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

"North?" said Illya. "Newcastle, of course."

That afternoon they had emulated him. And this day they had shown his picture to several dozen bartenders, hotel clerks and waitresses in the waterfront area without eliciting any response. They had reported both the positive and negative result to Waverly, and received only scant encouragement in return. The three men met again for an early supper to compare notes.

"Well," said Illya, "I must admit Newcastle's a friendly city, even if not an especially observant one. If we weren't morally certain he'd come here, I'd say we were on a wild German chase."

"Maybe we're limiting ourselves unnecessarily," said Napoleon thoughtfully. "We've been looking mostly around the waterfront area. Now, if I were a sailor on the run, I think I'd stay away from the waterfront; especially if I were as smart a man as Kurt."

"But if you were that smart," suggested Illya seriously, "you would expect your pursuers to think of that too, and you would go straight to the waterfront, knowing it would be the last place they'd look for you."

"But they're smart too," said Suzie. "They'd expect that."

"Right," said Napoleon. "Therefore I'd hide out uptown somewhere—as I just said."

"Oh."

"Of course."

They sat in silence for a few seconds.

"It would be easier if you knew more about him," said Illya suddenly. "Interests, possible diversions and entertainments he might seek. As it is, about all we know is that he's German."

Napoleon said something impolite under his breath and slapped the table top. "We're slipping, Illya. We really are slipping. Tomorrow morning we start the rounds of German restaurants, any Hofbraus we can locate in the telephone directory tonight. And tonight we check for any theaters showing German films. Remember him telling Kropotkin he was homesick? If we don't get a lead out of this tomorrow I'll eat a kangaroo." He thought a moment. "A small one, and roasted."

The estimate turned out to be pessimistic. Two theaters were running German films, and the boxoffice clerk at once recognized the picture of Schneider, as a man who had been there just the night before. She remembered him because he had left with one of their regular customers—an old German expatriate who came every week to the theater, but twice when a German film was on. No, she didn't know his name, but the manager might....

He did, and after some convincing and a small bribe he was kind enough to share it with them. As they sought him out, Illya remarked to Suzie, "And so, once again, standard police procedure pays off. It's routine, boring, and time consuming, but it works."

"Inspiration helps," said Napoleon defensively.

Once they showed the old man their identification and told him some of the story, he was persuaded to recall his companion of the previous evening. He and Kurt had fallen into conversation between films, and had found out they were both from Stuttgart. The old man had left in 1935, accurately foreseeing the destiny of the Third Reich, and had built a new life in Australia. But the pleasure of talking to someone who knew his home town had revived memories of his childhood, and he and Schneider had talked the night away.

"You will think me a self-centered old fool," he said, "but I am afraid I can remember little of what he said. We talked mostly about Germany when the Nazis came. He told me a little of how the War had changed it—and I did not want to hear more." He shook his head sadly. "I do not think now I will go back after all. It would not be my home anymore."

"But did he say anything about where he was going?" Illya asked.

The old man thought. "He only hinted. I asked him if we could meet for a beer and some good German food sometime again. He laughed a little and said he could not stay very long—he was going to dig for black opals. So I think I know where he would be going."

Illya nodded. "The opal field a few hundred miles northwest of here."

"Not just the opal fields, my friend. The black opals are very rare and valuable. They come from only one area, and that is where I think he went. If he did not lie to me, you will find him there."

An U.N.C.L.E. six-place twinjet from the Sydney office with Illya at the wheel took them over the three hundred miles of mountains and desert in about forty-five minutes the next day, and set them down gently on a long patch of hard-baked earth. Lightning Ridge lies fifty miles beyond the railhead at Pokataroo, across the Barwon River. The town is a small collection of weather-beaten houses of paintless boards and hand-smeared adobe plaster, with a small dirt airstrip and a population of four or five hundred people. It is also the center of the only area in the world where true black opals are found.

The usually staid Encyclopedia Britannica describes the stone as combining "the iridescence of the dewdrop with the color of the rainbow, set in the blackness of night...a smothered mass of hidden fire." Looking at the one in Illya's hand, Napoleon could understand the writer's enthusiasm.

"It really is beautiful, isn't it?" said Suzie. "I wonder..."

"Sorry, ma'am," said the man behind the counter. "That's one I found myself, and it's part of what I expect to retire on someday."

Outside the little general store the yellow sand glowed hot on the desert noon, but inside the heavy windowless walls it was dark and reasonably comfortable. The three sat at a short rude counter with glasses of delicious Australian beer before them, talking casually with the manager, the owner, and the bartender.

Illya handed the opal back to him respectfully. "In the city, that would have to be kept under lock and key."

"Right. Then I wouldn't be able to look at it when I wanted to, and I'd 'ave to watch everybody else instead. One of the reasons I like it better out 'ere. Not many opals left now—they got pretty much mined out fifteen, twenty years ago. We find 'em lyin' about once in a while, though, and they still bring a good price in the Smoke."

"You get many tourists out here trying their luck?"

The Digger laughed. "Not likely. The last few days there 'ave been as many through as in the last six months. Countin' you, there must've been a couple dozen people. Some of 'em are 'ere still."

"Where?"

He pointed vaguely over his shoulder, indicating some place beyond the rough wood wall. "Roughing it. Two or three stayed when the rest left; they're camped down near the stream bed."

"Did one man come alone recently?" Illya asked. "A day or two ago?"

The Aussie looked at him thoughtfully. "Funny thing—t'other blokes asked that too."

"What did you tell them?"

"Not a thing, mate. In a town this size, people come and go and get lost in the crowds. We don't 'ave a registration center."

"Oh, stop it!" said Suzie, pulling out a photograph of Schneider. "We're looking for this man, and it's a matter of life and death that we find him before these other people do. They'll kill him!"

"Well, it might 'appen 'e'd know about it, wouldn't 'e? And likely would 'ave a few trustworthy people coverin' 'is trail for 'im. There's an awful lot of Outback for a man to get lost in—and stay lost if 'e don't want to be found."

"But we think he does," said Napoleon. "He left clues that would direct us here—left clues with his friends. It sounds as if these others are on his trail too, but they don't know where he is. We do. He came to Lightning Ridge yesterday or the day before. Whoever these others are—and we have a pretty good idea—they're obviously casting about all over the area looking for him."