[Magazine 1966-­08] - The Cat and Mouse Affair - Davis Robert Hart (книги читать бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

Preparations for a regimental move of some kind. The signs were obvious.

He went again to the barred window. The signs were still there—kits being inspected, soldiers cleaning weapons on the quadrangle, vehicles being checked and gassed across the quadrangle in the motor pool, boxes of ammunition and large shells for the tanks opened and stacked ready to be issued.

Until now Illya had made no attempt to escape because he wanted to see why they had captured him. But nothing had happened, and the regiment was moving close to readiness. Soon he would have to make a move.

He was thinking this when he saw Napoleon Solo.

The blond agent came alert. He watched as the soldiers marched Solo across the quadrangle toward the same building Illya was in. There was no doubt that Solo was under guard. The same polite guard as Illya had had himself. Illya turned away from the window.

He crossed the room, checked the door. There was a soldier stationed directly outside! Frowning, Illya recrossed to the window. He could easily melt the bars, and lower himself on the hair-thin spool of wire hidden in the third button of his jacket. But there were soldiers all over the quadrangle; this part of the building was in clear view of hundreds of them.

Illya rubbed his hand through his shock of blond hair and began to study the walls of the room. The barracks were built of fieldstone, but the interior walls were normal lath and plaster. What was on the other side of the one wall that did not face the hall? He could break through, only to find himself in another cell!

No, this was a matter for trickery. The guard outside probably had orders to never enter a cell himself, but to call the corporal of the guard in any emergency. If he feigned sickness, even death, the guard would probably simply call for the corporal, unless he could panic the fellow, which would not be easy. This was a crack unit, its men would be trained and veterans.

Somehow, he had to panic the guard and silence him before he could summon the corporal.

He looked around the room again and he saw the wash basin. Illya began to smile. A standard wash basin with hot and cold faucets and a stopper. The sink was very close to the door. Illya smiled more. There was something a lot better than panic—curiosity and uncertainty!

The fear of looking foolish!

There was a weapon! Illya studied the room and the door. The door opened inward, with the wash basin on the side of the room hidden by the door. The guard would come in, slowly, not running, and look carefully around the door. Illya would have no more than a second or two, and he could not allow the guard to make a sound.

Illya took off his wristwatch, opened the back, and took out the small capsule—a tiny plastic capsule wrapped in some kind of netting.

Then he went to the sink, put the stopper in the bowl, and started both faucets running, but not too fast, just filling the bowl without making a great deal of noise. He stood at the sink until the water began to run over and flow down to the floor and across the floor toward the door.

Then he stood just behind the door, the capsule ready, and waited.

He watched the small stream of water flow inexorably to the door, under it. He waited. Another minute passed, two minutes...three. The water flowed thin under the door. Four minutes. The water flowed slowly, a thin and wide stream going out under the door.

Then Illya heard the guard move. He heard the low, muttered exclamation. Behind the door the small blond grinned. He could picture the soldier standing outside the door, staring at the stream of water. He could imagine the soldier looking around as if to ask what to do.

The soldier would look again at the water. Illya Kuryakin heard steps as the guard came to the door and listened. Now the guard stepped back. Curiosity and uncertainty was gripping him. What should he do about this? Call the corporal? For a water leak? Have the corporal come running with two more men—to find a puddle of water?

The guard moved to the door. "You in there! What's that water?"

Illya remained silent. He heard the guard shift his feet. Then there was the sound of the key in the lock. Illya grinned. As he had expected, the guard was not going to call for the corporal for a water leak. The door opened slowly.

Illya moved with it, silently.

The door opened all the way and the guard peered around and saw the sink. The guard blinked, turned his head to look for Illya. In that split second Illya thrust the capsule in the face of the guard and squeezed.

A jet of gas spat into the face of the guard. He took a half step backward and collapsed without a sound.

Illya caught the guard and his rifle, lowered them to the floor, jumped and closed the door, and ran to turn off the water. He stripped the guard and dressed in the guard's clothes. He took the guard's rifle and keys. He stepped to the door, opened it, stepped out, closed and locked the door behind him.

He was free in the corridor, in disguise, and the guard would be out for at least two hours—all done in a matter of a minute and twenty seconds. There was no one else in sight, and Illya began to walk carefully along the third floor corridor. He was in search of Colonel Julio Brown.

TWO

His face hidden, Illya Kuryakin moved along the corridors and down the stairs until he located the office of Colonel Julio Brown. The office had two guards stationed outside it. Illya turned away, and climbed back to the second floor and the room directly above the office of the colonel.

The room was empty now. Illya went to the window and looked out. He was in luck. The wall of the next building came close to the main building at this point. The space between was hidden from any observation. Directly below the window of the room there was another window, the colonel's office.

Illya took out his spool of hair-thin wire, made a loop at the bottom for his hands, a loop five and a half feet from the end for his feet, attached the wire to a pipe in the room, and lowered himself out the window head first until his eyes were at a level with the top of the window below.

Inside the office there were two men. Illya, hanging head down in the narrow space between the buildings, recognized one man by his description from O'Hara's briefing and by his colonel's uniform. The other man had his back turned. He was a short man, but heavy, almost as broad as he was tall. A man with the back and shoulders of a bull.

This second man, who was dressed in civilian clothes, seemed to be arguing with Colonel Brown. Then the colonel began to talk, emphasizing his points by tapping a short trenchknife on his desk. The short, bull-like man turned away from the colonel and faced the window. Illya saw the two long scars on his dark face. He recognized Jemi Zamyatta!

The leader of Zambala's opposition turned back to Colonel Brown, spread his arms, walked close to the colonel. Zamyatta seemed to smile as he talked. The colonel listened, began to nod in slow agreement. Zamyatta put his bear-like arm around the shoulders of the colonel. Both men began to laugh.

Illya watched, and saw both men look at the door. The colonel spoke and a soldier came in and saluted. The soldier, a sergeant, made some report. The colonel nodded. The soldier left. The colonel spoke again to Zamyatta, and the bull-like man nodded and walked to a second door. Zamyatta left the room.

The colonel spoke again. His other door opened and the sergeant came back -with Napoleon Solo!

Hanging in the narrow space, Illya watched the colonel offer Solo a cigarette. Then the colonel began to ask questions. Illya could not hear, but from the movement of the colonel's mouth the questions were sharp and not friendly. Illya hauled himself up to the second floor and climbed back into the room above the colonel's office.