The Vampire Affair - McDaniel David (читать книги без TXT) 📗

She sighed. "Please forgive me. I am talking to myself. Please think nothing of what I have said." She paused, and glanced around. "Perhaps it is the night and..." She stopped. Her two passengers were asleep.

Chapter 4: "Well, It Looked Like A Huge Bat...."

They awoke when the car stopped, and the motor was turned off. Napoleon lifted a head and looked around. He could see the edges of the village both ahead and behind him, and a large brick building stood beside the narrow street where they had stopped.

Hilda noticed his movement, and said, "It will be necessary for you to check in with the local head of the Securitate at once. He will give you the necessary coupons for a room at the inn and meals there."

The brick building was post-war, and included in its decoration busts of noble, bearded figures of revolutionary history. Here and there waited an empty niche where some forgotten hero no longer resided and had not been replaced. Lights flowed warm and yellow from the windows.

Illya stretched and yawned. "I presume this is the City Hall?"

"Yes," said Hilda. "Satul Contru. The lights are on in Gradatul Hanevitch's office. We will be going in to see him. Leave your luggage in the car, but have your coats buttoned up. It is cold tonight."

The frosty air stung Napoleon's nose as he opened the car door and inhaled, but the scent of the pines was sharp and clean. "Ah!" he said. "The great outdoors." He got stiffly out, followed by Illya, and started up the steps to the big wooden doors. Hilda followed them in.

Gradat Hanevitch sat behind an ornately carved wooden desk littered with papers. He wore an untidy uniform, with the hat hung on the back of his swivel chair, which was tilted to its fullest extent. He had a broad face and a bushy red beard, with twinkly blue eyes and ruddy cheeks above it. He was ignoring them as they entered, concentrating on a cork target hanging on the side wall some ten feet away. Resting on the desk at his elbow was an assortment of letter-openers of various sizes and types, and three more nested in various quarters of the target. As they watched from the doorway, his wrist flipped, and a fourth one appeared near the center. Without turning his head, he greeted them.

"Domnisoara Eclary, I presume these are the two gentlemen you told me about. Introduce us and be seated."

"Gradat Hanevitch, this is Napoleon Solo and this is Illya Kuryakin, of the U.N.C.L.E. office in New York. You will remember, that is where Domn Endros was from."

"I remember," said the officer, and flipped another letter opener. Then he turned in his swivel chair to face them. "You will be the men to save my reputation and my job. I have represented the Government in this village for over thirty years, and now my position is no longer a sinecure. This cursed vampire has started people talking all along the mountains, and whenever my name is mentioned it is with ridicule." He sat upright and placed both hands on the desk, palms up. "What am I supposed to do? I am a faithful servant of the powers of the law, but the law tells me plainly there is no such thing as a vampire. If I ask them for advice on how to rid my village of such a thing, I will be ignored. Worse, I shall be suspect from then on."

"All we ask is your cooperation," Napoleon said. "We will probably be doing some fairly strange things in the next few days. You'll just have to trust us."

"The reputation of U.N.C.L.E. is well-known, if not exactly spotless where my government is concerned," said the other. He laughed shortly. "But my position is at stake, and I feel it would be in the best long-range interests of the government were I to remain as Chief of Police in Pokol."

Napoleon looked slightly puzzled. "Chief of Police? I thought you were head of the Securitate here."

"I am," he said with a shrug. "I am also the head of the Fire Brigade and the Communist Party Leader for the town. Not to mention Judge of the local court, and Postmaster."

"And groom of the second floor front?" said Illya.

"Ce?"

"Never mind him," said Napoleon. "He objects to bureaucracy."

"So do I," said the Gradat frankly. "And by combining so many offices between my hair and my beard, I save a truly remarkable amount of paperwork."

"And collect an equally remarkable salary," said Illya.

"You have less acquaintance with our government than I would have thought. Two of my positions are voluntary, and another is appointed but unsalaried. Each of the other three pays less than half of a living wage. This is believed to encourage efficiency among government workers. Incidentally, as Chief of Police my title is Colonel—I prefer it to Gradat."

Hilda entered the conversation. "Very well, then, Colonel, but it is late, and tomorrow should see the beginning of the investigation. Let us save the pleasantries for another time over mititei and a glass of tuica." She turned to Napoleon and Illya. "As far as the people of the village are concerned, you are the next-of-kin to Carl, come to the scene of his death. They will understand your desire for vengeance, and they will help you in any way they can. If the vampire can be destroyed, they will feel safer for themselves. Gheorghe, the innkeeper, knows who you are and what you're doing—it is impossible to hold secrets from an innkeeper. But while his walls have ears, they have no tongues. He will be of such assistance to you as he can."

She turned to Colonel Hanevitch. "Now, may we have the residence coupons? Little may be accomplished at this hour save strain on nerves."

He shrugged, and rummaged about in the clutter on top of his desk. Napoleon noticed that the envelope he finally "found" had been resting neatly on top of the left-hand heap all through the search, and wondered if there was more to this bearded Rumanian than was immediately apparent. He decided to watch him more closely and see how he reacted when things started to happen.

Hanevitch held the envelope out and Hilda took it. "Kuryakin," he said consideringly. "That is a Russian name. But you are from New York?"

"I carry an American passport," Illya said, rather stiffly. "That is all that matters."

"But it is not, my friend," said the Colonel. "You are a product of your mother, not your stepmother. I am a Rumanian, but I am also Russian."

"Then how is it you have represented the government, as you said, for over thirty years? The government has changed, after all."

The Colonel grinned broadly and innocently. "The government is the will of the people, after all," he said. "I too have changed. When I was quite young I was a strong Nationalist. But when the Germans came in to aid my poor country I discovered the virtues of Fascism and supported them wholeheartedly for a number of years. But when we were saved from the villainous Nazis by our noble Russian brothers I realized that only dedicated Communism could save the battered economy of this country."

"And you evaded the purge?"

"This is a small village, and the people know and trust me. A change of name to something more acceptable to the Russians, a statement that my Fascist successor had been executed, and I was able to continue working for my country without the least interruption.

"But as Domnisoara Eclary has pointed out, it is late. You will want to be safely within the inn before the hour of midnight, especially under the circumstances. There have been no corpses found since that of your unfortunate colleague, but villagers have reported mysterious things half-seen in the night all about the town."