[Magazine 1966-­10] - The Moby Dick Affair - Davis Robert Hart (книги бесплатно полные версии .TXT) 📗

Hurting, dizzy, Solo realized he had only seconds left. From far away came the scrape and shuffle of a wounded Commander Ahab dragging his bulk toward the control board. Solo's gun was lost in the darkness. The only weapons he had were his hands. But if he leaped over the storage bin, he would never close the distance between himself and Ahab in time.

As he scrambled around to brace himself so that he could stand up, Solo's palm slid across one of the light alloy tubes.

From the aisle's end came a stifled curse. Then the sound of a heavy body falling. Ahab had taken a tumble.

Napoleon Solo calculated his last thousand-to-one chance––and acted.

He took hold of the alloy tube and dragged himself swiftly across the aisle to the leg of the power lathe. Reaching up, he flicked the switch.

He shoved the end of the alloy tube up against the suddenly-revolving wheel nearest him. The tube whined and vibrated. Blue sparks spat and flew. The tube's metal heated in his hands.

Solo jerked the tube back, pulled himself to his feet. He saw Commander Ahab outlined against the control board. Ahab recognized what Solo had in his hands. An expression of comprehension blended with fear on his face. He dropped his machine rifle, turned to face the board. Solo saw the blackish stain low down near the base of Ahab's spine where the bullet had caught him.

With a faltering hand Commander Ahab reached for the white switch—

With all the strength he had left, Napoleon Solo hauled back his right arm and flung the alloy tube whose end had been ripped by the lathe into a javelin-jagged point. Ahab's fingers touched the switch. The sharpened tube drove full force into the center of his back.

Ahab shrieked. He clawed at the switch. Solo watched, horrorstruck. If Ahab managed to seize the vital toggle in his last death spasms—

The commander's fingers slid away, leaving the switch unthrown. He turned awkwardly, peering up the aisle toward his slayer. Then, with a last bellow of pain, he sank down like a harpooned whale.

Feebly Solo limped back to Illya, found his communicator and called Channel D.

FOUR

THE HUGE TRANS-OCEANIC jet for New York lifted from the London airfield. Napoleon Solo sat by the window, staring out.

The city was not a pleasant sight. Even forty-eight hours after the Prime Minister had called an end to the evacuation at 4:24 P.M. that fatal afternoon, fires still burned. Smoky pillars climbed into the bright afternoon sky. The streets were being patrolled by units of the British Army, plus additional NATO forces rushed in by airlift.

The casualty toll, while not nearly as high as it would have been if Project Ahab had been a success, was still unpleasant. Solo tried to shut it all out of his mind.

The only compensation in the whole affair was the recovery of Cleo St. Cloud. In return for a lightened sentence, she had offered to work for U.N.C.L.E. when she got out of the hospital. She could be valuable in training U.N.C.L.E. agents in advanced hypnotic techniques.

The jet continued its climb toward the setting sun. Solo glanced at Illya Kuryakin sitting next to him. To Solo's surprise, Illya had taken a book out of his attache case and was engrossed. He still looked pale, and heavier than usual due to the layers of bandage beneath his shirt.

"What's that you're reading?" Solo asked.

"Oh, something I picked up at a book store before we left," Illya replied. He flipped to the title page, pointed. "The Psychomilitary Uses of Medical Hypnosis. As someone once remarked, if you can't beat them, join them."

Seated across the aisle, Mr. Alexander Waverly pinched the bridge of his nose and looked unhappy.

"Put it away, Mr. Kuryakin," he said. "Put it away."

"But sir, it contains valuable information which we could profitably—"

"Not now, Mr. Kuryakin," Waverly said. "In New York, all right. But not now. Can't you occupy yourself with something that doesn't call up distressing memories?"

Suddenly Napoleon Solo grinned. The trim and most attractive stewardess was moving along the cabin aisle, speaking to various passengers.

"I can," Solo said, and rang the bell to call her.