MFU Whitman - The Affair of the Gentle Saboteur by Brandon Keith Read Free Book Online

any value on their lives, remember to keep remembering."
    "I'll remember to keep remembering. Anything else."
    "That's it."
    "Now may I ask a question?"
    "Certainly."
    "What about Kuryakin and young Winfield?"
    "They're being cared for."
    "I assume they are. I mean, how does it work out—the exchange?"
    "A fair question. Certainly. Once we have you and Stanley, we will take you to Kuryakin and the boy, and we'll lock you up with them."
    " Lock me up? "
    "A proviso against any foolish antics by UNCLE. As you know, we've failed to accomplish our mission. Retreat, when necessary, is an honorable tactic of war. All we want is Stanley and an opportunity to get out of your country. Are we asking too much—seeing as we hold hostages?"
    "I don't know. Depending..."
    "You'll be confined, together with Kuryakin and the boy, for one hour. But only for an hour. That will be sufficient time for our group to be safely out of your country. We shall then be in radio communication with the American authorities, and you three will be released. A precaution, but the kind of precaution you yourself would take, would you not?"
    "I suppose..."
    "That's it, Mr. Solo. Any more questions?"
    "No more questions."
    "Don't try tricks, I beseech you. We'll be watching, and we can meet your tricks with tricks of our own, but in this particular game, this time, we hold the trumps. Two trumps. Illya Kuryakin and Steven Winfield. No trick can be successful. If you win, you lose, because what you will win will be two corpses. Do you read me, Mr. Solo?"
    "I read you clear."
    "Good-bye. See you later."
     
     

7. Game Without Rules
     
     
    ERIC BURROWS cradled the receiver and smiled toward Pamela Hunter. "There! Did I omit any thing?"
    "Nothing. You were precise and specific."
    "Well, thank you, my dear."
    "Now if he'll only comply—no tricks, no complications—then all of this will be over with and finished."
    "He has to comply. No alternative."
    "I'll be happy when it's over."
    "Are you frightened, Miss Hunter?"
    She shook her head. "No, it's not that. Just—I don't like it—any of it."
    "Who are you to like—or not like?" Burrows' eyes narrowed.
    "I'm nobody."
    "If you'll just keep repeating that to yourself, over and over, you'll have mastered the first lesson. That's who and what you are exactly—nobody. You're a tiny unimportant cog in a vast machinery. You have nothing to do with decisions. You are part of the machine that grinds out the work and, may I add, a dispensable part. What I mean is, if we lost you, it would be no loss to the machine. You'd be replaced cheaply and quickly. The Americans have a phrase for it—you're a dime a dozen, my dear."
    "Not very flattering."
    "The truth rarely is." His dark eyebrows contracted. "I'm curious. You don't—didn't—like any of it. You're pleased by our failure. Why?"
    She went near a window of the large drawing room and looked out. The window was closed, the room air-conditioned. Outside, even so early in the morning, it looked hot. The sky was clear. The sun gleamed on the long lawns. "Because," she said, "to destroy shrines, to kill people..."
    "But it had a purpose."
    "I know. But innocent people..."
    "Incidental. The shrines were the purpose—the effect of the destruction of the shrines." He laughed briefly. "Any killings would have been incidental. We failed. Now we must kill—not incidentally. By the way, has Leslie had breakfast?"
    "Yes."
    "Is there still coffee?"
    "Yes."
    "Would you bring me a cup, please?"
    "Certainly, Mr. Burrows."
    In the kitchen she poured hot coffee into a mug and set it on a tray. She added a small pitcher of cream, a spoon, a container of sugar, and a napkin and carried the tray into the drawing room. She was troubled, hesitating to open the subject again, watching as he stirred cream and sugar in the cup. He sipped, then lit a cigarette. He sat at a table drinking the coffee, smoking. She remained standing.
    "I don't quite understand, Mr. Burrows."
    "What?" he