned to the escritoire, picked up a ruby string, holding it by the clasp. "Please notice, thirteen stones. An unlucky number, some would think. Six a side, and the seventh one, the biggest of all, this one—is hollow!" He took it between finger and thumb and it was like a huge acorn in a cup of goldwork. He twisted firmly, and it came apart neatly. "You could conceal quite a lot in that, you know."

"It's empty!" Lady Herriott declared.

"Of course it is!" Hagen snarled. "Hollow, to save weight!"

"A plastic that is heavier than genuine ruby? I think not." Kuryakin put down the string he held. He was watching the immaculate secretary like a hawk. "Let's see if the others are empty too," he murmured, and Hagen's sag told him all he wanted to know. The second one was empty, but the third little blood red egg was occupied. A packet wad of white cotton yielded a tiny black thing carefully enclosed in glossy plastic.

Lady Herriott stared blankly.

"What is it?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't know, madam. I owe you an apology for that. But I'm almost certain that you don't know either, Hagen, or you'd never have let them rest here."

The secretary wet his lips several times before he managed to speak.

"It's a gemstone and very valuable. What more is there to know?"

"So. Beeman duped you just like all the rest. It is not a gem. It is—I'll show you."

"Careful, Illya!"

"All right, Napoleon. I'm not going to take any big chances. But I would like to see just what the potential really is. Kuryakin took the plastic—it was tube shaped—and squeezed one end gingerly, easing the black crystal along until it showed partly exposed. Pausing to look around at the attentive faces just once, he took finger and thumb of his right hand and pressed them firmly against the black stuff. In that moment Solo felt a sudden, irrational and surging sense of hatred for the slim, fair haired Russian agent. As he moved instinctively he saw Hagen stiffen, his pretty face twisted into a snarl that epitomized exactly what Solo felt himself. Checking savagely, stamping on his own emotions, he cast a glance around and caught his breath. Lady Herriott had risen from her seat, her eyes wide on Kuryakin. Evadne had forgotten her towel entirely in putting out her arms, and over by the window, Nan Perrell had let her weapon slip to the floor as she surged slowly from the window toward the Russian agent. On all three faces was a radiance, a glow that Solo had seen only in Italian paintings of adoration and reverence. In that instant the whole room was charged with an invisible force. Then Kuryakin took his finger away, the magic of invisible power faded, and he sighed, and shivered.

"I wouldn't want to do that again," he said very softly. "That's the kind of power that corrupts!" Then he looked at his audience and his eyes widened. "You too, Napoleon?"

"Me too, Illya. Just as well I was warned. I could have shot you without another thought. Hatred. For the ladies, just the opposite."

Nan Perrell sagged back against the wall. "I didn't believe you, Illya, when you told me about those things, but I do now. And that was only one! What would it be like with the whole set?"

"Never mind any set!" Evadne whispered. "Just do that again, please !" -

"Yes, please!" her mother echoed. "It made me feel like a girl again."

Kuryakin cleared his throat awkwardly, pressed the exposed corner of the crystal against the desk top until it was safely submerged again, and laid it carefully aside.

"That is just one," he pointed out. "There are twenty-seven in the full set. Where are they, Hagen?" The secretary looked stubborn, set what jaw he had, and Kuryakin sighed. "You have a jewel box, Lady Herriott?"

"Yes. In there. But Monty has the key."

Solo held out his hand. "Give! Or not, just as you like. I'd have fun taking it from you." Hagen swallowed audibly and yielded the key. The box contained plenty of other things, but most important was the sight of twenty-five more little black things in plastic covers.

"There you are, Napoleon. One more to come. Guess how."

"You can do yourself some good, Hagen, by talking. You have the last one all laid on, don't you?"

Hagen nodded dumbly.

"Right. Now, how were you supposed to deliver the set?"

"Her ladyship has an invitation. A pleasure cruise on a yacht."

"So that's it. All right, we can fill in the rest. Now pin back your ears and get this good. The yacht is no longer available. The owner is dead, and at this moment, the customs authorities are taking it apart bolt by bolt. Your best bet, by far, is to go through with the arrangements already made, collect the last piece, and turn it over, openly, to Lady Herriott. We will take these we already have and turn them over to somebody who knows exactly what to do with them. Lady Herriott, I imagine there will be a pretty generous reward for recovering these, so there's something for your favorite charity."

"Oh!" Her expression brightened at once. "Do you really think so? That would be nice. Monty, you have been wicked, haven't you? Making me break the law. But I'm sure he won't do it again, Mr. Solo."

"He hadn't better, not with what we've got on him. Well, that's about it, Illya?"

"I think so. Lady Herriott, you'll be informed in due course. I imagine Miss Perrell will take care of that. Good bye, Miss Evadne, it has been a pleasure. After you, Napoleon."

As they passed through the hall Nan Perrell sighed and grinned.

"You two have a way of wrapping things up so tight you make me feel superfluous. You don't need me at all."

"On the contrary." Kuryakin aimed a finger at the wrecked MG. "You did that. Very good shooting."

"Oh well!" She shrugged and grinned at him. "It was nothing."

"No, wait." He caught her arm and pulled her around to face him. "I also have to apologize about Lady Herriott. She wasn't involved. You were quite right to defend her."

She stared at him a long moment, then put her arms around his neck and kissed him very warmly. Then, letting him go, she whispered, "Thank you for letting me join the company on an even basis. You were right, really. We have to suspect everybody—except ourselves."