The Corfu Affair - Phillifent John T. - Страница 21
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Whereupon Crawford White carefully deactivated his communicator so that it would not sound again, then, with equal care, set about peeling off a protective layer of lead foil from the module that was securely fastened to his jaw bone by adhesive tape. It was no coincidence that he looked very like Napoleon Solo in appearance, nor that his voice was very similar in tone. He had been selected with those very characteristics in mind. He was about to become Solo in everything but the fact. It was highly important that Countess Louise did not discover that her tame dog had shed his leash. It was all part of a plan that Waverly had concocted, one that required Solo to put his head back into the mouth of the tigress once again, just as soon as it could be established that he was sound in mind and body.
There were minor details to clear up. The stolen modules had been recovered and were even now being inspected by a team of experts under Cronshaw. The jamming interference was off, but could be restored at the least sign of consciousness in Solo. And Crawford White's module was an exact harmonic match for the one in Solo's head. Waverly scanned through a long list of such lesser items, ticking them off. A lot of work had gone into this operation. Harmless copies of the modules were already made and standing by for the next step. Waverly chewed on his pipe and reviewed his plans over and over, striving to find some weakness in them. It was the only thing to do, now, until Solo had been checked out. On him rested the final action.
Chores done, his musings turned to a slightly different theme. There seemed to be a fairly firm and unbroken chain of effect from the theft of the radio-modules, then to Countess Louise, and to this devilish device for controlling a person like a puppet. But how did this concern Thrush? If there was a logical tie up, Waverly couldn't see it. The Countess was definitely involved with Thrush, of that he was certain, although he didn't know just how she functioned within that vast, faceless and sinister organization.
But how on earth could the ability to implant a radio control unit inside a person's skull have any great attraction for the evil men whose one aim was to dominate the civilized world? It was tempting to think they had some wild idea of surgical implantation for large numbers of people, but that just was not feasible. In the first place there weren't all that many modules available. Even the nonprofit resources of military research couldn't make them in very great quantity. And in the second place there was the surgery to think of, and the complex of control equipment. The idea just would not work.
Waverly shoved away from his temporary desk and went impatiently away to find Kuryakin and argue it out with him.
The small, three bed ward was hushed and quiet. Waverly and Kuryakin stood near, but not too near, the bed where Solo lay unconscious. Two male agents chosen for bulk and muscle lounged unobtrusively but alert in the far corners.
Susan Harvey stood by the bed, holding one limp wrist and nodding to herself in satisfaction.
"Almost ready," she said, moving briskly to the trolley where instruments stood ready. She took up a hypodermic. "The sedation is almost gone. This should wake him up right away. I can't tell you exactly what to do in advance, because I don't know what's going to happen. The only advice I can offer is to stay calm, try to reassure him if he seems to need it, and don't use violence unless it is absolutely necessary. Now!" She went back to the bedside, made the injection swiftly, then withdrew a little, to stand and watch like the rest.
The man on the bed stirred, rolled his head, sighed heavily, then opened his eyes. He stared at the roof, then his eyes came sideways, saw Susan, focused on her. He broke into a strained smile.
"I know this bit," he said, in a voice dusty from long disuse. "I'm supposed to say, where am I?"
"Who are you?" she asked, in counter question, and his smile dimmed.
"You have a point. I am Napoleon Solo, late of the United Network Command—" he stopped suddenly, a curious look on his face. He shook his head, but not as a negative, more like a man who expects it to hurt and is wondering why it doesn't. Susan Harvey made a guess.
"You're all right now," she said. "It's gone. I've taken it out." And she made a slight gesture to the top of her own head. Solo stared and the struggle to believe her was apparent in his face. Then relief, a visible sag and audible sigh of relief.
"I don't know who you are, or how you knew, but I owe you much. To have that damned twitch, that infernal sub-audible whisper, gone! It's been a kind of refined hell to know that at all times, no matter what I did, she was listening, right there inside my own head. . You're sure?"
"Oh yes, quite sure. Several hours ago. You are safely back inside U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters now, Mr. Solo. I am Dr. Harvey, of the resident medical staff."
"I'm glad to meet you. I wish it could have been under happier circumstances, or sooner. Right now I have to report to Mr. Waverly. It's urgent!
"Look around," she invited, and moved back a step. Solo hoisted up on an elbow and moved his head.
"Mr. Waverly!" He inclined his head a fraction, then grinned as he saw Kuryakin. "You too, Illya. I'm glad to see you can stand being shot. I've been trying to forget that bit of nightmare for some time. Was I dreaming, or did you shoot me, just a while ago?"
"No dream. But those were anaesthetic darts, for a purpose. Yours were real bullets, Napoleon!"
"I know." Solo compressed his jaw sadly. "I didn't have much choice. I tell you, you've no idea just what brain washing is until you've had a she-devil actually sitting inside your skull repeating her commands. It's enough to drive a man mad."
"Did it succeed, Mr. Solo?" Waverly's voice was quiet but firm.
"I don't think so, sir, but I'm ready to take any tests you like. In the meanwhile, there's something you need to know." He sat up in the bed now, threw back the sheet and swung his legs to the floor. The beefy agents moved closer, just in case, but he never even noticed them. "Louise is setting up one of the most deadly rackets you can imagine. You know, I take it, how the modules work?"
"Not exactly." Waverly was curious but very much on his guard.
"It's really very simple. Louise explained it all to me when I was in no position to argue. You see, she kept one half of the module pair to act as command. That's fitted into a power-transmitter with a microphone. There are various settings. On one certain setting she can talk into my head and I can't hear at all, not consciously. It's pitched subliminal. It's deadly!"
"Not any more," Susan reminded him, and he gave a quick laugh.
"It's going to take me a while to adjust to that again. Now—to get at the real devilment. With those modules Louise was experimenting with the remote control of various creatures, so I gather, but her big aim was to enslave people. She grows people." He said it flatly, waiting for the reaction. It took a while to come, and him some time to explain.
"You mean—" Susan's voice shook as she tried to appear scientific, "that woman can actually grow complete human copies? Androids?"
"That's exactly it. And perfect, they are. Beautiful. But brainless. No, not brainless, that's not the word. Mindless. Just waiting to be trained. As she puts it, an empty book, waiting to be written in."
"That doesn't entirely surprise me," Kuryakin put in, quietly. "I saw those laboratories, in Paris. You will recall, Mr. Waverly, I reported that there were embryologists on the staff. You can see why, now."
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