20 - The Corfu Affair Page 12

  Napoleon Solo scowled, rubbed his jaw ruefully and tried to smother mounting irritation as he and Kuryakin escorted Susan Harvey up the last flight of stairs to where the carnage had taken place. For once in a way he was inclined to share his colleague's disapproval of interfering and unreasonable women.

  "Look," he said, with long-suffering patience, "I know you have a professional interest here. I appreciate that. You've seen the tanks where she used to grow the bodies. You've seen the layout. Now, you say, you want to see the finished article. All right. But please remember that we, too, have a professional stake in this. Remember, Susan, that you are not a field agent, and that we are. Remember that that woman is still loose, and that she is dangerous. Incidentally, her cook-housekeeper companion is loose too, and may be just as dangerous as she is. This is no place for you. Now why don't you take yourself quietly off, back to the yacht, let us get things cleared up here—and you can examine the androids all you want—"

  "Right now!" she insisted, stubbornly. She had thrown on a towel wrap over her bikini, and she plunged her hands into the pockets of it now. "I want to see the androids as they are. I want to see the control mechanism. If possible, I'd like to activate one—"

  "You're out of luck," Kuryakin told her bluntly. "I took care of that. I'll show you. The switchgear is in here, for the heavy stuff. That little control box is only a relay. I can follow it fairly easily from the diagram we had. Look, I closed this breaker, and these switches, and blew a heavy charge through the whole range."

  "What did that achieve, Illya?" Solo inquired.

  "This is designed to be tuned in on any or all of the modules. I set it to cover the lot, and then blew them. That means there are no longer any android slaves working for Thrush."

  "Hey!" Solo was struck with sudden inspiration. "That could also mean that all the Thrushes who have bought androids have also—stopped working. Couldn't it?"

  "It could. And I am not about to lose any sleep over that, either. So there it is, Dr. Harvey. There's nothing left to see."

  "Was it necessary to ruin the whole thing?" she demanded angrily

  "I think so." He met her blue-eyed stare with equally blue-eyed determination. "I think this is one secret that is just as well forgotten!"

  All at once she shrugged and turned away, to go back to the table and sit. "I suppose you're right, Illya. They are beautiful." She looked at the mute line of motionless figures.

  "But they would pose some really terrible problems. Would they really be people, with rights and privileges, and emotions, and all the rest of it—or just property?"

  "It's a tough question, all right." Solo sank wearily into the seat by her side. "I doubt if we are qualified to answer it."

  "That's why I took it on myself to destroy the stuff." Kuryakin came to settle in the seat on the other side. "Slavery always is a problem, and this one—" His words cut off as a hideous cackle came from somewhere near, and by reflex he started to move. But the chrome-steel bands which clicked out of the chair were faster. With quiet strength they looped and clicked, one round his chest, one round each ankle, one round his left wrist. The right wrist, complete with pistol, was free.

  He squirmed round frantically as far as he could, trying to get a line on that insane voice, a glance showing him that both Solo and Susan were totally trapped. His quest was vain.

  As he wrenched himself round an empty bottle came down with crushing force on his wrist, to send the gun flying. The bottle rose and fell again, this time on his head. By the time the bells had stopped ringing in his skull, Louise had moved out and round, facing them across the table.

  Kuryakin shook his head just once more, tried his bonds, and then settled for a bleak stare. So this was the famous Countess Louise! Never before had such stunning loveliness been regarded with such scant appreciation. She was totally nude, and even in her mania there was an inherent pride, a panache about the way she held herself, as if she knew that she was without flaw and good to look at.

  "An animal!" Kuryakin muttered. "Madame, you do well to discard all clothing. Primitive animals have no need of it."

  Something of his chill contempt seemed to strike through the fog of mania in her mind. She stiffened, glared at him, then bared her teeth in an evil leer at Solo.

  "You don't think so, dear Napoleon. Do you? You loved me once!"

  "Under compulsion," Solo retorted, his voice thick with revulsion. "You had a knife in my brain. It's not there now."

  The lovely face contorted, swung aside to Susan. "You! Interfering busybody! Conceited, too. I have been listening. You think you are a good-looking woman, don't you? Look at me, and despair. Look at my lovely creatures and think again. And you, Mr. Kuryakin. Oh yes, I know you. I know all the U.N.C.L.E. agents by sight. Your precious organization is going to be short of three valued members when this night's work is done!"

  "You'll never get away with it, Louise," Solo snapped at her. "You know there are more where we came from, that you'll be hunted—"

  "Get away?" she screamed. "I do not intend to get away. Mr. Kuryakin there has called me an animal. Perhaps I am. When all I have worked for has been destroyed, do you think I care to live? Does an animal go on living when its nest has been fouled? You have come here, into my beautiful home. You have destroyed my beautiful creations, my beautiful people. Now I shall destroy you. I shall watch you die. This is something I have long been ready for, just as I planned those trap-chairs long ago, in case of trouble."

  "What are we to die of, madame?" Kuryakin needled her. "Old age?"

  She cackled shrilly and backed away to stand between the two center caskets and draw aside a priceless old shawl that hung there. "Old age? I do not think so, Mr. Kuryakin. When I pull this switch, the whole of the ground floor will burst into flame." She put her hand on the red lever, and for one moment they all had the impression that she was coldly sane.

  "This palace is full of treasures, things beyond price. I never intended to leave them for anyone else to pick over. I shall take them—and you—with me. So!" And she swung the lever over powerfully.

  The three prisoners tensed, expecting some kind of explosion, but nothing came. They stared at the demented woman. She stared back at them, grinning. Then it came, faint but unmistakeable. The smell of smoke, and fire.

  "She's done it!" Solo gasped. "She's fired the place!"

  "Quite right, darling Napoleon. Planted incendiary charges. The whole ground floor, and the cellars, are all ablaze by now. Pretty flames. I must see them!" She ran to the door and opened it, went out to stare down the stair well. Kuryakin heaved desperately at his bonds, trying to make some good use of his free hand.

  "You'll never do it, Illya," Solo told him grimly. "They're rugged. And remotely controlled. Louise is the crafty one, all right." He made a stiff grin for Susan, was about to frame an apology, when his eye caught the sudden stir of movement and he stared. They all stared as one of the "lifeless" nude figures suddenly stirred, moved, and sprang lithely down from a casket. Solo was the first to comprehend.

  "Kate! You smart girl, you're a lifesaver. Now, quick, find the switch for these damned shackles and get us loose before she comes back."

  "Where?" she quavered, staring helplessly about. "Where do I look?"

  "Back of us, somewhere," Kuryakin advised. "Try the wall. She came from that direction... Too late, here she comes! Grab my gun, quickly!"

  Katherine halted, dithered in confusion, then shrieked as Louise ran back into the room. One fast glance from those keen eyes was enough to take in the situation. Snarling, the Countess plunged forward. Katherine, driven into frantic action, leaped for the gun, missed it, sent it skittering away into a corner. She dived after it. Louise screeched and dived after her. The pair of them went down in a furious tangle of arms and legs on the floor, where the three prisoners could see nothing of what was happening. They could only hope and pray, as they listened to the swelling roar of the flames.

  The stench of burning was v
ery strong now. They could hear the snap and crackle of vigorous flames as priceless tapestries and rare antiques caught fire and roared into destruction. Over the roar came the squeals and gasps of the two struggling contestants for the pistol. All at once came the whip crack of a shot. A groan. Then a terrifying silence. And then a long slim arm came up over the table, bore down, and Katherine stood up, shakily, with the pistol in her hand. She stared down. With her other hand she brushed away the tangle of blonde hair from her face. She was chalk white.

  "I shot her!" she gasped. Then, more loudly: "I shot her. She's dead!" She seemed to stare at the gun in her hand as if puzzled as to how it had come there. Then she shrieked and threw it violently away.

  "I've killed her!" she moaned.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "MISS WINTER!" Kuryakin pitched his voice to a brisk and authoritative snap. "Forget about that for the moment. It will keep. We won't. You must find the switch that controls these chairs!"

  The sharp edge on his voice sliced through the frightening fog in her mind. She lifted her head, turned to look dazedly at him, and he managed a reassuring smile for her.

  "Come on now, be a good girl and find those switches. Please? They must be at the back of us somewhere, on the wall."

  She shivered, then went unsteadily around the table and out of their sight. Long folding ribbons of smoke began to slide in at the door. The full-throated roar of distant burning was quite distinct now. Susan coughed as a stray whiff of fumes got to her throat.

  "I can't find anything!" Katherine wailed. "There isn't—I can't—oh, wait a bit. Is this it?"

  Something whirred and the chrome-steel bands slid swiftly back out of the way. Both men were up and on their feet rapidly and across to the door. One glance was enough.

  "That's not even worth trying, Napoleon. Not worth wasting time on. You'd better get Susan out onto the balcony, quick. My tackle is still there. You should make it all right. I'll take care of Miss Winter."

  Susan Harvey was a lot slower than the men in getting to her feet. Her legs weren't working very well. She had to lean on the table. She felt sick as Solo came to take her arm, and she was deathly pale. Kuryakin went straight on past him to where Katherine was straining against a wall, shaking her head as if to dislodge the thoughts in her mind.

  "I killed her!" she mumbled, biting on a knuckle. "I killed her!"

  "You had no choice, my dear. You did very well, and we owe you a lot. That was absolutely brilliant of you, to hide yourself among those nudes."

  The word "nudes" struck home, penetrated her shocked mind, and she gasped, then cringed in a vain attempt to cover herself. Kuryakin bit back the urgent words on his tongue that this didn't matter at the moment. His common sense warned him that this was a very frightened girl, only just clinging to the thin edge of control.

  He spun away, saw Solo leading Susan Harvey unsteadily towards the window. The room was beginning to fill with grey pungent smoke. He looked round anxiously, then stepped away to reach up and pluck a gorgeous Castilian shawl from the wall. Spreading it, he went back to Katherine.

  "Here you are," he said quietly. "Wrap it round you. You'll need it. We're going out of the window in a moment." She stood helplessly and allowed him to drape the shawl about her body.

  The room was suddenly very hot. The open window had provided a through-draft that was feeding oxygen to the fire. The parquet floor began to smolder in several places. A leaping fringe of yellow flames danced along the passage outside and leaned in at the doorway. He took her bare arm firmly and hurried her across the room to the window, out onto the balcony, shutting and securing the double windows tight behind them. Susan Harvey was peering over the balcony edge into the darkness down there.

  "I can't go down!" she choked. "I can't! Not down there!"

  "Oh yes, you can!" Solo told her firmly. "You just hang on to me, and you can shut your eyes if you like, but you are definitely going down!"

  He settled securely into the seat harness, took her in his arms, and stepped off. The slim cable purred as it ran out. Kuryakin leaned over and out to steady it as it ran, Katherine shivering by his side and staring down in wide-eyed fright. It was a long drop down the front of the building, and the night was thick with billowing greenish fumes. The dropping pair went out of sight in the smoke. Then there came a momentary break in the pall and they saw Solo touchdown and roll over. They saw burly men dash for to help. Then, all at once, that scene down there was lit up stark and clear by a gush of spouting flames from the lower windows.

  Solo got free, halted just long enough to wave, then ran. Kuryakin hoisted up furiously. He felt Katherine cringe close to him, felt her shaking with fear. And he knew that her fear was justified. But now he needed her sane and steady. cooperation as never before. He needed something to push her thoughts away from the danger they were in. He tried an old gambit, as he yanked at the cable with long-arm grabs.

  "What's a nice girl like you doing in a low dive like this?"

  She giggled almost hysterically, and then, in a much saner voice, she said, "You'd never believe it if I told you. I mean. I haven't a badge or anything."

  "Nothing to pin it on, either. What?"

  "I'm C.I.A. At least, in a sort of way, I am."

  "You are?" Her totally unexpected reply almost made him miss his grab on the line. "How come?"

  "I suppose I'm not, not really. You see, the Countess advertised for a cook-housekeeper who would do companion duties. I applied, and got the job. I really am a good cook, you know!"

  "Yes, I do know," he smiled. "Napoleon told me about that part."

  "And then along came this strange man, showed me his credentials and everything, said he was a colonel, I believe. He said he wanted me to write him a letter regularly, to tell him the names and descriptions of anybody who visited the Countess. Just that and nothing more. He said there would be nothing dangerous about it!"

  Kuryakin reached for the harness, settled himself into it, then held out his arms to her with a smile. "He was wrong on that, though, wasn't he? Still, not to worry. Come on, hold on to me."

  She hesitated, suddenly shy, clutching the shawl and aware of its inadequacy. At that moment the heavy drapes on the far side of the window burst into sudden fire and flared into brilliant destruction against the glass. The wind sizzled, then cracked and burst open to spout out a great bellowing blast of fire.

  Katherine shrieked and hurled herself at him, clutching tightly. He grabbed hold, stepped up on the wall of the balcony and looked down as he gathered in the slack. Down there, immediately below them, a whole row of windows blasted open, exploding under the furious heat, and a raging inferno of searing flames spouted out then licked upwards with hot hungry breath.

  Katherine shrieked again and clung frantically to him. He gave one more downward glance then braced his legs and shoved off strongly, releasing the catch on the little overhead trolley. They sagged and swooped away into the darkness, safely away from the scorching heat. Which was a happy thought, had it not been for the disturbing knowledge at the back of his mind that whereas nylon is dependable and tough in almost any circumstances, heat doesn't agree with it at all and it melts rather easily.

  He applied a gentle braking action to the purring trolley and felt it his duty to keep her morale up.

  "You'll be a bit more careful next time you're asked to accept some commission from a strange man, won't you?"

  "Never again!" she vowed. "From now on I am just a cook. Nothing else. Just for once in my life I fell for that line about my patriotic duty. Just once, I got nosey, curious, minding somebody else's business. Just once, and now look it! Never again!"

  "Don't say it like that," he chuckled. "If it hadn't been for you and your curiosity, and your quick inspiration, I hate to think where I would be right now." At that moment, from behind them, came a rolling roar and a great fountain-billow of flame as the whole of the top of the palace fell inwards into ruin. Their line sagged abruptly. They plunged, th
en jerked as it caught on something and held. He looked down. They were only feet above the dark ground. He released the lowering line urgently and they went down, to strike and thump down into the uncertain footing of a flower-bed, and go sprawling. First up, he extended her a hand, hoisted her to her feet and put his arm around her as they stared fascinatedly at the blazing ruin. Impulsively, his arm tightened around her shoulders.

  "But for you," he said, "I would be in there, frying! If the C.I.A. doesn't give you a medal for that, I will!"

  She giggled unsteadily, and clung to him. Then, in breathless panic, she gasped, "My shawl! Where's my shawl?"

  "Draping that rose-bush," he said, and went to get it, and handed it to her. "It doesn't do you justice," he said. "I hope you don't mind, but I shall always remember you just as you are now, one of the bravest girls I've ever known."

  For a moment, Katherine stood quite still, and it was odd, but she didn't mind in the least. Then she took the shawl and wrapped it around herself and smiled uncertainly.

  "I don't feel a bit brave. It's just getting to me—I've nothing! Nothing at all! All my things are in the blaze!"

  "That will be the least of your worries," he assured her. "I have a rich Uncle who will be only too glad to see you right. You name it, you'll have it. I want to say this, though. We agents are often criticized for being loaded with gadgetry, yet you managed to save us all with just—with just your wit and your bare hands!"

  Then he took her arm and escorted her across the flowerbeds to the front of the blazing building, to join the smoke-blackened group of agents.

  "This just about wraps it up," said one, staring at the fire.

  "But good!" another agreed. "Us too, if we hadn't been quick. By the time that lot burns out there won't be a thing but ashes and the walls!'

  "Just as well," Solo sighed. "The kind of thing Louise was peddling is best destroyed. Come on, let's get back aboard before the whole of Corfu comes to stare."