[Magazine 1966-­08] - The Cat and Mouse Affair - Davis Robert Hart (книги читать бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

The dark man shook his head. "For Zambala! I am a policeman, not a politician. The premier assigned me to watch Colonel Brown. As you can see, I worked closely."

The dark man wore the uniform of a captain in the second regiment. He indicated his uniform, and then he looked anxiously at the two agents.

"I imagine you gentlemen learned what I learned."

"What would that be?" Solo asked.

"That Colonel Brown and Jemi Zamyatta are plotting a coup to take place tomorrow!" Bengali said.

Illya nodded. "We learned the same. But not the time."

"I have the time, and there is no time to lose bringing our word to the tribunal," Bengali said.

The dark man listened. The night was totally silent now. The three men emerged from the deep hole and stood in the jungle. Then they turned and ran off into the night.

An hour later they came out on a road where Bengali had a car waiting. They got into the car and drove off fast toward San Pablo and the presidential palace, where the international tribunal was convened at once.

ACT IV: WHERE ARE THE REBELS OF YESTERYEAR?

ONE

The San Pablo airport is on the southern outskirts of the city, set between the mountains and the sea. It was noon when Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo stood on the runway with Premier Roy beside them.

The tall premier was serious and grateful.

"I want to thank you personally, gentlemen, for clearing up this appalling situation."

Since dawn the premier had been back in office, the wheels turning to head off the coup. Zamyatta and Colonel Brown were in San Pablo prison. Martial law had been declared, the other regiments brought into San Pablo and the second regiment contained and disarmed in its barracks. A full hunt was on for the Stengali, and the Organization of American States had been alerted to have troops ready to move in case.

"That U.N.C.L.E. was here was a pleasant surprise," Premier Roy said to the agents. "I will not ask how you learned of our need, but I will be eternally grateful for your so expert aid. Without your testimony, I doubt that I could have convinced the tribunal of the necessity for immediate action against Zamyatta and Colonel Brown."

Illya frowned. "But the Stengali, Your Excellency. We found no evidence of their complicity. They were being used as dupes."

"Ah, perhaps. But they are very clever, my friends. Steng is a devious man. I think, perhaps, he fooled you. Bengali has proof that Steng has been dealing with Colonel Brown. Undoubtedly they had a falling out.

"No, they must also be crushed if we are to have peace in Zambala. I have allowed them to exist too long. I blame myself. Max Steng detected weakness, and it gave him hope. He must be taught that there is no room in Zambala for violence."

Solo was about to speak, when Illya smiled and nodded.

"Of course, you are probably right," Illya said. "Tell me, that woman, Jezzi Mahal, have you apprehended her?"

"Ah, Brown's lady," M.M. Roy said. "No, but we will. I have a search on for her. Rest easy, gentlemen. Your work has been well done. I do not think I will even need OAS troops. Of course, the tribunal will remain in session until I can suspend martial law. I want all my actions open and observed. That is the only true course of democracy. All open, no ugly, deadly secrets."

"Of course," Illya said. "I think we can report that all is secure in Zambala."

"Take my solemn oath for that, gentlemen. And once more my thanks, and the gratitude of my poor country. I believe your plane is ready."

Solo and Illya saw the stewardess of the plane waving to them. It was time to go. The two agents looked toward Martin O'Hara, who was showing no recognition. They thanked the premier, and walked to their plane.

Solo carried his attache case. But Illya carried a large suitcase the small blond could barely carry. At the plane he turned this suitcase over to the stewardess, and the agents boarded the small, twin-engined plane.

There were few passengers, the plane making two more stops in more popular tourist areas of Jamaica and Antigua. The two agents took their seats and watched out the window. The official group of the tribunal and the premier were still watching the plane. Then the plane taxied down the runway, and took off into the blue sky over San Pablo. It few high over the mountains and the jungle on its route across the island, its propellers glinting in the sun.

"We're not really leaving, are we?" Solo said in a low voice as he smiled at the pretty stewardess.

"Of course not," Illya said, beaming at the stewardess. "It is all very wrong."

"Very," Solo said, nodding at the stewardess.

The two men talked very low while they smiled and nodded at passengers and the stewardess. They looked like two young men on holiday without a care in the world.

"How did Bengali know who we were? Even our names," Illya said.

"The premier is very anxious to wipe out the Stengali," Solo said.

"No one should have known who we were," Illya said.

"How did Bengali happen to find us so easily?" Solo said.

"We escaped very conveniently," Illya said, looking out the window at the high central Zambalan mountains below.

"We escaped very conveniently many times. Those soldiers were terrible shots on that cliff road," Solo said. "That note from Zamyatta was very conveniently left where I could find it. And I got away."

"But we did see Zamyatta with Colonel Brown," Illya said.

"The regiment was on the move, and did try to hold us," Solo said.

"It is confusing," Illya said, "and I don't like it. Are you ready?"

"Ready," Solo said. "In that suitcase, of course?"

"Of course," Illya said. "Shall we go?"

The two agents stood up and sauntered back toward the baggage room. Inside, they quickly opened Illya's suitcase. They took out the two parachutes and the two small oxygen masks and cylinders. The cylinders on, the parachutes on, and the masks in place, they opened the cargo hatch.

Moments later the two parachutes floated down in the afternoon sun toward the jungle below as the plane flew on toward the sea.

* * *

Along the familiar fence, the two agents watched the soldiers in Tidworth Barracks. It was night now, the trip across the island toward San Pablo having taken many hours. There was singing in the barracks, a great many soldiers wandering across the parade ground and the quadrangle, and no sign of guards anywhere.

"Well, there it is," Solo said.

"No evidence that the regiment has been affected at all," Illya said. "We found no units or any other regiment anywhere near here."

"No roadblocks, no change from ordinary barrack life," Solo said.

"In short, no one has been arrested except Colonel Brown!" Illya said.

"A loyal man and good soldier," Solo said.

"I think, Napoleon, we should have a talk with the good colonel."

"I think we should," Solo said.

The two agents faded into the night. A few moments later they reached the small, black car they had stolen earlier, and drove off toward San Pablo.

There was no sign in the calm night of the usual effects of martial law. All seemed peaceful in Zambala.

An ominous peace.

The prison was as silent as ever, set into the hill outside San Pablo. Illya and Solo found many more guards this time.

There were two at the door; the two agents shot one each with the sleep darts from their U.N.C.L.E. Specials.