[Magazine 1967-­10] - The Mind-­Sweeper Affair - Davis Robert Hart (читать лучшие читаемые книги .TXT) 📗

Rand made an abrupt nod of his head. The armed men across the room brought Emil Danton to stand beside Illya and Solo. The elegant THRUSH leader had lost little of his self-assurance, and showed not the slightest mark of violence on his immaculate clothes. Danton shrugged slightly as he looked at the two agents.

"I see you fell into the same trap, my friends," Danton said. "I must say you show remarkable abilities to escape, but not very good ability to remain uncaught again. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, eh?"

"Hello, Danton," Solo said. "You seem to be pretty much in the same fire."

"Me, Napoleon? Hardly. I'm just another good businessman out to make a deal with Mr. Rand. That is a truly fine machine he has," Danton said. "All I have to do is convince Mr. Rand of the advantages of selling to me, or teaming with us."

"Rand is insane," Illya said dryly, "but I doubt if he is insane enough to trust THRUSH."

Danton laughed aloud. The elegant THRUSH council member was completely relaxed, or giving a good imitation. With Danton it was hard to be sure. Now the immaculate THRUSH leader took out a cigar case, selected a cigar, snipped the end with silver cigar- scissors, lighted the cigar, and began to puff contentedly. Rand watched him.

"Mr. Danton has made a substantial offer on the part of his, er, company," Rand said. "I have heard of his organization, and I have no illusions, but the offer is very attractive. Unless you gentlemen can think of a better offer—"

"No offer made by THRUSH is worth anything," Solo said sharply. "Once they have your machine they will have no use for you, and I doubt if you will get much use out of their money."

Danton shrugged. "Why, Napoleon, you hurt me."

Illya looked at Rand. "You must know that you can't trust THRUSH. I doubt if they have any intention of buying your machine, at any price. Danton is playing for time."

"And what are you doing, Kuryakin?" Danton snapped.

Rand held up his hands. "Gentlemen, gentlemen. We'll conduct this like businessmen. There is no need for these personal attacks. What I have is a simple business matter. I have a machine. I may wish to sell it. You are all interested in it. I'm not even sure that I care what you do with it after you buy it. If U.N.C.L.E. makes a really good offer, I will consider it, even if you mean to destroy the machine."

Danton went pale. "Destroy? Such a machine? No, Rand, that would be a crime! U.N.C.L.E. won't buy your machine! They are fools! Narrow-minded policemen! They would take the machine and then arrest you and lock you up as insane. Your Dr. Heimat, too. Don't listen to them, no matter what they say!"

Illya and Solo glanced at each other. Their eyes showed the same thought. It was Solo who put it into words.

"I think we might consider buying the machine. If we had absolute proof that it was the only model, and you sold Dr. Heimat with it," Solo said. He looked at Danton. "Under the circum stances I think U.N.C.L.E. might possibly top any bid THRUSH could make."

Rand nodded. "Good, that is the way I like to do business. What figure did you have in mind? Perhaps we can have a bidding session right now."

"Fine," Solo said. "Of course, I'll have to contact my headquarters to get the authorization. A mere formality, you understand. I imagine Danton will have to do the same."

Rand turned to Danton. "Will you?"

"Of course not," Danton snapped. "And can't you see what they're doing?"

"How will you contact your office?" Rand said.

"By radio," Solo said.

"I see," Rand said, and suddenly smiled again. "That is all I had to know, gentlemen. It seems that Mr. Danton is right. You have the minds of policemen. Too bad. An offer from U.N.C.L.E. would have been most interesting. But it is clear that all you want to do is contact your people and bring them here. Alas, I really thought that you were more clever."

"We would buy the machine," Illya said.

"Perhaps," Rand said, "but I cannot risk it, can I? No, I think U.N.C.L.E. is not a good organization to deal with. You are do-gooders, not businessmen. You wish to save the world, not to make money. I do not like people who think of others rather than their own interests."

Rand turned to Danton, "Now I think the THRUSH offer is legitimate and interesting. Of course, I have other offers already, and there are other factors. But I think we can talk, Mr. Danton."

"We can talk," Danton said. "What about them?"

The elegant THRUSH leader indicated Illya and Solo.

Rand shrugged. "We will probably have to kill them. But for now I think we will simply hold them. Who knows, Mr. Danton? I might just throw them into a deal and hand them to you as a sort of bonus."

"That would be most useful," Danton said.

Rand laughed. "Take them out and lock them up downstairs."

The armed men prodded Illya and Solo to their feet. Moments later they were marched out of the warehouse through an interior door and behind them they heard Danton laughing with Rand.

The machine itself stood silent in the vast warehouse.

ACT IV

WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW CAN KILL YOU

FOR THE FOURTH time in twenty-four hours or less, Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo were marched away under guard. The four white-smocked armed men herded them along a narrow and dark corridor that slanted down beneath the electronics factory.

After a few minutes the corridor flattened out and rows of heavy doors began to appear along the walls. Some of the doors were open, and the two agents saw men busy in laboratories. Soon they passed a series of doors that all opened into one room—a small factory inside the room, where men worked feverishly assembling parts into what looked like other models of the deadly Mind- Sweeper.

"A secret factory under the regular plant," Solo said.

"It had to be something like that, Napoleon," Illya said.

One of the armed men hissed, "Shut up! No talking, you two!"

They marched on. The four guards walked behind, two abreast in the narrow corridor. They reached a darker section where all the doors were closed. Ramps led up alongside passages to what were obviously loading areas. They were clearly now in a storage area.

"Do you think we have one chance?" Illya said. "Or five?"

"Two-out-of-six," Solo said.

"I said shut up!" the white smocked guard cried.

But Illya and Solo had given their signals. The guards, uneasy at the calm talk of their prisoners, moved closer. Illya and Solo waited.

"Stop," the chief of the guards said.

They stopped.

"Open the door," the head guard said to two of his men.

Two of the guards stepped to the massive steel door and opened it. The two went into the room and turned with their guns ready.

"Inside," the head guard said to Illya and Solo.

Illya stepped in first. Solo followed behind. Suddenly Illya gave a hoarse cry.

"Why wait! We'll never get out! I can't stand it!"

With a quick motion of his hand the small Russian seemed to pick a button off his suit and thrust it into his mouth, biting down hard.

Illya screamed, choked, and pitched forward to the floor, exactly in the doorway.

"Poison!" a guard shouted.

"Stand back!" the head guard snapped to Solo.

Solo backed out into the corridor. Two of the guards bent over Illya. The other two guards stared at the fallen figure of the Russian. They all talked at once.