The Stolen Spaceman Affair Page 7

She was an extremely attractive young woman, but she looked exhausted. Her face was drawn. Her voice held an infinite weariness and her dress looked wrinkled.

  "Mr. Slate?" she said again.

  "Yes."

  "Could I speak to you for a few minutes?" she said in a low voice. "Somewhere that cannot be bugged."

  "Yes, of course," Slate said.

  "You want April Dancer?"

  Mark Slate hesitated. "Yes," he said slowly.

  "That is what I want to talk to you about," she said. "I know what happened to April Dancer. I have a last message to you from her."

  Slate's heart jumped. "Then April is---?"

  "Dead?" the girl said. "Yes, she is dead. I know because I was with her. I am Avis Avalee. I was with her when you left."

  "Yes," Slate said cautiously. He gave her a careful, suspicious look. She had obviously been through a difficult time. She looked so weary that it seemed she might drop in her tracks at any moment. She gave the impression of not having had any sleep for days. She kept pressing her hand to her side as if to smother pain.

  And he could see the edge of an ugly bruise that her hair was combed down to hide.

  "Can we go somewhere to talk?" she asked again---her voice little more than a whisper.

  "You are from THRUSH," he said. "How can I trust you?"

  "April Dancer did."

  "And went to her death---by your story!"

  She shook her head. "April died because of what she insisted on doing. I tried to dissuade her---and couldn't. It killed her and almost killed me!"

  Mark Slate stared at her. His mind desperately fought the idea that April Dancer was dead. But all his attempts to catch some betraying mannerism in Avis Avalee were not successful.

  She just seemed so weary that her mind and face were blank. Slate found it impossible to decide if she was lying.

  "I can't stand here until I drop!" she said. "If you don't want---"

  "Okay!" Slate said, making a sudden decision.

  He called Waverly and made a quick report. Avis listened impassively as Mark Slate aired his suspicions of her to the U.N.C.L.E. chief. He made no attempt to keep her from hearing him.

  "We will go to the Peninsular Hotel in Kowloon," Slate told Waverly. "I will leave a connection open so you can hear everything we say to each other."

  "Excellent," Waverly said. "I will alert the Hong Kong police. I will arrange for a police escort for you from the airport to the hotel. I want them watching you while you are with this woman from THRUSH. This could be a desperate trap. When you have completed your interview with her, you can dismiss the police guard."

  Within minutes he was given a police car to take him to the hotel. When he and Avis were seated in the back, he said: "What happened to April?"

  "She tried to capture a Project X cell. They killed her."

  "You were with her?"

  "Yes."

  "How did it happen that a girl from U.N.C.L.E. and a girl from THRUSH should be working together?"

  "X is a common enemy," Avis replied.

  "April is not the kind of girl who would compromise with THRUSH," Slate pointed out quickly.

  "She didn't compromise. I did."

  "Yeah?" Mark Slate said skeptically.

  "I want to tell you the whole story,” Avis said hurriedly.

  "It might help me believe you," Slate said.

  "You know enough about THRUSH to know that they can be very brutal to operatives who fail."

  "Yes," Mark Slate said.

  “I failed."

  "Yes?"

  "They’re going to liquidate me.”

  "So?"

  "So I made a deal with April Dancer."

  "What kind of a deal?”

  "I would give her a lead on Project X. In return she would get U.N.C.L.E. to protect me from THRUSH's vengeance."

  "What did you tell her about X?" Slate asked.

  "That Project X is a scheme by a group of renegade scientists operating under cover of the dictatorship of the Republic of Miranda in South America. They are trying to steal the secret of cosmic death rays from the United States in order to set up a world dictatorship of their own. They intend to totally destroy every major world capital on earth."

  Slate watched Avis intently as she spoke. So far everything she said fitted with the information Waverly gave him. She seemed sincere. He was at a loss to determine if she really had broken with THRUSH or was attempting to lead him into a trap.

  As yet she had not asked him to do anything that might turn out to be a THRUSH snare.

  "Go on," he said.

  "The secret is held by an astronaut the Project X people stole out of orbit by using an incorrectly punched computer data card," she said. "This man came down in Khmerrania. Since this country does not maintain normal diplomatic relations with the United States, Prince Thorn will not permit American rescue units to cross his border. The United States cannot force its way in, because your president cannot afford to admit publically that such a weapon is in space."

  "All of this, of course, is common knowledge to all of us involved," Mark Slate said hurriedly. "Nothing you have told me would induce April to trust you."

  "I gave her a coded message from Project X's Station G in Khmerrania to its Hong Kong cell," Avis replied. "This message said that the Khmerranian searchers had found the capsule and were closing in on the astronaut."

  This information Slate wanted to have, at last. "Is that true?" he asked sharply.

  "Yes!" she said. "If you don't move fast, you've lost!"

  He picked up the pen-communicator which had been left open with the antenna extended.

  "Mr. Waverly?" he said into the tiny speaker. "Did you hear that?"

  "Yes, Mr. Slate," the U.N.C.L.E. chief said. "One moment. I have asked the enemy-reference computers to prepare a summary of our information on Miss Avalee."

  While he waited for the report from U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, Mark Slate asked Avis, "What did April do when you gave her this information?"

  "She wanted to find out where the capsule was found. She said you would be returning today. She wanted the place pinpointed so you could go there."

  "And what did she do?"

  "I told her about the waterfront attack on me, and she decided the X-men were using a junk in the harbor for their cell station."

  "And you went there?"

  "I didn't want to go," she said miserably. "April insisted. We were at the Aberdeen docks on the other side of Victoria Island. We were looking for the boat when they jumped us."

  "Why did you go?"

  "I was afraid not to," Avis replied, closing her eyes and leaning back in the car seat.

  "How do you know for sure that April is dead?"

  Avis hesitated. Slate's throat tightened as he leaned forward.

  "There was blood on her head," Avis said. "They carried her on the boat. I heard one of them say they would dump her in the bay."

  "Then she might not have been dead when they carried her aboard?" he asked eagerly. His spirits started a rebound.

  Avis shrugged. "If she wasn't, she had to be shortly after. They could not afford to let her live."

  For a brief second or two Mark Slate turned this over in his mind. Thoughtfully his right hand twisted a massive black star sapphire ring on his left hand. Its massive setting concealed a tiny needle and a reservoir of Tru-line, a special U.N.C.L.E.-developed truth serum infinitely superior to sodium pentothal.

  "Are you willing to submit to questioning under truth serum?" he asked.

  "Yes," she said without hesitation.

  Her ready answer gave Slate another chill. He wondered uneasily if her story of April Dancer's death could be true? He was in an agony of suspense. Yet he knew, even if she did not, that his talk of using truth serum to test her story was temporary bluff.

  In her exhausted condition he could not afford to use the serum. Her fatigue made it impossible to get dependable answers. He would have to wait until she was rested. Tha
t would be at least until morning.

  Suddenly he made his decision. There was too much at stake to wait for verification of her betrayal of THRUSH. If April Dancer were still alive, every second was vital.

  "Okay," he said. "I'm going to back you. I hope for both of our sakes that you have been leveling with me."

  "I have!" she cried. "You don't know---you can't possibly know the terror of living with those madmen from THRUSH! You are not a human being. You are a robot they move by pushing buttons!"

  "Mr. Slate!" the voice of Alexander Waverly came from the pen. "We have a probability from the computer."

  "Yes, sir?" Slate said eagerly.

  "It is inconclusive. You must draw your own conclusions from your personal contact. According to the machine she could or could not be sincere. However---"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "In making your decision whether to depend upon her information, do not be misled by external emotions she displays. This woman was an excellent actress before she was recruited by THRUSH. In fact it was her histrionic ability they wanted. Good luck, Mr. Slate."

  Avis heard Waverly's report. Mark Slate looked at her closely. She gave no sign that the U.N.C.L.E. chief's report disturbed her.

  Slate settled back in the car seat. He said no more until the police car deposited them at the hotel entrance on Salisbury Road. At the end of the street the Star Ferry building tower loomed up against the evening sky. The lights of ships in the channel spread soft gleams in the water. Beyond the city lights climbed stair-step fashion up the hills of Victoria Island. Hong Kong harbor, night or day, is one of the most beautiful man-made sights in the world.

  After they registered at the hotel, Mark Slate and Avis went to the second floor. Far enough down the corridor so that the hall boy could not hear them, he stopped Avis. The bellhop went on with the luggage. The U.N.C.L.E. agent extended the antenna on his pen-communicator and twisted the cap slightly so it tuned out U.N.C.L.E. headquarters and brought in a commercial radio circuit.

  With the noise to drown out their voices if any bugs were near, Slate said, "I must take action immediately. Do you feel equal to guiding me to the place where April Dancer was captured? I've got to start somewhere. That seems the most likely place. But if you're too ex---"

  “I can make it," she said quickly.

  "Okay," Mark Slate said decisively. "As soon as the bellhop deposits your baggage, go at once to the back hall stairs. The Hong Kong police are not supposed to trail me, but I think they will. They have a stake in this thing too. I'm going to shake them. I know a good way out."

  Avis nodded. In spite of her genuine weariness, she seemed pleased.

  Mark Slate continued on to the room assigned him, but only stayed long enough to make another report to Waverly.

  "Mr. Kuryakin will join you in Hong Kong in about twelve hours," the U.N.C.L.E. chief said. "It is imperative, Mr. Slate, that we find out where that capsule is down. I know how you feel about April Dancer, but regardless of the danger she may be in, if she is alive, we must consider humanity first. Simultaneous death ray attacks on all the world's capitals will destroy millions of people, Mr. Slate. U.N.C.L.E. is all that stands between these people and certain death. You must find us a lead before Mr. Kuryakin arrives."

  "I understand, sir," Slate said. "Avis' story that the X-men are on a junk near Aberdeen Bay is all the lead I have. I'm checking it out."

  "With her?" Waverly said. "Be careful, Mr. Slate."

  "I intend to be."

  He picked up Avis, and went down a service stairs after bribing the hall boy to be quiet. They came out back of the kitchen. A short walk up the alley and they headed across to the Star Ferry. They sailed across the beautiful bay. Avis slept most of the time.

  On the Victoria side they got a taxi and headed across the island to Aberdeen. They skirted the quay and drove past the tangle of fishing junks. Across the water they could see the lights of the famous floating restaurants.

  Farther down the bay Avis indicated a godown which looked like a rice warehouse. Slate got out and gave the driver orders to take Avis back to Kowloon. She tried to argue, but he refused to take her with him.

  He blended into the shadows, going past the suspected place. Then he doubled back. His practiced eye had spotted an opening.

  There was a fire ladder on an adjoining building. He went up it, crossed the roof, leaped the seven foot distance between the two buildings, swung down and through a broken loft window. The place was jammed with stacked rice bags. He felt his way through the darkness. Below he could see a glimmer of light from what seemed a lower level office.

  The ground floor was also jammed with stacks of rice bags. He moved silently down the passage between the stacks. His gun was pulled, but snapped from lead to paralyzing pellets. What he needed so desperately was information. He could not afford to kill any suspect except as an absolutely last resort.

  Slate moved cautiously. Suddenly he stopped. There was someone in the passageway in front of him. All he could see of this person was a dark shape. He first thought it might be the Chinese watchman. Then he saw a hand raise. There was a gun in it. The gun was not the type a watchman would carry. It closely resembled the THRUSH special.

  "Then she did lead me into a trap!" Slate thought grimly.

  His bitter thoughts were not directed at Avis. After all, she was doing her job in trapping him. His disgust was directed at himself. She had fooled him completely. There had been such a sincere air about her claim to hate THRUSH that he had actually believed her.

  He took a deep breath. Although the gun resembled the THRUSH weapon, it was not one.

  "What she has done," he thought, "was to head me toward a Project X cell. A clever little trick to get her opposition to kill each other off!"

  He glimpsed the gun-bearing shadow only for a second. Then it was gone. Slate pressed back against the rice bales, waiting grimly for another sign of movement.

  He clutched his own gun tightly, ready to fire at a second's notice.

  EIGHT

  NEPTUNE'S DAUGHTER

  The splashing water in the hull of the sinking junk closed over April Dancer's head after the treacherous blow from Avis Avalee. The girl from U.N.C.L.E. sank down several feet.

  She did not lose consciousness, although Avis' savage attack left her dazed. She had the presence of mind left to hold her breath when she went under. The water against her face helped bring back her faculties. She fought against the terrible burning in her chest as her lungs screamed for air.

  She paddled backward, swimming under water until she bumped the opposite bulkhead. Her head broke out into the open again. For a few anxious seconds she could do nothing but gasp for breath.

  The water was still rising. April's head bumped the lower part of the cabin deck overhead. Even then she could not get her chin out of the rising flood. Her head ached unmercifully from the battering against the hull. She knew she could only breathe by turning on her back and ramming her nose directly against the roof. It was only a matter of seconds before the hole would be completely filled.

  April Dancer took a deep breath, pulling as much precious air into her lungs as she could. She was sure that Avis had swum through the burned hole in the hull. But then the girl from THRUSH was not laboring under the twin handicaps of a battered head and overtaxed lungs.

  The junk shuddered. The water splashed over April's head. It subsided slightly, giving the trapped girl time for one last good breath.

  The next time it splashed up over her head, April Dancer plunged down. Her senses were confused. She had no idea the direction of the hole. She would have to trust to luck.

  She touched the curving teak wood sides and started working her way along. Her lungs were on fire again. Her oxygen-starved heart hammered. She found nothing. She was on the wrong side! She turned, swimming in the opposite direction. She collided with the ladderway.

  The jolt almost made her lose her breath. A little water entered her nose. She started to s
trangle! She turned, pausing momentarily in a desperate attempt to orientate herself. She started to float up, but grabbed the ladder.

  The awful hammering in her head made thinking difficult. But she steadied herself and forced her confused mind to work. She tried to remember which side of the ladder the fire had broken out. It was a simple problem made extraordinarily difficult by the roaring in her head.

  Suddenly, she made her decision and turned. It seemed to the trapped girl that she was scarcely moving. She tried to force her tortured body to cut the water faster, but she was rapidly reaching the point of total oxygen exhaustion. She doubted that she had another minute to live!

  April touched the hull, pulling herself along under the water. Her outstretched fingers felt the splintered wood where the waters of the bay broke through the fire-weakened hull.

  She tried to swim. She couldn't force her legs to work. She grabbed the edge of the hole with her hands, pulling desperately. Her head was roaring. Her lungs struggled to expel the exhausted air. With her last conscious effort she fought the impulse to breathe in water to quench the raging fire in her chest.

  She got through the hole and kicked against the slowly sinking hull with her feet. She shot up to the surface. Her head broke through the water.

  She gulped, sucking air into her oxygen-starved lungs. Then a wave broke over her head. She took a mouthful of water, choked and started to cough.

  Suddenly a light flashed out of the darkness full in her face. April sank. From under the water she could see the spot of light darting across the surface, seeking her.

  She came up outside its radius, unable to stay down any longer. She was close to the edge of the sampan from which the light came. She moved nearer and braced herself against the hull to get her breath.

  From above April Dancer heard a harsh voice say, "You were dreaming! There's no one there!"

  "I tell you, I saw a woman's head. It is one of them," another voice answered.

  "That is what you claimed a few minutes ago," the first voice retorted angrily. "We wasted ten minutes and found nothing."

  "If they get away---"

  "How could they get away? They couldn't possibly break out of that hold. Come on. Let's get out of here before the harbor police boat arrives."