[Magazine 1967-­05] - The Synthetic Storm Affair - Edmonds I. G. (книги регистрация онлайн .TXT) 📗

Solo rolled the rest of the way from under the cab. He saw Lupe stagger to her feet. She was holding a handkerchief to her nose. A greenish phosphorescent cloud was swirling about her. In her fall she broke the suffocating gas bulb.

Solo took a deep breath and held it as he whirled to aid his companion in the back of the cab. The cab door was open. Kuryakin lay on the floor. It was obvious to Napoleon what had happened.

Although bound, Illya managed to pull down the door handle to open the door, but keeping it pulled closed. Then, when the girl approached to drop the gas pellets inside, he kicked the unlatched door with his bound feet. The unexpected blow knocked her back and down against the pavement.

The extreme danger was not over. The gas cloud was a terrible threat to the bound man. Illya sat up. Napoleon gasped out a quick order for his partner to hold his breath.

He grabbed Kuryakin about the middle, pulling him from the cab. Then, swinging his co-agent up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, Solo staggered back away from the poisonous green cloud.

He dropped Illya beside the guard shack. Kuryakin was bound hand and foot. He had a gag in his mouth. Solo jerked out the gag and cut the bonds on Illya's wrist.

"You can get out of the rest," he said hurriedly. "I'm going after Lupe. She's getting away!"

"Let her go!" Illya gasped. "If she's free, there may be a chance we can follow her to the THRUSH cell operating this storm gimmick."

"You're right," Napoleon said. "I'll shadow her. Are you in shape to come along?"

"Get moving!" Illya snapped. "Don't waste time on me. I'll be right behind you!"

But before Solo could leave, one of the hot rod boys yelled from the gate: "We got her! We got her! Hey, Mr. Uncle! We got the woman who was running away!"

"Who's that?" Illya asked, getting to his feet after cutting his leg bonds.

"Two boys helping me," he said exasperated. "They are too much help!"

"Yell for them to let her go!"

"No," Napoleon replied. "We'll have to think of some way to let her escape. Otherwise she will know we released her just to follow her to THRUSH headquarters."

Illya rubbed his wrists. He said wryly, "You can always get more than enough help when you don't need it any more!"

"Oh, don't start blaming the boys. They thought they were being helpful. And they were helpful. It was their idea that you might be here. Otherwise we might not have found you in time."

"Then I change my mind," Kuryakin said with a grin. "There is hope for the younger generation!"

"And I'd say there is hope for the older generation to muddle through while we have kids like these to help us!" Napoleon said with a grin. "I'm going to ask Mr. Waverly to write them an official U.N.C.L.E. letter of commendation. I'll mean a lot to them."

"And I want to add my thanks at the bottom," Illya said. "I was in one tough spot."

ACT VI: WATERLOO?

After thanking the boys for their help, Napoleon Solo promised them they would be receiving an official letter from Mr. Waverly. Then he and Illya Kuryakin took Lupe into the dead Maxwell Martin's car.

Solo made quite a show of holding the gun on the girl to keep her from escaping. She looked at it and shuddered.

"M-must you point that terrible thing at me?" she said.

Solo smiled.

"I'm sure you aren't tough enough to overpower both of us," he said.

He slipped the .38 special into his pocket. This was his own gun, the one he had fouled when he struck the guard and the cab driver. The.45 he took from the guard was passed to Illya, who slipped in the front to drive the car.

"Please!" Lupe said breathlessly. "Things are not the way they seem. I know it seems to your Mr. Solo—"

"Kuryakin," Illya said wearily.

"—Mr. Kuryakin that I was aiding Mr. Martin," she went on. "But it isn't true. You see, I knew what they did to Dr. Santos-Lopez. I had to play along with them to protect myself. I was just trying to find out how they are able to generate these terrible storms. Then I intended to call the police."

"I hope your story checks out, Miss de Rosa," Napoleon said. "Of course that is outside our department."

She leaned breathlessly close to him. In the front seat Illya watched her performance with a cynical eye.

"But you believe me, don't you?" she whispered.

Her hand touched his arm in a pleading manner.

Illya Kuryakin watching in the rear view mirror, smiled cynically as her hand dropped suddenly, grabbing the unworkable gun from Solo's pocket.

She jumped back against the opposite side of the car, shakily pointing the gun in a wavering arc that included both Kuryakin in the front seat and solo across from her.

"Stop the car!" she snapped.

Illya braked to a stop. Watching her closely, Napoleon wondered if they were doing right in letting her get away.

"Get out of the car!" she snapped to both men. "Get out or I'll shoot."

Solo hesitated, but Kuryakin said, "Come on, Napoleon. You've met your Waterloo!"

"What's that? What's that?" the girl cried in a strangled voice. "How did you know—"

She broke off. "Move faster!" she said through clinched teeth. "I haven't got time to fool with you now!"

The two men stepped down to the curb. They stared after the car as she sped off. Napoleon looked at Illya in surprise.

"What brought on that last outburst?" he asked.

"You got me," Kuryakin said. "Apparently she has a phobia about the word Waterloo. I don't know why she should be bothered by it. If I recall correctly, that was where another Napoleon took his worst defeat. The word should bother you, not her."

"Remember this letting her go was you idea," Solo said. "I'm beginning to wonder if she is safe to let run around. For my money she is a genuine kook."

"I don't know," Illya said thoughtfully. "I just hope those two keep her in sight."

"They're good men, both of them. They caught my signal as she pulled away. They'll do as good a job sticking to her as we could. Better, perhaps. She knows us and they are strangers to her—I hope."

"What do we do now?" Illya asked.

"I'll call Mr. Waverly."

He tuned in the pen-communicator and reported their actions to the U.N.C.L.E. chief. Waverly gave them instant approval of their gambit in permitting the Storm Girl to "escape."

"Mr. Kuryakin is right," Waverly said. "We have no lead to the THRUSH cell operating this storm generator. This girl should be able to lead us to them."

"I hope so," Napoleon said. "But I keep remembering the cool, smart way that girl reacted when it looked like our plane was going down in that hurricane. She has brains and courage. We must not underestimate her."

"I agree, Mr. Solo." Alexander Waverly's calm voice said.

"And, sir—" Illya put in.

"Yes, Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Does the word 'Waterloo,' in connection with this case, mean anything to you, sir?"

Just the faintest note of surprise broke the calmness of the U.N.C.L.E. chief's voice. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Kuryakin, it does!"

"What is it, Mr. Waverly?" Solo put in. "Illya mentioned the name as a pun on my own name. This girl, Lupe de Rosa, seemed quite disturbed by it."