[Magazine 1966-­04] - The Unspeakable Affair - Davis Robert Hart - Страница 20

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Solo led the way down broad corridors that were strangely deserted. Illya pointed to an open door far down a wide main corridor. There was light in the doorway. The three approached the doorway carefully. Solo peered around the corner, his Thrush rifle ready.

He saw a large office. There was a desk, leather chairs, all the appointments of the office of some high executive—and a large computer! A door stood open to the left. Even as Solo watched, the computer began to operate, flashing lights and the whirring of a thousand tiny electronic circuits.

Solo looked at Illya. The blond agent came to the door and looked in.

"The Ultimate Computer?" Solo said, watching the awesome machine blinking and whirring.

Illya shook his head. No. With his mobile hands the Russian indicated that this was a smaller copy, a field model of the heart of Thrush operations, but worth destroying. The two agents stepped into the room.

As a man came through the open door to the left.

General Miguel Valera froze as he saw them. His hand moved to his holster. Illya motioned with his stolen Thrush rifle. Valera hesitated, seemed to glance for an instant behind him, then shrugged and moved his hand away from his weapon. The gaunt Thrush council member walked casually into the center of the room.

"So, again you surprise us. Someday, perhaps, we will learn not to underestimate the resourcefulness of U.N.C.L.E. agents. Or perhaps it is just you two, and, of course, Waverly. Guerre was right; I should have killed you. Now, of course, you will kill me."

Solo smiled. "Not necessarily; we need information, too. Where is Dr. Guerre?"

Valera shrugged. "Alas, I do not know. Preparing the launch, I imagine. I suggest we all leave here very soon. You have noted, I trust, the absence of personnel in this building?"

"What does that mean?" Solo said.

Valera looked at Illya and Penny Parsons. The gaunt Thrush leader grinned. "I see your friends are still speechless. Too bad."

"What do you mean by the absence of personnel?" Solo said again.

Illya suddenly touched Solo's arm. The small blond agent made motions to indicate a rocket flight and an explosion. Valera watched, nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Kuryakin understands. You see, Solo, the launch will go off any moment, and this building will not be safe. All our men are in their shelters. I think you would do wise to give yourselves up to me and allow me to lead you to shelter."

The tall, gaunt Valera was a man of cool nerve. In the face of two rifles trained on his heart he was making his threat, his bid to reserve the situation. But Illya shook his head, pointed to the sky and then the ground. Solo nodded.

"Yes," Solo said. "I think, General, it would be better for you to lead us to the control room so we can stop the launching. You must know—"

Solo sensed, rather than heard, the movement behind him. He whirled. Illya whirled. There was a single shot and Illya fell, clutching his shoulder.

Maxine Trent stood in the doorway, her pistol in her hand.

"Drop it, Napoleon," the beautiful agent said.

Solo hesitated.

"Come, come, Napoleon. You must know that this is it. I will really have to kill you this time. General, take his weapon!"

The general stepped forward. Solo raised his rifle. Maxine smiled viciously and swung the tiny muzzle of her pistol down to point straight at Solo's heart. He knew that she would beat him.

But she did not. She had forgotten Penny Parsons.

The lab girl, against the wall and out of Maxine's sight, jumped forward. Maxine, her eyes concentrated on Solo, her mind already enjoying this moment when she would at last kill Napoleon Solo, did not see Penny until too late. The lab girl struck her with the full force of her body. Maxine's shot went wild into the ceiling.

The pistol skidded away across the floor. Solo leaped after it. Maxine whirled, clawed at Penny Parsons. The lab girl, in a fury of rage at all that had been done to her, attacked in silence and Maxine sprawled on the floor, her skirt flying up above her beautiful legs. Solo dived for the pistol.

Valera reached the pistol first, grabbed it, dropped to one knee, raised the small gun and aimed straight at the onrushing Solo. There was a shot, a second shot, and Valera fell over backwards.

Solo reached the pistol and picked it up. He whirled to see Illya lying prone on the floor, his rifle still pointing at General Valera.

Solo bent over Valera. The General opened his eyes.

"Damn you!" Valera whispered. "Gone—all gone. Damn you . . . I would have—ruled . . . the . . . world!" And then Valera smiled once more. "But . . . too . . . late . . . for . . . you . . . too! I stopped . . . you! The . . . door ... too late . . . "

Valera fell back. Dead.

Illya, his left arm dangling, struggled to his feet. Solo faced around to cover Maxine Trent. Penny Parsons sat dazed on the floor, and Maxine was gone. Illya limped across the room to the door that stood open in the left wall of the large office. Solo went to stand with the Russian.

They were looking into a small, steel-lined room with walls covered with filing cabinets. Across this room was a wall half glass and half steel, with another room beyond the glass-and-steel wall.

The room behind the glass-and- steel wall was filled with instruments and consoles. Lights blinked all through this second room. On the far side of the second room there was a large window, and through the window the launching area was clearly visible.

They saw the gigantic nose section of the launching rocket through the far window, the space station with its six deadly nuclear aircraft.

The space station and nuclear aircraft were quivering out on the launching pad.

The room behind the glass-and- steel wall was what they had been looking for—the main control room!

And the cherubic face of Dr. Ernesto Guerre smiled at them from inside the control room.

"Valera fooled us!" Solo muttered. "He held us out there in the office while the control room was here all the time!"

Illya raised his stolen Thrush rifle and fired a point-blank burst at the glass-and-steel wall.

The bullets bounced off.

Inside the control room Dr. Guerre laughed, and reached to press a button. A voice suddenly seemed to fill the steel outer room.

"Three hundred and counting down. Two-ninety-nine . . . two- ninety-eight . . . two-ninety-seven . . . two-ninety-six . . . two- ninety-five . . . "

Solo said, "Five minutes. Maybe we have time to blast through that door!"

Illya grabbed his shoulder, pulled him.

"Do we have enough explosive?" Solo asked.

Illya shook his head, pulled Solo.

"But we've got to stop the launch!" Solo insisted.

Illya shook his head again, negative, and turned and ran from the room. Solo went after him. In the large office Illya was helping Penny Parsons to her feet. Solo grabbed him.

"We've got to stop it, Illya!" Solo said.

Illya motioned with his hands, a motion of flight and then diving back to earth. Illya motioned an explosion and laughed. Then the small Russian indicated the need for quick and determined flight.

The counting voice continued. "Two-hundred-sixty . . . two-fifty- nine . . . two-fifty-eight . . . two- fifty-seven . . . two-fifty-six . . . "

Solo had one last look at the grinning and triumphant face of the cherubic Dr. Ernesto Guerre as the fat little man stared at them through the glass-and-steel wall of the control room.

FOUR

THE MIST HAD begun to burn off out in the open beyond the main building. Solo, Illya and Penny Parsons ran across the deserted swamp island toward the narrow stretch of water that separated it from the mainland of the swamp.

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