The Beauty and Beast Affair

by Robert Hart Davis

  "That's enough out of you!" Solo shouted.

  "Sure." Illya sank back into the pillows. He picked up a roasted chicken breast, took a deep bite, chewing pleasurably. "Just one thing I ask of you. If I'm dreaming, don't wake me up."

  "I want information about Ann Nelson Wheat!" Solo raged.

  Illya gestured upward toward him. "Then I suggest you talk to Sheik Zud."

  Piebr sprang across the room, brandishing a pistol toward Illya.

  Illya said, "If you shoot me, friend, be sure you hit me and not this chicken. It's too good to waste."

  Piebr snarled at him. But Solo waved the detective back to the door. "It's all right, Piebr. I can handle the infidel."

  "He has no right to speak to you in such a tone, Master."

  Illya took another bite of chick en. "I was only being friendly. After all, it's a good suggestion. You want to know what happened to Ann Nelson Wheat, Kiell, ask your king. After all, we're his prisoners here; you're not. The head of his security police ought to be able to arrange a private audience with the sultan, it seems to me."

  * * *

  WHEN THE servants parted the silk curtains at the innermost chambers of the sheik, Solo walked in and bowed low, going down to his knee, hoping this was the correct genuflection expected of a minister-level subject of Zud.

  He saw there were two women with Zud. One sat on a recently installed throne that was slightly higher than Zud's. The other woman sat at the ruler's massive feet.

  Zud spoke at Solo sharply. "Off your knee. I warned you about this false show of humility. You want me to start mistrusting you? I should never have permitted your going to Harvard for your education. You came back thinking you were just slightly better than any one except Allah himself. I should have sent you to West Point—there they would have taught you to respect your superiors. Off your knee, unless you make obeisance to our most exalted lady, Queen Soraya Haidar of Xanra."

  "I pledge my life to both of you," Solo said hesitantly.

  Zud threw his head back laughing. "You'd have a difficult time fulfilling such obligation, eh, Soraya? Eh? If he tried to give his life for both of us—since we are in enemy camps, eh?"

  "We do not need to be, Zud," Soraya said. Solo saw she was of a loveliness that was breathtaking, a dark and splendid beauty. "We could do much together, you and I."

  Zud raged. "Only I am too ugly for you, eh?"

  "Only you have ever suggested such a false thing, Your Highness," Soraya said.

  "Oh, I know!" Zud shouted. "You're too polite to laugh in my face as my mother did. How do you hold your laughter until you get back among your own ladies-in-waiting?"

  "There is no laughter in my heart, except that I would share with you, O Mighty King, if you would let me."

  Solo saw the pain in Soraya's black eyes, the love that shone there for the huge king. He decided that if the King of Lions couldn't see it, the beast was as blind as a bat.

  "So you taunt me in a different way than my mother did;" Zud said. He leaped up, raging. "But in the end it is the same. I don't blame you, Queen of Xanra. I know that if I want your hand, I'd have to overthrow your country and enslave you, wouldn't I?"

  "I am ready to join my country, and my heart with yours, when I hear it asked of me," the lovely queen answered.

  Zud put back his head, laughing. "Well, it's good to have you visit me! It reminds me of the ugly brute I am. I had to enslave the women I made marry me. Perhaps in the end I shall force you to marry me, Soraya, unless your larger army is finally victorious over mine."

  Xanra's Queen stood up. Her face was bleak. "I shall leave you now, Great Zud. I come to you no more to ask for peace. I am sorry. Good-by."

  The great man sank to his knees and kissed the hem of her skirt. He looked up at her. "Despite my devotion, I pray you will marry a man good enough, handsome enough, great enough for you, O Queen."

  "I hope I shall, too," Soraya answered, and Solo knew what she meant, even if the king were too blind to see.

  Solo sighed. He reflected that if he'd grown up on his mother's taunts, instead of the love he'd longed for, he, too, might have grown to doubt that any woman could care for him.

  He scowled. He had to quit finding excuses for the things Zud did. The sheik had already revealed that he was planning an alliance with THRUSH, that international conspiracy against which U.N.C.L.E. waged constant battle. He and Zud were deadly enemies. He had to remember that, every minute.

  He stood, waiting, until Queen Soraya had walked out of the splendid chamber. For some moments after Xanra's ruler was gone, Zud stood immobile staring impatiently after her.

  Finally, he turned. He glared at Kiell. "We must redouble our efforts, Kiell! I want to marry her. Whatever else I have on earth is as nothing unless she is mine."

  "If you married her," Solo said, "you need not wage war against Xanra."

  Zud oaths turned the air in the room a hazy blue. He looked as if he'd attack his security minister.

  "So you think to taunt me, too, eh, my Harvard delinquent? Just because I let Soraya tease me about my ugliness, you think you can get away with it?"

  "No one thinks you're ugly, Zud," said the woman on the floor.

  She was in her late twenties, lovely, in spite of a certain prudishness about her that Solo associated with women who turn to religion to the exclusion of everything earthly. He caught his breath, knowing he was seeing Ann Nelson Wheat, the evangelist from Los Angeles.

  "Except you yourself," she went on. "You torment yourself and hurt others, because you're still trying to get even with your foolish mother."

  "Listen to the evangelist, Kiell! Oh, in America, they allow their women to speak right up, eh? Listen to me, Ann Wheat! Nobody thinks me ugly in this country because they don't dare to! They think I'm ugly. And my mirror swears to it that I resemble a great beast!"

  "It's all in your own mind," Ann Wheat said. "Like many other of your wrong ideas."

  "Listen to her!" Zud shouted. "Do you know what she has told me? That it is wrong to have more than one wife? What can be wrong? What would a man do with just one wife? Eh, Kiell?"

  Solo shrugged, smiling behind his plastic mask.

  Zud said, "Enough of this talk. You teach my wives any more of this equality of women, Ann Wheat, and I'll have you beheaded. This time for sure. Meantime, get out of here so I can talk to my minister of security—as though I had any security."

  When the woman evangelist was gone, Solo said, "What do you plan to do with her?"

  "When our war with Xanra is won, I'll let her go home, if she still wants to. She came here to convert us—perhaps she'll learn much here. But do not presume to ask explanations of your ruler, Zud. I have been too long patient with you."

  "Too long, Zud." Solo bowed low.

  "Now, we have promised to deliver Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo to THRUSH. What they do with them is THRUSH'S concern, not ours. We want only the aid THRUSH has promised in our battle with Xanra. I want you to deliver Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo and the young Chinese doll as a bonus to THRUSH. Tonight."

  Solo swallowed hard. He had no idea where the THRUSH agents were, or where they might be found. He waited, but Zud only stared at him.

  "Well!" Zud shouted. "What are you waiting for? This Kuryakin has made one attempt already to escape. I want them delivered now. If they do escape, Kiell, do not dare to show your face to me again, or by Allah, I will lop off your head personally and feed it to the tigers."

  "I will not fail you, King of Lions."

  Zud's laughter shook the silk draperies at the windows. "For your own sake, Kiell," he roared, "I hope you don't."

  His wild laughter followed Napoleon Solo from the chamber.

  Solo walked back into the sumptuous chambers where Illya and Wanda were held prisoners.

  He closed the door. A soldier came to attention at his side.

  He gave the young soldier only a glance, seeing that he was youthful, his face serious, his black eyes lighted wi
th the fires of the fanatic. He thought, a fitting subject to be ruled by Zud.

  He saw that Illya, Piebr, Wanda and Frun were sitting on the pillows in a circle, laughing, chatting and eating from the bowls of food and fruit. Only Piebr laughed less than the others, seemed preoccupied.

  Ordwell remained on the floor, in what seemed to be a catatonic trance.

  "What's going on here!" Solo said. "Fraternizing with the enemy?"

  "Your men have been working sixteen hours without food, Kiell," Illya said. "We're just feeding them."

  "Suppose they poison your food!" Solo shouted.

  Both Piebr and Frun leaped to theft feet.

  Illya said, "Where could we get poison? They issued me these clothes. They brought the food themselves. And Aly David on guard over there should be promoted to general in your army, Kiell! He foiled my escape. You know why? Because though his friends mean much to him, his country means more."

  Solo turned his back on the laughing Illya. He said, "Piebr!"

  The young detective stepped forward, clicking his heels together.

  "What's the matter with you, Piebr?" Solo said. "You act as if you had the weight of the world on your shoulders."

  "No, Master, it is nothing." Piebr stared straight ahead. But tears brimmed his eyes.

  Illya shouted. "He's afraid to say anything in your presence. But how can you be so unfeeling? It's his father you shot tonight—as you well know!" Illya's voice rose and hackles stood on Solo's neck. Zouida Berikeen. Piebr's father! "Yet you expect him to perform like a machine."

  Solo exhaled heavily. He spoke without looking at the young detective. "Take the night off, Piebr."

  "If you please, Master, I'd rather work. I think less, working, about my father. If he was a traitor, he had to die. It is just so hard to believe. But—I do believe you, Master! You would do nothing to harm this country or our ruler."

  Solo winced, still unable to look at Piebr. He had not killed Piebr's father, but he wore the mask that Ordwell had used when Ordwell had killed the ambassador. He wondered, as he had wondered for a long time now, who had killed the real Kiell, and had this mask awaiting the arrival of Ordwell on the plane?

  He tightened his hands into fists, knowing the answer to that question, even if he didn't know the names of the actual traitors who were double-crossing Zud and all of Zabir. His old friends THRUSH.

  He said, voice cold, "Piebr, do you know where the agents of THRUSH await our delivery of these prisoners?"

  Piebr nodded.

  "Good," Solo said. "Then you will drive us there. Frun and this soldier will go along as guards. Our orders are to leave at once."

  Piebr bowed and backed away. "I will arrange for a car right away, Master."

  Wanda cried softly. Illya put his arm around her, whispered, "It is no time to think about safety, Wanda. We'll never be safe until we ferret out THRUSH—and destroy it, eh?"

  Wanda nodded, understanding. She stood up, ready to go.

  In a matter of minutes Piebr returned, saying a car and driver awaited them at a side exit.

  Solo thanked him, nodded to ward Ordwell. "Take Solo out to the car, leave Frun to guard him and return for us."

  He waited until Frun and Piebr struggled with the leg-dragging Ordwell through the door. Then he saw that the young soldier remained standing at attention just inside the room.

  "Guard the hall," Solo ordered.

  Aly David hesitated a moment, then nodded. "As you command, Master." He stepped through the door, closed it after him.

  Solo went directly to Illya, gave him a loaded pistol to conceal in the folds of his linen robe.

  "We've got to make at least the bluff of turning the three of you over to THRUSH," he said.

  Illya hid the gun. "I understand. But tell me something. Where'd you get the mask? You know—on you it's an improvement."

  "I'll worry about my looks when we learn what nonsense THRUSH is up to."

  "Then let's get on the road," Illya said, moving toward the door.

  "Don't I get a gun?" Wanda cried.

  Solo stared at her. "I should get shot in the back? You hang close to Illya—and keep absolutely quiet, no matter what happens."

  With Piebr leading them, and Aly David bringing up the rear, they went hurriedly through the brilliant halls to a waiting car.

  The driver sped out a side gate, drove along the high wall to the four-lane highway and turned north toward Kurbot.

  Solo, Illya, Piebr and run sat on the rear seat. Ordwell was sprawled across their feet. Solo could feel the stocky man stir as the effects of the neuroquixonal wore off.

  "How much further?" he asked.

  "Not many kilometers, Master. As you know, THRUSH'S agents have taken over Sheik Zud's retreat at Paradise Oasis."

  "Yes, of course," Solo said. "So much on my mind."

  They were silent for the rest of the drive through the desert night. The stillness pervaded everything, bearing down on the car like a tangible pressure.

  Wanda sat huddled between the young driver and Aly David on the front seat. Solo wanted to say something to reassure her, but he could think of nothing. There were no words.

  The car swung off the highway, going east on a secondary road over sand dunes in washboard monotony.

  Suddenly ahead a splash of electric lights illuminated the sky-reaching date palms of Paradise Oasis. Beyond the twenty-room villa, stark oil derricks reared against the roof of heaven, their pumps pounding like the heart of parasites, sucking life from the earth.

  Lights burned in every room of the retreat, a concrete and stucco mansion cresting a small hill above the pool of water in the heart of the oasis.

  "Something is odd, Master," Piebr said. "There are no lights on the exterior of the house."

  "Yes." Solo ordered the driver to slow the car. They peered into the darkness, seeing nothing moving in the deep shadows of oleander bushes, lemon trees, fig bushes. Still, Solo shared Piebr's instinct of something being wrong.

  "Drive all the way to the front door," he told the chauffeur.

  The chauffeur allowed the car to roll to the wide steps before the spacious veranda. The silence continued unbroken. The pumps throbbed away in the darkness.

  "Leave your lights burning," Solo said.

  Aly David got out of the car first. He walked up to the top step, stood looking around, gun at ready across his chest. Piebr opened one rear door and jumped out, gun in hand, Frun exited from the other. Still nothing happened.

  Then Solo bent down, getting out of the car. As his head cleared the protection of the bullet proofed glass, guns erupted like orange flares in the Stygian darkness and the night went wild.

  Solo hit the ground hard, looking around for a target. Piebr crouched in against the car, gun ready.

  Above them, Aly David sank to his knee, gun against his shoulder.

  Bullets screamed like raging hornets past them. Frun fired once, and there were dozens of answering shots, the bullets ripping into the car.

  Suddenly a woman's voice broke across the sound of gun fire via a public address system. The guns were quieted, waiting.

  "Solo," the voice said. "Tell the deluded men with you to lay down their arms, or they will be slain along with you. We have guns fixed on you from the darkness, and from all the windows on the lower floor behind you."

  Solo glanced up at the lighted windows, saw the dark forms in them, guns held ready.

  "Ordwell," the voice said. "Are you there?"

  Solo watched the stocky man pull himself from the car. He managed to stand up, the effects of the neuroquixonal fading swiftly as he moved around.

  "I'm here," Ordwell called.

  "Then disarm them," the woman's voice ordered. "All of them. Then march them into the house." Her voice took on an air of contempt. "THRUSH hopes you can accomplish this."

  Solo heard Orwell gasp in rage, but he made no reply. He moved, from Piebr to Aly David to Frun, gathering the weapons. A man appeared from the darkness an
d collected them. Then Ordwell came close to Solo.

  "Your gun, Mr. Solo," he said.

  Solo heard Piebr's sharp intake of breath. He did not glance toward the young detective.

  Ordwell took the gun, barrel first, closed his fist over it and coldly back-handed Solo across the head with it.

  Solo staggered to his knees, feeling the blood trickling from the cut down the inside of the plastic mask. For a moment all the date palms were strung with glittering stars of a million hues, and then darkness settled. He gritted his teeth, managed to hang on to consciousness.

  He heard Ordwell snarling at him. "On your feet. Move, Solo. Or I'll kill you, just as I killed that fool ambassador in the airport terminal."

  Solo managed to pull himself up slowly. Illya came out of the car, supported him. And after a moment, Piebr stepped close to him, lending the strength of his arm, Solo was thankful Piebr finally knew the truth about the senseless slaying of his father.

  Piebr whispered savagely, "Somehow, by the grace of Allah, we will get out of this. I know now they slew not only my good and faithful father, but also the protector of my country, the real Kiell."

  "Shut up!" Ordwell said. "Get him inside the house. Move. All of you."

  They were herded into a living room, shut off from other rooms by silken draperies of bright colors. Solo staggered slightly as he walked. He would have fallen except that Piebr and Illya supported him. Objects and people in the room wavered before his eyes.

  They stood some moments in this room, alone. Even Ordwell grew restive. He glared around at the silken draperies. "Well, what's wrong now? Here they are. THRUSH wanted Solo and Kuryakin delivered as hostages. Here they are!"

  Ordwell Slybrough laughed in triumph. He gripped the plastic mask over Solo's face, slipped a knife blade under it and cut it away.

  He jerked it off Solo's head. He stared a moment in sadistic satisfaction at the cut across Solo's temple, the blood streaming along his cheek.

  "Here he is!" he shouted.

  The silken drapes parted and Pretty Wilde came through them, followed by two scowling native gunmen.

  Solo stared at her, the gash in his temple for the moment forgotten, or supplanted by a more poignant agony. Pretty Wilde was lovelier than ever in black blouse and black stretch pants which seemed annealed to her stockpiled elegance.