[The Girl From UNCLE 01] - The Global Globules Affair - Latter Simon - Страница 6

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It was a lush room, all green leather furniture, gold and ivory walls, grass-green carpet, tapestry curtains, an executive desk with green glass table, topped with phones of cream and green. He didn't have time to observe more before the door closed. He turned at the sound and stared down into the black round eye of the gun which was aimed at his heart.

"You heard the lady," said Ginger Coke. "Take a seat, chum, and make yourself comfortable."

CHAPTER THREE: WHERE BIRDS CAN FLY

SAMA PARU daily blessed U.N.C.L.E. He was a French citizen, son of an Armenian mother, a Turkish father, grandson of an Hungarian circus performer who married an Italian high-wire artiste. With such a family it was natural that Sama's childhood should be spent traveling back and forth through Europe, natural too that he should like freedom and excitement. He came to U.N.C.L.E. via Morocco and certain Middle East espionage rings. Sama Paru cherished the aims of U.N.C.L.E., having spent hard years proving his worth before being appointed a European Field Contact man.

Count Kazan, his partner, had an entirely different back ground. He always had known wealth and luxury, yet instead of engaging himself in the social life of his generation or, as did so many of his contemporaries, entering politics, he sought an outlet for his fierce ambitions to see the world free of tyranny, war and injustice. He was an idealist, but years of training had matured this idealism into more purposeful and practical channels. He became an expert in International Law, a skilled pilot, an expert in codes and in physical sports. He used these skills also as social assets, for part of his U.N.C.L.E. work was to maintain contact with the upper echelons of society. Indeed, he blessed U.N.C.L.E. for having given his life a decided purpose.

They worked well together, these two men from such different backgrounds. Neither of them wanted personal power, though both could have achieved it. They were, in fact, internationals rather than Europeans, and their work with U.N.C.L.E. gave them the satisfaction of world service rather than that of local service to some local cause.

Seeing them together one was reminded of two of the famous Musketeers, Count Kazan being D'Artagnan to Sama Paru's Porthos. Yet they were seldom seen together in social life. When called to work together on an U.N.C.L.E. assignment they adopted such roles as Kazan the wealthy master to Paru the chauffeur or manservant, mechanic or gardener. Sama Paru slipped easily into any such role; Count Kazan did not, although he was expert at disguise. But usually he remained himself and, having no experience of hardship nor the usual necessity for working to earn a precarious living, could not easily assume working-class roles.

Sama Paru was alone in his Paris apartment when Count Kazan called him up.

"You are alone, Sama?"

"I am."

"That is hard to believe. Where is Colette? Or is it Trudy, the little American? Or perhaps Sofia, the Italian? I confess I cannot keep pace with your amours."

"Alone, I said," Sama growled. "And why should I care whether or not you can count?"

"Been caught in any good rain showers lately?"

"You should call me on emergency channel to ask me that?"

"Tut! Tut!" said Kazan. "Paris always makes you so touchy. Now me—I am full of sunshine, sitting on top of a mountain way, way to the south of you, watching the sky."

"A pleasant occupation."

"April Dancer is in London."

"So is Mark Slate. Happy sky watching. Over and out."

"'Wait!"

"So?"

"So what makes it rain?"

"In parts of Ireland they say it is the little people."

"In other places it could be big people."

"Try the Hopi Indians—they have a reputation as rain makers. Is this connected with that Rue Rivoli report I sent to New York?"

"What did you think of it?" Kazan asked.

"On reports, I give the facts that are required. When Mr. Waverly requests my opinion, he asks for it. The facts were that there was a shower of rain and there were some people who claimed their money melted. I do not have enough spare cash to leave around in the rain, but if I did, I would expect it to get wet."

"What do you, personally, know of Dr. Carl Karadin?"

Sama Paru frowned at the ceiling. "One of those Left Bank professors in his younger days. Later, a frustrated research scientist with some pretty wild theories. An admirer of Parsimal, though he quarreled with Parsimal's theories. Became a nutcase—very clever, many talents, but too diversified. He faded out of the Paris scene—oh, three years ago. Married, parted—one daughter. I heard he inherited money. Retired to carry out his own research. I couldn't prove that, though." Sama paused. "Wait now—there was something."

"Political?" Kazan suggested.

"Not really. It was in keeping with his role as a nutcase. He wanted to replace world currency with the French franc. Or did he want a world currency to replace the franc? Some such gibberish. Well, goodbye now. Don't take too much sun."

"London office reports April Dancer and Dr. Karadin heading to west of England in a helicopter. Mark Slate engaged with Karadin's daughter in London."

"And you are sitting on a mountain."

"I've got a helicopter too." Kazan spoke slowly and clearly. "There is a point on the French coast—Omonvile, in the Department of Manche. Get yourself a helicopter. Omonvile is opposite the English south-west, a few miles from Cherbourg."

"It is, more exactly, opposite Bournemouth, which is on the English south coast," said Sama coldly. "They have four tides a day and the sands are quite clean. We could nip over for a paddle. Or have you a more exciting suggestion?"

"There could be birds on the wing. If you brought your bird-watching outfit we might see the lesser thrush."

"Or even the greater thrush?" Sama Paru's eyes gleamed at the mention of the word.

"What else is in south-west England?"

"Traffic jams," said Sama. "On the roads, of course. Or what they call roads over there. I once went to Gilhooley, the space satellite relay station."

"Ah!" said Kazan. "Interesting. There also is Dartmoor."

"A very nasty prison."

"And a wild moorland?"

"Where birds can fly in freedom and remain hidden if they wish. The thrush is often a sky bird."

"Exactly," said Kazan.

"Exactly where?"

"That depends on our bird-watching skills."

"I will load all necessary equipment." Sama Paru ceased his bantering tone as he asked: "Is this a directive?"

"No—a request. There appears to be a deal of guessing going on at the moment. Our charming April is allowing herself to be used as bait."

"I would not care to be the fisherman who caught her. I do not know of a fishing line strong enough to hold a tiger."

"At Omonville," said Kazan. "Yes?"

"But yes!" said Sama Paru. "I leave within the hour. You have had to hire a chopper—couldn't you wait for our Paris-based U.N.C.L.E. machine?"

"No. Two choppers were requested. I shall fly it so there will be no strangers aboard. Au 'voir, mon vieux!"

CHAPTER FOUR: CHOPPERS AWAY

DR. KARADIN almost caught her out with his sudden change of plan. Fortunately, just as she was leaving her hotel room she made a last contact with London Headquarters to report that she was on her way.

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