[Magazine 1967-­10] - The Mind-­Sweeper Affair - Davis Robert Hart - Страница 18

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"I am a trained electronics engineer, Rand," Illya said. "The machine is not too difficult. I don't expect any trouble. I suggest you relax."

Rand watched Illya. He glanced at Solo behind him. Then he made a desperate attempt. He bent, and came up from the desk with a pistol.

Solo leaped, kicked, and the pistol went sailing across the room.

The Mind-Sweeper began to hum. The tape spools turned. The lights began to flash. As the machine hummed, its probe was aimed directly at Rand. For an instant the slender man sat rigid. Then he began to blink, rub at his eyes, smile.

The machine hummed on, and Rand slowly began to nod where he sat. His arms dropped limp. Then he seemed to sleep.

Solo walked to the machine where Illya manipulated dials and switches. The computer section had begun to hum. Illya nodded at the machine.

"It really is a beautiful machine, Napoleon," Illya said. "It scans the brain, absorbs the data, records it on tape, and then feeds the tape into the small computer. In the computer the data is coded, and printed on a paper-tape read-out. The read-out tape can be stored, or it can be set for immediate read-out."

"Is it set?" Solo asked.

"Yes," Illya said. "We should know what is on Mr. Rand's mind any second."

The two agents bent over the tape. Solo watched the main door from time to time. The read-out tape began to come out of the machine. Illya Kuryakin studied it closely.

"This is the only model, but others are almost ready," Illya said. "They are all down in the factory we saw. This is Rand's only production center now."

The tape clicked on as the machine hummed and Rand sat slumped in his desk chair.

"He plans to operate the machines himself once he has ten models, and blackmail the whole world if he can," Illya read.

Rand squirmed in his chair, muttered, like a man in the throes of a bad dream.

Illya Kuryakin read, "Heimat is the only man who really can build the machine, and Rand himself can almost do it. Heimat's office is extension two thousand-seven-hundred and seventy, the code signal to make him come fast is the use of the words, 'There is no rush.' Heimat is a former Nazi scientist."

Solo held up his hand. Illya looked up. Far off, somewhere, there was a sound like gunfire.

The two agents looked at each other in the silent warehouse.

"It sounds like they think they've found us," Solo said. "Can you hurry that up?"

Illya read again. "Here it is! The outer-space defense system data is here in the machine memory banks, and Rand has it in his desk, but that's all!" Illya looked up. "Only the machine and Rand himself has the details. He has not passed it on yet."

"So all we need is Rand and the machine," Solo said.

"And Heimat," Illya said.

"Right. Let's get him up here," Solo said. "And fast. Someone will be coming in soon."

"Call Heimat imitating Rand's voice," Illya said.

Solo nodded and went to the desk where Rand still sat in a kind of drugged sleep, a smile on his face now as if all his evil thoughts had been taken and left him peaceful. Solo picked up the inter office telephone.

Illya continued to read the read-out tape of the machine that hummed on in the silence of the vast warehouse.

Solo imitated Rand's voice. "Dr. Heimat, extension two-thousand, seven-hundred and seventy. Heimat? I'd like to talk to you, yes. No, there is no rush. That's correct. Right."

Solo hung up. "He should be here pretty soon."

"Very soon, I hope." Illya said, his eyes still studying the read-out tape. "Plan F is—"

The distant shots suddenly sounded closer. Solo and Illya listened. Then there were hurrying footsteps in the corridor outside the warehouse. Solo jumped for the cover of a packing case. Illya crouched down behind the humming Mind-Sweeper, his pistol ready.

The door opened and a short, stocky man of sixty came hurrying into the vast room. The man had a full grey beard and the wild eyes of a fanatic. He saw Rand and walked rapidly toward the small executive.

"What the devil is it, Rand?" Heimat had a heavy German accent, and talked as he walked. "I have work. You have ordered Plan F, and you realize how much work that—"

Heimat stopped dead. His fanatic eyes bulged in his head. He saw the machine operating, and saw Rand slumped asleep in the desk chair. The small German whirled.

Solo stepped out. "That's far enough, Dr. Heimat."

Heimat turned away and saw Illya stand up behind the machine with the pistol leveled.

"Was machts du? Who are you? Was wollen Sie hier?"

"Just keep it low and simple, Doctor," Solo said.

Illya snapped an order in German. The stocky doctor paled, looked at Rand, looked around the silent room. Then he gulped.

"Polizei?"

"In a way we're police," Illya said. "Now keep it calm, and we'll all—"

In the corridor outside there were loud shots, screams, the running of many feet. Men cursed and sub-machine guns rattled. The running feet approached the door into the warehouse.

"Quick!" Illya cried.

Solo pushed Heimat ahead of him, toward a stack of heavy boxes along the far wall away from, the main door. Illya shut off the machine and ran after Solo. The two agents and Heimat jumped behind the boxes lust as the door burst open and men in black uniforms rushed in, their guns covering the whole room.

Illya and Solo watched.

Emil Danton strode into the room. The elegant THRUSH leader looked at Rand and laughed.

"Hello, Rand. It looks like my deal."

FOUR

DANTON STOOD IN front of Kevin Rand. The slender electronics expert blinked his eyes and shook his head as if not quite sure where he was or what was happening. He blinked up at Danton and seemed puzzled.

"Danton?"

The THRUSH leader laughed. "Myself. You made a mistake, Rand, as I told you you would. You see, my capture itself activated a device all THRUSH leaders carry. The device alerted my men outside to my capture and they called for help. We have an organization, as I tried to tell you. Now my men have your whole plant. I'm afraid quite a few of your men had to die. Too bad, but you should not have tangled with THRUSH. You're out of your depth, Rand."

"Danton?" Rand said. His eyes showed the battle going on in his brain to remember what was bothering him. He looked sharply at Danton. "But—but it wasn't you, no. It was—"

"You thought you had me, of course," Danton went on, "I tried to tell you that you were no match for THRUSH. Now I have your plant, and you. I will have the machine and Heimat, and all your facilities. I have them, Rand."

Rand nodded, his full consciousness returned. "Yes, so I see. But—Solo and that Russian. Where are they?"

Danton brushed this off. "I don't care about them now. The important matter is that you defied THRUSH, and you lost. I could kill you. But I would rather use you. You're beaten, Rand, and the Mind-Sweeper belongs to THRUSH. But we can use you, too."

Rand nodded again. "Why not? I know when I'm beaten. THRUSH appears to be all you say it is. I see no reason why I shouldn't join with you. Provided the terms are satisfactory."

"No terms, Rand," Danton said harshly. "You're in no position to make terms. I'm offering you a chance to join us, no more than that. You can be useful to us."

Rand watched Danton. "Very well."

"A wise decision," Danton said. and smiled. "Now let's get the machine and Heimat out of here. I don't like this place—too exposed and U.N.C.L.E. knows about it."

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