The Hollow Crown Affair - McDaniel David - Страница 12

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"Except for the beard that's Dr. Fraser. I think he has a nice beard."

"He may have trimmed it. Are you a friend of his?"

"Golly no. I'm a secretarial graduate, but I had a chem minor so Dr. Fraser had the department assign me as his secretary."

"Is that standard procedure?"

"Hardly. But Dr. Fraser is very highly regarded, and I guess the Board was willing to give him some extras."

"Like the Bomb Shop."

"Uh-huh. I guess it's the wages of prestige."

"I guess. Well, look, I can drop by tomorrow morning. It's not really that important."

"Okay," she said, and returned to her papers as he closed the door and turned back up the hall. It sounded like Baldwin in more ways than one; the physical description fit and Solo was willing to grant that the beard could simply be a matter of taste; also Baldwin would be likely to demand—and get—as many special privileges and perquisites as possible. Well, there was one way of being sure. Where did she say he was lecturing? Two-oh-eight?

An arrow with the same digits directed him down another hall and around a corner into a backwater with a Coke machine, a fire bucket, an old ladder leaning against a wall beneath draped coat racks, and a single door with a rippled glass panel and the numbers 208.

Napoleon Solo eased the door open a crack and heard the familiar harsh, precise voice saying, "... understand the exact nature of the carbon bond. You are all familiar with the simpler hydrocarbons from your weekend parties..." Napoleon drew back. It sounded like him.

Taking a deep breath he opened the door wide enough to stick his head all the way around the corner and look right at the lectern. As the latch clattered, every head in the main room swiveled to stare at him. Ward Baldwin looked coolly back at him from behind the demonstration table and gave him a crisp civil nod before clearing his throat sharply and bringing every eye back to himself.

"Some of you may recall from last semester the formation of the Benzene Ring. If you are confident of your ability to explain its bonding mechanism in words of one syllable, you may glance through chapter eleven while the rest of us re-examine..."

The door closed without a creak, for which Napoleon was profoundly thankful. He felt sure he had blushed just then, and he hated the thought. But at least he had found Baldwin and didn't seem about to lose him again. As he started down the stairs, he wondered briefly if that were really as much of a triumph as it might seem.

Chapter 6: "Attenta! Pericolo!"

When Convocation was held in full scholastic ritual at one o'clock the next afternoon, seated somewhere behind the freshmen and trying not to look conspicuous were Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin and Alexander Waverly. Ward Baldwin sat among his faculty, his mortarboard precisely level, his gown faultlessly hung and edged with the colors of Dublin University and the single stripe indicating his Doctorate of Science. If he observed his three friends in the audience, he gave no sign.

At last the stately procession wound out and the audience rose to follow in ragged lines, clotting in murmuring groups in the foyer of the gymnasium. The UNCLE party, led by Solo, was passing unnoticed among them when a bright voice rang out above the babble.

"Oh, Napoleon! Hi there!"

It was Chandra again, her pale face framed in dark hair and a large circular hat. Deftly she floated towards them, saying, "I thought I'd run into you here. Doesn't Ward look fine in his robes?"

Mr. Waverly squinted up at Napoleon, who shifted his weight as he absorbed the last rhetorical question. He fell back on the proprieties. "Mr. Waverly, I'd like to introduce Chandra Reynolds. Chandra, this is my, ah, boss. And this is my partner, Illya Kuryakin."

Her eyes fastened on Alexander Waverly and shone with innocent delight. "So you're the person who keeps Mr. Solo so busy all the time! He's really a very good agent, honestly."

Napoleon choked on his tongue and got an unreadable look from Illya. Recovering, he said, "Ah, Chandra's husband, Ed, is with the Archaeology Department here. I ran into them in Cape May. In New Jersey. Last month when I was down there. You remember..."

"I take it you know Ward Baldwin," said Waverly, with an odd smile.

"Know him? Why, I love him! Even though I do know him better than anyone but Irene, I still love him." Her voice dropped just a bit. "They sort of adopted me, a long time ago. They taught me nearly everything I know. Irene is closer to me than my own mother." Like Baldwin, she gave the name its British pronunciation, with all three vowels long.

"You knew Ward Baldwin last month in Cape May, then."

"Oh, Napoleon, I am sorry, but Ward made us both promise not to tell you he was there until he'd taken one more chance to talk directly to the Council. You didn't even get there until six days after he'd left, and I thought he'd be back any minute. Irene had told me what was happening, and we agreed he ought to see you as soon as possible. She said I should keep you around until Ward got back, but then you took off."

Napoleon glanced embarrassedly at Illya and Waverly and said, "Well, I thought he'd be back and would have stayed, but I was ordered to Philadelphia."

Chandra shook her head. "Irene told me all about it before Ward did. He was awfully upset with you—he insists the Council was on the verge of finding in his favor, even though the Computer was against him—honestly, sometimes he thinks the thing has a personal grudge—and you charged in waving your guns and yelling."

Illya stared. "I never yelled," he said. "Did you?"

"Illya, you should know me better than that. What's more, my gun never even left my holster."

"Neither did mine. In the excitement I forgot to draw."

Chandra laughed, a bright tinkle. "I told Ward I didn't believe him about that—I told him what I thought of you, Mr. Solo, and told him just why you couldn't have done anything that simply."

Illya asked, as if he were changing the subject, "I don't suppose Ward told you what happened then?"

"Well, he escaped."

"Did he tell you how?"

"Yes—but I don't believe that either."

There was a pause. "So then he just came up here a little earlier to get ready for classes," she concluded.

"I'll bet you found him the job."

"Not exactly—Ed talked the Science Department into inviting him to come for a semester three years ago; he's just been too busy until this nonsense with King came up. He really likes it here—he's made progress on lots of things he's been putting aside for years, and the weather seems to agree with him."

"It wouldn't dare disagree," muttered Napoleon.

Chandra laughed again. "That's just what Irene said two weeks ago."

"Is she here?" Illya asked, glancing around.

"No, she's hiding somewhere. She and Ward nearly had words about his refusing to get in touch with you, and they compromised on that hint she left. But she's still worried that King may find him and she wants to keep an escape route open. Even Ward doesn't know where she is. But they keep in touch."

Napoleon realized something else and gave voice to a grievance. "You even knew about Baldwin night before last. You let me tramp half the streets of Burlington talking to people who probably thought I was some kind of nut. You probably would have let me go on for a week."

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