The Cross of Gold Affair - Davies Fredric (читаем книги бесплатно TXT) 📗
Illya Kuryakin, unaware of his audience, decided once more on a direct assault and walked boldly through the fun house’s main entrance. The beach wind died behind him as he stepped into the lighted foyer of ‘The Future’s Hall of Fame,” wondering how far he could get invading a house of glass, lights and mirrors.
Behind him, Arnold and his men picked up their prisoners and began the long trek to the Space House. Mai, Charlie and Andy refused to go quietly, and couldn’t be held still enough to be sapped safely. Three grown men found it harder work than they wished, dragging three struggling youngsters across the beach toward an unattractive interview with Porpoise.
Chapter 10
“I’m not Sanforized!”
A throbbing pain in the back of his head brought Illya awake and forced his eyes open. In one sour moment of sight he took in a ghastly picture. Water filled his nose and mouth, and his choking reaction closed his eyes tight.
Mentally he played back the vision of a violet chair, upside down, encasing the nude underparts of a ridiculously fat man. Two legs, plump and wiggling, attached to a bloated trunk by thighs as disgustingly soft white as they were huge. Coughing and spitting, he finally managed to clear the water from his nose, only to breathe in another mouthful, half air, half water.
I seem to be underwater; he thought, as reflex emptied his mouth again. He bucked and struggled to bring his head up into the air. His feet seemed to be locked in some sort of vise, and his hands, as usual under this type of circumstance, were tied at his back. Some unknown agency raised him into the air, coughing and spewing water as he came. His first pure breath met a lusty belch coming in the other direction, and he almost strangled again.
He tilted his head forward and opened his eyes. He was being held like a prize fish, his ankles gripped by the biggest man he’d ever seen. In a back-wrenching half twist, Illya looked from pool deck to ceiling, following upwards the frame of the Thrush named Apis. Before he could fully assimilate that worthy’s size, he was swung back head down, and brought face to upside-down face with the top portion of his underwater hallucination.
“Good evening, Mr. Kuryaldn,” said the hallucination, and Illya instantly recognized the voice as that of his guide through the death maze. He opened his mouth to reply, and Apis lowered him swiftly into the water. Illya choked and strangled on another mouthful of warm chlorinated water.
“Hey!” he yelled, spouting water like an Italian fountain, “don’t do that without warning me!”
“Mr. Kuryakin, you will please conduct your share of our little dialogue with a bit more control. I abhor noise, and if you do not lower your voice, Apis will. About two feet and for about ten minutes. Do we understand one another?”
“Excuse me. I don’t seem to be completely in control of my etiquette when the blood is pounding down into my head like this. I wouldn’t want to cause you any discomfort,
not when you’ve gone to so much trouble to make me feel at home here.”
Porpoise raised one finger, and Illya sucked in sufficient air to hold him for another brief dunking. Apis held him under until the blobbish underparts of Porpoise started to waver before his eyes. Coughing and spitting seemed to be the signal the giant was waiting for, so Illya exhaled underwater and prayed that he had guessed right. Apis brought him up for another mouthful of air, and then gave him another short bath, just to let him know who was boss.
“Too loud, still?” he asked in a much subdued voice.
“Excellent, Mr. Kuryakin. Now let us get one thing straight. I have all the information I want or need about U.N.C.L.E. from Solo, except for some small details. Those details are only a nuisance; you can enlighten me, and live, or you can refuse, and drown. I’d be slightly disappointed if you chose the latter, but let me assure you you are of no value to me, dead or alive. If you guide your answers to my questions with this in mind, I’m sure we will get along famously.”
Illya managed to smile through the water running down his face, and answered softly, “I’d love to help, really I would, but I’m more an idea man. Napoleon handles all the details.” The speech was finished underwater, and Illya immediately began to buck and kick as if he were drowning again. Apis pulled him to the surface before he even really began to feel uncomfortable. He sprayed out the mouthful of water he’d been saving, and was pleased to see Porpoise back off out of range.
“Once more, Apis; I feel Mr. Kuryakin is not yet convinced.” After a repeated series of dunkings, Illya was beginning to doubt that he was going to live long enough to refuse to answer anything.
“Hey, I’m not Sanforized!” he gargled next change he got, and immediately regretted it as Apis started to dunk him again.
“Let’s stop this foolishness, shall we? I’ll ask a question or two, and you will answer, and then we can both be about our business.” Porpoise sounded slightly hurt that
Illya wasn’t cooperating. Illya was too busy breathing to answer, so Porpoise went on.
“Now, how did U.N.C.L.E. get Napoleon Solo out of here?”
Illya opened his eyes in amazement. “Out of here?” Before he could say aught else he was in the pool again, and then hauled roughly up, gasping. He shook his head, trying to clear the water from his eyes and nose, but it didn’t help, for just as he was about to speak again, Apis dunked him.
“This is ridiculous,” he finally managed to gasp. “Even if I could answer you, your tame derrick here wouldn’t let me. How about if I sit in the chair and he dangles you for a while? I don’t know what happened to Napoleon. I just followed him in here, and you clobbered me. What am I supposed to know?”
“That won’t do, Mr. Kuryakin. That won’t do at all. We destroyed Solo’s tracer device, and searched him thoroughly for another. We took a variety of no doubt useful devices from his person, just as we have from yours. We shut him up in the very maze you so recently walked through with my help, and he managed to escape. Now you will tell me how!” Porpoise raised his voice to a squeak on the last sentence, and Apis took that as a command to plunge Illya into the pool almost to the ankles, head foremost.
Illya digested the information about Napoleon, wishing fervently that there had been just a whit more coordination on this project. Finally he could hold his breath no longer and was forced to exhale. Apis snatched him from the depths and snapped him once, clearing the water from his throat, and nearly popping the eyes out of his head. Illya managed a strangled breath before his next dip.
“Do you have the answers I desire, Mr. Kuryakin? Or shall I let Apis continue his little game?” Porpoise had once more regained full control of himself, and Illya was losing his own swiftly.
“I suppose I must tell you. Napoleon traveled through the far east as a young man. While there he saved the life of an ancient Guru, who among other things taught him
full mental control of his surroundings.” The completely incredulous look on Porpoises face so confused Apis that he allowed Illya to continue uninterrupted. “When Napoleon returned to this country he had the power to cloud men’s minds, and so I suspect he didn’t actually escape your maze. He’s probably-”
The rest of Illya’s answer was interrupted by more water. Porpoise had finally reacted sufficiently to give Apis the proper cue. Illya, caught short of breath, kicked and bucked while small pinwheels went off behind his eyes. The trouble with Porpoise was definitely linked to an atrophied sense of humor. Finally, bending at the middle into an upright position, he managed to get enough air to keep alive. He spat a mouthful of water straight into Apis’s eyes, and miraculously was dragged completely free of the water while the giant regained his sight. Illya took a deep breath and was plunged back under the surface; he was learning how to breathe safely, even with a mouthful of chlorine. Despite the growing discomfort, he was far from drowned when Porpoise signaled for a stop to the dunking.
