The Thinking Machine Affair (8 page)

Napoleon settled the bill and tipped the headwaiter handsomely.

As they walked through the hotel lounge towards the elevator, Napoleon sensed that someone was watching them, but even though he turned round sharply, he saw no suspect. "Must be imagining things," he thought, and walked on.

When they entered his room and he had shut the door, she put her arms around his neck impulsively and kissed him.

"Now that's what I call a really friendly gesture," he said, "and one good turn deserves another." So he kissed her back.

As they embraced she felt the gun secured in the holster fastened under his left arm. "You carry a gun?" she exclaimed.

"It's an old American custom," he explained casually.

She held him tight with her left arm around his neck. Then, deftly and gently, she slid the automatic from the holster and hit him on the head with the butt of the gun. "I'm sorry I had to do this," she said as she landed him another blow to make certain he was out.

She patted her ruffled hair, removed the compact from her handbag, opened it and said softly:

"Assignment completed. He's in his room ready for collection."

She looked at the unconscious Napoleon, his gun now beside his head on the pillow, and said: "I bet you didn't guess that my compact conceals an ultra-shortwave radio transmitter, my U.N.C.L.E. lover. It was nice knowing you."

She turned the key in the lock from the outside as she left the room and placed it on top of the door frame. She then left the hotel.

Her message was received by the Monitoring Officer at THRUSH European Center E, and was immediately passed to the Chief of the Special Tasks Department.

"I want you to collect Solo from his room and bring him here in one piece," he instructed two of his senior officers. "I repeat, no other action under any circumstances—he is to be made use of. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," the two men acknowledged.

"To avoid creating any attention I suggest you lower him down into the yard from the bathroom window. That's safe and easy."

"Yes, sir."

As Napoleon Solo slowly recovered, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and he automatically raised his hand to touch the sore spot.

He lay on the bed trying to figure out what had happened. The fragrant scent of the girl's perfume tickled his nostrils. Suddenly memories flowed back and he sat up abruptly, searching the room to discover whether his beautiful companion had also been coshed. When he found he was alone, the penny dropped and he murmured angrily: "Cunning slut! I should have known better!" Her "accidental" appearance in the restaurant had been a plant. Napoleon was furious with himself for falling for the trick.

He stood up and stretched his arms and found he had not suffered any damage other than the bump at the back of his head.

As he went to the bathroom to pour cold water over his aching head, he figured out that the treacherous female could only be the prelude to something else. And, on discovering that the key of the door to his room had gone and that he was locked in, he was certain he was right.

He re-fixed the gun under his arm and slipped on his jacket, prepared for action as and when it arose. He sat on the bed, wondering whether he should notify Major Klima at Czech State Security Headquarters about his predicament and enlist his help, but dismissed this thought.

"If knocking me unconscious was only a beginning," he thought "some thugs will come soon to drag me to THRUSH Headquarters. When they do, they're bound to rush to the bed, because they must have been told where to find me and they'll expect me to be still flat on my back, not reckoning on my thick head helping me recover so quickly."

Hurriedly he took some cushions from the armchairs and pushed them under the bedspread to form the outline of a body. Then he shaped a towel to resemble a head. Under the bedspread his creation looked as if someone was lying there covered up. When he switched off the bedside lamp and studied the bed again, he was pleased with his efforts. The street lamp below only let a tiny speck of light into the room and anyone entering it and rushing to the bed was certain to be deceived.

As he stood there like a Frankenstein admiring his monster, his sharp ears heard a key being quietly inserted into the door lock. He stepped behind the door to be concealed when it was opened.

Two sturdy thugs entered the room and crossed to the bed. When Napoleon was certain no others were with them, he leaped forward like a wildcat and slugged one of the intruders with a short sharp blow on the neck. He then dealt with his surprised companion almost as swiftly. They had not even had the chance to discover they had been about to snatch a dummy under the bedspread.

He locked the room from the inside to safeguard himself against other possible intruders, tied his prisoners by their hands and feet, then lifted the telephone receiver and connected with Major Klima.

"Expect me within ten minutes," the Major said when Napoleon reported the intruders.

Major Klima and several uniformed State Security officers arrived before the thugs regained consciousness. Solo had hit them good and hard because they did not recover even when cold water was poured over their heads, and eventually had to be carried away like a couple of sacks of potatoes.

"Where is the woman who was with you?" Major Klima asked when he was alone with Solo.

"Why do you think there was a woman here?" Napoleon said, trying to evade the question.

"Your room smells like a perfume shop and there's lipstick on your pillow," the Czech said. "There are also lipstick traces on your shirt collar, Mr. Solo, and they look to me very much the same color as the ones on your pillow." He spotted the look on Napoleon's face, and added: "We all make mistakes."

"It's not that, Major; it's that I behaved like a stupid clown chasing a pretty skirt." He felt very small.

"These things happen. Tell me the whole story. It might help us both."

Like a schoolboy caught by his headmaster, Napoleon told Major Klima of the encounter with the woman in the restaurant.

"I wouldn't let it worry you, Mr. Solo. And with such a valuable description of the lady, I think I know her identity; but I'll send our fingerprint people along to confirm or discount my suspicion."

"I am glad my encounter has had some purpose other than teaching me a lesson," Napoleon said.

A quarter-of-an-hour later Napoleon watched the two fingerprint men working their way systematically around the room.

"I suggest you contact me in the morning," Major Klima said at last. "By then I hope to tell you whether or not we have established the identity of the lady and then we can discuss the next steps to take."

Napoleon felt suddenly tired. He'd had enough for t one night. He was even too tired to undress. He flopped onto the bed and was out to the world, to U.N.C.L.E., and to anyone else, within seconds.

CHAPTER SIX

CALLING ALL COFFINS

AFTER Illya Kuryakin had transmitted his radio report to Alexander Waverly, he returned to the building in which the City Funeral Directors conducted their business to check on any further development. The offices were closed, but, tuning in to the direction finder in the "dead" man's tooth, he had no difficulty in locating the right coffin in the dark funeral parlor. He had been able to get inside through an open window in the back.

Illya knew that the ingeniously concealed direction finder had only a limited detection radius and, anticipating that Vienna was not the ultimate destination but that the body was likely to be transported further, he wanted to be sure of all the arrangements. He took a miniature bug from his pocket and secured it safely under the hollow handle of the coffin. Satisfied that he would now be able to listen from a considerable distance to any word spoken near the coffin, he left the funeral parlor through the window.

As he reached the street through the backyard, he observed a car drawing up at the entrance of the premises of City Funeral Directors. He stepped back to avoid being seen. The man who had claimed the body earlier stepped out of the car with two companions. As they entered the building, Illya returned to the backyard to pick up with his receiver the conversation in the funeral parlor. As he stepped into the backyard, the lights in the building came on.

"You left the window open," he heard a man say, and was almost certain it belonged to the one who had pretended to be the dead man's relative.

"We always do, especially if we have bodies here," another voice explained.

"I see," the first voice said. "Now, I think we'd better get all those forms signed so that the formalities are done with and the body can be flown out tomorrow morning on the eight o'clock plane without last minute snags."

"We've already obtained the necessary papers and as soon as these forms are signed and duly witnessed everything is clear," the other voice said. Illya heard the rustling of papers in his earphone and then a voice said: "If you sign here, and I add my signature below yours, my colleague can witness the signatures."

When the formalities were completed, Illya heard the first voice announce: "That's it, then. You'll see to it that the body is at the airport in good time tomorrow morning?"

"Everything is arranged. The coffin will be at the check-in desk before seven o'clock in the proper regulation package. You can rely on our efficiency."

"Thank you very much," the first voice said, and added: "Should you need me between now and the morning, you'll find me at home—apartment one-four-eight, one-o-o-two Fourth Avenue, telephone number..."

"I have all that," the second voice cut in; "but I won't need to worry you anymore—everything is in order."

Illya heard the man leave and the sounds of the two others preparing the coffin for transportation. He switched off his receiver and removed the earphone.

It was long after midnight when he turned into Fourth Avenue to have a look at the THRUSH agent's address. The building was deserted and he found it easy to slip in unnoticed and to take the service elevator to the first floor to apartment 148.

The corridor was empty and Illya was able to take a good look round. Apartment 148 was the one but last, and he stood outside the entrance door for a moment to attach a highly sensitive limpet microphone which enabled him to hear every sound inside. The only thing he could hear in the apartment was the fairly loud ticking of a clock and a man breathing heavily, as if asleep.

He waited a while, considering whether he should let himself in through the door or head for the fire escape, balance along the parapet, and climb in through the window. He wanted to fix another bug to the man's clothing to ensure his being able to overhear every word the THRUSH agent spoke.

On impulse he extracted the necessary tool from his pocket, opened the door silently and entered the small entrance hail, without making the slightest sound. He paused a moment, to accustom his eyes to the darkness. The only sounds were of the deep breathing of the man in the room on the right and the loud ticking of the clock.

The door to the room was open. Illya entered noiselessly. He looked at the man who was sleeping soundly and discovered that the loud ticking came from an alarm clock on the bedside table, set for 5.30 a.m.

Illya discovered to his great delight that the man wore a heavy leather belt, ideally suited for safely securing the miniature bugging device. He knelt down next to the chair on which the belted trousers lay and expertly fixed the tiny electronic ear in the loop that held the buckle.

This operation completed, Illya moved to the window in the adjoining room and climbed on to the parapet. On reaching the fire escape he stopped to check the bugging device in the man's belt. It worked superbly and he could still hear the ticking of the alarm clock and the deep breathing.

He left the building.

He arrived in good time at the airport and found a spot from where he could observe the coffin being cleared by the officials and taken to the runway to be loaded in the hold of the giant jet airliner with other luggage and freight. When departure time came, he joined the stream of travelers boarding the aircraft. He noted that the THRUSH agent was now accompanied by another man.

Without anyone taking any undue notice of him, Illya went up the steps to the plane and made himself comfortable by a window seat at the tail end. Unobtrusively he placed the little plug in his ear to listen to what the two THRUSH agents in the front part of the airliner were saying. At first they said nothing but, after the plane was airborne and out over the Atlantic, they ordered some whisky and subsequently said they would utilize the flight for getting some sleep.

This suited Illya admirably. He, too, was tired and could do with some rest, especially as he expected to get little chance of any after the aircraft landed at its destination.

By the time the jet touched down at Vienna, Illya felt refreshed and ready to cope with anything. Passport and customs clearance were a mere formality. He ascertained that the coffin had been taken to the airport warehouse and, immediately afterwards, saw the man in charge of the THRUSH operation disappear into the washroom.

Illya was almost certain that this meant the THRUSH agent was going to communicate with his center, so, pretending to make a telephone call, he fastened the listening device in his ear and was in time he hear the man transmit:

"We are at Vienna Airport and awaiting further instructions."

"I'll have a helicopter ready for you in two hours' time for taking you both with your cargo to Vysehrad," Illya heard another voice say. "Proceed immediately to the landing strip near St. Pölten and be prepared for immediate takeoff. On arrival beneath Vysehrad on the bank of the Moldau, board the boat with the yellow light above its starboard navigation light. From Vysehrad you'll be brought here."

"Message received and understood, sir," the other voice said, and Illya heard the soft click of the ultra-shortwave radio transmitter-receiver being switched off.

The man reappeared in the airport lounge, and with his accomplice, went to the warehouse. A few moments later, the coffin was loaded into a van. The two men boarded the driver's cabin and the vehicle drove off at high speed.