The Mind-­Twisters Affair - Stratton Thomas (книга читать онлайн бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

Section I: "Put On His Most Cynical Sneer"

Chapter 1

"Our Image Appears To Have Become Tarnished"

NAPOLEON SOLO and Illya Kuryakin walked respectfully into the office. Alexander Waverly stood at the window, puffing on his pipe and staring contemplatively at the U.N. building a few blocks away. An elderly gnome of a man with an Einstein-style bush of gray hair paced nervously behind Waverly and looked up suddenly as Illya closed the office door.

"Dr. Morthley," Napoleon said, holding out his hand. "It's nice to see you again. How are you coming with your invisibility device?"

Dr. Morthley's welcoming grin faded. "Terrible," he replied. "I haven't been able to make any progress at all since you got me away from Thrush last spring."

Napoleon shook his head sympathetically. "Getting kidnapped by Thrush and spirited away to Central America in an invisible dirigible can be an unsettling experience. Perhaps it's simply taken you a while to recover from the shock."

"Yes," Illya agreed. "I'm sure you'll find a way to make the device practical."

"My feelings precisely, gentlemen," Waverly said, moving toward his large, circular desk. "Dr. Morthley has indicated the need for a fresh viewpoint, which is why I've called you here."

Napoleon raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that science was never my strongest subject, sir," be said, looking questioningly at Illya.

"And invisibility wasn't mine," Illya added.

"No, no, gentlemen; you misunderstand. The man we want is Dr. Richard Armden. Unfortunately, we seem to be having some difficulty in acquiring his services."

"Armden?" Illya looked thoughtful. "I seem to have beard that name before."

Waverly smiled as he replaced his pipe in its rack. "Correct, Mr. Kuryakin. Dr. Armden has worked with us before, though always in a minor capacity. That is the fact which makes our present predicament particularly puzzling."

The two agents watched Waverly patiently as he motioned them to sit down. He would explain things in his own time and way, and further questions would simply delay him in his selection of another pipe from the well-stocked rack in front of him. Waverly was one of the few individuals who chain-smoked pipes. After a minute of tamping and puffing, during which time Dr. Morthley resumed his pacing, the U.N.C.L.E. Director resumed.

"You are both familiar with Dr. Morthley's device, and the fact that there are certain problems still to be, ah, conquered, before it can be made practical for our use. Approximately a month ago, Dr. Morthley felt that he could benefit from a fresh viewpoint on the problem. He suggested that we contact a former colleague of his, Dr. Armden, from Indiana. Since Dr. Armden had worked with us previously, this struck me as a splendid idea."

Dr. Morthley stopped pacing and flopped down in a chair. "I don't understand it," he said querulously. "I always considered Richard to be a brilliant man, and he was one of my closest friends when we were both on the Purdue faculty. I simply don't understand his reaction to my phone call, and now this letter…"

"Letter, sir?" Napoleon asked, looking inquiringly at both Morthley and Waverly.

Dr. Morthley pulled a crumpled envelope from the pocket of his equally crumpled coat and handed it to Napoleon. Waverly held up a hand and resumed his interrupted lecture.

"Before you read the letter, gentlemen, let me give you the proper background. You see, when we wrote to Dr. Armden, he ignored us completely. We wrote two letters and sent a telegram, with no reply to any of them."

"That just wasn't like Richard," Dr. Morthley broke in, getting to his feet and beginning to pace again. "I became concerned and telephoned him. His wife answered the phone, and at first he refused to speak to me. It sounded as if she had to plead with him before he came to the phone. And when he did…"

Morthley broke off, shaking his head sadly. After a short pause, he continued. "I'm positive that he's in some sort of trouble. He wouldn't act that way if he wasn't. I've worked with him; he's one of these men who is completely dedicated to his work. I was even a little surprised when he got married, but this! Why, the man never had a political thought in his life!"

Napoleon looked faintly surprised. "I was under the impression that U.N.C.L.E. was above such mundane activity as politics. Disinterested international group, and all that."

"Oh, we are," Mr. Waverly assented. "But our image, at least in the Midwest, appears to have become tarnished. What Dr. Morthley started to say was that Dr. Armden refused to help on the grounds that be would never again work for a - I believe the exact words were 'thieving, communistic, war-mongering' organization like U.N.C.L.E."

"Exactly," said Morthley, "and then he heaped abuse on me, just for associating with you! And he hung up on me."

Napoleon reflected that this might be the major source of the scientist's outrage; probably no one else had ever hung up on Willard Morthley since he had achieved his reputation as one of the finest scientific tinkerers since Edison.

"That was last week," Waverly continued. "Then, just yesterday, Dr. Morthley received that letter which you have in your hand, Mr. Solo. It's from Mrs. Armden. She appears quite concerned about her husband's mental state."

Napoleon glanced quickly through the letter and handed it to Illya.

"There's a hysterical tone to parts of it," Napoleon said. "There must be more to it than just his sudden aversion to U.N.C.L.E. and a general irritability. She sounds as if she fears for his sanity."

Waverly nodded and puffed on his pipe. "My opinion precisely, Mr. Solo. That's why I would like you and Mr. Kuryakin to take a look into it first hand. I agree with Dr. Morthley that something unusual must have happened to change Dr. Armden's attitude so rapidly and radically. It was less than a year ago that he last did a small job for us."

Illya looked up suddenly. "Remember that report we got from Security a few months ago? About the man who came into Del Floria's shop, claiming to be a former Thrush who had seen the error of his ways? At the time we accepted it at face value, but the idea of a Thrush agent suddenly changing sides is at least as improbable as what we have here - and the cases seem quite similar."

Waverly nodded. "Exactly. I confess that I cannot conceive of anything that would make a Thrush agent and a respected scientist both change their opinions of humanity in general and U.N.C.L.E. in particular, but it creates intriguing possibilities."

"Just the same, isn't image-making a little out of our line?" Napoleon asked. "Wouldn't this be something for the public relations department in Section 7 to handle?"

"Possibly; however, I'm afraid that Ethel hasn't yet forgiven us for sending her all the way over to the Bronx last week to speak at a Rotary Club luncheon. I don't think she'd react favorably to a request to fly out to Indiana to change the opinion of one scientist."

"Haven't the Directors given her an assistant yet?" Illya inquired. "I thought you promised her one when Kay left to write television scripts."

Waverly concentrated on his pipe for a moment before replying. "You know the budget, Mr. Kuryakin. And we like to think that all our agents help keep our public image spotless."

"Of course, sir," Napoleon agreed instantly, giving Illya a smug look. "You were saying...?"