The Mind-­Twisters Affair - Stratton Thomas (книга читать онлайн бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

He struggled to his feet, leaning against the car. The teen-agers were abruptly leaving. Looking in the direction opposite to their flight, Napoleon saw a police man coming from the airport terminal. Nearby, Illya was regaining his feet.

The crowd was beginning to break up. The pudgy man was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Napoleon suddenly noticed, none of the group which had formed the nucleus of the mob was anywhere around. The people now making way for the officer were the interested bystanders who had joined the mob at its height. Looking around, he noticed something else.

"Illya!" he called. "Where's Armden?"

Illya looked around hastily. "I don't know," he called back. "He was right behind me when we started for the terminal; I thought he was still with me."

Napoleon vaulted onto the hood of the car nearest him, stepped to the roof, and looked around for Armden. The bristly gray crewcut was nowhere in sight Illya by now was on another car roof, also searching.

"Okay, get down from there!" The policeman was standing belligerently beside the car Napoleon was on. The remnants of the crowd were disappearing.

Napoleon took a last look around and clambered down.

"You, too!" the officer bellowed at Illya, who leaped nimbly to the ground. "All right now, let's see some identification!"

"I'm certainly glad to see you," Napoleon said, reaching for his wallet. "'There was another man with us, who -"

"Never mind the chatter, let's see some identification!"

Napoleon sighed, and proffered his wallet. Illya walked over and extended his U.N.C.L.E. card. The officer scowled.

"U.N.C.L.E., eh? All right, what's your excuse for starting this riot?"

"We didn't start it," Napoleon explained. "We were very nearly its victims."

"Uh-huh. I've heard that one before. If you weren't agitating, what were you doing on top of cars? Get a move on."

"But, officer," Napoleon protested. "There was a third man with us who disappeared during the confusion. We were merely looking for him."

"Third man, huh? I don't see any third man around." By now the crowd had entirely vanished. "What were you doing here?"

"We were bringing this other man to the airport. There's a reservation on the next flight for him."

"Okay, where's your car?"

With a sinking feeling, Napoleon pointed to the U.N.C.L.E. car. The officer stared at it for several seconds before turning back to him.

"Oh, there was a third man with you, was there? And you came in that car. All right, now; do you two get out of here, or do I run you in for disturbing the peace? If I didn't hate making reports, I'd have you booked by now."

Napoleon glanced at Illya, who shrugged. Under watchful eye of the policeman, they got into the car and headed for the exit. Once outside the parking Illya pulled the car off the road and stopped.

"I wish the C.I.A. hadn't made people so suspicious of security organizations," he commented.

Napoleon got out. "Stay with the car," he advised. "One man will be less conspicuous and I'd sooner have one of us mobile in case of more trouble." Keeping a sharp eye out for pudgy citizens and policemen, he walked back to the terminal building.

Armden was nowhere in sight. After a brief search, Napoleon approached the ticket counter. The girl was very polite, but not too helpful. Yes, a reservation bad been made for a Dr. Armden, but it had not been claimed, and the flight was boarding now. No, she had not seen a middle-aged man with a gray crewcut. Napoleon thanked her, rejoined [ in the ear, and contacted Waverly. The latter was doubly upset over the loss of Dr. Armden and the worsening U.N.C.L.E. image in the Midwest.

"I suppose you'll simply have to look for him," Waverly concluded. "From your description of his state of mind, he may be anywhere."

"I hope so," Napoleon said. "Although that mob formed and broke up just a bit too quickly for my peace of mind. I keep having the nasty suspicion that it broke up because it had done its job."

"Could you check and see if Dr. Armden had any friends in Fort Wayne?" Illya inquired. "He could have decided that he wanted to convert them, as he planned to convert Dr. Morthley when be got to New York. He didn't appear to be too rational."

Waverly considered the idea. "Perhaps you're right, Mr. Kuryakin. At least, it will give you a place to start looking. Stand by."

It turned out that Dr. Armden bad a good dozen friends or colleagues in the Fort Wayne area, and it was late by the time the agents had contacted them all and explained the situation. Nothing was learned; Armden hadn't seen any of them for several months. They checked in again with Waverly, who could only sound regretful and urge them to get a good night's sleep before renewing the search Monday morning.

But the renewed search was not necessary. Napoleon was roused from a sound sleep Monday morning by the warbling of his communicator. Waverly informed him that Mrs. Armden had just called to say that her husband had returned the night before, acting rather strangely, and that he had just gone back to work as if nothing had happened.

Chapter 4

"Habit, Nothing But Habit"

JUST AFTER 9:30, Napoleon and Illya pulled into the visitor's parking lot at Falco Industries. A uniformed guard greeted them politely at the plant entrance and let them in as far as a little railed waiting area next to his desk. Their hesitant admission that they were U.N.C.L.E. agents brought no change in the guard's attitude, and he promised to try and have Dr. Armden located for them.

This was apparently the entrance to a manufacturing area; through a pair of wide swinging doors they could hear the rumble of machinery. As the two agents waited, four men in jeans and faded chambray shirts pushed through the doors and clustered in front of a group of vending machines directly across from the waiting area. After a minute spent in flipping coins, the loser began depositing dimes in the coffee machine. The first man to pull a cup from behind the little window put it to his lips and sipped cautiously. After a second, he made a face that lay somewhere between everyday disapproval and mild nausea.

"Better than usual," he said.

"It's Monday morning," one of the others said as he reached for the second cup. "It hasn't had time to ferment yet." He took a small swallow and grimaced slightly. "You're right; it isn't half bad today."

The third man made a similar face when he got a cup from the soft drink machine next to the coffee.

"Habit, nothing but habit," he grumbled. "They could put lighter fluid in here and we'd drink it."

The last man was pondering his choice when the guard hung up the phone and turned to the two agents. "They can't seem to locate Dr. Armden. He isn't in his office."

"He is in the plant, however?" Napoleon asked.

"Sure, he's here somewhere. Saw him come in myself, earlier than usual. Working on some hot project, I guess. He's probably out checking on something."

"Could we speak with his boss?" Napoleon wanted to know.

"I dunno; I'll see." The guard returned to the phone. 'Put me through to John Kilian, will you, Hazel?" He waited briefly, then resumed talking. "Mr. Kilian? I've got two men out here. They wanted to talk to Armden, but we couldn't locate him. They asked to talk to you." There was another pause. "All right" He turned to Napoleon and Illya, extending the telephone. "He'll talk to you."