The Monster Wheel Affair - McDaniel David (серии книг читать бесплатно .TXT) 📗

He took the little pistol, hefted it, and looked at it carefully. Then he held it up contemptuously for the others to see. "The American carries another gun! A toy one to frighten us with!"

The tall thin one who seemed to be the leader came forward and examined it closely. "Why do you carry a toy gun, Mr. Solo?"

Napoleon looked a little embarrassed. "Well," he said, "I just picked it up this afternoon for my nephew. He likes magic tricks."

"This is a trick gun? It does not just go click-click?"

"Well, not exactly. It's really sort of remarkable. A tribute to the ingenuity of your toymakers, and a whole lot of fun, too."

"What does it do?" The Chinese was beginning to be interested. Obviously this little contraption of stamped tin could not be a danger against five armed men, but he was still uncertain as to what it really was. "In my experience agents of the U.N.C.L.E. do not carry toy guns without reason."

Napoleon shrugged. "I would have left it at my hotel if we'd been there since I bought it."

The tall man suddenly pointed the pistol at Napoleon and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. And Napoleon, who knew better than to carry a gun cocked with a round in the chamber, didn't even flinch. Instead he laughed easily. "Not like that," he said condescendingly. "Here, let me show you." He held out his hand casually.

The other stepped back quickly. "No—you tell me how it works," he said, but his tone was doubtful. It felt so much like a harmless toy, and perhaps it would be amusing....

Napoleon looked patient. "It's very difficult to explain without showing you on the gun what I am talking about. It took the clerk at the toy store fifteen minutes to teach me how to work it properly."

The Chinese thought, and looked around a moment at the other two prisoners for clues. Suzie was staring in complete puzzlement, and Archie was watching impatiently, tapping his fingers on the floor where he sat. It seemed an insane waste of time to be playing with a toy gun when their lives were at stake.

At last he reached a decision. He handed the gun to Napoleon, saying, "All right. But remember you are covered by several armed men, and there are more outside. And do not try anything foolish like a cyanide spray; I will stay well away from you." And he backed to the opposite wall.

Napoleon observed that only two men had their machine pistols at a ready position, and only one of them had the bolt cocked. He smiled inanely as he held up the pistol like a conjurer. "Now you see," he said foolishly, "I have here what appears to be an ordinary gun. Watch closely—I have nothing up my sleeves—and observe that during this entire performance my fingers will never leave my hands." He wiggled his fingers, and saw five pairs of eyes fixed fascinated on them.

He took the pistol in firing position in his right hand, and blew down the barrel. "Observe," he continued, "the barrel is completely empty."

"So's your head," muttered Gunderson, from the floor.

"Quiet, there," said Napoleon, aiming a mock kick at the sailor, and continuing his pitch. He had to have every bit of their attention on him and none on their machine guns if this magic trick was to succeed. Archie had just cost him some of it.

Improvising desperately, he continued. "This pistol was sold to me by a wise old gunsmith who had studied the ancient arts of the inscrutable East. Its operation is a secret known only to the adepts of a mysterious society and learned by me at the risk of my life. Now you will be among the privileged few who have seen with their own eyes the wonderful secret guarded for generations by devoted servants of ancient wisdom." That did it—only one muzzle still pointed at them, and the man behind it was completely fascinated by Napoleon's spiel.

"Watch closely, now...." He brought up the Gyrojet. "I push forward this small lever on the side, made of silver from the deepest mines of Afghanistan...." He pulled the cocking lever forward and down and put off the safely. He looked up at them, and his face wore a broad inane smile.

The smile remained fixed on his face as he centered the pistol on the first guard and pulled the trigger. He swung the gun slightly and fired again. Five shots tore across the room in four seconds. A slug ripped into the chest of the third man before the first hit the ground, and the last barely had his machine pistol up and cocked before it was too late for him to pull the trigger. Without a wisp of recoil to compensate for, only the slightest movement of the wrist was necessary to correct the aim, and the little missiles were accurate enough over twenty feet to kill dependably. Especially since the propellant continued to burn for a fraction of a second after they penetrated the body.

Napoleon Solo was still grinning foolishly as he slowly lowered the gun. There was a smell of burning, and a small amount of smoke in the little room, yet there had been comparatively little noise. But now there were five crumpled bodies against the far wall, and four fully loaded machine guns they would need no longer.

Suzie stared, her mouth open, her eyes tracking slowly from the "toy pistol" to the five bodies, and back again. Napoleon looked down at her, spread his arms slightly, and bowed from the waist.

"Hey, presto," he said softly.

"Napoleon," said Suzie, gradually recovering her voice. "What did you do?"

He smiled just a little, and canted his head towards the far wall. "Magic," he said. "I just made the entire world disappear—as far as they are concerned."

"It's a rocket pistol," said Archie, rising to his feet. "I saw an article on it in a magazine some time ago. Gun is just a tin launching tube with hammer and trigger. Bullet full of rocket fuel, supplies its own power. I recognize it from picture."

"Then why did you break their concentration on me?" asked Napoleon. "Didn't you think I knew what I was doing?"

"Yah, but the tall one was looking pretty edgy. I t'ought I'd make him feel better for the few seconds he had left."

Solo had already retrieved his belongings, and was checking out the little silver transceiver. "Channel L, please...."

And a voice answered, "Hong Kong office. Go ahead, please."

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. "Agent Solo here. We've been kidnapped, but are now free of surveillance and jamming, and would like some help and transportation. No medical aid necessary, but come in prepared to defend yourselves. There may be more guards outside."

"Right-ho. We have a fix on your position—about half-way out on the Tai Po Road, a little north of Tai Po Tau. Helicopter should be there in ten or fifteen minutes. Now if you'll stand by, there is a call for you from New York. Switch over to Channel D, please."

There was a hum, and a couple of clicks, and Waverly's familiar gravelly voice came small and tinny from the tiny speaker. "Mr. Solo, what seems to be the trouble? You've been out of touch, and the area control reports our general frequency interfered with."

"Well, I've made contact with Gunderson, sir, and gotten what information he had. We'll have to discuss its evaluation in light of whatever Illya has come up with. But we were kidnapped this evening, and they wouldn't let us use the telephone."

"By agents of a certain North African power?"

"Ah—I don't think so, sir. Oddly enough, this whole operation seems quite different in style." He bent over one of the bodies, and picked up a machine pistol with his free hand. "In fact, I would say there were no hieroglyphics involved here at all."