The Thinking Machine Affair

by Joel Bernard

  "It's a private matter which I can't very well convey on the doorstep," the stranger said. "I won't keep you long, Professor."

  "Step inside then."

  As soon as the door was shut, the stranger removed Vlasta's note from the breast pocket of his coat and said: "Your daughter asked me to deliver this to you."

  "My daughter?" the Professor answered in a trembling voice. "Is she all right?"

  "Yes. Why don't you read her letter?"

  The Professor tore open the envelope, read the note, re-read it, and each time stumbled over the sentence, "I'm longing to see you, papa—and the apparatus—I think I have found the solution."

  "How can I be certain this is my daughter's handwriting?" he said after a long pause.

  "You surely know your daughter's handwriting," the stranger returned.

  "I do; but it is also known that good forgeries can be made."

  "I can assure you, sir, that it is your daughter's handwriting," the other assured him. "You'll see for yourself that she's written the letter to you when you meet her."

  "Why didn't she phone me?"

  "Because there's no telephone yet installed where she is. You know how difficult it is to get a phone these days—the majority of applicants wait years…"

  "Where is she?"

  "With friends. I have a car here to take you to her."

  "Very well then," the Professor agreed, and took coat and hat from the clothes rack in the entrance hail. "I'm ready. Let's go."

  "The apparatus, sir," the stranger reminded him. "You've forgotten it."

  "How stupid of me to forget!" the scientist retorted. "If you care to come along with me, we'll fetch it from my laboratory."

  When they reached the heavy steel door to the laboratory, Professor Novak placed himself close to it in order to prevent the stranger observing the combination of the lock. His hands were trembling and it took longer than usual to open the door. As they stepped into the laboratory, he wiped thick beads of sweat from his forehead and said in a weak voice:

  "Excuse me if I sit down a while, I'm suddenly dizzy. Probably the excitement..."

  "Don't worry, sir," said the stranger understandingly. "Take your time. Would you like a cigarette?"

  "No, thank you. I'll be all right in a minute or two..."

  The minute or two stretched to almost ten minutes. Suddenly the stillness of the laboratory was disturbed by hard boots running inside the villa and shouted commands. Uniformed State Security men, pistols drawn, rushed into the laboratory and handcuffed the stranger before he could protest. When he had been led away, the officer in charge said;

  "What happened, Professor?"

  The scientist relayed the details of the incident, handed the officer his daughter's letter and added:

  "The handwriting is my daughter's, I am certain, but it's not her style of writing. She never calls me 'papa', and why would she ask me to come and see her with the apparatus? I thought it best to call you.

  The easiest way of doing it was not to disconnect the alarm system before setting the combination of the lock and then to wait for you."

  "You did well, Professor," the officer praised him, "and it might give us a lead as to your daughter. It's clear that she was kidnapped, to be used as a hostage to force you to hand over your apparatus."

  "I only hope that my summoning you doesn't induce her kidnappers to kill her in revenge..."

  "You needn't worry about that, Professor," the officer reassured him. "As long as the kidnappers keep her alive they can hope to get at you through her. Besides, they have no clue that you called us. They'll assume that our guards, who keep the villa under observation, became suspicious and raised the alarm."

  "I hope you are right."

  "I'm sure I am. And if there's another approach, which I expect there will be, play along with them, Professor. Why not let them have a replica of your apparatus without the vital components in it?"

  "A good idea, officer. When they find the thing doesn't work I can always convince them that I am still far from the final working solution—which in fact I am."

  But unknown to them, the Chief Organizing Officer at THRUSH European Center E knew exactly what had happened at Professor Novak's villa even before his control agent, who had shadowed his colleague, reported the event. The Monitoring Officer had bugged and taped every single sound and word that had been spoken.

  "What are we going to do now?" the Head of the Technical Department enquired.

  "The only solution is to use force," the Chief of the Special Tasks Department decided, after pondering the problem.

  "And risk the apparatus being destroyed before we can lay our hands on it?" the Head of the Science Department objected.

  "My plan is foolproof," the other assured him, "and I wish I'd thought of it earlier—we would have had the Professor and his precious apparatus here by now. The plan entails possibly killing some State Security people, but that doesn't worry me unduly and I don't think it worries any of you."

  "Perhaps you'll put us in the picture," the Head of the Technical Department suggested.

  "I'll send a detachment in uniforms and vehicles of the State Security, to the Professor's villa. The real State Security guards keeping the villa under round-the-clock surveillance must of course be silenced, but this is a small detail. When our 'State Security' officers arrive there, the officer in charge will tell the Professor that State Security Headquarters were worried about the earlier occurrence and decided to move him and his apparatus to a safer place.

  That's all, gentlemen, and I don't doubt that the plan will work. Professor Novak and his apparatus should be here inside two hours."

  His estimate was right, almost to the minute, for the plan worked. Professor Novak was not surprised at the decision of State Security Headquarters to move him and the apparatus from the villa; in fact, he was in favor of it. Yet once in the fake State Security car, he at once realized he had been tricked—too late to escape his kidnappers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KISSING CAN CAUSE UNCONSCIOUSNESS

  NAPOLEON SOLO gazed out of the window as the giant jet prepared to land at Prague. He had studied the layout of the Czech capital during his flight from New York, yet still he did not expect the city to look as picturesque and romantic as it did in the glorious bright sunshine, with its silvery, winding river Moldau, its numerous bridges, multi-colored roofs and gables, countless churches, and the imposing castle Hradcany overlooking the whole panorama. He was not usually an admirer of ancient or modern cities, but the unexpected view of Prague evoked a feeling of contentedness in him.

  "Will you please fasten your safety belt, sir," a pretty stewardess interrupted his thoughts.

  "Certainly, Miss," he said with a bright smile, looking provocatively into the greenish eyes of the redhead. He hadn't seen her before during the flight—she was probably busy in the tourist class, he thought—and decided on the spur of the moment to try and date her. "How long are you staying in Prague?" he asked.

  "We're returning in an hour's time."

  "My luck," he mumbled.

  "Pardon?"

  "I meant, what a pity you aren't staying longer," he explained. "I'd hoped to have dinner with you to night."

  "Another time perhaps," she said, and moved on towards the pilot's cabin.

  The aircraft circled over the sunbathed city, reducing speed and height until it eventually flew only a short distance above some houses that stood in the immediate vicinity of the airport. Then the wheels of the giant jet touched down and the pilot headed the machine towards the white terminal building with the outsize letters, KBELY AIRPORT, on its walls.

  There were not too many passengers bound for Prague, and passport and customs clearance was fairly speedy.

  As Solo left the Customs Hall and strode into the reception area, he noticed a short, thick-set man who was somehow familiar to him and who hastily left the airport building as soon as he'd spotted him. For a moment he couldn't place the ma
n, then he remembered that he had come across him some six months earlier in Cairo, where the man, a THRUSH agent, had escaped arrest.

  "Well, it's not really my business to chase this villain," he thought as he went towards the taxi in front of the rank. "Take me to Dejvice, please," he asked the driver as he boarded the cab. "And I should be obliged if you would put your foot down—I'm in a hurry."

  The driver grinned and raced along the semi-deserted road towards Prague.

  As Napoleon leaned against the seat of the cab, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible, he gazed out at the factories and dwelling houses on each side of the road, his thoughts returning to the THRUSH agent who had managed to disappear so effectively. He could not know that the man had already privately radioed THRUSH European Center E of Solo's arrival in Prague.

  Napoleon ordered the driver to stop a couple of streets away from Professor Novak's villa. He intended to arrive at the scientist's residence discreetly.

  After paying the man, he walked along the deserted streets.

  The Professor's villa on the opposite side of the tree-lined street came into view and Napoleon slowed to have a good look at it. He was surprised at the lack of State Security guards around the building and surrounding area and assumed they were probably hidden in neighboring properties to create the impression that the house was not under surveillance.

  He crossed the quiet, completely deserted street, went straight to the entrance door, and pushed his thumb on the bell button. He heard the shrill sound echo inside the villa.

  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.