Read Online 19 - The Power Cube Affair by John T. Phillifent - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John T. Phillifent
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smiled.
"We have marvelous orgies regularly. Only for the right people, of course." Her smile gave way to a calculating stare as she eyed Solo and then Kuryakin. "Of course, if you're friends of Nan, you're bound to be all right. Are they, Nan?"
"I really don't know." Miss Perrell seemed to be struggling with inner amusement, probably at the expression on Kuryakin's face. "I can find out and let you know. Will that do?"
"Splendid! Tomorrow night, then? And why don't you come along too, just for once?"
"You'll never persuade Nan," Evadne exclaimed, with edges on her voice. "She has her own diversions. But you'll come, won't you, both of you? Please?"
Solo shrugged, not knowing what it was all about, and looked to Miss Perrell for a lead. She had a gleam in her eye.
"I'll see about it. I may bring them myself, yet. I'll let you know what I decide."
As the gleaming Rolls crackled away over gravel and then into the road, Solo turned to her. "What was all that about an orgy?"
"I'll tell you in a minute, soon's I see what kind of fish I've caught. Get in the car, I'll be back in a minute." She went away swiftly.
"What d'you think, Illya?"
"I think it's time we got out from under, Napoleon. We have things to do more important than attending society gambols."
Miss Perrell returned to the ear, slid in behind the wheel, and started up the engine, but there was a faraway look in her eyes as she said:
"Guard's place is along the coast road on the way to Hythe, isn't it?"
"Right," Solo told her. Then, after they had been rolling awhile, "What's on your mind?"
"Am I that obvious?" She laughed harshly and flicked a glance at the two men by her side. "All right, try this on your experienced minds. I have just caught two hundred thousand pounds' worth of heroin and assorted hard drugs, on a tipoff. Good, yes? But wait a bit. That's the eleventh tipoff in two years. Always accurate, always the same type of people, and always the same story. That couple will go through the mill, and the answer will be—nil! No leads, commercial connections, contacts, distribution network, nothing! It's crazy. They will swear they don't know a thing."
"Maybe the stuff has been planted on them for some body else to grab?"
"We've thought of that. We've had other people shadowed, followed. Same answer. Nothing. Somebody has just lost two hundred thousand pounds' worth of dope, and we have no idea who, nor where it was going. Mad!"
"Always on that same boat?" Kuryakin demanded, and she frowned.
"Now you come to mention it, yes. But that's just a coincidence, I'm sure. Maggie travels on the Continent regularly, for her charity work."
"Charity?" Solo demanded. "Pardon me, but the countess struck me as being far removed from anything as real as that."
"She's real enough." Miss Perrell began to grin. "I've known her for years, and she is absolutely genuine. Charity!" She laughed softly to herself, and Solo realized all over again just how attractive she could be.
"Let us in on the joke," he said.
"All right, Maggie––she used to be Margaret Wallace, daughter of a fairly well off family, bitten with the stage bug very early, had something of a career, then married Danby—all strictly story book stuff up to that point. But she was also bitten by the goodwill bug after seeing the seamier side of life. And she is, as she said, completely without any sense of propriety. For Maggie, so long as there's no law against it, it goes. She hit on her orgy notion, oh, a long time ago now. And they are orgies, literally. Bacchanalia in the Nero Roman style. Once a month at Danby Hall, and no holds barred. Everything goes. Everything!"
"But isn't that breaking half a dozen laws?"
"No, Illya, not at all. Maggie is very careful who she picks. Only the best people. Rich people. People with status, reputation, fame and renown. Quite clever people, too, mostly."
"How does that make it legal?"
"It doesn't, in itself, but so long as the affair takes place on
"We have marvelous orgies regularly. Only for the right people, of course." Her smile gave way to a calculating stare as she eyed Solo and then Kuryakin. "Of course, if you're friends of Nan, you're bound to be all right. Are they, Nan?"
"I really don't know." Miss Perrell seemed to be struggling with inner amusement, probably at the expression on Kuryakin's face. "I can find out and let you know. Will that do?"
"Splendid! Tomorrow night, then? And why don't you come along too, just for once?"
"You'll never persuade Nan," Evadne exclaimed, with edges on her voice. "She has her own diversions. But you'll come, won't you, both of you? Please?"
Solo shrugged, not knowing what it was all about, and looked to Miss Perrell for a lead. She had a gleam in her eye.
"I'll see about it. I may bring them myself, yet. I'll let you know what I decide."
As the gleaming Rolls crackled away over gravel and then into the road, Solo turned to her. "What was all that about an orgy?"
"I'll tell you in a minute, soon's I see what kind of fish I've caught. Get in the car, I'll be back in a minute." She went away swiftly.
"What d'you think, Illya?"
"I think it's time we got out from under, Napoleon. We have things to do more important than attending society gambols."
Miss Perrell returned to the ear, slid in behind the wheel, and started up the engine, but there was a faraway look in her eyes as she said:
"Guard's place is along the coast road on the way to Hythe, isn't it?"
"Right," Solo told her. Then, after they had been rolling awhile, "What's on your mind?"
"Am I that obvious?" She laughed harshly and flicked a glance at the two men by her side. "All right, try this on your experienced minds. I have just caught two hundred thousand pounds' worth of heroin and assorted hard drugs, on a tipoff. Good, yes? But wait a bit. That's the eleventh tipoff in two years. Always accurate, always the same type of people, and always the same story. That couple will go through the mill, and the answer will be—nil! No leads, commercial connections, contacts, distribution network, nothing! It's crazy. They will swear they don't know a thing."
"Maybe the stuff has been planted on them for some body else to grab?"
"We've thought of that. We've had other people shadowed, followed. Same answer. Nothing. Somebody has just lost two hundred thousand pounds' worth of dope, and we have no idea who, nor where it was going. Mad!"
"Always on that same boat?" Kuryakin demanded, and she frowned.
"Now you come to mention it, yes. But that's just a coincidence, I'm sure. Maggie travels on the Continent regularly, for her charity work."
"Charity?" Solo demanded. "Pardon me, but the countess struck me as being far removed from anything as real as that."
"She's real enough." Miss Perrell began to grin. "I've known her for years, and she is absolutely genuine. Charity!" She laughed softly to herself, and Solo realized all over again just how attractive she could be.
"Let us in on the joke," he said.
"All right, Maggie––she used to be Margaret Wallace, daughter of a fairly well off family, bitten with the stage bug very early, had something of a career, then married Danby—all strictly story book stuff up to that point. But she was also bitten by the goodwill bug after seeing the seamier side of life. And she is, as she said, completely without any sense of propriety. For Maggie, so long as there's no law against it, it goes. She hit on her orgy notion, oh, a long time ago now. And they are orgies, literally. Bacchanalia in the Nero Roman style. Once a month at Danby Hall, and no holds barred. Everything goes. Everything!"
"But isn't that breaking half a dozen laws?"
"No, Illya, not at all. Maggie is very careful who she picks. Only the best people. Rich people. People with status, reputation, fame and renown. Quite clever people, too, mostly."
"How does that make it legal?"
"It doesn't, in itself, but so long as the affair takes place on
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