The Mind-­Twisters Affair - Stratton Thomas - Страница 6

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Napoleon hesitated, then took the plunge. He out his identification card for Curtis' inspection. Rita moved closer in order to see the card herself.

Curtis read the card and sat back. "So your nephew was a figment of your imagination, and you're an U.N.C.L.E. agent, not an uncle. All right, what you after?"

Napoleon explained their mission, and the anti-U.N. C.L.E. feeling they had encountered. Curtis looked puzzled.

"That seems odd," he said. "I wouldn't attach much significance to old Gaspar's memo; he's always doing something like that, usually to impress a prospective donor. I wouldn't be surprised to find that he picked the organization names at random out of a current newspaper. But Armden and Bennett are different. The last time I spoke to Armden we were comparing notes on the work we had done for U.N.C.L.E. He seemed quite friendly then, though a bit concerned about breaking security."

"When was this?" Illya wanted to know.

Curtis pondered a moment. "Sometime during the summer term, I'm sure. Falco was thinking of instituting some kind of psychological testing in the personnel department and I was asked for some advice. I poked around the plant, looked profound, and asked questions. I remember that I was surprised to find someone else here who had worked with U.N.C.L.E."

"Can you think of any reason for them to change so suddenly?" Napoleon inquired. "Any anti-U.N.C.L.E. publicity in town recently?'

Curtis shook his head. "I don't think so. I haven't been keeping up with the local events. I've been busy with a survey of the behavior patterns of the university students, trying to find some correlation between their academic accomplishments and other behavioral characteristics." He grinned suddenly. "I haven't found any thing, but I need to have something published professionally in the near future, so you can bet I'll find a correlation somewhere. I just haven't uncovered the right statistics yet."

Rita had been looking pensive. "This may not have anything to do with what you're after," she said, "but ever since I returned to school this fall - I had a summer job in New York - I've had an odd feeling about a lot of people. Not the students so much as the local people, and some of the faculty. There's a certain aloofness I never noticed before."

"Anything specific?" Napoleon asked quickly.

"Not really," she said, frowning. "I've been working with some of the local charities. I've noticed that donations have been falling off this fall. Fund drives don't raise as much, and people who sign up for payroll deductions, withdraw almost immediately. One recent drive only made 50% of its quota."

"That doesn't sound like Thrush," said Illya. "They'd set up a phony charity if they thought it would benefit them, but I can't see any profit for them in this."

Curtis had been listening intently to Rita's disclosure, his eyes gradually lighting up. "I hadn't realized it was such a widespread phenomenon," he said happily. "Do you really suppose there's any connection between anti-U.N.C.L.E. feeling and decreasing charitable donations? Maybe I won't need this statistical correlation after all. This could be a rare opportunity. There are, of course, many instances of an individual's going through a profound psychological change, but I don't recall any record of an entire town doing it"

Curtis broke off to hum a few bars of something that vaguely resembled "Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight," then rubbed his hands together gleefully. He seemed to have forgotten Illya and Napoleon completely.

"Let's see. I don't believe a printed questionnaire would achieve the best results in this case. Perhaps I could make it a project for my classes. Hmmmm... Each student would have to cover - oh, half a dozen families, if we restricted the study to Midford itself. It shouldn't take more than a week or so." Curtis was pacing furiously now. "Yes, that should be the best approach. We can work out a list of questions and get it mimeographed -"

Curtis halted suddenly. "I'm sorry, gentlemen," he apologized, "but this is an unusual opportunity. Just think of it: an entire town!"

"I quite understand," Napoleon assured him. "In fact, we would be very much interested in the outcome. And, if you don't mind the suggestion of an outsider, could you possibly include a question about Thrush in your survey? It could be a great help."

"Ah, yes, a bird in the hand, so to speak. Certainly, certainly. After all, it was you who brought the matter to my attention. Perhaps you would like to look over the survey questions before we run them off? Why don't you stop by tomorrow afternoon if you're still in town? I should have the questions worked out."

Illya started to say something, but Curtis rushed on. "The first thing of course, is to win their confidence, so we'll need a couple of innocuous, ego-building questions first. And then..."

Napoleon and Illya exchanged glances, shrugged and departed. Rita gave them a solemn wink as she busily noted down Curtis' flood of ideas.

Chapter 3

"What's Your Excuse For Starting This Riot?"

THE REST OF THE DAY was uneventful. They spent most of the time wandering about the miniscule business district of Midford, listening carefully, occasionally striking up casual conversations on the subject of charity and internationalist organizations. The majority of the populace was positively indifferent to international organizations; the major topic in the marketplace was the new high school basketball coach. By evening, Illya and Napoleon had found only a dozen people who were openly hostile to U.N.C.L.E. However, no one was openly favorable; the general attitude seemed to be one of mild dislike.

Shortly after sunset, they drove to within a block of Armden's house, parked, and walked. The Sprite with the racing stripe was gone. This time Armden himself answered the door.

"Ah, the two intrepid agents again," he said, not offering to let them enter. "What are you after now? I thought I made myself clear yesterday."

"You did, on the subject of U.N.C.L.E." Napoleon answered. "We've been wondering just how you feel about Thrush?"

Armden laughed. "Arnold said you'd been around asking stupid questions this morning. I thought you'd get around to me, but I don't know any more about Thrush - I assume it's an organization? - than be does."

"All right," Napoleon acceded. "We would really like to know what happened to change your attitude toward U.N.C.L.E. We talked to Professor Curtis this morning, and he said you didn't feel this way this way a few months ago. And as we said to your wife last night, Dr. Morthley is quite concerned about you. You must have some kind of message for him, at least."

A flash of concern crossed Armden's face. "Poor Willard," he sighed. "He never was very sophisticated. It's easy to see how he could be taken in by an outfit like yours. Next thing he'll be donating valuable time to charity."

"You don't approve of charities?" Napoleon asked.

"The little ones are door-to-door beggars, and the big ones are swindlers." Armden snarled. "The entire idea is wrong, anyway. I made my own way without anybody's help, and other people can do the same. But the whole country is going downhill - look at us playing Santa Claus to a bunch of ignorant, ungrateful freeloaders without the guts to help themselves. Someone is going to have to take hold and bring this country to its senses." Armden paused, breathing heavily.

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