The Electronic Frankenstein Affair

by Robert Hart Davis

  "Your arm," Illya said. "How bad is it?"

  "I'll live," Solo said, wryly. "Just a ribbon of skin sliced away. But if he hadn't missed with his first try it could have been real bad."

  "You're bleeding like a pig. You'd better get a bandage on it fast."

  "I'll get around to it. But first we're going to have a look at what's on the other side of this big ridge of stone."

  "What do you expect to find?"

  "Sun Lin, crushed, battered to a pulp. And some strange markings in the sand all around him."

  "He told you all that while he was doing his best to plunge a knife into your heart?"

  Solo nodded. "He was chattering away every second."

  They didn't see horror until they were almost upon it, for despite the brightness of the moonlight, much of the rock structure was in shadows. Sun Lin had been a small man in life and the terrible violence that had been done to him made him seem even more inconspicuous in death. His ribcage was completely crushed, his limbs so flattened they resembled gruesome traceries made with a stick on the sand.

  Not only was the dead man's clothing torn, it had a singed look, as if the tatters into which they had been ripped had passed through a sheet of flame. The head lolled and there was a deep gash at the base of the oddly discolored neck.

  "Crushed to death," Illya Kuryakin muttered, more shaken than he would have cared to admit. "That's what you said, wasn't it? What could have inflicted such injuries?"

  The moonlight seemed to shift a little as he spoke, causing the shadows to lengthen and change shape.

  Solo shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "We must have had a visitor in the night."

  Sweat stood out on Illya's brow. He moved a little away from the corpse, his eyes sweeping the sand within a ten foot radius. Suddenly he seemed to remember something else that Napoleon Solo had repeated as coming from the lips of the deranged man who had tried to kill him, for he bent to examine more closely a huge, circular indentation in the sand.

  "There are more of those markings," Solo said, as if aware of his thoughts. "Over there—look."

  He gestured toward a wider expanse of sand a few yards to the right of him. The moonlight brought into sharp relief two deep, crater-like depressions in the sand, perfectly circular and set fairly far apart.

  "They don't look like footprints," Illya said, following the direction of his gaze. "Only a giant could have made prints that large and they're perfectly round. It's as if—" He hesitated. "It's almost as if he were on stilts. The giant, I mean. A giant walking on stilts and trampling Sun Li into the sand. Crushing and killing him."

  "Would you care to put that into a report?" Solo asked, a look of grim reproach in his eyes. "A tank passing over him would be a more sensible guess."

  "But we didn't hear a sound," Illya said. "Except, of course, that scream. Just the fact that Chin Husan was screaming loudly enough to wake the dead—"

  Kuryakin stopped, puzzled by the look which Solo continued to train on him.

  "What makes you think it was Chin Husan who screamed?" Solo asked.

  "I naturally thought, when the screaming stopped, and I saw you struggling with him—"

  "Chin Husan didn't make a sound until he closed with me," Solo said. "Then he started chattering wildly about what he'd just seen. It was Sun Lin who screamed. I'm sure of it."

  "Well, it fits," Illya conceded. "I hope I'll never have to listen to a scream like that again."

  "Or see what Sun Lin saw coming toward him across the desert before the life was crushed out of him. If that's what you're thinking I'm with you one hundred percent."

  "I'm not sure that's what I'm thinking," Illya said. "I'm not sure of anything, except that he could hardly have just stumbled and crushed in his ribs and broken his neck and slashed himself up in a dozen places."

  "We have a witness," Solo said. "Just the fact that Chin Husan ran amuck like a Malay on the deck of an Indian Ocean freighter for a minute or two doesn't mean the aberration is going to last. If you didn't fracture his skull—"

  "A gentle tap wouldn't have stopped him from sinking that knife in your ribs," Illya said. "It was nothing that could be helped. There's a first aid kit in the duffel bag Lin Sun tossed into the tent just before we dozed off. You'd better bandage your arm before you collapse."

  "You can say that again," Solo grunted. "All right. We may as well get back to the tent. It will do Chin Husan no harm to rest up a bit."

  It took them longer than they had anticipated to cross the level stretch of sand between the rock structure and the tent, because they made the mistake—or perhaps it wasn't a mistake—of glancing toward the hollow where the camels were supposed to be sleeping.

  The camels were gone. Not only had all five of the animals vanished, but the tent which the three orientals had shared had been taken down and there was no sign anywhere of Nieh Huang.

  They halted abruptly in their tracks and stared across the empty expanse of desert with a chill foreboding. It might have come as less of a shock if there had been some way of making sure, right at that instant, that Nieh Huang had not robbed them of everything but the clothes on their backs. Tropical shorts and one gun were hardly survival-level safeguards in the middle of the Gobi.

  Fortunately so absolute a disaster had not taken place, as they discovered when they continued on to the tent, and found all of their personal belongings intact.

  It was the portable shortwave transmitter which Solo seized upon first, inspecting it carefully to make sure that it had not been tampered with.

  "We'll have to signal the 'copter to pick us up," Solo said. "Without camels or replacements for Sun Lin and Nieh Huang we can't do any more exploring on foot, that for sure. I might be willing to risk it with just one guide and one camel between us. But I can't see Chin Husan as that guide. And we have not got one camel. Why did he have to take our camels? That's what I can't understand."

  "Maybe he didn't," Kuryakin said. "Maybe they became frightened and took advantage of Sun Lin's failure to tie them up. Ordinarily a camel doesn't have to be tied up for the night. But if they saw whatever it was that trampled Sun Lin to death—"

  "We'll have to signal the 'copter," Solo said. "We have no choice. It won't prevent us from searching this particular spot more thoroughly—for a few hours, at least, while the chopper stands by. But another day's journey over the sand is definitely out. If that still seems a worthwhile gamble we'll have to return to the coast, engage some new guides and arrange for them to meet us here when the 'copter sets us down for the second time."

  "Does that appeal to you?" Illya said. "It doesn't to me."

  "It's what Waverly would expect us to do," Solo reminded him soberly.

  Illya's eyes widened, looking at Solo's still unbandaged arm. "You haven't even taken a good look at that wound," he said. "Don't tell me it's just a scratch. In a climate like this infection can set in fast."

  "I did take a look," Solo said. "While we were rounding that long ridge of rock. It's not a scratch, exactly. But it's nothing to be alarmed about."

  It took Solo less than five minutes to dress and bandage the wound but Illya could see that he made a thorough job of it.

  Kuryakin kept looking toward the tent flap and there was no need for him to speculate as to the reason for Solo's haste, for he kept talking as he drew the bandage tight.

  "Chin Husan has either regained consciousness by now or he'll be needing the kind of medical aid this kit can't supply. I'm not sure I shouldn't have let my arm go until—"

  Illya shook his head. "Antiseptic should have been poured on that wound before this. You took a dangerous risk in not stopping the bleeding at once."

  "All right," Solo said. "But let's get moving. We don't want Chin Husan to vanish into the desert before we have a chance to talk to him. He's had plenty of time to get up and go staggering off."

  "I hope the blow sobered him and he can talk rationally," Illya said.

  "If he can talk at all," Solo
said. "Right now, that's the only thing I'm concerned about."

  There was a faint flush of dawn on the desert's rim far to the east when they emerged from the tent and moved toward the rock structure—more cautiously now. Despite the faint dawn glow the desert was much darker than it had been ten minutes earlier, for the moon had passed behind a cloud and the stars supplied very little light.

  They could not make out more than the vague outlines of the rock structure and if Chin Husan still lay where he had fallen there was no possibility of confirming it until they had advanced within a few feet of where the struggle had taken place.

  Solo drew in his breath sharply when he saw the huddled form swaying back and forth on the sand. He gestured Illya back, and went on alone until Chin Husan's harsh breathing brought him to a cautious halt.

  NINE

  THE FIRE DEMON

  PERSUADING A wildly terrified man who had just regained consciousness to be calm proved more difficult than Napoleon Solo had thought it would.

  It was made more difficult by the fact that Chin Husan, deprived of his reason by what he had seen, had directed all of his rage against Solo in a wholly irrational way. Despite the restoration of his sanity, a little of that rage remained and the very firmness of Solo's hand on his arm threatened to bring all of it back again.

  Luckily Chin Husan seemed to quiet down a little after considerable firmness had been applied and enough reassuring words had been poured into his ear. He continued to struggle, but less violently and he stopped completely when Illya said: "We are your friends, do you understand? We were Sun Lin's friends as well, both Mr. Solo and myself. We had nothing whatever to do with his death.

  "A great anger came upon you and you stabbed Mr. Solo in the arm. It may have been because you saw Sun Lin die and we are strangers here, and you could not completely trust us. Is that what you thought? That we were in some way to blame for the terrible thing that happened to your friend?"

  Chin Husan remained utterly motionless for an instant, as if a part of what Illya had said was bewildering to him, and he did not quite know what to say in reply. Then a convulsive shudder seized him, and he spoke with a quaver in his voice, his clawlike hands in rapid motion, as if he were dry-washing them.

  "I do not remember—stabbing Mr. Solo in the arm. But when the Fire Demon goes walking in the desert there are many things which are best forgotten. We were as close as brothers but when the Fire Demon came for my brother it was only my own worthless life I prized. I ran very fast, but my head keep turning, turning—and I saw him die."

  "Just how did he die, Chin?" Solo said. "Try to remember. Did you ever see the Fire Demon before?"

  "Everyone has seen the Fire Demon," Chin Husan said. "He is as old as the human race."

  "And he killed Sun Lin? With fire?"

  Chin Husan shook his head. "Not with fire, no. He is all fire, but shaped like a man. Out of his mouth, ears, nostrils there comes nothing but fire. But it is not a fire that burns. He goes walking in the desert and he walks over you and—you die."

  Illya Kuryakin gripped Solo's arm and whispered into his ear. "This is madness, of course. But he must have seen something that looked like a fiery giant. If you keep on questioning him we may get at the truth."

  Solo nodded and tightened his grip on Chin Husan's arm. "Listen to me, Chin," he said. "What you have told us is very strange. We believe you, of course, but you have not told us why the Fire Demon goes walking in the desert. Why did he kill Sun Lin and spare you?"

  "He did not spare me. I ran. He walked away into the darkness without seeing me at all."

  "How do you know he didn't see you? Doesn't he have eyes?"

  "He has eyes that look out across the world and ears that hear the whisper of the wind as it moves across the ocean a thousand miles away. To the Fire Demon we are too small to be seen unless he bends down and searches for us in the sand. When you walk through a forest there are thousands of insects which you hear but do not see. But if they are silent you neither see or hear them. I was silent when I ran."

  "How long have the tribesmen of the Gobi thought of the Fire Demon in that way?" Solo asked, a rising excitement in his voice.

  There was no change in Chin's voice when he said: "I do not know."

  "I think you do," Solo said. "This is very important to us, Chin. It is something we must know. Your friends, your brothers—did they always think of the Fire Demon in that way?"

  "In what way? I do not understand."

  "As having eyes that can see what is taking place a great distance away. Do you know what a legend is, Chin?"

  "I have heard your countrymen talk about legends," Chin Husan said. "For us there are no legends. We only believe in what is true."

  "And the Fire Demon is true."

  "I have said that he is."

  "I'm afraid you may not understand me when I tell you that the Fire Demon is an ancient Chinese legend which goes back thousands of years, and he has been pictured as a—well, a kind of idol fifteen or twenty feet tall, walking about and breathing fire just as you've described him. But even if you don't completely understand I'd like you to think about it for a minute or two."

  "I am an unlearned man. Is that what you're thinking?" Chin Husan said, with a trace of resentment in his voice. "It may be true, but why do you fling it in my face? I know what you are talking about."

  "I'm sorry," Solo said. "But if you understand I am glad, because it makes it that much simpler. You know what the Fire Demon looks like. But when you say he can 'look out across the world' did you always think of him as being able to do that? As a child, I mean. And do your friends all think he can do that too? For how long, Chin? Since they were very young?"

  "I do not think so," Chin Husan said. "It is very strange. When I was young the Fire Demon could see all of us. So we believed, and that is why we hoped we would never meet him walking in the desert.

  "He can still see us if we make a noise and he looks down and searches for us. But how he looks far away and what he sees we cannot see at all. And what he hears we cannot hear at all."

  The moon had come into clear view again and was bathing the rock structure in its departing radiance, which shone full upon Chin Husan's face. It brought his features into harsh relief and Solo suddenly realized that, even now, they were not the features of a completely sane man. There was a look of torment in his eyes and he seemed to be directing his guilt feelings in upon himself, for abruptly he raised his right fist and pounded his chest as if punishing himself for his cowardice in deserting Sun Lin.

  Solo felt himself to be in no danger of another sudden attack. His concern was solely for Chin Husan's sanity and the harm which a half-demented man could do to himself if abruptly released from all restraint.

  Chin Husan could hardly have been aware of what was passing through Solo's mind. But if he had known his sudden bid for freedom could not have been more violent or taken the two men from U.N. C.L.E. more completely by surprise.

  With a display of wiry strength amazing in so old a man he wrenched both of his wrists free and left the moon-splotched shadows where he had been huddling in a flying leap.

  The leap carried him straight out over the sand, and was executed with so great a violence that it sent him sprawling. But almost instantly he was on his feet again, running wildly across the desert in the direction of the hollow where the vanished camels had spent the major part of the night. He encircled the hollow and ran on without looking back or uttering a sound.

  ILLYA SEEMED the most shaken. "Who could have anticipated he'd try something like that?" Solo muttered. "His madness came back fast."

  "Do you think we should go after him?" Kuryakin said.

  "Only if we were as mad as he is," Solo said. "Then getting lost in the desert wouldn't matter much, one way or the other. He won't stop running for quite some time. We can search for him when the 'copter gets here, if he's still alive."

  "Why don't you come right out and say it," Illya asked. "If we
're still alive. Signaling the 'copter is going to be the first real test. If THRUSH can pick up a short wave, limited range message in triple-code in the middle of the Gobi Blakeley's disappearance may be followed by another vanishing act—staged by Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin."

  "A THRUSH pickup of a transmitted SOS might be wholly unnecessary to accomplish that," Solo said. "You're forgetting that when Huntley and Rivers discussed something their voices on the headland and the two telecasts we saw in New York must have been picked up almost instantaneously, by some spot-coverage transmission mechanism that verges on the miraculous."

  "But Newfoundland isn't quite as remote from the THRUSH-cell network as the middle of the Gobi," Illya reminded him.

  "How do we know how remote the bedrock bottom of a Pacific Island volcano might be from some nightmare kind of eavesdropping mechanism?" Solo said. "The same kind of pickup impossibility may be at work here, changing it into the opposite of an impossibility. Could spoken words be picked up electronically half across the world? Think a moment before you rule that out. Television in its most primitive form was considered just as great an impossibility at the turn of the century."

  He paused an instant, then went on grimly. "I've a feeling also that right now, for us, that pickup mechanism wouldn't have to be globe-encircling, that we're very close to its mysterious source. That's why I questioned Chin Husan so closely about the Fire Demon. His answers didn't tell me one-tenth of what I'd like to know. But they made something clearer I've given a great deal of thought to. In case you're interested, it's also on the nightmare level."

  They heard the helicopter before they saw it. It was still high in the sky and approaching from the east. For three full minutes they continued to hear it before it came into view as a tiny black dot against the dawn glow.

  Gradually the dot grew larger and as it began to descend its aspect changed from that of an airborne gnat to a huge and ungainly insect with dangling appendages. Growing larger still it lost its insect-like appearance and became a flying windmill. Finally its whirlybird contours stood out distinctly. The cockpit glimmered in the dawn light and the metal helmets of the two pilots glittered with a diamond-like brilliance.