The Final Affair - McDaniel David (серии книг читать онлайн бесплатно полностью TXT) 📗

I would like to know just what was the hold they had on him. Their meddling has cost me a valuable worker —I’m told —and an annoying security leak.

Regrettably, my bailiwick has a shortage of such highly trained men as yourselves. or I should already have directed steps of retaliation against the United Network Command. My work here is largely of a theoretical nature -pure research. if you understand me. My staff if more suited for the battles of the laboratory than the conflicts of the streets. and against the Network’s trained killers we would be hopelessly outmatched.”

“But not weaponless,” Chou pointed out. “1 believe your prototype KBG

is operational. Has it been tested under combat conditions?”

.Hey.” said Vince. “That sounds like fun. How much dope do you have on U.N.C.L.E.~s local defenses?”

“Quite enough.. said Baldwin. “I do not lack for plans —only for men capable of carrying them out. I have permission to employ the KBG at my discretion. and inasmuch as U.N.C.L.E. already knows about it. I thou9ht we might arrange to give them a practical demonstration.”

“What can it do best? We’ll want to use it to best advantage.”

“You may have time to familiarize yourselves w1th it. But I want this punitive raid undertaken before the week is out.”

“Would Thursday night be convenient?”

“Perfectly. Such a blow must be neither too hastily struck nor too long delayed. Pull up chairs, gentlemen. and I will show you an attack plan for your consideration…”’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Absolutely Fascinating!”

Of course Baldwin checked with Central for permission to use their two men and the KBG, .and inevitab1y Alexander Waverly knew that permission had been granted about thirty seconds before Baldwin knew. Thus, when the final attack plans were confirmed and set in motion, recording units in U.N.C.L.E.‘s San Francisco office copied down every step, and every calculation leading to that step. The defenders had begun preparations and rehearsals before the full assault force had been picked.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were appraised of the impending attack twenty-six hours before T-zero. As usual, they received summons to Hr.

Waverly’s home-from-home, his field office, for “a briefing,” subject unspecified.

“Gentlemen,” he began without preamble as they draped themselves appropriately over convenient pieces of furniture, “tomorrow night we will he invaded by Thrush, hopefully with the KeG in fu11 operation.”

“Hopefully?” said Illya.

“We know exactly when and where they will strike, as well as how hard and towards what goal. We also know what they want, where they expect to find it —and most important, how hard they are willing to fight to attain it. We shall therefore give it to them with a convincing minimum of resistance, including simulated casualties on our side and real ones on theirs. Neither of you will participate in the sham defense —the risk of your being recognised is too great.

“Nevertheless, I believe I can promise you an opportunity to stretch your atrophying muscles very soon. Less than an hour ago the locations of Thrush Central were identified, and we may be ready to move against them in forty-eight hours. You will be fully briefed after tomorrow night’s action, but basically the situation is this: the Central complex which currently has control is located in Darjeeling —a ticklish spot, with Nepal and Pakistan, China, Bhutan and India clustered around the borders of Sikkim with missiles bristling and hostility heavy; any sort of overt military activity in the area could start World War 111 in a matter of hours. I would prefer tD wait another few weeks until control .is shifted to the present standby Central, which is in an ideal site for our purposes, but Thrush is already aware of some kind of communications anomaly in this relay area, and has sent a team here to trace it. We cannot hope to remain undiscovered another week. We must act at once.”

“Where is the back-up unit?” asked Illya.

“Are we going to Darjeeling?” asked Napoleon.

“No,” said Mr. Waverly, “You’re going to San niego. The standby Central is set up in one of the exposition buildings in Balboa Park there.”

“And the ttiird unit?”

“In six DC-3s in Central Africa. They are the most vulnerable, and we should be acle to immobilize them with little effort.

“But we’ll go into all this in your briefing Friday. Tonight’s operation demands most of our attention at the moment. Baldwin believes we stole the gamma laser the night Mr. Stevens was killed, and is anxious to recover it before we can finish analyzing it. I’m afraid, r. Solo, that your improvisation didn’t hold up against even a relatively superficial autopsy.”

“I think we did pretty well, under the circumstances,” said Napoleon.

Mr. Waverly commenced stuffing a pipe. “Be that as it may,” he said, “they will be allowed to find the gamma laser in the second of six places they have been instructed to look for it — in the High-Energy Lab, next to the mass spectrometer. A work-order with it will indicate that it has not yet been subjected to more than a superficial examination. Considering how long it took us to borrow the X-ray crystallograph from Stanford. Section Eight is doing an excellent job —they expect to finish within twelve hours.

Microphotogrammetry was completed the day after you brought the laser rod to us. If we offer Thrush a convincing resistance before allowing them to recapture it. they may retire convinced of an effective victory.”

“When are they due to arrive?”

“Fifteen minutes before midnight tomorrow. through a fire exit on the second level.”

At twenty minutes before midnight, though everything seemed perfectly normal in U.N.C.L.E. HO San Francisco, a subtle atmosphere of tension seeped through the silent corridors. During the afternoon, Mr. Simpson had mounted two thermographs in protective housings, several sealed photographic plates and a recording magnetometer inconspicuously around the second-level fire exit which would shortly open to admit the not-unwelcome invaders. A Fastax WF-4

high speed instrumentation camera was mounted behind a ceiling fixture; it would be started bya burst of magnetic flux or heat striking the other sensors, and its 400 feet of XR film would last approximately fifteen seconds at 1000 frames/second. Samples of various materials were placed along the projected invasion route, arranged to blend with the rather spartan decor.

His personal portable observation post was centered around an optical thermograph which was too large to carry and too expensive to abandon, mounted on a rubber-tired waist-high lab cart which had heen designed to bear an obsolete oscilloscope. His final preparations completed by 9:00 o’clock, he retired to a private office for an hour’s nap.

Now as the moment of attack approached, the normally deserted corridors of the second level were quiet. Access doors leading to other areas had been secured, as had the main elevator bank. Guards were at their posts, nylon body armor under their suits, palms sweating slightly.

Mr. Simpson loaded and checked his motorized Nikon and its 250-shot magazine; as long as he held down its button it would shoot five pictures a second. He set the shutter to 1/1000th with the lens wide open at f/1.8, two stops underexposed for the 85 ambient foot-candles of the corridor, and took his position as ordered behind the first corner with instructions to fall back when the Thrush force advanced.

Napoleon paced his small quarters endlessly, watched by Joan, who was not to be told what was happening but asked repeatedly if he was edgy. Illya was downstairs locked in his room, also as ordered. drumming his fingertips and fretting quietly. Considering the building’s structure, he wasn’t even likely to hear anything of the battle but what came over the intercom monitor considerately left open for him.