[Magazine 1966-­04] - The Unspeakable Affair - Davis Robert Hart (читать книги онлайн бесплатно без сокращение бесплатно txt) 📗

"Good," Council Member C said. "Then we must concentrate on the death of Kuryakin at once. Solo can wait."

"Kill them both at once," Dr. Guerre, the small, fat man said. "That is the only safe way. The devil with your computer! I must have no interference. I am in the crucial stage of the project at the island. I must get back, and I want them dead!"

"They will die, Dr. Guerre, but it is efficient to kill the more dangerous first," Council Member C said.

"The devil with your efficiency!" Guerre roared. For such a small man, his voice had the power of a giant. "Diaz almost fooled you and ruined the whole work, the most important work we have ever done! With Operation Condor we will have all the world begging to be ruled by us!"

Council Member C smiled. "Almost, Doctor, but not quite. He fooled our people at Elk River, but he did not fool the computer."

"Luck! Even your computer would have been too late if Diaz had not been unaware of the side effects of the stabilizer drug! How did he worm his way into our confidence?"

"That error has been eliminated. Dr. Guerre."

"I hope so. Those men will be out of the side effects today; we must be sure they are reliable. I must get back to the island."

Council Member C smiled. "They could not betray us and live if they wanted to."

"Then let us hope they do not want to betray us," Dr. Guerre said. "We need them. In Condor, the men are almost as important as the machines."

The gaunt Council Member L looked coldly at Dr. Guerre. "I have guaranteed that Thrush Council will give you complete security and material, I guarantee success. Do not insult me with your doubts. But I agree on one point: we must get back. I will be missed."

"Then I suggest we start work," Council Member C said.

The tall man bristled. "You suggest? You? May I remind you that this is my project, Council Member?"

"Of course. Council Member. I merely meant my part., the defeat of U.N.C.L.E. here in the American phase."

"Very well," the tall Council Member L said. "As long as it is understood that Condor is my project."

T here was a low chuckle. They all turned to look at the small, fat Dr. Guerre. His benign, almost jolly, face beamed around the silent and secret room.

"No, gentlemen, it is my project. Condor is mine, the child of my brain. Thrush may rule the world— I care nothing of that—but it will be my brain that brought it to pass!"

And the fat little man beamed like some rotund and too friendly small-town businessman.

A round little cherub smiling innocently at the stern faces around him.

ACT II

WHIZZ-BANG IN THE NIGHT

NAPOLEON SOLO presented his credentials at the reception desk of the Elk River Project. The pretty young receptionist checked his identity picture against his face. She saw a boyishly handsome young man with a small black mustache and horn-rimmed glasses.

The boyish face smiled at her. It was not an innocent smile. The pretty receptionist blushed and passed him on.

Solo grinned to himself and looked back. The girl, who had been watching him walk away, blushed again. Solo filed her face, and the name on her desk, Miss Rogers, for possible future reference. Perhaps this would not be quite as dull an assignment as Alexander Waverly had suggested.

Still thinking about the possibilities of the nubile Miss Rogers, Solo entered the office of Elk River Security Officer Max Smart. The security officer was a husky six-footer, and he was not pleased to see Solo. Smart had been expecting the U.N.C.L.E. agent, but he did not know who Solo was, or that he was Solo. Smart thought he was talking to Roger Raille, representative of the State Department.

"Damned if I know what State wants here, Raille," the husky security officer said. "But you might as well sit down."

"Thank you," Solo said.

Smart chewed on a cold cigar. "I mean, damn it, we've got a smooth operation here, strictly Space and Pentagon. I don't like other departments poking in."

"I just follow orders, Mr. Smart," Solo said.

"Meaning that I should do that, too?"

"It seems a reasonable suggestion," Solo said.

"Don't get too wise with me, Raille," Smart snapped.

Solo smiled. "The State Department never gets wise, Mr. Smart. "

"Major, Raille! Major Smart to you," the security officer said. Smart chewed on his soggy cigar. "I might as well get it over and get rid of you. You want to know about Caslow and Wozlak, right?"

"Right," Solo said.

Smart swiveled in his chair. "Okay, here it is. Captain Caslow and Lieutenant Commander Wozlak are two of our test pilots, experimental rocket craft, and that's all you get to know. Top secret. About two weeks ago they came down with this illness. They couldn't talk, make any sound, and they couldn't write. The docs were baffled, and that's it."

Major Smart looked at Solo as if he was more than pleased to be able to tell him so little. Solo sighed inside. The problems of inter-service rivalry had caused him trouble before. Sometimes it seemed that professional servicemen spent a lot more time trying to beat their rivals instead of the enemy.

"The doctors had no bright ideas?" Solo asked.

"Some," Smart said. "Some effect of cosmic radiation, possibly. Perhaps an effect of the high speed, much faster than any other craft ever flew. Glandular disturbances affecting that area of the brain. Some combination of, say, radiation that high up plus the speed. They had a hundred guesses."

"With, I gather, no results?" Solo said.

"Not so as you could notice," Smart said.

"Any ideas of your own?"

The major shook his head. "No, except that we just don't know everything that can happen at high speed up that high. Anyway, they're okay now, so no sweat."

Solo narrowed his sharp eyes. "They're well again? They can talk, write?"

"Good as new," Smart said. "They go back to work in a week."

"I think I better talk to them," Solo said.

"I've told you all there is."

"Orders, remember?" Solo said. The security officer glared at Solo. The U.N.C.L.E. agent smiled benignly. Finally, Major Smart shrugged, sighed, and pressed a button on his desk. A white-helmeted MP appeared.

"Take Mr. Raille to the infirmary. He's to talk with Caslow and Wozlak. Ten minutes, no more. See to it, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir," the MP sergeant said. And to Solo, "This way, sir."

Solo nodded to Major Smart. "It's been fun."

The Security Officer only glared at him. Solo grinned as he followed the MP sergeant. They went down bright corridors until they reached the door marked Infirmary. Solo was taken by a white-coated Army doctor into the private room of Caslow and Wozlak.

"Amazing timing," the doctor said as he ushered Solo into the private room. "Absolutely no explanation that we could find. Oh, we know it was something that affected only that particular part of the brain—the speech and language part—but we can't get a clue as to why. "

But Solo was not listening to the doctor. He was looking at the two men who sat on their separate beds, their eyes on him. They were dressed in the usual Army hospital bathrobes, but it was not their dress that made him look at them so hard. It was their eyes—they were wary, a little afraid of him.

The doctor introduced them, and Solo waited until he left the room. Then he turned to the two men.