[Magazine 1967-­12] - The Pillars of Salt Affair - Пронзини Билл (электронные книги без регистрации TXT) 📗

He had an idea. It was a slim chance, a very slim chance. If he failed, there would be no second opportunity.

He said, "You're insane, you old buzzard."

Dr. Sagine jumped up from his chair. "What?" He said.

"That's what I said," Solo told him. "A psychotic old buzzard with delusions of grandeur."

A sound like the enraged squawk of a bird came from Dr. Sagine's throat. He brushed past Solo, into his private laboratory, and threw open the outer door.

"Guards!" He yelled. "Take this man back to his cell! Lock him in! We'll break him and reduce him to a quivering mass of jelly! Nobody talks to Dr. Sagine like that!"

The two guards rushed inside, grabbing Napoleon Solo. They hustled him out into the main laboratory. Solo could still hear the mad doctor screaming hysterically, even above the clamor.

Roughly, the guards prodded Solo across the laboratory to the elevator. The electronic panel slid back, and they stepped inside, one guard on either side of Solo. The panel closed again, and they began to descend.

Solo had accomplished what he had set out to do by infuriating Dr. Sagine. He needed to get out of the office and out of the laboratory as quickly as possible, to get into the elevator alone with the two guards. This was his chance. He allowed his body to relax, arms hanging loosely at his sides. One more second, now. One more...

The elevator stopped. The panel began to slide back.

Solo dropped to one knee. It was a single, fluid motion, catching the two guards completely by surprise. They reacted just as Napoleon Solo had hoped they would. They both turned toward him, leaning forward.

As soon as his right knee touched the floor of the elevator, Solo pushed upward with his left foot, hands clenched into fists, touching one another at his chest, elbows extended to the sides.

He had come up into a crouch, body still moving upward, when he drove both elbows out, simultaneously, in piston-like quickness It had been perfectly timed. Both elbows ripped with pile-driving force into the respective stomachs of the two guards, bending them over at the waist. Twin explosions of gasping pain escaped from their throats.

Solo, standing once again as the two guards went double, lifted both hands and brought the hard edge of each hammering down karate style He felt a satisfying shock shoot up each arm as his hands connected solidly with the back of each guard's neck. They dropped without a sound.

The elevator panel stood wide open, revealing the long, empty hallway. Solo, bending quickly now that the first part of his gamble had worked, took the automatic strapped to one of the guard's waist and shoved it into the belt of his trousers, ignoring the machine guns because of their bulk. Then he grabbed each of the guards by the back of the shirt and dragged them out of the elevator, depositing them in the hallway. He stepped back inside.

He had noticed that there had been two small buttons, barely visible, on one of the walls of the elevator when he had been taken up to the laboratory. It was with those buttons that his chance for escape lay.

They had undoubtedly been put there so that whoever was riding inside would be able to change the elevator's direction if needed, since its original course was electronically controlled from outside. Solo pressed the lower of the two buttons, keeping his finger on it, and listened to the pounding of his heart.

The panel closed. The elevator began to drop. Solo took the automatic from his trousers and held it ready in his right hand. He wanted to get the lowest floor of the THRUSH fortress. He did not know what he would find there; for all he realized it would be the living quarters of the THRUSH guards.

But there was one thing he did know, and that was the fact that there had to be an outside entrance somewhere on that initial floor. He remembered the road that had been carved from the mountainside. And since there was a road, THRUSH would have vehicles—jeeps, most likely—and the logical place for them to be kept would be on that first floor.

The elevator stopped. Solo took his finger off the button on the wall as the panel began to slide back, holding his breath, squeezing gentle pressure of the trigger of the automatic.

Warehouse.

Solo let his breath out slowly, eyes darting rapidly from side to side. To the left he could see several jeeps, parked in twin rows on the concrete floor. Six, altogether. On his right, he saw a large helicopter, cargo-type, of a manufacture he suspected was THRUSH's. There were crates, skids of glass jars, and other goods stacked near him. Directly ahead was a partitioned area, behind which he could see what looked to be a large control panel. A single man stood before the panel, his back to Solo. There was no one else in sight.

Solo stepped out of the elevator, walking softly. If he could reach the man at the control board knock him out before he could raise an alarm, he would have enough time to get safely away. He knew how to operate a helicopter, and there had to be a platform somewhere at one end of the warehouse that would serve as a launching area. The control board should be able to give him the answer. He moved swiftly, silently, across the concrete.

He had gone halfway when he heard the shout from his left. He spun there, bringing up the automatic. A man in mechanic's clothes had been working near the jeeps. He was standing now, yelling a warning across to the man at the control board, digging inside his uniform with right hand.

Solo snapped a quick shot just as the man fumbled a gun from his clothes, saw the man spin, toppling backwards to the floor. Solo whirled toward the other man, just in time to see him pull a lever high on the control panel. A wailing, ear-splitting siren began to pulsate throughout the warehouse, echoing shrilly off the walls.

The alarm Solo thought. He's thrown the alarm!

He began to run towards the man, legs driving on the concrete. The man turned, groping at a holster strapped to his belt. He had the gun out of the holster just as Solo reached him, but he had no opportunity to use it. Solo brought his automatic down on the side of the man's head, watching him crumble in a heap on the floor.

Solo looked wildly at the control board, the vibrating howl of the siren screaming at his ears. There was no chance to use one of the helicopters now. THRUSH guards would flood the warehouse in a matter of seconds. His only opening for escape lay in the road outside. Where was the control that operated the entranceway? His eyes swept in frenzied motion at the bank of levers on the board and then stopped on one marked: Main. He grabbed the lever, heart thudding in his chest, and jerked it downward. There was a great, rumbling sound drowning momentarily the wail of the alarm siren. The entire wall to his right began to spread open. Solo saw the same blue sky, the same snow-capped mountain peaks, he had seen from Dr. Sagine's office. And he saw the road.

He turned again, running for the rows of jeeps. He reached the first jeep in the row, saw the keys dangling from the ignition, and started to clamber inside. Then he stopped, his brain racing.

Got to stop them from following me, he thought. There were five bullets left in the automatic, and five jeeps. One bullet for one tire on each. It would leave him defenseless, without a weapon and without time to get one, but he had no other choice.

Quickly, he ripped a shot into the tires of each of the five jeeps, the left row first and then skirting between them to the right row. He threw the empty gun down, hearing the whir of descending elevators. He jumped into the remaining jeep, twisting the ignition key. The motor roared into life.

Panels slid back in the walls. Armed men emerged from the elevators, milling onto the concrete floor.