The Thinking Machine Affair (7 page)

There was no response to the ringing.

He pressed again and kept on doing so for some time. There was still no answer. He decided to investigate whether the villa was empty or whether the Professor had, perhaps, been taken ill and was unable to answer the call. He moved around the building, peering into the windows of the various rooms and testing the locked doors.

He was looking through a window when he felt the muzzle of a gun in his back. His arms were seized from behind, and then he was handcuffed. All this had been done without a word being spoken by his captors, and it had all been very swift and efficient.

A young man in the uniform of Czech State Security seized his arm and led him round the building towards the exit, still without a word spoken.

"What's the matter? Is everybody dumb?" Napoleon burst out.

But there was no reaction to his questions. Outside the villa, in front of the entrance, stood a State Security van with a uniformed driver at the wheel. Napoleon was pushed in and driven off at considerable speed. Four fierce-looking men with pistols at the ready guarded him. Throughout the journey nothing was said.

The fifteen minutes or so ride in the stuffy van ended at Czech State Security Headquarters where U.N.C.L.E.'S Chief Enforcement Agent was led to an interrogation room.

"What's the reason for your queer hospitality?" Solo barked. He now faced a middle-aged man in the uniform of a Czech State Security Major. "Are you dumb too?"

"Why do you speak with an American accent?" the Major asked in broken English.

"Because I am American."

"American, eh?" the Major mocked. "That's a new one on me."

"If you care to slip your hand into the right-hand pocket inside my jacket you'll find my identification card...

The officer did as requested and extracted Solo's U.N.C.L.E. credentials. "Why didn't you identify yourself as an U.N.C.L.E. Enforcement Officer? You wouldn't have been arrested and brought here," he said at last. He introduced himself as Major Klima.

"I didn't get the chance," Napoleon explained. "Your men grabbed me and pretended to be dumb. I didn't have any other choice than to come along quietly."

"I am sorry," the Major apologized. "You see, they suspected you were one of the gang who snatched Professor Novak and his apparatus, and thought you'd returned to the scene of the crime for some reason, so they brought you here straight away without even searching you."

"Professor Novak was kidnapped?" Napoleon exclaimed. "Any clue to where he might have been taken?"

"Plenty of clues, but if you mean whether he's been found yet, the answer is 'No'," returned Major Klima. "We are treating the matter as a national emergency and every resource, informers and the public, have been mobilized and are engaged in the countrywide manhunt for the Professor and his daughter. At the moment, neither of them has been found. However, rapid developments are imminent."

"I am sure you are right." Napoleon asked for more details of the kidnapping.

"After Vlasta Novak's disappearance we strengthened our security measures at her father's villa," Major Klima went on. "We managed to locate an observant woman who'd witnessed Vlasta Novak being approached by a man who looked like an official driver, and who told her about her father having been involved in a road accident. This witness also described the car, which looked like an official one, and gave us its registration number. The number plate was, of course, a fake."

"Naturally," Napoleon said.

"Having this information, it was clear that Miss Novak had been kidnapped to enable some unknown elements to use her to get to her father and his hush-hush apparatus," Major Klima continued. He told Solo about the concentrated countrywide hunt for the girl; about the stranger's call at Professor Novak's villa, the letter, and the arrest of the stranger; and then added: "We'd hoped to get some clue from the arrested man as to Miss Novak's whereabouts and the gang who'd kidnapped her, but our expectations were shattered. During the short transport from Dejvice to Headquarters here, the man died. No one knows how, but he must have managed to swallow some fast-acting poison."

"Where's the body?" Napoleon asked.

"Why?" Major Klima asked, surprised. "If you think we haven't examined every millimetre of his body and clothing you can forget it. The most extensive forensic examinations yielded no useful result. The body is now in the mortuary. A post-mortem is to be carried out tomorrow morning by our leading pathologist to detect the poison, and the body will then be cremated."

"It never crossed my mind that the body wasn't examined thoroughly for clues," Napoleon assured him, and went on to tell the Czech about the incident at U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters. "I've just been thinking whether this might be an identical case and whether someone might attempt to recover the body for subsequent revival."

"No one made any move to claim the body," Major Klima said. "The public mortuary would have notified us at once. But to set your mind at rest I'll check with them straight away." He did this, and a short while later Napoleon heard him shout into the telephone receiver: "How is that possible? I thought you had everything under proper control!" He banged the receiver down onto its rest and said to Solo: "The body has disappeared! I'll instigate a full-scale enquiry and the mortuary staff will have to account for their negligence."

There was no point in staying at Czech State Security Headquarters any longer. Napoleon took his leave from the cooperative Major Klima, who welcomed his suggestion that they should keep in close contact, promising to afford U.N.C.L.E.'S Chief Enforcement Agent every assistance he required.

It was already twilight when Napoleon left the State Security building, and the street lights transformed the Old Town of the ancient city of Prague into a reminder of medieval times. As he walked along the narrow, winding streets and crossed the picturesque squares, he looked at the age-old buildings and frequently stopped to admire the unusual stuccos on some of the architectural relics of by-gone times. He loved the atmosphere that seemed to hang in the air and made frequent detours to explore more of the city. He stopped at every statue on the long and narrow Charles Bridge, admiring the beauty of the ancient creations, and then went to Kampa Island, looking fascinated at the river Moldau and the panorama of Hradcany castle—the ancient seat of Czech kings—with the St. Vitus Cathedral looking down on the city.

Passing eventually the blackish-grey Powder Tower with its square green copper roofing, and crossing into Poric Street, he found himself in twentieth-century Prague, with its noisy trams rattling along the rails in the middle of the road and cars and lorries rushing along, hooting frequently, the drivers swearing at each other now and again as drivers do the world over. He was struck by the contrast between the old and the new, but thought there was plenty of room for improvement in the Czech capital—by doing away with the outdated tramcars and by improving the traffic problem.

He reached the Axa Hotel without incident and was allocated the room that had been reserved for him. The bellboy led him to the elevator and took him to his room on the second floor at the end of the corridor.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to do, sir?" the bellboy said, clearly waiting to be tipped.

"Can I get a meal here?" Napoleon enquired.

"Certainly, sir. The restaurant is downstairs. Would you like me to reserve a table for you with a view of the swimming pool?"

"You have a swimming pool?"

"Oh yes, sir, it's very popular."

Napoleon pressed a generous tip into the bellboy's willing hand and said: "Reserve a table for me near the pool. I'll be down soon."

He turned the key in the lock after he'd closed the door behind the boy and studied the room. It was the usual modern hotel job, clean, square, with the customary furniture. The two windows looked out on Poric Street, with its dense stream of pedestrians and traffic, and the frosted glass window in the adjoining bathroom overlooked a small yard. His eyes searched everywhere for concealed bugging devices, until he discovered one behind the bathroom mirror, one at the back of the bed headboard, and another inside the telephone on the bedside table. He identified them as highly sensitive electronic microphones which could transmit every sound from inside the room to a receiver some distance away. But he knew how to render them useless when he did not want to be overheard.

As he left the room and locked the door from the outside, a missile whistled past his head, almost touching his hair. He had not heard the report of a shot but realized that someone had fired at him. Although he saw no one, he ran towards the other end of the deserted corridor, for this was where the missile must have been fired. His gun was ready for action. Before he reached the part where the elevator was set back into the wall of the passage, he heard the sliding metal doors bang shut and the elevator descending. He looked for a staircase to run down and catch his attacker, but being unfamiliar with the hotel layout, by the time he found the stairs pursuit was useless.

For some inexplicable reason, he connected the attack with the man he had seen on his arrival at the airport reception area; he was certain it was THRUSH, out to silence him.

He returned to the elevator and descended to the restaurant for his meal. He strolled slowly across the hotel lounge, watching for anyone who might be a fresh danger to him, but the few people around him seemed to be ordinary men and women.

"Mr. Solo?" the headwaiter asked as Napoleon entered the restaurant. "Your table is ready." He called out "Piccolo!" and when a boy waiter hastened along, he told him: "Take Mr. Solo to table fourteen."

The restaurant was full and Napoleon did not bother to try and pick out any other possible suspects, knowing this was a near impossible task. He followed the boy waiter to the table reserved for him near the swimming pool below and was pleased that he could watch the swimmers—particularly the female ones—while eating his food. It gave him such an appetite.

The headwaiter brought the menu and said:

"The Chateau Briand is exceptionally good today, and I can also highly recommend the Mixed Grill which is primaprimissimo. But perhaps you'd prefer a typical Czech dish? I can recommend our roast pork with dumplings and Sauerkraut—sweet and sour cabbage. It's delicious. We are famous for it."

"I think I'll have the Chateau Briand."

"Would you like it well done?"

"No, medium."

"May I recommend potato croquettes, French peas, mushrooms and onions perhaps?" The head waiter busied himself in the typical Central European manner. "I can assure you, it's superbly prepared."

"O.K.," Napoleon said, watching a slim blonde who was sitting on the edge of the swimming pool and putting a gay rubber cap on her head.

"May I suggest smoked trout for hors-d'oeuvre?" the headwaiter continued.

"Yes, that sounds fine," Napoleon said absently, watching the blonde stand up and dive into the water.

"We'll leave the question of the dessert till later, shall we, Mr. Solo?" the headwaiter suggested, and, without waiting for a reply, went on: "I'll send the wine waiter along."

Napoleon was fully occupied watching the blonde swimming gracefully and thinking that he wouldn't mind swimming along with her, when the headwaiter returned and interrupted his thoughts. "What is it now?" he demanded, a little annoyed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Solo, but a sort of crisis has occurred…"

"If the Chateau Briand is off, make it the Mixed Grill," Napoleon said, and turned back towards the swimming pool.

"It's not that, Mr. Solo. The Chateau Briand is being cooked for you and the smoked trout will be served presently. It's... well... we have no table available and a young lady would like to have dinner at our restaurant. I came to ask you if you would agree to share your table with her." And, in an attempt to prevent Napoleon refusing his request, he added:

"She is piquant, Mr. Solo, a picture of a woman. I am sure you would enjoy her company."

"I shall be delighted to help you," Napoleon said, and smiled.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Solo. I am sure you won't regret it."

A few moments later Napoleon saw a waiter lead a young woman towards his table. She was tall, with a shapely figure, her elegant fawn dress making a startling contrast to her dark-brown hair and her pale face with its striking, almost beautiful, features. Napoleon stood up and bowed as his table companion sat down on the chair opposite him. He wanted to say something but decided it was too early to do so.

"It was very kind of you to agree sharing your table with me," the woman said, smiling her acknowledgment.

"It's a great pleasure, Madam," he smiled back.

"You are American?" Her intonation sounded as though she was surprised.

"I am," he said. "I hope my nationality doesn't turn me into a monster."

"I like Americans," she smiled, and looked into his eyes. "I think you are wonderful people."

The headwaiter's unwelcome appearance prevented Napoleon from paying a return compliment, and he had no choice other than to let the long-winded man, who turned the choice of food into an elaborate affair, go on with his business.

While his table companion talked with the head waiter and expertly selected her meal, Napoleon watched the vivid expressions as they played on her face. He admitted that he had rarely come across a female with such exquisite charm and was happy at the chance that had brought them together.

The evening was a success. They talked, drank and danced.

"It's getting late," she said, as they finished the last dance and the musicians started to pack away their instruments.

"The night is young," Napoleon insisted.

"But we haven't any nightclubs in Prague such as you have in the States," she said. "Everything is closing now."

"We could round off the evening with a drink or two in my room," he suggested.

"Let's go," she said softly; "even without drinks. I think you're intoxicating enough without alcoholic stimulants."