[Whitman] - The Affair of the Gunrunners' Gold - Keith Brandon - Страница 21

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"Finished," said Tito, mopping his face with a handkerchief.

They came out into the relief of the open air.

"Okay, John," Raymond said after Parley had securely bolted the doors of the wagon, "have the girl put the lions back." His laughter boomed. "They guard our gold, and who could ask for better guards?"

"Not yet," said Parley.

"Now what?" A frown put a crease between Raymond's eyes.

"I want to talk to Brian Powell."

"What for?"

"To tell him where I'll be."

"Where's that?"

"With you—and also our sleeping company—at Craig's apartment. Also, I want to arrange a special van for us. Leave it to me."

"Okay. But quick."

"It'll be quick." Parley pointed to a motor scooter leaning against the side of the wagon. "In the meantime, Mr. Raymond, I'd like you and Mr. Langston back in the truck and Tito back up there in the driver's seat. And leave the truck doors open."

Raymond squinted, then nodded.

"All right. Now get a move on, mister."

Parley chugged away on the motor scooter, all the way across to the other end of the grounds. There he found Brian Powell.

"How're we doing, Brian?"

"Shipshape, Mr. Parley."

"Good man. I'll be at Kenneth Craig's apartment. When the vans are packed and ready for the airport, call me there."

"Right, Mr. Parley."

"And keep a special van open for me, Craig, and Candy––and their bags and stuff. The reporter, too. He might want to see us off."

"Right, Mr. Parley. You'll have a van all to yourself."

"Thank you, boy."

"Not at all, sir."

"See you later."

"Right."

Parley climbed onto the motor scooter and chugged away.

"Candy!" called Parley through the iron bars of the cage. She was sitting cross-legged among the lions. She smiled at Parley and stood up.

"Are the inspectors done inspecting, Mr. Parley?"

"All finished, dear. You may get the animals back in now."

Candy laughed. "Look at them. All sound asleep, so peaceful and happy out here. It's a pity to have to wake them."

"But we have to, dear."

"Yes, we do."

Candy roused the lions and quietly coaxed them, one by one, through the swing door and into the wagon. While she was busy Parley removed his dart pistol from its holster and held it down along his thigh.

After the last of the lions was in, Candy bolted the swing door, came out of the cage, and latched that door.

"There!" she said. "All done."

"Would you like to meet the inspectors?"

She laughed. "Would they like to meet me?"

"They certainly would—a seventeen-year-old who can handle lions like you can."

"I'd be pleased, Mr. Parley."

"This way."

He led her around to the rear, and beside the truck, without further ceremony, discharged a dart at her and caught her as she fell unconscious.

Raymond helped drag her in.

"I see what you mean, John."

"Impossible to let her wander around alone."

"Yes," agreed Raymond. "How long do they stay unconscious like this?"

"Unless revived, twelve hours."

Raymond lit a cigar. "All right. Now what's the schedule?"

"We go back to Craig's apartment. We wait there till I get a call from Powell. That'll mean the circus is packed up and the vans are ready for the short trip to the airport. We'll have a special van for ourselves. At the airport our big planes are all ready and waiting. A lot of the work here on the grounds is already done. My estimate is that within an hour we'll be en route out of the country."

"Good! You're a good man, John. I'll see to it that you get a fine bonus for this day's work."

"Thank you, Mr. Raymond."

Parley leaped from the truck, shut the doors, and clambered up alongside Tito.

"Here we go." Tito grinned. "But where do we go?"

"Drive. I'll show you."

27. Zeroing In

SIREN WIDE OPEN, wailing a warning, the scanning truck raced along the highway, eating up the miles. The immense steel armored truck had sufficient room to carry in comfort the veritable army of U.N.C.L.E. agents—sixteen men in all. There was the driver who had brought the truck to the Raymond and Langston Building with Professor Philip Bankhead inside. There were the ten men who had accompanied Waverly. And there were Waverly, O'Keefe, Johnson, and Solo, wearing shirt, tie, and jacket. But of the sixteen, only two men were visible: the driver and the lookout sitting alongside him in the front seat. Inside, Waverly was saying: "... first and foremost, Illya Kuryakin. Our first concern is Kuryakin. We must get to him, Phil."

The scientist nodded. "We shall do that, Alexander."

Outside, the driver nudged the lookout man. The lookout man turned his head to the slitted vent behind him.

"We're on the outskirts of Westbury."

"Turn off the siren," Waverly ordered. "Proceed at normal speed."

Solo glanced at his watch. "We made excellent time."

Waverly looked toward Bankhead. "Now, Phil?"

The scientist smiled. "Now, Alexander."

Philip Bankhead was seated away from the others, in front of a radar-equipped scanning board. To his left was a metal amplifying tray. To his right was an instrument panel with its delicately attuned knobs, buttons, wheels, and levers. He touched a button, activating the equipment.

"Now, if you please, Dr. Blaine. Mr. Solo's earpiece. Just drop it in the amplifying tray, please."

Dr. Blaine did as he was bade. No sooner was the earpiece in the amplifying tray than a faint, hissing sound of breathing was heard by all of them. Solo's earpiece was receiving the sounds of Illya's breathing.

"Marvelous," whispered Dr. Blaine.

Philip Bankhead put a headset over his ears. Clearly, distinctly, he heard the breathing. He turned his head, nodded, smiled at Waverly, and returned to his work. He touched a button on the instrument panel and a directional antenna rose up from the roof of the scanning truck. Watching the scanning board, listening intently through the headset, turning knobs that rotated the outside antenna, Philip Bankhead plotted his course. Suddenly he spoke.

"Tell him he's going too fast. Tell him to slow his speed—considerably."

Waverly repeated the order through the vent. They could all feel the sudden reduction of speed.

Bankhead smiled. "Yes. That's it. I don't want him going any faster."

Waverly relayed the advice through the vent.

Bankhead was smiling up at the scanning board, transfixed, as though in worship. Despite the beads of perspiration on his forehead, his face bore a beatific expression. "I've got a perfect line on him. We're still a distance away, but we can't miss. Right turn now... good, yes... straight ahead… easy, easy now... left... that's it... another left now... good... straight away... no... hold it... right turn now... yes, good... another right… good boy... straight ahead... easy, easy does it...."

And so, slowly but surely, they came nearer and nearer to Illya Kuryakin.

28. Parley Makes His Point

BETWEEN THE TWO of them, Parley and and Raymond, holding Candy upright but dragging her as though she were ill, had gotten her into the apartment without misadventure. Tito had parked the truck around the corner, and then he and Langston had been admitted to the apartment, Parley locking the door behind them. Tito had carried Candy to a bed, and Raymond had seen the bound Kuryakin and Craig.

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