[Magazine 1968-012] - The Million Monsters Affair - Davis Robert Hart (читать книги TXT) 📗

The questioning was interrupted by arrival of a man Solo had never seen before.

“The transmitter is complete,” he told Griffis. “The Telstar communications satellite will be in position within an hour. THRUSH headquarters wants to know if you are ready to start transmitting.”

“Yes!” Griffis said. “Tell them I am ready. We will start riots in every major city in the western hemisphere. The instructional signals to the teenagers we have already mesmerized will contain strong subliminal suggestions to those we have not yet reached. Their minds will be impregnated and then they will react to the instructions. By tomorrow evening every person in this half of the world who is under twenty-five will be our slave!”

When the THRUSH technician left to make his report back to his headquarters, Theresa said to Griffis, “If things are so near the end, there is little point in continuing the interrogation. U.N.C.L.E. will be destroyed anyway in the debacle.”

“Forget Kuryakin,” he said “Things are moving faster than I suspected. However, if you have any more of that drug, I would like to ask Solo a very important question.”

“What is that?” Theresa asked. “What does it matter now? Destroy both of them. These men are cunning and dangerous. There is no use taking any further chances with them.”

“They will be disposed of,” Griffis said. “We have some extremely corrosive acid we use as a bleach for our color film. I am sure it will bleach all the danger from our prisoners! I promise you that after two hours in that vat we can flush both Kuryakin and Solo down a drain!”

“Good!” Theresa said with relish. “I particularly love the thought of dissolving Kuryakin. Twice I had him in a trap and he escaped me. Now he will pay for it!”

“What I want to question Solo about,” Griffis said, “is Marsha Mallon. We had her but she escaped when Solo jumped her. She is still at large somewhere here in the studio.”

“Tear the place down,” Theresa snapped. “Find her! She is extremely dangerous to have at large.”

“Don’t I know it!” Griffis said grimly. “She is the one who invented the subliminal suggestion process. She understands it fully. She is trying now to destroy it before we can conquer the world. As long as she is loose, there is a chance she can stop us some way. I want to know if Solo has any idea where she is hiding.”

“It seems to me you could flush her out,” Theresa said.

“This was her father’s studio. The back lot was her playground when she was a child. She knows every cranny,” Griffis said savagely.

“Is she cooperating with U.N.C.L.E. now?” Theresa asked.

“No,” the THRUSH man replied. “She is afraid she and her father will be blamed, since she invented the subliminal effect. She hopes to destroy us herself before anyone learns the secret.”

“A lone wolf, huh?” Theresa remarked. “She hasn’t a chance!”

“I’m not so sure,” Griffis replied glumly. “Remember, she is an electronics genius. She invented this process. If anyone can develop a way to counteract it, she is the one. We are not safe as long as that woman is loose.”

“But if she is afraid of U.N.C.L.E., how would Solo know where she is?”

“They escaped together. He might have seen where she went. I don’t know. It is a chance. At this stage we can’t afford to let any possible chance slip past us. I fear that woman more than I fear U.N.C.L.E.”

“Very well,” Theresa said. “I have another shot of the stuff in my ring. I’ll give it to him!”

She turned away from Kuryakin. Napoleon Solo braced himself. Bound as he was to the chair, there was nothing he could do himself to keep the woman from inoculating him with the slave drug.

His only chance then was to ape Theresa’s tones and shout for Illya to attack. He knew Theresa would instantly counterman his toned order to Kuryakin, but he hoped desperately that his companion could move fast enough to knock Theresa out before she could react.

He shot a quick glance at Griffis, measuring the distance between them. It was vital that the THRUSH field director be delayed long enough for Illya to knock out the woman and then meet Griffis on more even terms.

It seemed to Solo that if he threw himself forward against his bonds at the right moment, he and the chair he was tied to would fall directly in Griffis’ path as he rushed to aid Theresa.

It was a mad, desperate plan, Solo knew. It had scant chance of success, but it was all he could do and he was determined not to give up without a final fight.

But as Theresa stepped toward him, there was a loud banging on the door. She whirled. Griffis picked up the gun he had previously laid on the desk.

“This is Peters!” the voice of the man who was with them before called through the door. “We have her! We’ve caught Marsha Mallon!”

“Wonderful!” Griffis cried. His florid face glowed with almost drunken delight. He stepped across the room and opened the door. Peters and a man Solo did not recognize came in, dragging Marsha with them.

They pushed the girl back in a chair. She was breathing hard. Her clothes were torn and her face bruised. She had obviously put up a fight.

“The last possible roadblock has been cleared!” Griffis cried. “Since you only have one shot of the slave drug left, don’t waste it on Solo. I want to know if the girl does have a way to interfere with our directional transmissions to the subliminal slaves.”

Napoleon Solo braced himself, tensing his aching muscles for his desperate move. The odds had doubled against them, but he dare not delay any longer.

Across from him Griffis was telling Peters: “As soon as Theresa gets all she can out of Marsha, take all three of them to the acid tanks. I want their threat removed once and for all.”

“We’ll be going on the air in less than half an hour with the transmission to the kids’ brains,” Peters said.

“But we will still be vulnerable. If they should succeed in cutting off the transmitter, all the teenage monsters will lapse back into normality. Stop arguing! I want them dissolved in the acid!”

“I’m not arguing!” Peters said in an aggrieved tone. “I just -”

“Just shut up! I’ll do the thinking!” Griffis snapped. “Theresa! Get on with it!”

“Don’t use that tone of voice to me!” Theresa snarled. “I’m not one of your THRUSH slaves!”

Solo’s heart leaped. He leaned forward as much as he could. Then under cover of the hot quarrel between Theresa LeBrun and Griffis, he gave a low whistle that aped the tone range she used in ordering Kuryakin about. It was not a spoken command, but Solo noticed a slight jerk of his companion’s body at the low, quick sound.

Solo’s heart leaped. This slight jerk of Kuryakin’s body was not proof positive that Solo could control him as Theresa had, but it gave him hope at a desperate moment when he was tottering on the brink of total loss.

“Kuryakin!” he suddenly yelled. “Attack! Attack! Knock out the woman first! She is the dangerous one!”

He didn’t wait to see the effect of his toned order. He hurled his body forward. His head drove into Griffis’ side. He and the chair went down on top of the falling man.

“Grab his gun!” Napoleon Solo shouted to Marsha. “Get his gun or we’re lost!”

Griffis was twisting violently. He jerked the gun up, trying to get the barrel aimed at Solo. Handicapped as he was by the chair to which he was bound, Napoleon had nothing to fight with but his head. He drove that hard into Griffis’ chin.

The blow cracked as bone smashed into bone. The THRUSH man’s head snapped back. The gun in his hand exploded, but Griffis’ aim was spoiled by Solo’s desperate lunge into him.

Napoleon paid heavily for his miraculously close escape from death. The crash of his skull against Griffis’ chin hurt him as badly as it did his THRUSH adversary. His senses reeled momentarily. For an awful moment he thought he was losing consciousness.