[Magazine 1967-­05] - The Synthetic Storm Affair - Edmonds I. G. (книги регистрация онлайн .TXT) 📗

Illya caught the driver with a hard knee to the stomach. The burly man collapsed with a choking sputter.

Kuryakin twisted, trying to grab the girl before she could get to her feet.

He caught her arm as she swung the gun toward him. She jerked back, but couldn't tear loose from his desperate grip.

"Now—!" Illya Kuryakin began—and pitched forward on his face.

A tall man slipped the gun he used to pistol whip the man from U.N.C.L.E. back in its shoulder holster. He was breathing hard and all of it was not from running to join the fight. He glared coldly at Lupe de Rosa.

"My dear," he said, his voice heavy with menace, "for all your brilliance as a scientist, you are a complete fool!"

"You can't talk to me that way!" she flared.

The man's bleak face flushed slightly. "Can't I?" he said softly. "Your work with these storms is very important to us, my dear, but in THRUSH nothing is so important as being a member of the team! There is no place in our organization for individualists. If we don't work together, U.N.C.L.E. will destroy us. Important as you are, you are worthless to us if we must treat you as a prima donna."

Lying on his face on the concrete floor, Illya Kuryakin could hear them talking. The blow, for all its savagery, had but stunned him momentarily. He half opened his eyes. He could see his assailant's feet. They were close enough that Illya thought he could upset the man. He hesitated because he could not yet place the position of the cab driver. It would be fatal to make a move now."

"And what about your end of the bargain!" Lupe flared. "You almost killed me with that damned storm!"

"We had no idea you were on the plane," he said coldly. "You should have contacted our man in Rio for instructions instead of jumping off on your own. We could have told you not to take that plane. We had already learned that Waverly himself arranged for two passenger seats to be cancelled to make room for Solo and Kuryakin."

"Santos-Lopez tried to treat me like a slave!" she cried. "I don't intend to exchange one slave master for another. I don't have to account to you for every minute of my time."

"You saw what happens when you don't!" he snapped. "You almost got yourself killed. And now you almost made a mess of things by trying to shoot Kuryakin. Can't you understand? Murder must be handled with finesse in this town—especially murder of an U.N.C.L.E. agent."

"He tried to—"

"You were under my surveillance every second. He did not have a chance in the world of harming you," the tall man said impatiently. "I am not going to argue. This is your last chance. Play by THRUSH rules, or you may not play at all!"

"Are you threatening me!"

"Call it what you will!"

"I want to talk to Mr. Leach about this! We'll see what he has to say."

"Mr. Leach works for me. He does what I tell him. And you will be expected to do the same!"

Illya Kuryakin couldn't see the girl's face, but knowing her, he was sure that she was furious. It gave him a thrill of anticipation. He was sure now that the girl's resentment of THRUSH's regimentation could be used to his advantage.

He slowly reached his hand around where he could pull his pen-communicator from his pocket. While the man and Lupe were arguing he surreptitiously twisted the cap. The antenna shot up six inches. He pulled the tiny communications set down against his body where it would not be seen, but where it could pick up and pass to U.N.C.L.E. headquarters the incriminating conversation between the girl and her THRUSH boss.

But the only thing he was able to transmit was his own gasp of pain! A heavy boot caught him in the ribs. He doubled up with a groan. The same foot that kicked him ground a heel down on the communicator.

"What is it?" the THRUSH man cried, whirling about.

"He was trying to sneak a fast one, boss," the cab driver said. "Look here!"

"Did he get anything transmitted?" the man asked in alarm.

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"In this business you can't afford to think!" the man rasped. "We've got to get moving!"

"Get this rat into another cab. Get a driver who is expendable. Place some article of Lupe's in the seat beside Kuryakin. Then arrange a wreck. You understand?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Martin," the driver said hurriedly.

"Good! Don't leave anything to chance. Be sure Kuryakin and the driver are dead. Have a prepared witness to tell the police what happened. Arrange a story that will look as if the girl was kidnaped and the two men killed by a South American revolutionary group who want the girl's knowledge of storms to help their revolution. Be sure THRUSH is not connected in any way."

Illya only dimly heard the man, Martin, reading his death warrant. He groaned and tried to sit up. Something like volcanic fire burst in his head as he took another savage kick. This time it was against his temple.

He pitched forward on his face.

Martin smiled down at his limp body.

"You see," he said. "The men from U.N.C.L.E. aren't at all the supermen some of our faint-hearted members seem to think. They are just human. They can be hurt and defeated, just as any other human can!"

He laughed softly and turned to the girl.

"You see, Lupe," he said, "you did not make a mistake agreeing to work with THRUSH. Nothing stands between us and total victory except U.N.C.L.E. and you see how we deal decisively with that organization!"

ACT V: "SO LONG, LUPE!"

When their cab's left rear tire started bumping, Napoleon Solo grabbed his pen-communicator.

He quickly transmitted his identification and added, "Mr. Waverly! Emergency!"

"Go ahead, Mr. Solo."

Alexander Waverly's quiet, confident tone was a direct contrast to Solo's clipped anxious voice."

"One moment, sir," Napoleon said. He turned to the two men with him. "Get out quickly! Try to thumb a ride from anyone who will stop for you. See if you can spot where that cab went with Illya and the girl!"

Then into the transmitter, he said hurriedly, "They're getting away from us, sir. The girl suddenly had a change of character and got chummy with Illya. I think now it was a trick. I think she's leading him into a trap."

"What can we do here to help you, Mr. Solo?" Waverly asked.

"I'd like an all-points alarm put out for this cab. You have the number. I phoned it in from the airport. I suspect it is not a regular cab driver. Possibly the cab was stolen. Also I'd like the tri-angular magnetic locators manned. Illya may get a chance to open his communicator. If so, we can get a fix on their location from it."

"Very good, Mr. Solo," Waverly said. "Within five minutes every policeman and every cab driver in New York will be alerted to watch for this car and its passengers."

"Thank you, sir," Napoleon said. "I'll leave my pen-communicator open so you can contact me instantly as well as keep abreast of all our developments."

"Excellent, Mr. Solo," the U.N.C.L.E. chief said. "I do not understand your statement that Miss de Rosa led Mr. Kuryakin into a trap. Isn't it possible that THRUSH agents trapped both her and Mr. Kuryakin? After all, she was Santos-Lopez's assistant in his storm breaking activities."

"Yes, sir," Napoleon replied. "But it seems to me she had a definite change of character after she made a phone call on landing. Call it a hunch if you wish, but I don't believe she is a victim of THRUSH. I believe she is part of THRUSH."