The Rainbow Affair - McDaniel David (книги хорошем качестве бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗

A small log in the fireplace snapped in the silence, and a golden shower of sparks spat onto the hearth stone.

"What are the things that drive men to murder, Mr. Solo? In my experience desperation of some kind is always evident. It may build slowly, like a banked fire, or it may blaze suddenly forth and destroy two lives - the victim and the killer." The old man's eyes shone in the light dancing from the fireplace. "These demons were my life's work, Mr. Solo. I had them catalogued, and could recognize a specimen by a single characteristic."

"Did you work alone, or were you part of a force?"

"Mostly alone. I was completely independent, except for a good and helpful friend. I made it my livelihood for many years, and prided myself that I had gained some measure of fame for my efforts. But now my talents are less in demand, and perhaps my grasp is slipping. It is not gone by any means - but could you please tell me, Mr. Solo, were you married at one time?"

Napoleon scarcely moved, but his eyes shifted first to Illya and then to the old man. "No," he said suddenly, with a quick grin. "Just a carefree bachelor." His glance turned to Illya, and grew very serious for a moment. "We ought to get back to the main problem, though. It's getting late, and there should be work to get done tomorrow."

He shifted position on the couch and addressed Escott again. "Do you have any ideas that might help us?"

The cue was not missed. Illya added, "It seems obvious to me that our course of action should be an invitation - ah, investigation, that is - of the lighthouse on Donzerly."

The old man nodded. "It must be the location. From Rainbow's speech it is obvious that Solo was being taken directly to where he was at the time, and his reference to the convenience of his headquarters indicates he would have been there. Unless he lives in a cave inside the cliffs, miraculously invisible to all the boats that pass, he must be on Donzerly. The only question that remains is will you take a small task force for a full-scale attack, or attempt an infiltration. The former would be safer and more effective, but the latter could net you invaluable data on his entire operation. How will you go about it, whichever you decide?"

"Stealth is our primary consideration," Illya said. "Don't you agree, Napoleon?"

Solo nodded. "The two of us should be able to sneak aboard that hunk of rock and pick out something valuable. It's a very helpful ability of ours."

"But Rainbow has all sorts of detection apparatus," Illya said. "We'd have to allow for anything he could try to find us with - infrared, radar, sonar, light-amplification devices, or something Thrush has given him recently. How can we hope to foul all of them? I don't relish the idea of swimming from the mainland in this weather, even with a wet-suit."

"Well, we can't fly. He'd see us in parachutes, and I'm not an accurate enough jumper to be sure of hitting such a small target."

"That leaves a boat, and they're easily seen," Illya said.

"Unless there's a fog," Napoleon said. "That would also kill the light-amplification."

"Infrared would work, but only with a short range," Illya nodded.

"A good heavy rain would blind it."

"But radar goes right through rain."

Napoleon shrugged. "A low-profiled boat in a high sea is completely lost in ground clutter on radar."

Illya sighed. "Sonar?"

"Wind, and turbulence on the surface. But they wouldn't cover the sound of a motorboat."

"In other words you want us to go across several miles of open sea in a full storm in a small, low-profile sail boat." Illya's voice did not change during this sentence, but there was a hint of raggedness.

"Essentially," Napoleon admitted.

"Now, I know you're an expert small-boat handler, Napoleon. You can do very nice turns around Long Island Sound in a skiff. But to take a small boat out in a storm..."

"Illya, it'll be perfectly safe. Probably. Depending on how severe the storm is."

"How can we tell when we start out how bad the storm will get? We would be swamped, capsized and sunk unless we had a very strong-hulled boat with sealed flotation chambers."

Escott leaned back in his old wing-chair and watched smiling as the two younger men thrashed out the solution to their own problem. This method had become more and more natural to him in later years, and he liked it. When his mind occasionally clouded, he could still guide others to the logical conclusions in their ways.

"All our gear could be packed in watertight compartments, and the sailors said there was a floating dock there left out in all weathers. We could even come in there."

Illya nodded, and Napoleon rose, saying, "Think it over for a minute while I get a drink of water."

As he left Escott leaned forward, a look of intense curiosity on his face. "Mr. Kuryakin, if it would not be betraying a confidence, could you tell me - did Mr. Solo lie about his marriage?"

Illya glanced at the closed kitchen door, thou quickly, and decided the truth was deserved. "Yes, did. It's not a confidence, but he doesn't like to be reminded of it. Married at nineteen, wife was killed in an automobile accident a year later. Sometimes I think he's never gotten over it. He probably denied it a moment ago through shock reaction."

Escott nodded. "I quite understand," he said. "Sorry to have intruded."

"I won't mention it."

Napoleon popped through the kitchen door again, asking, "Are you willing?" and Illya, caught slightly by surprise, said "Of course," before he had fully grasped the question.

"Fine," said Solo. "Tomorrow we will return to Baycombe and see about reserving an appropriate vessel for the next good storm."

"That should be in a few days. A low-pressure area was reported moving down from the Norwegian Sea, and within three days you will have all the storm you could desire," Escott said with a smile. "Today is Friday… that gives you the whole weekend to make your preparations. You may spend the night here if you wish, and take a main-line train tomorrow morning towards Baycombe."

"Well, it's a fair walk back to town…" Napoleon admitted.

"There will be my own honey with breakfast - the finest honey produced in this whole Kingdom," said Escott.

"Quite a temptation," Illya said, glancing at Napoleon, who nodded agreement. "Thank you. We accept both invitations."

Chapter 12

How Illya Discovered the Pleasures of Seafaring, and Napoleon Solo Sought a Rainbow in the Midst of a Storm.

SATURDAY THEY returned to Baycombe, and with help from their friends there, found a satisfactory boat. Sunday was beautiful again, with a light breeze from the north hinting of the storm to come. Napoleon and Illya attended Father John's mass in the morning, and went with Joey and Aunt Jane for a picnic in the afternoon. They sat in the grass atop a low cliff overlooking the sea and talked of inconsequentials.

Joey showed them what looked like a military Pill box - the remains of a Coastal Defense Station better than fifty years old. "It looks as if someone tried to convert it into a cottage," Joey said. "I can't think why."

"I can," said Napoleon. "This would be a nice place to get utterly away from the world. Just the wind and the sea, and a safe solid place to hide from the weather. If it's still around when I retire, maybe I'll see about buying it. That's probably what the previous inhabitant did."