The Power Cube Affair - Phillifent John T. - Страница 40

"You can even suspect each other," Solo suggested. "Even me.

"Oh you! I shudder to think what would have happened if you had held that magic crystal in your fingers. Besides, remember the navy's watching us!"

They reached the waiting Daimler, and Solo stooped to grin in at the Wren driver, who was looking a little strained. "All over now," he told her. "No more excitement. Just take us back to Admiralty House, please."

This time Nan sat in her favorite position, between them. She looked somewhat downcast, and Solo remarked on it.

"I'm sorry." She put a hand on his knee. "But can you blame me? The only two men I've ever cared for, and I'm going to lose both of you soon. I don't suppose we'll ever meet again, but you've a home, whenever you like, with me. Don't forget that, either of you. I mean it."

"We'll have to leave you some odd ends to clear up," Solo said, "after we've seen Charles and handed over those nasty baubles to him. There's John Guard, for instance. He needs someone to keep an eye on him until he's fit and well again."

"We never did get that carving for Mr. Waverly, Napoleon. Maybe we ought to run down there and see about it anyway."

"And I'll come with you," she decided. "I'm due for a holiday anyway, and it will give me the chance to hold on to you two for a bit longer."

"And there's Louise," Solo murmured. "I'd like to think she had a friend or two for a while."

Their Mini was still standing there, waiting, as the naval car rolled to a stop. As they got out both men made a point of shaking hands with the little Wren driver and congratulating her on a fine show; then they regained their own car. Nan took the wheel, and they set off for Charles.

"You do it well," she said over her shoulder as they weaved through the traffic. "That little sailor girl will have stars in her eyes for weeks. I know just how she feels."

"Don't we get blindfolded this time?" Kuryakin demanded, more to change the subject than anything else, and she snorted gently.

"You know that's not necessary now. I know who Char1es is, and there is no reason why you shouldn't." They were able to guess when she piloted them to the vicinity of Lincoln's Inn Fields, and they knew for sure when they discovered that they had to sit in the dark once again. As she told them, he was always in the dark, being totally blind. But there was nothing wrong with his voice as he greeted them and listened intently to the story.

"I shall certainly see that any reward goes to Lady Herriott," he said. "I know she will put it to good use. I only wish I could reward you two as well."

"Not for us, sir, but there are a few things you could do. For the crew of the Trojan, and that launch, for instance. Some kind of indication from us that they did a very nice job?"

"I can arrange that, yes. The navy has methods."

"And a certain Wren, Miss Heston, who drives like a demon and has all the nerve anybody could want."

"That too, Mr. Kuryakin."

"And me!" Nan Perrell declared. "I claim a reward. A day or two off duty. A holiday, Charles. I've earned it."

"Hmm!" The old voice sounded amused. "You have? Very well."

"One last thing, sir," Solo remembered. "If you could somehow fix it that one Raymond Carpenter, newsman, gets an exclusive on the story about the power cube? He helped us a lot."

"And you've helped me a lot, gentlemen. Any time you might contemplate retiring from U.N.C.L.E. you must look me up."

They took turns driving and stopped for lunch on the way down to the coast, a very late lunch full of reminiscences and chuckles. Now that some of the ice had broken around Nan's opposition to the male sex, she was very good company. By the time they struck the coast road that would lead them to the lonely seaside bungalow she had to sigh and admit:

"I don't know when I've enjoyed myself more. I didn't know it was possible to just relax and be natural with a man. I'm going to miss you two dreadfully."

"That's why I said," Solo reminded her, "that somebody should keep an eye on Johnny. You'll like him a lot. In fact, if you play it right, you might be able to recruit him into your company. I know he's supposed to be retired, but that's not natural for a man like him."

"There it is," Kuryakin warned, and Solo, driving, pulled over to the side and scowled in thought a moment.

"Look," he suggested, "you drive on to the hospital and see Johnny, tell him the story. We'll go on in and clear up any oddments, get something cooking for when you get back, all right?"

They watched her drive off, and Solo sighed. "She's quite a girl. In a way it's a good thing our vacation is almost over, Illya. Much more of her society, and I would have serious temptations."

"It would be a hectic life, Napoleon. I can't imagine her ever being domesticated, somehow."

He leaned on the door, and it swung open. The tiny hall way inside was dark by contrast. As he stepped forward something hard and heavy struck the base of his skull. He heard a cry, not his own, as he plunged forward into blackness.

He came awake to a throb in his head and the realization that he was tightly tied up, gagged, and lying down on something hard. Opening his eyes, he looked along the floor, to see Solo opposite him, equally bound and silenced. At the table, sitting so that he could command the door leading in from the road, was Henry Beeman, squatting on a low stool and ravenously digging in to a meal spread out before him.

"You can't talk," he said, through mouthfuls and chewing, "but I can. I like talk, as you know. I also like working out solutions in advance, as you also know. You must remember," he told them, "that Oberon was my yacht. Your damned customs people will examine it. They may, just, discover a tight shut compartment well below waterline. If they open it the ship will flood and sink. Possibly!" He stopped to chuckle heavily. "That compartment opens downwards, to the sea, like a diving bell. It contained breathing apparatus and survival equipment. Forethought, Mr. Kuryakin, Mr. Solo. You brought me safely back to Harwich. From there I was able to make contact with people who owe me things. And so, here I am, waiting for you. I knew you would return here, some of you, eventually." He chuckled again, and Solo groaned as he strained at his bonds. Beeman shook his head slowly.

"Oh no, Mr. Solo. Not this time. I confess I had not counted on catching both of you quite so soon. Or Miss Perrell, who has gone off in the car and will return eventually, eh? All of you. And this time there will be no escape. I am handling things myself. You have done me grievous harm, between you, and I must devise a fitting vengeance. Did you know that I was on the short list for a title? Not now, of course. You'll pay for that, I assure you. And I will have the power cube, eventually. Oh yes. You fools don't know what to do with it, you see. I do. I'll get it back. But you will never know. You won't be alive to see it."

The man was obviously raving. Solo wrenched at his bonds, but there was no hope there. Illya looked desperate too. And Nan was coming back. He strained again, until the blood hammered in his head, but there was no slack. Beeman had done his work well. Now the fat man pushed away his plate, took a bottle of milk and guzzled from it greedily, then slammed it down on the table. His huge paw took up a gun, a big bore monster like the one Green had used.