The Mind-Twisters Affair

by Thomas. Stratton

  "I suppose you'll simply have to look for him," Waverly concluded. "From your description of his state of mind, he may be anywhere."

  "I hope so," Napoleon said. "Although that mob formed and broke up just a bit too quickly for my peace of mind. I keep having the nasty suspicion that it broke up because it had done its job."

  "Could you check and see if Dr. Armden had any friends in Fort Wayne?" Illya inquired. "He could have decided that he wanted to convert them, as he planned to convert Dr. Morthley when be got to New York. He didn't appear to be too rational."

  Waverly considered the idea. "Perhaps you're right, Mr. Kuryakin. At least, it will give you a place to start looking. Stand by."

  It turned out that Dr. Armden bad a good dozen friends or colleagues in the Fort Wayne area, and it was late by the time the agents had contacted them all and explained the situation. Nothing was learned; Armden hadn't seen any of them for several months. They checked in again with Waverly, who could only sound regretful and urge them to get a good night's sleep before renewing the search Monday morning.

  But the renewed search was not necessary. Napoleon was roused from a sound sleep Monday morning by the warbling of his communicator. Waverly informed him that Mrs. Armden had just called to say that her husband had returned the night before, acting rather strangely, and that he had just gone back to work as if nothing had happened.

  Chapter 4

  "Habit, Nothing But Habit"

  JUST AFTER 9:30, Napoleon and Illya pulled into the visitor's parking lot at Falco Industries. A uniformed guard greeted them politely at the plant entrance and let them in as far as a little railed waiting area next to his desk. Their hesitant admission that they were U.N.C.L.E. agents brought no change in the guard's attitude, and he promised to try and have Dr. Armden located for them.

  This was apparently the entrance to a manufacturing area; through a pair of wide swinging doors they could hear the rumble of machinery. As the two agents waited, four men in jeans and faded chambray shirts pushed through the doors and clustered in front of a group of vending machines directly across from the waiting area. After a minute spent in flipping coins, the loser began depositing dimes in the coffee machine. The first man to pull a cup from behind the little window put it to his lips and sipped cautiously. After a second, he made a face that lay somewhere between everyday disapproval and mild nausea.

  "Better than usual," he said.

  "It's Monday morning," one of the others said as he reached for the second cup. "It hasn't had time to ferment yet." He took a small swallow and grimaced slightly. "You're right; it isn't half bad today."

  The third man made a similar face when he got a cup from the soft drink machine next to the coffee.

  "Habit, nothing but habit," he grumbled. "They could put lighter fluid in here and we'd drink it."

  The last man was pondering his choice when the guard hung up the phone and turned to the two agents. "They can't seem to locate Dr. Armden. He isn't in his office."

  "He is in the plant, however?" Napoleon asked.

  "Sure, he's here somewhere. Saw him come in myself, earlier than usual. Working on some hot project, I guess. He's probably out checking on something."

  "Could we speak with his boss?" Napoleon wanted to know.

  "I dunno; I'll see." The guard returned to the phone. 'Put me through to John Kilian, will you, Hazel?" He waited briefly, then resumed talking. "Mr. Kilian? I've got two men out here. They wanted to talk to Armden, but we couldn't locate him. They asked to talk to you." There was another pause. "All right" He turned to Napoleon and Illya, extending the telephone. "He'll talk to you."

  Napoleon took the receiver. "Mr. Kilian? My name is Napoleon Solo. I wonder if you could answer a few questions about Dr. Armden?"

  There was a quiet chuckle from the other end of the line. "If you guarantee you aren't recruiting for another company. If you are, you'll have to contact our personnel department. We aren't allowed to give out information directly."

  "In a manner of speaking, I suppose I am. I represent U.N.C.L.E. and we had hoped to get Dr. Armden's services as a consultant in a certain matter. He agreed to come to New York, but then left us at the Fort Wayne airport yesterday. We'd like to know why he changed his mind so suddenly."

  "Oh, you're the ones. I couldn't tell you why he changed his mind; he called me yesterday afternoon and said he was going, and then this morning he showed up here, ready to go to work on his latest project. I will say, though," the voice took on a formal tone, "that I quite surprised when he informed me that he was with you. He has spoken of U.N.C.L.E. recently, not at all favorably."

  "Has Dr. Armden been acting normally today? His wife said he was acting rather strangely last night."

  "You've spoken to Mrs. Armden, then?"

  "Only indirectly, but -"

  "I'm afraid that's all the information I can give you." Kilian's voice became even more formal. "When I see Richard, I'll tell him you were here. Now let me speak with the guard again."

  Napoleon frowned slightly and obediently handed the phone to the guard, who listened silently for several seconds and hung up with a crisp "Yes, sir."

  "I have the feeling we're about to be ordered out," Napoleon remarked to Illya as he watched the guard turn toward them.

  "Ah, the two spies again! How nice to see you." Sascha Curtis bustled around his desk and held out his hand. "What can I do for you today?"

  "We have a new problem for you," Napoleon informed him. "If you can spare the time from your survey."

  "Certainly. I don't have another class for an hour. What sort of problem did you have in mind?"

  "Dr. Armden," Napoleon informed him. "Yesterday he decided to visit Dr. Morthley in New York. We got him as far as the Fort Wayne airport, where he disappeared. Somehow, he got back here to Midford 1ast night. His wife said he was acting strangely."

  "Strangely? How?"

  "He walked in the door last night and went to bed with hardly a word. Then this morning he was up earlier than usual and off to Falco almost an hour early. Apparently he simply ignored her questions."

  Curtis looked thoughtful. "Very interesting. That, plus the apparent personality change, points to some type of schizophrenia."

  "Would a split personality really explain all his actions?" Napoleon asked.

  "It might. Secondary personalities are often not fully developed and seem very dull when compared with the primary personality. However, only the most spectacular schizophrenics develop true split personalities. Most simply have a fixed delusion on some subject."

  "Such as thinking U.N.C.L.E. is an international Communist plot?" Illya inquired.

  "That could well be one aspect," Curtis said. "There would almost certainly be others, though."

  "He's decided that charities are either useless or criminal," Napoleon offered.

  Curtis nodded. "Any radical change from his former personality could be a part of it. I don't know what his previous feelings were about charities, but judging from your description, his present feelings are a bit extreme."

  Illya frowned. "But schizophrenia isn't contagious."

  "I had always assumed it was not. But, then, until yesterday I always assumed that stories of entire towns suffering personality changes were nonsense. Now..." Curtis shrugged. "We'll see what the survey has to say about it. Incidentally, I've been talking to a few of the faculty since Saturday. It isn't Gaspar and his memo that are anti-U.N.C.L.E. Half a dozen of the instructors practically had apoplexy at the mention of U.N.C.L.E. I told them a year ago that swilling all that pop and coffee would rot their brains as well as their stomachs - that was when they put those infernal vending machines in the Student Union. But nobody listens to a psychologist. Anyway, there is also a small but vocal group of students who have been orating against U.N.C.L.E. and international plots in general. Oddly, these aren't the type of students who usually go in for this sort of thing. Not an intellectual - genuine or phony - in the lot. In fact, a good many of
them were attending summer school this year to make up courses they flunked last spring."

  "And the most outspoken U.N.C.L.E. critics off campus are two of the most capable and intelligent men in town: Armden and Bennett," Illya said.

  "A very interesting problem," Curtis said happily. "I wonder if the source - if there is a source - is in the University or the town. Or is it common to both? A most stimulating problem."

  Neither agent had the heart to mention their experiences in Fort Wayne. If Curtis had thought the problem was that widespread, he would go into such a transport of ecstasy that not even his rose hip extract could save him. Instead, they turned his attention back to Dr. Armden.

  "I'd love to speak to him," said Curtis. "Do you think you could arrange it?"

  "Nothing easier," Napoleon assured him. "Meet us at his house this evening. We'll check with his wife ahead of time, but I'm sure she'd like to have you see him. She seems quite concerned for his sanity."

  "Fine, fine." Curtis rubbed his hands together briskly. He glanced at his wrist watch. "Now you'll have to excuse me; my first class should be back with the results of their first day's questioning any minute now." He bounced around his desk and drew a cylindrical container from one of the drawers. "Would you care for some Bulgarian yoghurt?" he asked as he removed the lid. "I believe it's chocolate-peach today." He sniffed the aroma from the open container. "Delicious!"

  Both agents maintained expressions of cordiality until they closed Curtis's door behind them. They kept respectfully silent and tried to think kind thoughts as they walked toward their car. By use of stern self-control, Illya even managed to avoid being sick on the campus lawn.

  The front door opened and Mrs. Armden appeared to greet them. They introduced Professor Curtis. Napoleon asked if Dr. Armden had improved any since morning.

  Mrs. Armden looked a little grim. "He at least answers direct questions now. At the moment, he's just sitting there staring at the TV set. At a program he never watches."

  The three men followed her to the living room. Armden sat on a couch, blankly watching the TV set. He didn't look up as they entered the room.

  "Richard, we have visitors," Mrs. Armden said hesitantly.

  Armden continued to stare at the TV screen for several seconds, then turned slowly to face them. Recognition was similarly delayed. "Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin," he said, speaking slowly and distinctly. "I should apologize for yesterday; even an U.N.C.L.E. agent deserves common courtesy. I simply realized I was wasting my time and decided to return."

  "This is Professor Curtis, from the university," Mrs. Armden said.

  Armden rose and extended his hand deliberately to Curtis. "I remember you. You were at the plant last summer for a day or two."

  "I remember you quite well, too, Dr. Armden. We compared notes on our work for U.N.C.L.E." Curtis was watching Armden intently.

  Armden frowned. "I had forgotten that. I suppose you are working with these two men now?"

  "Not really," Curtis answered. "I'm working on a survey for the university, and -"

  Curtis broke off as Armden turned from him to face the TV set. Nobody had turned the volume down, and a particularly loud commercial had just come on. "Don't wait another minute!" an announcer's voice was exhorting. "Go down to the nearest Gackenheimer's store and take advantage of this incredible, once-in-a- lifetime offer! You can't afford not to take advantage of it. There are Gackenheimer's stores in Bippus, Midford, East Manchester, and Hunterton, and they're all open tonight until 9:00!"

  Armden turned away from the set and started into the hallway. His wife held out a hand to him. "Where are you going?" she asked.

  "To the store," he said without pausing.

  "Gackenheimer's? But that's a feed and grain store! We never bought anything there in our lives!"

  Armden approached the front door, still in his shirt sleeves, and reached for the knob. Illya had been watching him closely and now spoke sharply.

  "Dr. Armden, come back here!"

  Armden hesitated.

  "Come back in here!" Illya repeated, more loudly. This time Armden stopped, halfway through the door. Slowly he turned and came back toward the living room. Curtis darted over to the TV set and shut it off, then stood nodding his head slowly.

  "Sit down on the couch!" Illya commanded. Armden obeyed wordlessly.

  Illya glanced at Napoleon. "Thrush, anyone?" he asked. "Or do you know of any normally abnormal mental condition that would account for Armden's reactions?"

  Curtis shook his head. "Hypnosis, or drugs," he said. "Certainly not schizophrenia; obeying orders is not a schizophrenic's strong point."

  "Mrs. Armden." Illya turned to the woman, who had been standing with a stunned look ever since Armden had come back into the room. "I have no idea how, but your husband must be involved with Thrush. They've done something to him - drugs, hypnosis, something; we can't tell until he's been examined by qualified physicians. The best thing we could do now would be to get him to U.N.C.L.E. headquarters in New York where he'll be safe and we can have our doctors give him a complete examination."

  Mrs. Armden began to look overwhelmed. She turned to Curtis.

  "That would probably be best," he said. "He could be examined here, of course, but U.N.C.L.E. maintains an excellent medical staff, and they are more accustomed to this sort of thing."

  "Besides," Napoleon added, "the way things are shaping up in Midford, we can't be sure the doctors aren't controlled by Thrush in some way."

  She nodded silently to the two agents.

  "Shall we try another order?" Illya asked, and with out waiting for a reply, he turned to face Armden.

  "Come with us to U.N.C.L.E. headquarters," he said, slowly and distinctly.

  Armden stood up. "Very well," he said, and stood still, apparently awaiting further instructions.

  "Mrs. Armden had better come, too," Napoleon said. "Thrush isn't averse to kidnapping close relatives to exert pressure on anyone they're interested in. Professor Curtis, would you do us a favor?"

  "Of course," Curtis agreed immediately.

  "We'll have to take Armden in our car." Napoleon saw Illya shudder at the thought of a thousand miles of driving with three people in the U.N.C.L.E. car. He continued. "We'll have to be with him to protect him. There are too many people saying things that could be dangerous if taken literally, which is apparently how Dr. Armden is going to take them. So, could you drive Mrs. Armden to the Fort Wayne airport? We'll arrange for a seat on the next flight to New York and for some of our people to meet her there. All you have to do is make sure she gets on the plane."

  "Certainly," Curtis said.

  "The sooner we get going, the better," Illya said. . "Mrs. Armden, would you pack something for your husband and yourself? We won't have room for anything in the car, so you'll have to take all the clothing with you."

  She nodded and turned to go upstairs. Illya spoke to Armden again. "Just come with us, Dr. Armden. Everything will be -"

  Armden, who had been standing silently since Illya had first ordered him to come with them, suddenly screamed and lunged forward, swinging his fists wildly. Illya ducked and grabbed one arm. Napoleon quickly grasped the other.

  "Do you have anything to quiet him down?" Illya asked as Armden struggled violently in their grip.

  "In the car. Professor, take an arm and hang on until I get back."

  Curtis hesitantly reached for the arm Napoleon was gripping. Armden was still struggling violently, but apparently hadn't thought about kicking yet. As Curtis tried to take over for Napoleon, however, Armden suddenly gave a second scream and went limp. The two agents lowered him gently to the couch. Illya hurriedly checked his pulse while Napoleon tried to calm Mrs. Armden. Curtis stood by, fascinated.

  After a minute, Illya satisfied himself that Armden was merely unconscious. He picked up the slight form and turned to Napoleon, who had finally persuaded Mrs. Armden that the best thing to do was to get packed and go into hysterics later.

&nb
sp; "Get the doors open," Illya admonished. "We have some packing of our own to do." He nodded at Armden's limp form.

  Section II: "Harass The Foe From The Rear"

  Chapter 5

  "How Does One Lose A Helicopter?"

  DAWN, TO SOMEONE WHO has been awake for twenty-four hours and driving in an incredibly cramped car for eight, can be extremely bleak. Somewhere near the eastern end of the Ohio turnpike, Napoleon pulled to the side of the road and stopped next to a sign that read "Emergency Stop Only." He pushed up the gull-wing door and swung his feet out from under the steering wheel. Automatically taking the keys from the ignition, he stood up, stretched, stamped his feet a few times, and shook his head.

  "You'd better take over again," he said to Illya, after a minute of the brisk autumn air had done nothing whatever in the way of shaking off the feeling of lethargy.

  Illya obediently struggled out of the passenger's side, then stood there, leaning over, one hand propping up Dr. Armden. "Get over here and hang on to him," he said, a touch of irritation showing. "If I let go, he'll shift one way or the other and we'll be another half hour getting ourselves stuffed back in."

  Napoleon hurried around the car and held Armden in place while Illya inserted himself beneath and behind the steering wheel. Once settled, he held Armden while Napoleon got in.

  Illya glanced at the clear morning sky as he reached up to pull down the door. "This car even attracts attention from helicopters," he observed.

  "Probably belongs to the highway department, or the local police," Napoleon answered, stifling a yawn. "Some places use them to check traffic flow." He closed his eyes.

  "I think we're being followed," Illya said. "Either this one or one just like it was hovering over us the last time we stopped."