[The Girl From UNCLE 01] - The Global Globules Affair - Latter Simon (е книги .txt) 📗
Ingrid looked startled. "I'm not saying any more. Shoot me if you like. I'm saying nothing that will harm him."
"Oh brother!" April murmured. "You sure are legion!" She manipulated the lipstick, eased off the desk and sauntered around the chair. She pressed the secret contact. The needle containing chloral hydrate shot out ready for use.
"I don't know where you go from here," said April, "but I'd make it a long way if I were you." She pressed into Ingrid's arm where the sleeve had ridden up. Surprisingly, Ingrid didn't cry out.
"I don't care," she said. "I don't care any more." She was still saying it as she fell asleep.
April took the key bunch and left.
The keys opened the way to swift inspection of Ingrid's own office, a lobby containing dresses made of the silvery-glinting metal. April detached samples for analysis. A monitoring room next to the hall gave her a laugh when she manipulated the instrument controls and saw the guards spaced out over the moors, probing into bushes and gullies, looking for her. All were wearing metal suits. She also saw that three cameras were focused on the "ranges"—sites placed at three levels on the moors. Not much to see. Merely skeletal structures of varying heights stepping up to a tower. April connected these with the collection of items in the first room and obtained a fair picture of the purpose.
She also found in the monitoring room the alarm/protection system of controls, trip wires and infra-red beams which worked thunder flashes, smoke pots and other warning devices. She set all the switches at "alert". She could now proceed through the rest of the building knowing she couldn't be taken by surprise.
CHAPTER SIX: GO— GAL— GO!
MARK SLATE ran the Aston Martin around the back of some bushes, climbed to a vantage point and surveyed the house and the moor surrounding it. He saw the men working their way over the moor, but they were far distant enough to give him time to get inside. There was no movement in the grounds, nor lights, even though dusk was near.
He'd circled around as far as he dare take the car in case it got bogged down and was approaching the house from the opposite side to the trees and driveway. A high fence ran from the original wall at the front to meet up with the same wall at the rear; it was electrified and no doubt connected with alarms inside the house. He searched for the contact wire and feed junctions, found and neutralized them.
Within five minutes he was inside the grounds. He had scarcely gone three yards when a thunder flash exploded, and two smoke pots fizzed off acrid clouds.
"Aw, to hell with it!" he exclaimed. "They daren't use any killer devices here. The worst I'll get is some scorch marks." He sped over grass in a straight line. His guess was good, for the devices were staggered so as to catch the intruder who zigzagged. Mark set off only one flash before reaching a side door. "Bash on!" he muttered. "They'll turn the dogs loose any minute." Drawing his U.N.C.L.E. gun, he blasted the lock, crashed the door open and leapt inside.
The room was filled with racks and shelving. Metal suits hung on the racks, gumboots, gloves and shiny hats shaped like firemen's helmets, and items that looked like hand fire extinguishers, filled the shelves. He pressed on. No time for detailed inspection. April Dancer must be somewhere in the center of this rambling house.
He went through a small office containing two bunk beds, a desk, portable typewriter. Graphs hung on the walls. A notice board held lists of duty rosters.
He slid open a partition, was faced with a steel door, and tentatively tried the catch. The door swung inward. He stepped into a long white room, apparently a mixture of laboratory and packing room. He whirled as a voice behind him said:
"What kept you?"
Mark holstered his gun.
"Blast you, April! Can't you ever be the distressed damsel rescued at the last minute by the great dumb he-man?"
She flashed a smile at him, leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
"Hiya, he-man!"
He returned the kiss. "Hiya, damsel! Did you have a bad last minute?"
"Uproarious!" She chuckled. "I set all the alarms so I wouldn't be disturbed. Then I saw you, but I was too late to switch off." She waved a hand. "Very busy here. You got news?"
"Most of it will keep, but Headquarters are rather keen for us to call in the French choppers if we need help. Seem to be nervous of us starting anything in England."
April's eyes widened. "Oh golly! Headquarters—I forgot all about them!"
"Forgot! That, me old darling, can be construed as famous last words. Well, goodbye—nice to have worked with you!"
She tapped the bag, said in a wheedling voice: "I've got goodies. Formula, samples, lists, suppliers—and I'm just about to collect the gem of all the goodies—a real live sample of K.S.R.6."
"Which is what?"
"This." April walked to where a large vat stood next to racks of small containers. "Neat K.S.R.6. You press the end of a container in here. It's compression-filled and self- sealing." She moved a sliding cupboard door. A small tap fell out. "Then you screw this into the sealing and you have yourself a prescribed dosage of K.S.R.6 for any purpose—distance no object."
"You've done all this?"
"Not yet. You set off the bang-bangs and disturbed me."
"Is this stuff dangerous?"
"In concentrated form—yes, I'd say it is." She pointed to the end wall. "There are gowns and mob-caps—like surgeons use, only in this weird metal stuff. Masks and gloves too."
"How much time have we?" Mark asked as he hurried to fetch the clothing.
"Until the guards come back, and as much time as we can make." April was turning valves and watching dials. "I don't know how long this thing will take for pressure to build up."
Mark took out his slim pigskin case. "I need a smoke. Have one?"
"Not now."
He put the case on the porcelain bench top near the vat and lit up. They helped each other on with the metal clothing, leaving the masks looped under their chins.
"You were quick," said April. "Your old-boy-pals act paid off, huh?"
"Thought you hadn't been in contact?"
"I mean Mr. Waverly. Good car?"
"Spot on. The plane was a bit ropey on one engine, but we made it. I cut off the moor road, risking a smashed axle or some such point. We've only to scoot around this place and on to the track leading to the road. Then we can make for Plymouth or back for the plane at Exeter. Might need gassing up."
"Or if in a hurry, call the French choppers."
"Looks as if the noble Count has bought it."
"Dead?"
Mark shrugged. "Surrounded by figures in this metal gear last time we heard of him. THRUSH hijacked his chopper. But Sama Paru is around some place. Isn't this blasted thing cooking yet?"
April grinned. "Hungry?"
"Don't remind me—I am!" He plumed smoke. "So you managed to get Papa out of here. Nice work."
"Thanks. Seems you did a neat job in Regent's Park."
They smiled at each other.
"You're gorgeous," said Mark. "Nice holiday?"
"Delightful! I think supper's about ready." She laughed. "Those guards must have wondered whether to stay or come back here."
"Would they have heard the bang-bangs?"
She shrugged. "Possibly—but even so, they'll take time to get back. Pull up your mask and stand by."
