The Deadly Drug Affair

by Robert Hart Davis

  Rank said, "It is silly not to equip them so that they can carry out their orders. Suppose Slate slips and falls and loses the bomb in the mud?"

  Dorcus bit her lip undecidedly, then stooped to pick her own rain boots from the floor and handed them to April. "Our feet are about the same size," she said. "Put these on."

  As April obediently sat in a chair and slipped on the boots, Dorcus tossed the large woman's galoshes April had worn earlier to Ma Rooney and ordered her to put them on.

  Then she glanced at Slate's feet and from them to the feet of the other men.

  "Your feet are about the same size as Slate's, Rudy," she told the young redhead. "Give him your boots."

  Sullenly Rudolph Betz picked up one of the mud caked pairs of galoshes and tossed them to Slate.

  "Are you going to let them put on raincoats too?" Rank asked.

  "I have no intention of giving the girl mine," Dorcus said haughtily. "You'll want to wear Slate's, and I was going to let Chance wear Mrs. Rooney's. You and Chance can be generous if you want to."

  Neither decided the comfort of the prisoners was as important as their own. When the three were properly booted, Dorcus led them along the hall next to the stairs to the back door, uncoated. The rest of the group trailed after them.

  Opening the rear door, Dorcus led them on out onto the back porch. All six of the THRUSH men crowded out onto it also.

  "It has stopped raining," Dorcus said in a disappointed tone.

  Boris Rank laughed. "She's going to be dead in a few minutes, Dorcus. What difference does it make if her hair doesn't get all wet and stringy first?"

  "How do you know what I was thinking?" she flared at him.

  "Because I know you," Rank said indulgently.

  Dorcus swung to the three prisoners. "All right, start on up," she snapped. "And remember everything I told you."

  There was a chorused, "Yes, ma'am," from the trio.

  They went down the porch steps and plodded across the back yard in single file, Slate in the lead, then April, then Ma Rooney.

  Although the drizzling rain had stopped, the air was now even chillier than it had been when the helicopter landed.

  April Dancer drew her feathered boa closely around her bare shoulders. Ma Rooney, wearing only a thin housedress, hugged herself. Even Mark Slate, in shirt sleeves, shivered slightly.

  The back yard was mown grass, which, though soggy, was firm enough to keep their feet from sinking into the ground. The moment they started up the mountainside path, however, their feet sank in mud to the ankles.

  It was slow going. Slate, holding the boxlike device in both hands, plodded ahead, placing each foot carefully. His boots made a sucking noise each time he drew them from the mud to take another step forward. April's progress was a little easier, because she carefully stepped into Slate's footprints before the mud had a chance to fill the holes completely again. Ma Rooney in turn stepped in April's tracks.

  Down below all seven THRUSH agents stood on the back porch watching. Part of the time they could see very little because of the blackness of the night. But the over-head clouds were drifting, and occasionally the moon peeked through a hole, sending a ray like a spotlight onto the three climbing the path.

  The path led to an entrance at the near side of the building, then around its front, past the timbers supporting it, to another door on the far side. Halfway between the two ends of the building Mark Slate stepped off the path and walked under the building. April and Ma Rooney followed.

  The supporting timbers were about ten feet high, and the ground slanted upward to where the rear edge of the building rested on solid ground. It was bone dry under here, and also pitch black.

  April said, "Mark."

  Slate had reached a point about a third of the way to the rear and his head had brushed the underside of the floor above. He had started to stoop so that he could go farther beneath the building when April spoke.

  Pausing, he said in docile manner, "Yes, ma'am."

  "Orders are changed," April said crisply. "Give me that box."

  She had no idea what caused her immunity to the drug, but as on the previous occasion, she had been totally unaffected. She had merely assumed the dull facial expression and mannerisms of one under the drug's influence.

  Slate obediently handed her the device.

  "Follow me, both of you," April ordered, and moved quickly to the far side of the building, beneath the steps going up on that side.

  A shaft of moonlight broke through the drifting clouds at that moment. By its light April studied the clock face and changed the single hand to make the setting thirty seconds instead of two.

  Dorcus had referred to the device as a fire bomb, which probably meant it was a phosphorus bomb. Anyone standing close to such a bomb when it exploded would be instantly seared to death by flaming phosphorus, but the lethal range of such a device was not great. Thirty seconds should allow her time to get beyond its range.

  The bomb would have to be exploded, of course. If it failed to go off, the people below would come to investigate. And there was nowhere to hide on the mountainside.

  April ran her gaze along the mountainside beyond the building. Another momentary shaft of moon light showed her an outcropping of rock about fifty feet away. Just beyond it was a flat ledge which looked as though it continued back behind the outcropping.

  The moon ray held long enough for April to point and say, "Mark, Mrs. Rooney, see where that rock juts out?"

  "Yes, ma'am," they both said. "Get over there and get behind it on that ledge. Hurry now!"

  Both obediently began to crawl along the mountainside. There was no path to follow here, but this actually made it easier going because scrub grass made the ground firmer and there were small shrubs to furnish handholds.

  When April saw that they were well on their way, she ran back beneath the building to its very center and set down the fire bomb. She lifted the plunger all the way up and drove it home again. Running back to the edge of the building, she began to scramble toward the outcropping of rock.

  Another shaft of moonlight showed her that both Slate and Ma Rooney had reached the ledge beyond the rock and were just stepping behind the rock. Fortunately they couldn't be seen by the group below on the back porch of the boarding house, because the baking plant obstructed the view from there.

  Halfway to the outcropping of rock April's booted left foot slid out from under her on a damp rock. As she started to slide on her stomach down the slope, she grabbed frantically at a small shrub. She managed to get hold of it with both hands, arresting her downward progress, but she could feel it slowly coming out by the roots.

  Releasing her right hand from the shrub, but continuing to hang on with her left, she wound the fingers of her free hand into a tuft of tough scrub grass. Pulling herself upward, she managed to get her knees beneath her just as the shrub tore loose. But now, merely using her grip on the scrub grass to maintain balance instead of to support her weight, the grass held.

  She pulled herself to her feet and inched toward the jutting rock again.

  The delay had consumed too much time, she thought with her heart in her throat. Thirty seconds must be nearly up, and she still had half the distance to cover.

  If the bomb went off before she reached the protection of the out-cropping of rock, she was certain to be impaled by streams of burning phosphorus.

  The girl from U.N.C.L.E. had the incongruous thought that a lady should be at her prettiest at the moment of death, and her cocktail dress was ruined.

  Expecting the blast at each despairing moment, she clutched at scrub grass, shrubs, jutting rocks, anything offering a handhold as she continued to inch along the steep slope. Incredibly the bomb still hadn't exploded when her hands gripped the rim of the ledge behind the rock.

  April was still in the open, though, below the ledge, when a low rumbling noise came from beneath the building.

  Thrusting up one hand, she said, "Mark! Pull me up!"


  His strong hand gripped her wrist and jerked her behind the protection of the rock just as the whole area was lighted by a blinding white flash. The flash was accompanied by a tremendous whooshing noise which must have rattled every window in the village. Streams of white-hot phosphorus streaked by the outcropping of rock behind which April, Slate and Ma Rooney crouched, some sizzling against the other side of the rock.

  The white glow faded to be replaced by one of bright red as the building burst into flame. The conflagration was so sudden and so complete that its heat seared the air around them. Only the shielding rock kept them from being roasted alive.

  "Follow me," April commanded, and began scrambling along the mountainside away from the fire.

  She kept glancing over her shoulder, partly to make sure Slate and Ma Rooney were all right, partly to make sure she was keeping the outcropping of rock between them and the fire. Since the outcropping was only fifty feet from the inferno, the air above and below it was searing hot. But extending out from it was a narrow channel of cooler air, and April wanted to be sure to stay in this. In order to stay in it, they had to climb at a slightly downward angle.

  A hundred feet from the flaming building they came to a vertical gash in the side of the mountain. When they had all scrambled over the edge of the gash, April looked down. They were in a sort of flue, six feet across and about three feet deep which ran clear to the foot of the mountain and came out in back of the combination drugstore and general store.

  April also noted with some surprise that people were pouring from the houses both sides of the street to stand on the boardwalks and gape up at the spectacular fire. Apparently even Z-17 couldn't quell the natural fascination fire held for people.

  April Dancer peered over the rim of the flue back toward the boarding house. They were now far enough beyond the burning building so that it no longer blocked the view, and by the light of the fire she could see the seven THRUSH people still standing on the back porch staring upward. Seemingly none of them had seen Mark, Ma Rooney and April working their ways along the mountainside, for no one was looking their way. They were all too intent on the fire.

  "Let's go," April said to Slate and Ma Rooney, and began to crawl backward down the flue.

  At the bottom of the slope she glanced toward the boarding house and saw that all of the people on the back porch still had eyes for nothing but the fire. Motioning her companions to follow, April Dancer ran for the protection of the far side of the drugstore-general store.

  When they were all safely around the corner, April peered back around the end of the building to make sure they hadn't been spotted. No one on the back porch of the boarding house was looking their way.

  April drew back her head and examined her torn and muddy cocktail dress. As she had suspected, it was totally ruined. Her hands were covered with mud and she suspected her face was too. Somehow she had managed to retain her feathered boa through it all.

  She used it to wipe off her hands, then looked at Mark Slate and Ma Rooney. Both were in equally bedraggled states.

  "Follow me," April said, and headed alongside the drugstore to the street.

  The boardwalks on both sides of the street were packed with people, most of them in robes over nightclothes, all staring up at the fire on the mountainside. The entire population of the village seemed to have been routed from bed, for even small children were in the crowd.

  April grasped Slate's hand and told him to take Ma Rooney's. In chain fashion they weaved in and out of the crowd, none of which paid them any particular attention, toward the two jeeps parked in front of the boarding house.

  When they reached the first one, April released Slate's hand and pulled open the curtained front door. After a glance inside, she whirled to face Slate.

  "The key!" she said. "Do you have it?"

  He dipped a muddy hand into his trouser pocket and brought out a key. Taking it from him, April jerked open the jeep's rear door.

  "In back, both of you," she commanded.

  The pair obediently climbed in back. April slammed the door, started to get in front, then changed her mind and pushed her way through the crowd blocking the sidewalk to the jeep behind them. Grabbing her purse from the floor of the rear seat, she started to shove her way back through the crowd to the other jeep.

  She glanced quickly over her shoulder as she pulled open the front door. Dorcus and the six THRUSH men were streaming from the boarding house onto the front porch, four of them carrying suitcases.

  They all spotted April simultaneously. The four suitcases crashed to the floor of the porch. Dorcus dipped her hand into her purse and came out with a small pearl-handled automatic. Six other guns came from beneath the men's coats.

  SEVENTEEN

  EVERYBODY SINGS

  April Dancer jumped into the jeep and slammed the door behind her. When no shots came, she realized it was because the crowd on the boardwalk was in the line of fire.

  The Girl from U.N.C.L.E. thrust the key into the ignition, started the engine and shifted into low-low and four-wheel drive. She began to make a U-turn. Because of the deep mud, the jeep moved at a snail's pace.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the THRUSH people on the porch were not attempting to push their ways through the crowd. They were merely standing there, guns at the ready. April realized they were simply waiting for the jeep to get far enough away from the boardwalk on this side to give them a clear target.

  She foiled that plan by halting the jeep as soon as it had turned completely sidewise, cramping the wheels to the right and backing up. This maneuver faced her in the direction of Barth, but left the jeep so close to the boardwalk that it was effectively screened by the crowd.

  The jeep was inching forward when Dorcus yelled, "Attention, everyone! Stop that jeep!"

  Instantly the mob of people on both boardwalks obediently surged out into the ankle-deep mud to hem in the jeep. April had to halt to avoid running some of them down.

  Flinging open the curtained door on the driver's side, April pointed to the people on the porch.

  "Order revoked!" she called out in a clear voice. "Grab those people and tie them up!"

  With instant obedience the crowd began to surge toward the boarding house.

  Dorcus yelled, "No! That order is revoked!" She pointed at the jeep. "Haul those people out of there and bring them here!"

  The mob paused, still obedient, but now confused by all the orders and counter-orders:

  April shouted, "Everybody sing! Come on now! Ta-ra-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!"

  The entire crowd picked up her lead to sing the stirring song. The roaring chorus drowned out all possibility of any further orders being heard.

  The bulk of the mob was now between the jeep and the THRUSH agents, and the way ahead was clear. April shifted back into low-low and resumed her snails' pace forward.

  She glanced toward the boarding house, and her heart began to pound when she saw the new strategy Dorcus had ordered. The six THRUSH men had formed themselves into a flying wedge, with Dorcus in the middle, and were plowing through the mob toward the jeep.

  April had the vagrant thought that Dorcus was going to ruin her shoes, because April was wearing her boots. Then the flying wedge was nearly at the still slowly-moving jeep.

  Shifting into neutral, April grabbed her purse from the seat beside her. Whipping out a perfume atomizer and a handkerchief, she flung open the curtained door.

  The flying wedge broke through the last of the crowd into the clear. From a distance of four feet Anton Radak, in the lead, aimed a pistol at April's head.

  April clapped the specially treated handkerchief over her nose and mouth, aimed the atomizer and released a spray of tear gas.

  All six men, plus Dorcus, reeled backward, gasping. Swinging her feet out of the jeep, April advanced on them, still holding the protective handkerchief to her face and spraying steadily.

  Guns dropped into the mud and the THRUSH people fell to their knees, blinded and coug
hing.

  Unfortunately some of the nearby singers were hit by the tear gas too. They didn't get it as badly, though. Several abruptly stopped singing and reeled away toward the boardwalk, gasping for breath, but none fell to his knees.

  April dropped the atomizer back into her purse, but kept the hand-kerchief pressed to her face. Taking out a lipstick, she touched a hidden catch and a hypodermic needle shot up from one end.

  As the blinded and coughing THRUSH agents floundered helplessly in the mud, she gave each a healthy injection of chloral hydrate.

  Climbing back into the jeep, April started off in low-low again. When the jeep had gained sufficient traction, she shifted into low, then into second.

  She left it there, fearing it would stall in the deep mire if she attempted to shift into high. The vehicle was moving at a respectable ten miles an hour by the time it reached the village limits.

  The thunderous chorus in the street behind them was still deafening even at the distance of a city block, but they were now far enough from it for April to realize that Mark Slate and Ma Rooney were singing at the tops of their voices too.

  "Shut up!" April yelled.

  There was instant silence from the back seat.

  When they reached the cemetery, April pulled onto the graveled drive. Ordering Slate and Ma Rooney out of the jeep, she led them over to the helicopter and had them climb inside. She got in herself, switched on the cabin lights, took off her muddy boots and told the others to do the same.

  Taking her transistor radio-communicator from her purse, April elevated the antenna and called U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. Night duty commander Conrad answered.

  "I don't suppose Mr. Waverly is around at this time of night, is he?" April asked.

  "He's home in bed," Conrad said. "Do you want me to relay to him?"

  "Please," April said.

  A moment later Alexander Waverly's calm voice said, "Yes, Miss Dancer?"

  "I'm sitting in a helicopter in a cemetery just outside of Pig Wallow, sir," April said. "Mark Slate and his landlady, Mrs. Rooney, are both with me. Both have been drugged by Z-17. I'm going to fly them to Barth for medical attention."