Read Online The Thinking Machine Affair by Joel Bernard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joel Bernard
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served presently. It's... well... we have no table available and a young lady would like to have dinner at our restaurant. I came to ask you if you would agree to share your table with her." And, in an attempt to prevent Napoleon refusing his request, he added:
"She is piquant, Mr. Solo, a picture of a woman. I am sure you would enjoy her company."
"I shall be delighted to help you," Napoleon said, and smiled.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Solo. I am sure you won't regret it."
A few moments later Napoleon saw a waiter lead a young woman towards his table. She was tall, with a shapely figure, her elegant fawn dress making a startling contrast to her dark-brown hair and her pale face with its striking, almost beautiful, features. Napoleon stood up and bowed as his table companion sat down on the chair opposite him. He wanted to say something but decided it was too early to do so.
"It was very kind of you to agree sharing your table with me," the woman said, smiling her acknowledgment.
"It's a great pleasure, Madam," he smiled back.
"You are American?" Her intonation sounded as though she was surprised.
"I am," he said. "I hope my nationality doesn't turn me into a monster."
"I like Americans," she smiled, and looked into his eyes. "I think you are wonderful people."
The headwaiter's unwelcome appearance prevented Napoleon from paying a return compliment, and he had no choice other than to let the long-winded man, who turned the choice of food into an elaborate affair, go on with his business.
While his table companion talked with the head waiter and expertly selected her meal, Napoleon watched the vivid expressions as they played on her face. He admitted that he had rarely come across a female with such exquisite charm and was happy at the chance that had brought them together.
The evening was a success. They talked, drank and danced.
"It's getting late," she said, as they finished the last dance and the musicians started to pack away their instruments.
"The night is young," Napoleon insisted.
"But we haven't any nightclubs in Prague such as you have in the States," she said. "Everything is closing now."
"We could round off the evening with a drink or two in my room," he suggested.
"Let's go," she said softly; "even without drinks. I think you're intoxicating enough without alcoholic stimulants."
Napoleon settled the bill and tipped the headwaiter handsomely.
As they walked through the hotel lounge towards the elevator, Napoleon sensed that someone was watching them, but even though he turned round sharply, he saw no suspect. "Must be imagining things," he thought, and walked on.
When they entered his room and he had shut the door, she put her arms around his neck impulsively and kissed him.
"Now that's what I call a really friendly gesture," he said, "and one good turn deserves another." So he kissed her back.
As they embraced she felt the gun secured in the holster fastened under his left arm. "You carry a gun?" she exclaimed.
"It's an old American custom," he explained casually.
She held him tight with her left arm around his neck. Then, deftly and gently, she slid the automatic from the holster and hit him on the head with the butt of the gun. "I'm sorry I had to do this," she said as she landed him another blow to make certain he was out.
She patted her ruffled hair, removed the compact from her handbag, opened it and said softly:
"Assignment completed. He's in his room ready for collection."
She looked at the unconscious Napoleon, his gun now beside his head on the pillow, and said: "I bet you didn't guess that my compact conceals an ultra-shortwave radio transmitter, my U.N.C.L.E. lover. It was nice knowing you."
She turned the key in the lock from the outside as she left the room and placed it on top of the door frame. She then left the hotel.
Her message was received by the Monitoring Officer at THRUSH European Center E, and was immediately passed to the Chief of the Special Tasks
"She is piquant, Mr. Solo, a picture of a woman. I am sure you would enjoy her company."
"I shall be delighted to help you," Napoleon said, and smiled.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Solo. I am sure you won't regret it."
A few moments later Napoleon saw a waiter lead a young woman towards his table. She was tall, with a shapely figure, her elegant fawn dress making a startling contrast to her dark-brown hair and her pale face with its striking, almost beautiful, features. Napoleon stood up and bowed as his table companion sat down on the chair opposite him. He wanted to say something but decided it was too early to do so.
"It was very kind of you to agree sharing your table with me," the woman said, smiling her acknowledgment.
"It's a great pleasure, Madam," he smiled back.
"You are American?" Her intonation sounded as though she was surprised.
"I am," he said. "I hope my nationality doesn't turn me into a monster."
"I like Americans," she smiled, and looked into his eyes. "I think you are wonderful people."
The headwaiter's unwelcome appearance prevented Napoleon from paying a return compliment, and he had no choice other than to let the long-winded man, who turned the choice of food into an elaborate affair, go on with his business.
While his table companion talked with the head waiter and expertly selected her meal, Napoleon watched the vivid expressions as they played on her face. He admitted that he had rarely come across a female with such exquisite charm and was happy at the chance that had brought them together.
The evening was a success. They talked, drank and danced.
"It's getting late," she said, as they finished the last dance and the musicians started to pack away their instruments.
"The night is young," Napoleon insisted.
"But we haven't any nightclubs in Prague such as you have in the States," she said. "Everything is closing now."
"We could round off the evening with a drink or two in my room," he suggested.
"Let's go," she said softly; "even without drinks. I think you're intoxicating enough without alcoholic stimulants."
Napoleon settled the bill and tipped the headwaiter handsomely.
As they walked through the hotel lounge towards the elevator, Napoleon sensed that someone was watching them, but even though he turned round sharply, he saw no suspect. "Must be imagining things," he thought, and walked on.
When they entered his room and he had shut the door, she put her arms around his neck impulsively and kissed him.
"Now that's what I call a really friendly gesture," he said, "and one good turn deserves another." So he kissed her back.
As they embraced she felt the gun secured in the holster fastened under his left arm. "You carry a gun?" she exclaimed.
"It's an old American custom," he explained casually.
She held him tight with her left arm around his neck. Then, deftly and gently, she slid the automatic from the holster and hit him on the head with the butt of the gun. "I'm sorry I had to do this," she said as she landed him another blow to make certain he was out.
She patted her ruffled hair, removed the compact from her handbag, opened it and said softly:
"Assignment completed. He's in his room ready for collection."
She looked at the unconscious Napoleon, his gun now beside his head on the pillow, and said: "I bet you didn't guess that my compact conceals an ultra-shortwave radio transmitter, my U.N.C.L.E. lover. It was nice knowing you."
She turned the key in the lock from the outside as she left the room and placed it on top of the door frame. She then left the hotel.
Her message was received by the Monitoring Officer at THRUSH European Center E, and was immediately passed to the Chief of the Special Tasks
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