Pulp Fiction | The Invisibility Affair by Thomas Stratton (7 page)

The beep came a minute later. Brattner looked at the screen. "South, but not far. They must have passed just before we got here." He flipped on the lights and drove on down the hill and past the flasher onto the Drive.

Ten minutes later, they were off the Drive and parked on a back street in an industrial section, waiting for another signal. On the left and ahead, something belched flame into the night, and on the right, a tremendous, brightly lighted clock tower was visible a half mile away. Napoleon noted with distaste that it was almost two o'clock.

The next signal was still from the south and farther away. "They could be heading for the south expressway and Chicago," Brattner commented.

"Let's hope not," said Napoleon. "We've had enough problems with Chicago recently."

The next beep showed their quarry pulling to the east, paralleling the lake shore. Brattner looked puzzled as he pulled out and drove southeast on Kinnickinnic. "A suburb?" he asked of no one in particular. "No wonder we couldn't find their new headquarters. If Thrush can afford to move into the suburbs, why can't we?" he muttered resentfully.

Two beeps later, they were sitting in the middle of the suburb of Cudahy. "Looks like this is the place," Illya noted. "They didn't move between the last two signals."

Brattner nodded. "Back northeast," he said. "We should be able to get within range of the wrist detector by the next signal."

It took them fifty minutes and four more beeps to narrow the search down to a twelve-unit apartment house two blocks from the suburb's main business section.

"Now what?" Brattner inquired. "We don't have enough men to raid a place that size. For that matter, two months ago Thrush didn't have enough men to defend it. They must have been bringing in agents while we were sending ours to San Sebastian."

"Maybe they've just taken part of the building," Napoleon suggested. "How many men are there in the local satrapy?"

"It varies. The last time we had an accurate count, they had six. That was right before Forbes and McNulty arrived. I know one of those is in jail at the moment; he was trying to get away from George the other night and had the misfortune to run into a police car. But I don't know how many they may have added recently."

"Okay," Napoleon said. "We'll have to do the best we can. Tell your men to get down here first thing in the morning. We'll stay here and keep an eye on the place. I'd like to observe the comings and goings for a while before we charge in blindly; perhaps we can get some idea of Thrush's strength by the time your men arrive."

Napoleon turned to Illya. "We'll take turns watching," he said. "You dozed at the local headquarters. It's my turn now." Without waiting for Illya's protest, he slouched down in the seat and closed his eyes.

Brattner sighed, took out his communicator and began making calls.

Kerry stood in the doorway for a second, watching Illya and Napoleon cross the porch and start down the front steps. Reluctantly, she closed the door and turned back toward her bedroom. The two agents had been very patient and understanding, but she still felt embarrassed about the incident. She wasn't used to making such silly mistakes, and she wouldn't blame Illya if he thought her an utter fool. And he was really rather sweet, the thought, as well as intelligent enough to understand a government proposal at first glance.

Embarrassment and the effects of the sudden awakening made her feel anything but sleepy. She hesitated a moment at the bedroom door, then continued down the hallway toward the kitchen. Something to eat would settle her nerves, she thought as she pushed open the kitchen door. A glass of milk, perhaps, and a piece of cold chicken would make a good snack.

As she reached for the light switch, something that felt like a steel band clamped itself around her waist and an enormous hand covered her mouth and most of her face. A voice came from the semi-darkness in front of her.

"Now then, Miss Griffin, we don't want to be unmannerly about this, but on the other hand we can't allow you to scream for help or turn on any more lights. There are at least two U.N.C.L.E. agents with fairly sharp ears and eyes just outside. We have gun, of course—one pointed directly at you, by the way—but we don't want to cause any more disturbance than necessary. So if you will promise to behave quietly, we can avoid such unpleasantnesses as tying and gagging you. If you agree, nod your head."

By the time the voice stopped, Kerry had had time to collect her wits and consider the situation. This was what Illya and Napoleon wanted, she thought. Besides, if she screamed, the agents would have to pretend to come to her aid, and with Thrush—and these
must
be Thrushes!—playing for keeps, someone could get killed. She nodded her head.

"She nodded," a voice rumbled form a foot above and behind her head.

"All right, Andy; let her go," the first voice said, and the vice-like grip was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Now isn't that much better, Miss Griffin?" the voice continued. "We don't want to inconvenience you any more than necessary, so I think we can spare a few moments for you to pack some things. We're taking you to see your uncle and you may be there for some time, so let's all go back to your bedroom where you can choose what you'll need."

As the voice stopped speaking, the door to the hallway was pushed open before her, and a man who was built along the general lines of a Percheron was outlined against the hallway light as he moved through the door. Kerry obediently followed him through the hallway and into her bedroom. A second later, the owner of the first voice entered and flipped on the light switch. She was startled to notice that he was just the opposite of the one he had called Andy—small, conservatively dressed, with a rigid crew cut. Very inoffensive looking except for the gun he still held trained on her.

Under the watchful eyes of the two men, she hastily stuffed some clothes and other necessities into a small suitcase. During this time she learned that the smaller man was Arpad McNulty and that they were indeed Thrushes. When she had finished, Andy was sent to check the back door.

"The guy's back on duty," he reported. "All ready to keep us from comin' in, but"—he gave a rumbling chuckle—"he ain't expectin' nobody to bust out."

"All right, Andy. You take him out,
quietly
. Miss Griffin and I will follow." With stealth incredible in such a large man, Andy eased open the door and slipped out into the night.

A moment later, McNulty took Kerry's arm and urged her to follow. As they stepped off the porch onto the walk, she noticed the form of the back door guard sprawled under the shrubbery beside the garage. McNulty hurried her through the back gate and along the alley to the north. At the street, a car was waiting, Andy already at the wheel. He was rumbling to himself as the two piled into the back seat. "That old boy's really gonna have a head when he wakes up." He chuckled. "Y'know how I got him, Arpad? Y'see, he—"

"It was a very good job, Andy," McNulty said, "and you can tell me about it tomorrow. Right now, get us out of here."

Kerry felt a vast relief. The plan had worked, at the cost of nothing more serious than a bruised head. The shock she had received on seeing the body was replaced by a feeling of well-being and adventure. It was an effort to remind herself that she was still a captive, even though she had only the two agents' word about how easily she could be freed. So far, Thrush had been terribly efficient.

McNulty was in an expansive mood. As the car started off at a moderate pace, he smiled at Kerry. "The secret of a successful operation is to remain inconspicuous," he said smugly, oblivious to her sidelong glance at Andy's garishly clothed hulk. "Thus we move very carefully with the traffic flow. We don't drive below the speed limit because we don't want to be picked up for loitering, but—"

"How did you get into my apartment?" Kerry asked. "It was locked and there were two U.N.C.L.E. agents guarding it."

McNulty favored her with a superior smile, "Another secret of the successful agent: be alert and watch for your opportunity. Or, as one of our rival organizations puts it, 'Be prepared.' The guard at the back was ready and alert except for a few brief moments when your two friends left. We simply sneaked in then."

"But the door—"

"Locks," McNulty stated, "are no barrier to Thrush."

"I see. Could you tell me why you chose to kidnap me? I know nothing that could be of any use to you, especially if you already have Uncle Willard."

McNulty looked offended. "Kidnapping, Miss Griffin? I prefer to think of it as arranging a reunion between two devoted relatives who have been separated by unfortunate circumstances. We must, of course preserve Thrush security; you, who have worked on classified government documents, must appreciate our position."

"Did my uncle request this reunion, then?"

"Not in so many words, perhaps, but we felt sure that having his favorite niece with him would spur him to even greater efforts on our behalf. We are not a heartless organization, Miss Griffin, as you can see. No expense is too great for Thrush if it contributes to the well-being

"I see," Kerry repeated noncommittally, and fell silent. McNulty settled back and hummed quietly to himself as they drove.

Kerry kept a careful check on their progress. Prisoners did this in all the spy movies she had seen, in order to locate the secret hideout they were being taken to. But in most of the movies, the prisoners had been blindfolded, she realized, uneasily. McNulty didn't seem to be the careless type, so she could only assume that he was confident that any knowledge she gained would do her no good. But, then, he wasn't reckoning with the tiny transmitter beeping away in her stomach. As the car drove on, she tried not to let her growing feeling of anticipation and excitement show.

Forty-five minutes later, the car pulled up in front of a medium-sized apartment building, a few miles south of Milwaukee. A thrill ran through Kerry as she realized that this was probably the secret Thrush Headquarters that Brattner had been unable to locate. Right here in Cudahy, She thought wonderingly.

McNulty ushered her out of the car and closed the door behind her. The car moved smoothly off to the building parking lot. Kerry felt vaguely disappointed that a section of lawn hadn't risen up to reveal a secret entrance for the car and themselves. Instead, they walked prosaically up the front steps and through the front door. Inside, McNulty led her down a long hallway and stopped in front of an apartment door and rang the bell. A beefy man in an ill-fitting suit answered the door. Another inconspicuous secret agent, Kerry thought as the man gestured them inside.

The apartment was furnished simply but was tastefully decorated. A tall, lawn man with graying hair rose from a couch as they entered. Attired in a smoking jacket and slippers, his trim appearance and erect bearing made Kerry think of a retired army officer. He bowed slightly. "Miss Griffin, I presume? I am Ivan Forbes. I assume you have become acquainted with our Mr. McNulty." He didn't bother to introduce the beefy man.

Kerry looked at Forbes coldly. "Am I to assume that the ultimate responsibility for the implementation of this unseemly abduction lies in your sphere of authority?"

Forbes stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not sure," McNulty spoke up, "but I think she asked if you were the one who ordered her kidnapped."

Kerry nodded. "That was the primary intent of my query."

"Ah, yes," Forbes smiled militarily. "I wouldn't put it in such harsh terms. I would rather consider it—"

"I know. Mr. McNulty and I have been through that already. Well, I've been brought here to see my uncle; where is he?"

Forbes turned to the beefy man. "Bring Dr. Morthley in."

As the man crossed the room to an inner doorway, the doorbell rang and simultaneously there was a buzzing sound from the general region of Forbes' jacket pocket. McNulty opened the door to Andy, and Forbes removed a metallic box about the size of a cigarette pack from his pocket. He snapped it open with a practiced flip of the wrist and spoke into it.

"Forbes here."

There was an unintelligible mutter from the other end which made Forbes frown. "About two hours ago, you say? Yes, that would be about the time those second two showed up to guard Miss Griffin. You're probably clear, then. Get over here as fast as you can, before they pick you up again."

Forbes started to close the communicator but changed his mind as he remembered something. "Have you gotten rid of that damned earring yet? I told you before it was too conspicuous."

Another mutter came from the communicator, and Forbes snapped, "Well, do it!
Before
you start for the apartment. Just remember who's in charge of this satrapy now!" Without waiting for a reply, Forbes closed the communicator and returned it to his jacket pocket.

He turned to McNulty. "Whoever was watching Hunter disappeared around midnight. I just hope he can make it back here without being spotted again. He's a good man, but I do wish he didn't look like Mr. Clean."

"Are you sure it's just his nonconformist streak?" McNulty asked, sensing an opening. "After all, he was the number one man here until we came, but his record shows he was never a well-coordinated member of the team."

Forbes sighed, and Kerry felt a flash of sympathy. People like McNulty usually made her feel like sighing, too. At that moment, the inner door opened and Willard Morthley stepped into the room, closely followed by the beefy man. Dr. Morthley was a spry, elderly gnome with a shock of white hair which he fondly believed made him resemble Einstein. It actually made him resemble an elderly man badly in need of a haircut, but Kerry had never been unkind enough to point this out. He smiled at Kerry.

"I'm happy to see you, my dear. They told me you were coming."

"Are you all right, Uncle Willard? Your disappearance caused marked apprehension and a search, thus far fruitless, I fear, was instigated."

Morthley nodded. "I'm fine," he reassured her, "and so is my project. In fact, we're getting along quite well with it."