She heard the THRUSH man ask: “What is your name?”
She answered: “April Dancer.” “Are you a spy or counter espionage agent?”
“Yes.” April noticed that her voice was low and strained.
“For whom do you Work?”
“U.N.C.L.E.”
There was an exclamation of surprise from both men.
“This is wonderful!” the little scientist's voice broke in. “We will be able to learn enough from her to destroy that infernal organization!”
“Later!” Mike rasped. “Right now the important thing is the trigger bomb. I must know what she did with it. If U.N.C.L.E. found it, they will destroy the monstrous thing. We will be safe. If she didn't---! Then there is the terrible possibility that Royce regained it.”
“Then ask her!” the little man cried impatiently. “These rays penetrate and stimulate certain parts of the body. This causes frictions in breathing and heartbeat. Every minute you wait, the chances of the rays killing her becomes more certain. “
“I'm trying to think!” Mike said miserably.
“Think later! We must hurry and get all the information we can before she dies!”
It seemed to the listening girl that Mike had been afraid to ask the question. Now he said in a voice that shook slightly: “Does U.N.C.L.E. have the trigger bomb?”
April Dancer heard herself say no. The intake of both men's breaths was clearly audible on the recording.
“Then Royce either has it or has a chance to recover the thing,” Mike said in a dull voice.
“Perhaps she is a double agent,” the little scientist said. “If she had the thing from Royce, she may be his secret partner.”
“It could be,” Mike said. He ad-dressed the girl under the ray machine: “Do you know Franklyn Royce?”
“No,” April's reply on the recorder.
There was a dead silence from the two men. Then Mike said harshly to the little scientist: “What in hell is the matter with that stupid machine?”
“Ask her again.”
“Are you working with Franklyn Royce?”
“No.” April's voice was barely a whisper.
“She's fading out on us. It will kill her if we go much longer,” the little monkey of a man warned.
“Haven't you even seen Franklyn Royce?” Mike asked, his voice growing desperate.
“No.” The answer was so faint the recorder scarcely picked it up.
“That's all!” the little man snapped. “She will die if we go any longer.”
“Then let her die!” Mike cried, his voice savage with desperation and frustrated fear. “I've got to get at the bottom of this!”
“We can get nothing more out of her. Let her rest. Give her a sedative and we'll try again under more favorable conditions.”
“But every moment lost---”
“It can't be helped,” the scientist insisted. “Believe me! I know this machine.”
“It's a fake! I know she knows this man. I saw them together!”
“That is possible. I warned you not to get any of that numbing serum in her blood. It upsets the ray penetration and can give false readings. We may get an entirely different answer after it is expelled from her blood.”
“What about the knockout gas you gave her?”
“That is a different material,” the old man said. “However, just to be sure, we'll question her fully conscious next time.”
“I suppose you are right,” Mike said miserably. “But the situation is getting desperate. What about this man Mark Slate? There was definitely a connection between the two of them. Can't we question him now?”
“He is still under almost complete influence of the numbing serum. He attempted to escape. He had to be brought down with the serum gun.”
Mike cursed. “Everything is going wrong!”
“I am sure that on the next interrogation we will get vital information about the U.N.C.L.E. setup. That alone will make all of this worthwhile,” the little man said. “I am sure the division chief will be so pleased it will mean promotion for both of us.”
“A fat lot of good a promotion will do us if we're all burned up!”
“We aren't burned yet,” the old man said. “I worked with Royce. I know how he operates. He'll threaten and bluster first. He'll overplay his hand. You'll have an opportunity to trip him up.”
Mike said something April could not catch. Then the old man said contemptuously, “What you are afraid of is that the division director will blame you for letting Royce slip through your fingers!”
“Damn you!” Mike said in a choked voice.
“Don't threaten me! I’ll---”
“You'll what? I am your only chance to recover from your error and escape punishment for your incompetency! I suggest you treat me with a little more courtesy!”
“I-I'm sorry,” Mike said bitterly.
“Good! You may wonder why I, Rottermund, the great scientist, even bother to worry with you. It is this. I am interested in what this U.N.C.L.E. spy can be forced to tell us about her organization. You see, I know Alexander Waverly. I know him very well. Many years ago in England, when we were both young men,---well, I made a mistake. It was in his power to over, look it. He refused and ever since I have had to slink along the back alleys of life and the world.”
“If Royce isn't liquidated, it won't matter anymore.”
“It matters to me!” the old man cried. “I want to kill Waverly with my own hands. You can help me if I can get the right information from this U.N.C.L.E. agent. Help me and I'll help you get the information you need to keep the division director from handling your bungling in the manner it should be handled.”
“I'll help you,” Mike mumbled grudgingly.
“Good!” the THRUSH scientist said. “Now get this hunk of clay back to her room. In three hours we'll try again. And this time I am sure Miss April Dancer will tell us both what we need to know!”
FIVE
THE DESPERATE CHANCE
When the tape recording ran its course, April Dancer closed her eyes and tried to think. She realized full well how desperate her situation was. It frightened her that she was in a position where she could be forced to betray every U.N.C.L.E. secret she knew.
The recording had revealed clearly that it was impossible to keep back anything from the probing, compulsive force of the interrogation machine.
U.N.C.L.E., of course, had thousands of secrets about which she knew nothing. But at the same time, there were plenty that she did know, had to know in order to do her job. For one thing, she could be forced to reveal every major office location U.N.C.L.E. had worldwide. Even worse, it was more than possible that they could dredge enough from her mind to set a trap for Mr. Waverly. She could think of several ways it could be done.
There was nothing April Dancer could do at the moment, but she knew that she had to do something. Even if she had to kill herself, she knew she was not going to betray U.N.C.L.E. and especially Alexander Waverly, who had given her the chance she wanted so badly.
Once this resolution was made, April felt better. As she lay back, resting and renewing her strength, her busy mind was turning over a dozen fantastic plans to escape. She had a strong, athletic body encased in her willowy form and it helped her recover rapidly from her ordeal.
As the strength flowed back into her, April's optimism rose in proportion. She could see Alexander Waverly's stern lined face lecturing to the U.N.C.L.E. academy: “No matter how desperate a situation may seem, there is always a way out. If you do not have the ability and ingenuity to find that way, there is no place for you in U.N.C.L.E.”
As she thought of that, April smiled faintly as she also recalled what Illya Kuryakin told her when she asked him what to do about a problem presented to the academy students.
She remembered how he grinned at her.
“Honey.” she remembered him saying. “When you can't think of a blessed thing to do, then roll up your sleeves, double your fists and go at them
swinging. It may not be the smart thing to do, but it is better than nothing. Doing nothing will get you nothing but a lot more nothing. Anything is better than that!”
“Well,” April said to herself. “We'll see how well Kuryakin's law works!”
Still sure that she was being watched through the two-way mirror, April went through the motions of waking up. She swung her trim legs off the couch and stood up. She was elated to find little evidence of her previous weakness. The many hours she spent golfing, riding and swimming were working to her advantage now.
However, she thought it prudent to go through the motions of staggering. A key portion of her rapidly forming plan of attack depended upon keeping the enemy thinking her too weak to furnish a physical threat.
After two years with U.N.C.L.E. she had begun to take the organization's protective devices for granted. Now she realized how much they all depended on these wonderful and ingenious gadgets.
It would have been so simple to tune in the pen-communicator and report directly to Mr. Waverly. Then the triangle locator beams from the U.N.C.L.E. direction finder could have pinpointed her location from the transmitting beams.
For a moment she felt almost naked without them. She took a deep breath and thought wryly: “There's nothing left but to apply Kuryakin's law: Roll up your sleeves and wade into them.”
For a long moment she stood in the center of the room, turning over the only possibilities left to her. She had the smoke screen mints left, but there was no one to blind with them but herself. The compact-tape recorder had served its purpose well in revealing what had gone on at the electronic interrogation, but was of no use now.
Then a sudden thought struck her. The recorder was no help now, yet perhaps the information she gained from it could be the slim key to unlock the doors between her and freedom.
April was used to making split-second decision. Once the idea flashed through her mind, the girl did not hesitate. Her quick mind had instantly grasped the possibilities.
The details could be worked out as each succeeding emergency arose. And she knew they would arise.
April Dancer turned and faced the mirror. She was positive that it was a two-way spy affair. It was not quite as bright as it should have been, betraying the fact that some of the light striking its smooth surface was not being reflected back. It was going through to provide a view through the glass for the spy on the other side.
“Mike,” she said quietly, “I'm ready to make a deal with you.”
There was no sound from the other side. For an anxious moment April wondered if she had made a mistake in assuming she was being watched.
She took a deep breath and tried again. This time she played an ace to see what she could drag in.
“Mike!” she snapped impatiently. “I don't have time to play around and be coy. I'll put it on the line. You want the trigger bomb. You won't get it except from me! You can see now how effective that third degree toy is.”
The mirror shook and swung back on silent hinges. Mike's head and shoulders were framed by the hole in the wall. He stared at her. His face was drawn and white. He was no longer the handsome, friendly man she had known before. The friendly enemy had degenerated into a haunted, fear gnawed shell of a man.
“You know about the bomb,” he said in a furtive voice, “Then you were able to beat Rottermund's machine!”
“Of course!” April said contemptuously. She tossed her head and the red shoulder-length hair swung provocatively about her face. She had not dared wear a wig as she had in Los Angeles, but had dyed her hair for this mission.
“You know where it is?” he asked in a choked voice.
April kept her face impassive, struggling to hide the contempt any vital woman feels for a weak man.
“Yes,” she said.
“That's enough to buy your freedom,” he said quickly. “Tell---”
“No!” she snapped. “I'm not selling out that cheap. I've got to betray U.N.C.L.E. The price for that is going to be high.”
He hesitated. His face turning ugly. “Are you trying---?”
April Dancer broke into his suspicious outburst.
“I want to do what Royce is trying to do!” she cried, her dark eyes snapping.
He stared at her with his mouth slack.
“It's impossible!” he said.
“For me alone, yes,” she said. “But you and I together. It has to be that way. We will be working against both THRUSH and U.N.C.L.E. I understand my organization. I don't know enough about yours. Together we can do it! We can blackmail both of them into submission!”
His face flushed and then went pale. “We couldn't do it!” he whispered.
“Of course we can! Royce is doing it, isn't he? THRUSH is not going to let him get away with this mad scheme to commit world suicide. They'll give in to him. They must, or die themselves.”
Mike's pale face was wet with sweat. His features twisted in agony as he struggled in his mind.
April goaded him more deeply. “You've got to do it!” she whispered, the urgency of her voice driving the words hard into him. “You've failed in this thing. And you know the price of failure in THRUSH. If they have to make an agreement with Royce, you'll pay for your failure with your life. You know that, don't you?”
“Yes!” he whispered.
“Then strike first! Let them make their deal with us! We can get anything we want! Power! Money! Anything! And they won't dare double-cross us. We'll keep the bomb. All we'll sell is a promise not to use it!”
“They'll know we'd be bluffing. We couldn't---”
“But if we could make them think we're as crazy as Royce, then they would believe!” she whispered. “They believe Royce is mad enough to burn the air if he doesn't get his way. They believe that, don't they?”
“Yes---they believe it!”
“And they'll believe you if you pretend to be as crazy as Royce!”
He licked his lips. He started to sweat heavily, the big drops running slowly across his forehead.
April watched him narrowly. She was sure now he would help her. His spirit and courage had rotted under the acid fear of THRUSH's reprisal for his failure to re-obtain the trigger bomb. She was sure he would begin to work with her, but she was just as sure he would crack at the first tough resistance they encountered in getting free of the THRUSH headquarters building.
April Dancer knew that to be successful in turning his craven fear to her own advantage she must work fast.
“Of course it will succeed,” she said, forcing a confidence into her voice to help stiffen the THRUSH man's sagging spine. “And we can force them to give us anything we want! What do you want?”
“Just to get from under this awful fear,” he said weakly.
“I want to be Queen of England!” April said fiercely. “I want to sit on the throne! I want the crown jewels to glow on my head. I want the people to bow to me!”
“You're c---” he broke off.
“Call it what you will!” she snapped, closely watching his face for every reaction. “This is my price for your life! Going with me is the only way you can save yourself from THRUSH's vengeance!”
He shuddered and licked his lips. “I'll get you out of here.”
“That's all I need,” she said crisply. “The rest I can do myself, with your knowledge of THRUSH to guide me. There is one other thing. I'll need this man Mark Slate to help me. We must take him with us.”
“No!” he said explosively.
“You're trying to trick me! This man is your lover. You want to double-cross me! I'll be shoved out!”
Instantly April realized she had made a most serious mistake. Yet she couldn't abandon Mark. She thought for a moment.
“Forget him,” she said crisply, deciding she would have to backtrack for the moment. She was determined, however, not to leave without her co-agent. “It may be more difficult, but we can do it, you and l alone!”
“Just a minute,” Mike said. Now that he had made a decision, he lo
oked less fearful. “I'll come around and get you. We'll have to move fast. If that little devil Rottermund---!”
“Yessss---”
The word was almost a snake's hiss. Mike whirled around. April saw with despair that the little THRUSH scientist was framed by a suddenly opening door behind Mike. He held a weapon in his hand that looked to April like a futuristic model of a gun.
Mike opened his mouth and then closed it. The despair on his face showed that he knew his end had come. In the final moments of his life the THRUSH traitor managed to find some remnants of courage left in his shivering body. He hurled himself at Rottermund. The weapon in the little scientist's hand hissed. A tiny missile leaped from the barrel, streaking a thin trail of fire.
It struck in Mike's belly and exploded. April's last chance to escape exploded with it as the renegade fell with a hole the size of a melon blasted in his dead body.
“Miss Dancer,” Rottermund said, “I of course listened to your entire conversation with this fool. I must compliment you on your perception. You are quite an intelligent young woman.”
April swallowed and tried hard to keep her voice steady when she replied, “Thank you, Dr. Rottermund.”
“But you made one error, my dear,” he went on. His little monkey face twisted in a sneer. “The machine is not a failure. It works perfectly . You see---”
He paused and laughed softly. “I made just a minute adjustment of the ray source halfway through the interrogation. I didn't want Mr. Michaels to learn anything which would restore him to favor with our THRUSH division commander, Miss Dancer. I wish to be the one who gets the credit for determining the hiding place of the trigger bomb.”
April forced herself to smile. “You are very clever, Dr. Rottermund,” she said. “You are the kind of man I love to work with. Perhaps we could---”
“Yes, Miss Dancer,” the little scientist said and chuckled as he looked down at the dead man. “It is not necessary for you to say any more. I understand you perfectly.”
“Excellent, Dr. Rottermund,” April said. “We---”
“I understand you too perfectly,” the THRUSH scientist cut in. “You are very persuasive. You are very clever. You are very lovely. But unfortunately, Miss Dancer, your charms are lost on me. I am a woman-hater!”
The Burning Air Affair Page 4
