[The Girl From UNCLE 03] - The Golden Boats of Taradata Affair - Latter Simon - Страница 29

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April exclaimed: "Lodori — of course!" She operated the communicator. "Channel D, please. April Dancer calling Mr. W. Priority." When he answered, she said: "Full report later, sir. Am now requesting full information on Dr. George Lodori of Taradata — minor character. Background — war record." She waited, listening carefully. "Thank you, sir. Have you received our message re the package we despatched via Kazan? You have? Good! Thank you." She closed the communicator.

"I'll have to get myself one of those," said Chas. "Cute, ain't they?"

"So are you," said April. "Dr. George Lodori was a prisoner-of-war at the same time as you, in the same camp. How else could you know that final tests were taking place as soon as Cheval arrived? How else, except from Lodori, could you know anything about this angle? Not from your islander chums. Most of them don't know a test tube from a light bulb — or how to work a phone. That's why there are no modern communications — except the radio. Who works the radio, Chas? One of your wives?"

"Nah!" Chas was scornful. "One of me sons, of course! You'll probably find out, so why not tell you. Okay, so the doc and me were old buddies." He looked at her sadly. "Did you have to let him die, miss?"

"You know Padrack shot him. Mark told you."

Mark said: "We'd been knocked out by blast from that trick prowler trap, but not badly hurt. We were lying doggo, biding our time. We're pretty used to controlling our actions under stress. But even if I'd leapt up — it would have been too late. I think Lodori was expendable. You must have had an idea he was in danger."

Chas nodded. "Out of his depth, was George. Got himself involved with big money men." He laughed cynically. "Ain't we all? But he was clever." Chas waved his hand. "At this sort of thing. He was a sick man when I brought him here years ago. That prisoner-of-war camp just about finished him. But he had peace here. Peace and sun and happy people. He took up teaching — then doctoring again — and made a life for himself. Then 'he began this — what-you-call-em — research stuff. The islanders never got sick — not from things like you and me. George thought he'd found out why. He wanted money for equipment and suchlike. I helped all I could, but it wasn't enough. Two years ago he took a trip to find a backer. He found one. I guess they were waiting for a mug like George." He glared at April. "Well, they do, don't they? Wait for the little fellas with the big ideas but no money."

She nodded. "It's done quite often. Your friend George's last words were — 'It's mine, mine!'"

"Ah! And it was too."

"What?" said April. "What, Chas?"

He grinned, suddenly twinkling. "You find out. That's what you're paid for, ain't it?"

"We're paid," said Mark, "but our commission is paid in terms of lives saved, and the prevention of world domination by fear and exploitation of the many by the few."

"Proper little crusaders, ain't you?" The words were sarcastic, but his voice was kindly. "I see you whipped Cheval away while I was in the powwow. Maybe just as well. I've got Padrack, and I'll want your evidence — unless you're going to claim some sort of diplomatic privilege?"

"No," said April. "We could, but we won't. We'll swear affidavits saying we witnessed the murder. What about Lucy Padrack?"

"I reckon she died resisting arrest for complicity in murder," said Chas calmly. "I shed no tears for Lucy. Would you like to swear otherwise?"

April shook her head. "We might need your evidence before we can deal with Cheval." She smiled at Chas.

"Under International Law, that could be tricky for you, eh, Mark?"

"Very tricky." Mark followed her lead. "You're an officer of a court, Chas— not just an ordinary citizen. As you've been careful to prove to us. Our government and its agencies could make you travel to the other side of the world as a material witness — if they wanted to."

"And if we made certain they did," said April, smiling sweetly. "You are a man of many talents, Chas. I admire you. And I appreciate that a long absence from your many business interests around the islands…"

"Not to mention your personal and family life," Mark interrupted.

"... would be seriously disrupted by prolonged absence," April continued. She sighed, as if very concerned over the problem. "But there are better legal brains than ours on board a certain ship not far from here. I expect they would advise us."

"They'd do more than advise," said Mark. "They'd ruddy-well order us to make sure you were available. We don't want to threaten you to come with us, but if you don't, then I think they might sort of lean on your ship with theirs and take you off. You see — the Padracks were American citizens. Oh, not very good ones, I'll admit, but that's not really the point."

Chas hitched one leg over a high stool, lit a cigarette, feathered smoke. Mark leaned against a broken cabinet, hefting his gun gently up and down. April sat on the table, knees drawn up, chin resting on them, staring at Chas, her hands wafting the papers to and fro.

"You might, and they might," said Chas at last. "But there ain't one of you could make me do anything I didn't want. Better and tougher cookies than you have tried — and failed."

"Who's talking about making you?" said Mark. "We know you don't scare."

"You're right, I don't. Likewise, I ain't a complete halfwit. You know I can't afford to leave the islands right now. And I know that you know." He shrugged. "So I trade. What's the deal?"

April waved the papers. "Your friend Lodori discovered a drug in the leaves of the tara plant. These had to be processed and pressed in a certain way so that they could travel. Numbers of them were then moulded into the coracles as an inner skin. Why such a tortuous way? Why not extract the drug here and export it in one guise or another?"

"Too bulky, for one thing. The leaves must be bonded with a special solution, as you say. They have to stay like that for at least eight weeks, but not stacked up. They must have air around them. You forgot to mention the tara root dust. That is separated from the earth and sifted over the bonded leaves. It contains a concentration of a substance found only in the tara tree roots. Useless on its own — just like the leaves are useless without it. A natural substance in a young leaf is released by the substance in a mature root, and vicky-verky. Follow me?"

"Almost ahead of you," said April.

"Taradata is not a big island," said Mark. "But there's room to spread out a few thousand leaves."

"No go," said Chas. "George tried it. They mustn't dry out beyond a certain point. Then he found — by accident, ain't that comical? — that the tara bark, leastways the under side of it, was a natural. It stopped the leaves from breaking before they were ready, and it actually helped the drug to do what he called 'become stable and viable'."

"So why boats? Why not strips of bark?"

"Because you can't get large enough pieces of bark. It comes off in strips, and you mustn't bind the leaves into tight packaging. Okay for tiny quantities, but George's backers wanted production — big production. So they revived the native coracle industry. Seems too that there's a whole mess of laws in your country about importing plants. But they didn't bother about them little boats."

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