[Magazine 1966-­12] - The Goliath Affair - Jakes John - Страница 17

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The guard went down with a groan, fingertips missing the klaxon lever by a matter of an inch.

The THRUSH man thudded onto the wooden floor of a little guard booth which was built against the high wall directly inside the massive postern door.

Illya slammed and bolted the door and then examined his surroundings more carefully.

The booth was constructed of steel. There was a window wicket in the door, which led from the booth to a floodlit parade ground outside.

On this parade ground, three dozen incredibly tall and attractive young women, all in black jumpers, trousers and boots, were lined up doing calisthenics as the white glare of the floodlights poured down upon them in the twilight.

Beyond the parade ground towered what appeared to be an ancient baronial hall with several sprawling wings. Many of its windows were alight.

With a final lusty "Vier!" the exercises came to a halt. The ranks of superbly-muscled young women drew up to stiff attention. In front of them another girl with an electric megaphone was cracking out instructions in German. Illya couldn't quite see all of the girl's face, but something about it was hauntingly familiar.

As soon as the girl in command finished her harangue, the amazons drew themselves up even more stiffly, shot their right arms into the air palm outward and cried:

"Heil THRUSH!"

Illya's belly turned over with nausea. He had certainly come to the right place.

In twos and threes the girls broke ranks and moved toward the great baronial house. None dawdled. They moved out with long, determined strides.

Now the instructress, likewise clad entirely in black, with a wide black leather belt around her waist, was moving in the direction of the wall. Evidently she intended to stow the electric megaphone in a kind of hut or equipment locker built against the wall to Illya's left. At last Illya recognized the blonde tresses, the pretty whipped-cream face—

The last time he had seen that face, the girl had been serving refreshments aboard an Air Deutschland jet.

Illya hefted his pistol and, keeping his head down, opened the inner door of the booth. He closed it smartly and began walking along a path of stones toward the equipment shed, on a course which would intersect the girl's.

All of the girls had now departed from the floodlit field. The sky above was black. The first stars were glittering. But he and the girl were bathed in the blue-white glare of the spots.

Quickly Illya transferred his weapon to his left hand, the one nearest the wall, in case any watch-stations up at the big house had them under surveillance. The girl had reached the hut. She opened its door to stow her megaphone inside. She glanced at him once and then glanced away, assuming him to be just another guard on some errand or other. Illya moved close enough to call out softly:

"Good evening, Fraulein Bauer."

Her head whipped up. Her blue eyes narrowed and fire shone out. Illya remained standing right where he was, pistol angled up alongside his left thigh so that it pointed at her bosom.

"Kuryakin!" Helene Bauer's fingers dropped toward a knife sheath at her belt.

"Leave the knife where it is, please," Illya said, keeping a smile pasted on his face in the unlikely event they were being surveyed through field-glasses.

Helene's fingers tensed just inches from the knife hilt. Indecision and fear shone on her face as she hesitated.

"If you are thinking about raising an alarm," Illya said, strolling forward at an easy pace, his teeth bared in that fake grin but his voice deadly quiet, "I would advise against it. Perhaps your comrades could reach us and capture or kill me. But before they did, I assure you I would disregard your sex and shoot you."

The girl hesitated only a moment longer. Her shoulders slumped. "All right."

"I thought I might find you a prisoner, Fraulein. Apparently, however, you are one of the clutchers. I don't know what pretty plots you're hatching at this school for savage-looking female storm troopers—"

"Let them get their hands on you, Kuryakin, and you'll discover you don't know the meaning of the word savage!"

He said, "Mustn't lose your temper just because I'm one up."

"For the moment. Only for the moment."

"No," Illya corrected, his face no longer friendly. "For as long as you wish to remain alive, Fraulein Bauer. I will not hesitate because you are a woman. U.N.C.L.E. does train us rather thoroughly in such matters, you know. Now—is Napoleon Solo here?"

Helene Bauer bit her lip. She glanced away, as though searching for help. The parade ground stretched empty and flood-lit. The girl seemed unable to make up her mind as to whether Illya's threats were serious.

To reinforce his psychological advantage, he thumbed a stud on the pistol-butt. An ominous ticking began. He said lightly:

"I have just set my pistol on automatic timed discharge, Fraulein. If you have not answered my question at the end of sixty seconds, the gun will begin firing straight at you. To repeat—is Napoleon Solo here?"

The ticking continued steadily. A nightbird cried in the forest.

Ticktickticktick—

Suddenly the girl wilted, shielding her eyes with her right hand. "Turn it off."

"Not until you answer me."

"He's here." She whipped her hand down, her face a changing pattern of fear, doubt, anxiety. "But what time is it? She glanced at a small stainless steel watch on her wrist. "Ten past seven already. He may no longer be alive."

Illya flicked off off the stud. The pistol ceased its relentless tick.

"What does the time have to do with Napoleon Solo being alive or dead?"

"My father Dr. Bauer is in charge of the scientific project at this station. By means of his enzymatic ray process he is increasing the strength and physical capabilities of a select group of THRUSH shock troops so that—"

"Yes, yes," Illya said impatiently. "We saw Klaanger. Get to the point. Where is Napoleon?"

"In my father's laboratory. There."

Helene indicated the sprawling building. Rapidly she explained the experiment which Dr. Bauer had been intending to perform.

"Solo went under the reversing ray early this morning when I first brought him from Munich. But just as the equipment was turned on, a transmitter overloaded and blew out. Technicians had to work in the lab all day to make the proper repairs. Your Mr. Solo gained a slight reprieve. He has been locked in a cell all day today. My father re-scheduled the experiment for seven this evening."

Illya's heart began to slug faster in his chest. "Then we have no time to lose."

"I can't help it if it's already too late, Kuryakin."

"For your sake, my dear," Illya replied, "I hope it is not. No quickly. Fall into place beside me. Here, on my left side. We are going to walk side-by-side across the parade ground and into your headquarters. You will take me directly to the laboratory. I will have my pistol pointed at your pretty ribs every second. I will fire at the first outcry. Are you ready?"

Looking rather scared for a superwoman, Helene Bauer nodded.

Illya felt perspiration trickling down the back of his neck. The parade ground was huge, giving him a feeling of isolation, of being a clear target. Helene Bauer's sibilant breathing sounded loudly in his left ear.

It seemed to be taking forever to reach the house.

"Walk faster," he whispered.

Helene quickened her stride. They passed a number of dun-gray halftrack vehicles with machine guns mounted on swivels in their rear beds. They reached a concrete walk which led to a rear entrance to the house.

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