The Cross of Gold Affair - Davies Fredric (читаем книги бесплатно TXT) 📗
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Porpoise, pushing his empty glass over to an attendant for a refill. “Certainly U.N.C.L.E. must have had some reason for sending agents out on a mission like that, and its apparent from where I sit that this is a simple beginning investigation, in which they hoped to learn something about our gold manipulations.
“You,” he said to Napoleon, “are a nuisance. But, my dear Gambol, I doubt they even suspected you at all.” He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and sipped from his new drink before continuing. “I wish, however, that they had picked a more skilled agent. After all, you did bring him directly here. If he was followed, you may have led U.N.C.L.E. right to my little pleasure palace.”
Somehow it was harder for Gambol to bear the soft voice with Porpoise’s eyes closed than it was with the little red pig eyes boring into him. He sweated more profusely, and stammered in his own defense, “Arnold said to bring him in! Arnold said to get him and bring him here, and I even sent out men to look for other agents before I left. And I had him frisked when he was out, and took his gun and his communicator!”
Porpoise remained aloof during Gambol’s outburst, resting behind his eyelids. When the broker quieted down, the chief Thrush made little noises of disapproval, and reached behind his chair to adjust his position. All but his face submerged, and the quiet voice seemed to come up from the water itself as he pronounced sentence on Gambol.
“Your office was visited by a top U.N.C.L.E. agent, and he was probably not alone. You did quite well to call here and inform us about Mr. Solo, his presence in your office and his interests, but you should never have brought him here yourself. I would far rather you had remained in your office to present a normal face to whatever follow-up
U.N.C.L.E. might have had in mind to Mr. Solo’s call. I’m sure one of your goons could have delivered him here with a bit more efficency than you have shown… .” He stopped, and his bright eyes opened to stare in sudden comprehension at the ceiling. “Gambol,” he said, “what did you say you removed from Solo’s person?”
“His gun and communicator,” stammered the broker. “So he couldn’t-”
“Yes, yes,” said Avery Porpoise, turning his head to where Napoleon stood under guard. “Frisk him thoroughly, Apis ” he said to the giant standing ready. “If he is clever enough to escape when bound, as I’m certain Gambol would not be, he must be clever enough to be carrying some sort of device to lead U.N.C.L.E. to him. Not even they could have been confident of following a car through New York traffic.”
Apis moved around in front of Napoleon, keeping one eye on him while his big hands moved under lapels and inside shoulder-paddings. Napoleon grinned at the Thrush, noting on one level that Arnold, on his right, never let go a very solid lock on his wrist. “I’m really as harmless as a glass of old port after supper,” he said, flinching as Apis’ search tickled him. “With your being twice my size, and your friend ready to break my arm, I don’t feel the least bit inclined to try breaking you over my knee.”
Porpoise’s oily, quiet voice came up from the water. “Apis is only taking ordinary precautions in his search. He knows you are harmless without weapons under the circumstances, with so many of my men standing by, but he finds it impossible to overcome years of training about the need enemy spies feel to escape.”
Napoleon shrugged and tried to ignore the methodical investigation of his clothes. It was hard to keep being nonchalant when Apis began fondling the buttons of his suit jacket. Harder still, when one after another the buttons were ripped off and held up to the light. Apis tsk’ed over each of them, put it down and ripped off the next. The bottom button weighed more than all the others together, and Apis looked at it very carefully.
“I don’t think I should set this one down too hard,” he said.
One of the other Thrushes came forward and took the little bomb away from him. Stepping most cautiously, he left the room quickly and returned to watch the rest of the inspection.
As the search went lower and became more embarrassing, Porpoise continued chatting. “You need try none of your clever tricks, Mr. Solo, because you shan’t be harmed. Soon well just turn you loose, quite alive and in good health.” Napoleon stared in complete disbelief at that, and was taken aback as the floating head raised up slightly, opened one piercing eye, and stared at him.
“Yes, I’ve decided just to keep you awhile. Under questioning, you would have told me nothing, unless I chose to hypnotize, drug and dismember you. Such things revolt me, although I admit a strange interior fascination for them.
“But you are concerned that I not overextend myself in the stock market. Mr. Solo, with no torture at all you have told me that U.N.C.L.E. does not in the least suspect the methods I am using to do more than make a little money. They suspect nothing, far from being able to bring legal action against me. When we close out our stock transactions, I’ll abandon this comfortable site as well, and possibly buy Disneyland for a playground with my profits. I’ve always wanted to move to the coast, anyway.”
Indicating the whole Coney Island Thrush operation with a wave of one dripping hand, he said, “This doesn’t fool you for a moment, however. This is obviously too small to be Thrush’s entire New York base. Oh, we naturally have a finger in some of the arcades and sidewalk vendor concessions, but all that is operated from Manhattan, in secret in a location much like yours, but not hidden quite so complexly behind a tailor.” Napoleon winced, only partly from the treatment Apis was giving him in his search. This wasn’t the first time Thrush had said plainly that they knew the exact location of U.N.C.L.E/s New York headquarters.
“Long before your friends can locate you or whatever device you may have used to lead them,” said Porpoise, “we will have… Apis! What’s that on your belt?”
Apis whirled like a dog trying to catch its tail, and Arnold’s free hand lashed out, snatching at his partners belt.
The tiny tracer bug clattered to the tile floor and skidded towards Porpoise’s pool. Apis, continuing his spin, landed on it with one size sixteen sneaker.
He stood there triumphantly, like Goliath louting before the armies of Israel. In the instant that he allowed himself to stmt over the tracer’s remains, Napoleon whipped free of Arnold and planted a foot square in Apis’ seat. With a great waving of arms and a roar far beyond Porpoise’s noise restrictions, Apis went off balance and toppled headlong into the water, raising a tidal wave and swamping his employer. The styrofoam pool toys were scattered on the waves, and water slopped up over the edges, drenching everyone’s shoes.
Napoleon stood still, beaming happily at the havoc as Arnold recovered him and pinned both arms in a no-nonsense hold. All eyes in the room were turned on Porpoise’s bobbing form as Apis climbed out of the pool. Sputtering and coughing, Porpoise inflated his chair’s pontoons and raised himself up out of the water. He looked around, and let his gaze settle on Napoleon. Apis stood ready to shred the U.N.C.L.E. agent if his chubby chief would just give the word.
“Now, my dear Napoleon,” said Porpoise as he regained his equilibrium, “what on Earth did you gain by that? You’re securely locked in this room, and surely you didn’t yearn to fight my entire crew? They wouldn’t fight you one by one, you know; if Arnold hadn’t grabbed you quickly, they’d have ganged up most unfairly, and held you until Apis could beat you to porridge. What was this all about?”
Napoleon smiled beatifically. “Let’s be reasonable about this,” he said. “You could do few things more horrible than lock me up for a few days and let me go. You act as if I have no importance whatever. I’ve lost slathers of ego, standing here while you dissected my assignment and worth, and your oversized friend got fresh with me. No torture, no brutal murder. A man has to have some outlet for his pride, Mr. Porpoise.” He relaxed, slouching jauntily in Arnold’s grip. “I’m an incurable pool pest, and at the very least I’ve accomplished a goal I set myself the minute I saw your setup.”
