Pulp Fiction | The Dagger Affair by David McDaniel

by Unknown

  After some discussion Robin and Irene were to be left behind. More than one car would double the chance of detection as they approached, and the Rolls would be full. Waverly was opposed to Garnet's coming, but she remained absolutely adamant. "Kim is my brother, Mr. Waverly. If I could just talk to him for a few minutes, I'm sure you would be saved a lot of danger. He's sick. He needs help." Waverly made irritated noises, but finally gave in and allowed her to be the fifth in the party.

  At 9:00 P.M. they started for Oakland.

  At nine forty-five the Rolls stopped without a sound some hundred feet away from the hangar they had picked, and they made their way on foot across grass and soft bare earth.

  Napoleon had retrieved his own U.N.C.L.E. Special from the warehouse that afternoon, and had taken some time to check it over and clean it, so that it was in perfect functional order again. He felt much better with it tucked back in his hand.

  Baldwin was in the lead, picking his way through the darkness with his cane in one hand and a Thrush infra-red spotlight in the other. He and Waverly were equipped with goggles, and as they approached the building he gestured the rest of the group to stop.

  He moved carefully up to the small door at the side, and checked it over carefully. He leaned his cane against the wall, and bent over the doorknob in a position Napoleon recognized. Again in some fifteen seconds he straightened up, and returned to them.

  He gestured them to gather closely, then whispered, "Mr. Waverly, they shouldn't know you are here, so I would like you to be our hole card. Come in after either five minutes or a distress call, and be ready for anything. Garnet, you will wait with Mr. Waverly. If we can catch your brother off guard, you will have your chance to talk to him. Napoleon, Illya, you will go in first. Keldur will certainly recognize any of us, and I am somewhat limited in a fight. This is our order of battle. Don't fire unless fired upon, and have your gas-filters in. And try not to damage any more equipment than is necessary."

  They all nodded, and Waverly checked over his pet Webley. Garnet noticed his use of non-standard equipment, and asked if it were a special kind of gun. Waverly said, "The best gun depends on the man behind it. I prefer the way this one handles. Besides, we've been through a great deal together, and we've always taken good care of each other."

  Napoleon and Illya made one last check around, and then, side-by-side, started for the door, Baldwin stumping along behind them. They paused at the door, which stood ajar a crack, and listened.

  There was a distant hum of power and an occasional clatter that told of machine tools in use. Napoleon gave Illya a brisk nod, and they pushed the door open.

  It led into a small cubicle, an office of some kind, with a second door and window facing out into the hangar itself. And under a few glaring lights high overhead squatted a huge tangle of cables, panels and circuitry. It looked somewhat as he had expected, Napoleon thought — as if half the mad scientists from countless films had combined their efforts in one superhuman attempt to create some ultimate horror.

  The Energy Damper stood almost thirty feet high and over fifty feet square. There were jury-rigged scaffolds around it, and electric cords draped like festoons over an idol. Rising from the top of the machine almost to the roof of the hangar was weirdly twisted coil, about ten feet in diameter. It appeared to be made of some heavy cable, each strand of which had been wrapped with a finer wire which shone under the lights. The panels around the base were a maze of meters, switches and tally lights.

  Some of the panels were polished and gray, some of them rough and blue, or green. Some were unfinished aluminum sheeting with holes cut and dials stuck through. The whole machine gave an impression of a gigantic experimental rig put together by a theoretician or a technician who was only interested in the insides. And since most of the equipment was probably there only to be used once, it somehow seemed reasonable to put less effort into a neat appearance. Still, Napoleon thought, it's such a sloppy-looking thing to end the world with.

  * * *

  A weapon to destroy ten thousand years of human development — or half a billion years of evolution — should be sleek and polished, bright and deadly. A cobalt bomb the size of a submarine, fat, streamlined and gleaming. A clear glass vial of mutated virus, almost indistinguishable from distilled water. A glittering crystal of ice-nine. It should look...efficient.

  This faintly ridiculous conglomeration of junk looked no more deadly than another collection of miscellaneous parts Napoleon had seen pictures of — a stack of graphite blocks and U-235 slugs which had been constructed on a handball court in Chicago, and had been the world's first atomic power pile.

  There were only a few people in sight — most of them in makeshift coveralls of one type or another. There were no guards; even the workers were unarmed. It looked like a movie set, or a graduate research project built with limited funds.

  Baldwin murmured, "We have them entirely by surprise. The day is ours. Pardon me...." And he opened the door into the shop.

  He stepped forward two paces, allowing Napoleon and Illya to stand flank to him, guns drawn. Then he rapped his cane on the floor twice. The thumps echoed through the chamber, and heads turned.

  "Attention, please," he announced. "Put down your tools and raise your hands. You are all under arrest, and anything you say may be taken down and used as evidence. Everyone come off the scaffolding and out of the machine; line up here on the floor before me."

  A few of them started to move, and then a distorted metallic voice rang from over their heads.

  "Stay where you are. Before you try anything, Baldwin, look up and look around."

  There weren't many men on the roof of the little office room, no more than half a dozen. But each of them had a heavy caliber rifle pointed downward toward the three invaders.

  As they looked up the office doors slammed behind them, cutting off their only retreat. The man with the bull-horn aimed his voice at the machine. "Don — Leo. Come over here. Some people you should say goodbye to."

  Two men, the only ones wearing white coats, appeared and approached. One was husky and blond, the other slight and slender, with a vague face. There was a rustle and a thump, and the tall, slender young man with the cold glittering eyes was standing beside them, loud-hailer by his side.

  "Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin. You will remember me. So will you, Mr. Baldwin. Now would you please put your guns away? Any sudden moves would result in your untimely death in a much less pleasant manner than you have earned."

  Napoleon and Illya replaced their automatics, and Kim Keldur continued, "Too bad you came tonight. Tomorrow the Energy Damper will be ready for its final tests, and you should be allowed to see it. But we can't keep you very long. You are very hard to capture or kill, so we will take advantage of our position while we have you.

  "Get them back to the corner," he said to the men on the roof. Three of them shouldered their weapons and climbed down, then took up the guard again while the other three joined them. Napoleon and Illya were hustled off, and one guard tried to grab Baldwin's cane.

  "I warn you, young man," said the Thrush chief sharply, "I cannot walk without my stick. If you take it, you will have to carry me, and I am not an easy load."

  The DAGGER looked at Keldur, who nodded. "Let him keep it, but watch him. The old devil is tricky."

  As he and the other two stood with guns bristling around them, Napoleon thought, Mr. Waverly was scheduled to come to the rescue in five minutes. I hope he remembered to wind his watch this morning.

  Chapter 15: "Mr. Solo, We Are DAGGER!"

  They were taken to the next corner of the hangar, where there were a few folding chairs and a table, and directed to sit down with their hands under them. Keldur leaned against the table.

  You have been looking for us for some time. I am Kim Keldur. This is Don Chernik" — he indicated the husky blond — "and this is Leo Holt. The device you see before you is ours."

  "And who do you think you are?" Napoleon asked.

&
nbsp; Keldur smiled a thin, hard smile. "Mr. Solo, we are DAGGER. We will open the throat of the world with our blade, and bring antiseptic peace to this crawling cesspool of a planet. Our goal is the most noble in the history of the foul human race, and we are about to achieve it. My discoveries, the designs and constructions of my friends here — fate brought us together like parts of a supercritical mass which will irradiate and cleanse the globe.

  "Rather an ambitious statement, my boy," said Baldwin. "The world is a very large place, and quite full of life."

  "Words mean nothing," Keldur said. "The only proof is experimental proof. Two days from now, if anything lives on this planet, it will prove my theories wrong. But I have more evidence behind my prediction." He rose, and stalked over to a cabinet. "Would you like a demonstration? You shall have one."

  Napoleon recognized the device he brought out, and his heart started to pound. It was the first working model — the one Illya had smashed just before it could claim its first victim. And now it would claim three. Napoleon Solo was afraid of very few things in the world — but this was one of them. He knew its effects too well. The back of his neck tightened until his scalp ached.

  Keldur carried it lovingly back to the table. "Unfortunately, we cannot maintain you until the final test tomorrow. A less humane man than I would simply shoot you and throw your bodies into the Bay. But then you would suffer needlessly. This will be most gentle."

  He stroked the coil gently with a fingertip. "This coil is directional. The one up there" — he gestured — "is non-directional. That and the size are the only essential differences between the two. All those controls are simply to check separate parts of the circuitry. One master switch will send a sufficient surge of power to all parts of it at once when the time comes, and the field will begin to spread out. Only a few connections remain to be made in the final stages. I really wish you could be with us to watch. Your world ending — and mine beginning. But you are too dangerous. You would try to interfere, and too much must be done. Now you will have to be content with this small-scale version — which will be quite large enough for you. Goodbye, gentlemen." And he twisted the knob on the side.

  Napoleon wanted to scream, but his throat wouldn't open. And then his legs and arms were growing numb, and time was slowing down. The room grew darker and began to fade....

  And then the light was there again, and the echoes of thunder were filling the hangar. He turned his head, and saw Waverly standing in the entrance from the office, his Webley smoking in his right hand. "The first man who moves will die on the spot," the familiar firm voice barked.

  Keldur leaped from the table and was gone as the Webley thundered again and the slug tore a hole in the cabinet behind which he had vanished. Napoleon fumbled for his automatic, but his fingers still wouldn't obey. The guards were dropping to the floor, their automatic rifles coming to bear on the U.N.C.L.E. commander. The Webley roared again, and one guard fell aside, dead before he hit the ground. Then there was a sound like a fire-extinguisher, and a billow of white smoke covered the remaining five guards.

  It squirted from the end of Baldwin's cane as a liquid, and was directed like a stream from a hose upon the prone figures, but it turned to a heavy gas in mid-air, a safe distance away from the user. Two rifles fired wildly, and the guards thrashed a moment upon the floor, then were still. The gas dissipated rapidly as Baldwin said, "Thornite. Now you see why I still keep it in stock. Much more efficient than the Webley."

  "At least at short-range," said Napoleon. He finally had his automatic out, and was looking anxiously about for anyone of the opposition forces. The workers had all disappeared from around the machine, and they seemed to be alone as Waverly hurried toward them.

  "I get the impression I arrived at just the right time," he said.

  "You could have come in a minute earlier, and I wouldn't have minded at all," said Napoleon. "You see what I meant, Illya? We've got to destroy that thing."

  "Afraid not, Napoleon," said Waverly. "Our technical crews want to take it apart carefully."

  Illya, looking around the huge hangar, suddenly flipped his gun up and snapped off a shot at a shadowy figure near the far end.

  "Let's get out of here," he suggested. "We can come back in the morning with an army to dismantle the machine."

  "And let Keldur get away to build another one? I'm afraid I missed him as he ducked behind the cabinet," said Waverly, "and you know my feelings about leaving a job unfinished. We don't leave until Kim Keldur has been fastened down securely, one way or another. Illya, step outside, and bring Garnet in."

  When this was accomplished, Garnet was given the bull-horn. "Kim?" she said, her hesitant voice booming back from the corrugated walls of the hangar. "Kim? It's me. Please come out and give yourself up. You can't get away now. They don't want to hurt you. I'll take care of you — I promise...." Her voice caught, and a grotesquely amplified sob echoed around before she released the switch.

  She managed to bring herself under control, and her voice was almost steady when she spoke again. "Kim — you can hear me. Please answer me, Kim. They can't give you much longer. Come out and give..." Her amplified voice faded and suddenly it was just her ordinary voice

  She looked at the horn. "That's funny," she said. "It just..." She looked up, with a vaguely puzzled expression. "I...I feel funny...."

  Napoleon looked at his watch. It had stopped.

  He felt a little vague himself, but he wasn't blacking out. He saw a bank of tally lights on a panel wink amber, and then fade and go out. The Energy Damper had been switched on, uncompleted though it was, and its field filled at least the area they were in. But the Theta was not full — they were still alive.

  He snapped to Illya, "He must be on the other side. Let's get him."

  They took off on slightly wobbly legs and went opposite directions around the big machine. A flying body dropped on Napoleon as he came around the corner, and he went down.

  The man must have been waiting on the catwalk, Napoleon realized as he was falling and twisting to one side. He landed on his shoulder, rolled up quickly, and scrambled to his feet. He flipped out his gun and snapped, "Hold it right there!" The DAGGER started to his feet, and Napoleon pulled the trigger, aiming over the man's shoulder. Nothing happened. Instinctively he worked the ejection slide, and pulled the trigger again. The firing pin clicked on another dead cartridge. He worked the slide and the trigger the third time as the man's fist came at him.

  He swayed slightly to one side and let it glance harmlessly off his shoulder, and then he hit him over the head with the otherwise useless gun. The DAGGER went down and stayed down.

  Napoleon looked around for Illya. The wiry Russian was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with two coveralled technicians, one of whom was attempting to wield a wrench. Napoleon sent his automatic on ahead, and caught the man's wrist with it. The wrench fell, and a moment later the man joined it on the floor as Napoleon hit him with a full body-block.

  In a few seconds Illya had taken care of the other one, and stood there breathing heavily. "Let's turn the thing off! It must have been started from somewhere over here."

  "With all these switches? It would take an hour just to work each of them. And we don't dare monkey with the controls — it might still go wide open. Do you know what to do with it?"

  Illya looked up at the machine. "All right, we leave it alone. But where are the others?"

  The sounds of a scuffle were plainly heard now from the area near the door. They sprinted around the end of the machine again and saw Waverly going down under a swarm of technicians. Baldwin was still on his feet, backed up to the wall, laying about him with his cane like a demon. Garnet had picked up a chair, and broke it over one of the backs in the mob around Waverly.

  And then Napoleon and Illya were in the thick of the fight. Napoleon couldn't tell exactly who he was fighting, because there were so many of them, but he was able to keep clear of Baldwin, who was shouting something fierce and guttural and
swinging his cane like a battle-axe. Garnet had run out of chairs and was poking at the tangle with a table leg. Illya and Waverly swam across his line of sight for a moment every now and then, but most of his attention was taken up with hitting and being hit by an apparently inexhaustible supply of total strangers, most of whom wore dirty overalls.

  The field of the Energy Damper prevented use of firearms or any other specialized weapon which used energy transformation to power it. Apparently the field was not large after all — with a small corner of his mind Napoleon realized the overhead lights were still on. But they were near the coil.... Of course, he remembered as he picked up another individual and threw him at two more, Keldur said the last stage wasn't connected yet. A good thing, too. This was enough work in the light. The only things unaffected were straight transfers of energy — a fist would still move a jaw a certain distance when impacting properly.

  And there were one or two knives glinting under the harsh lights — they worked just as well, too. Napoleon and Illya were well-trained in the roughest schools of hand-to-hand fighting, but the weight of numbers just about evened the odds.

  Even in the biggest part of the fight, a corner of Napoleon's mind continued to talk idly to itself. He remembered the cabinet Keldur had ducked behind just a minute or so before the machine had gone on, and he considered how far it was from the far side of the Energy Damper, where he must have turned it on, because they hadn't seen him on this side. But suppose the simple on-off control was not built on to the machine at all? He might be able to find it. He flattened one more opponent, and looked around. Illya and Waverly were still doing all right, and Baldwin had moved away from the wall toward the center of things, balancing on his good leg and shouting "A'mhorfhaich!" every time he connected.