19 - The Power Cube Affair Read Online Free PDF

he said. "But curious. My name is Solo. This is Mr. Kuryakin. You are-
    "Nanette Perrell, and please, no funnies about my name. I've heard them all before. Now, what else shall we talk about?"
    "We could discuss the unpleasant things that happen to ladies who interfere, or what happens to Barnett's girl friends," Kuryakin suggested quietly.
    Solo saw the surprise come and go on her face, and he became very wary indeed. This girl was, in her way, every bit as breathtaking as the gorgeous Miss Thompson, yet as different as a tea rose from a tulip. He had judged one to be beautiful but empty. He was not about to make that mistake again. He looked closely, past the overdone makeup, the lacquered hair, the outthrust arrogance of her flesh, and he realized that this time they were facing a masquerade, a sham!
    "You're quick," she said to Kuryakin. "And you," she swung her gaze at Solo, hesitated a moment, then added, "Don't stare like that!"
    "Why not? When you put the wares in the window you expect people to stop and admire, don't you?"
    "Admire? That steely glare?"
    "Perhaps not. Appraisal, then. Is that the idea? Make the poor man so embarrassed he won't know where to look, and thus won't notice that you are a fraud?"
    That got home. He saw the red tide burn her cheeks and spread fascinatingly downwards. She put her hands to her face all at once.
    "Don't say anything," she muttered. "I haven't made a fool of myself like this in years."
    A waiter came and went. In a while the scorching red tide receded and she achieved calm.
    "Let's start over," Kuryakin suggested. "You were sent here to meet us, right?"
    "What did you expect?" She answered his tone rather than his words. "A little man with a beard and a middle-European accent?"
    "Let's just say we anticipated something a bit more subdued."
    "Hide in a corner and people will come to see why you're hiding. But who's going to take any notice of us like this? They will stare, yes, but they won't look. Not with the brain. Now, you have a message to pass on?"
    "Not to you." Solo was prompt and firm. "You're just another stooge, like Barnett."
    "Don't you believe it." Her voice was hard now. "You bulldozed your way past him, but you won't get by me that easily."
    "Save the dramatics." Solo grew impatient all at once. "Did you know Mary Chantry?"
    "Yes. I knew her. Not well, but well enough."
    "The way she was taken care of? I don't think so. Look, we know how she died, and where, and when. And why. And who did it. You can play your own stupid little games whichever way you like and it's none of our business. All we want of you is the chance to meet the man, whoever he is, who put her where she was, so that she bought it. We have a message for him, from her, and we have a few choice words of our own for him. And that's all. We'll handle the rest of it ourselves."
    "Just you two!" Her scorn crackled.
    "Just us!" Kuryakin put in. "One fool on our side is more dangerous than ten enemies. If you don't like the terms, you go back to your boss and tell him we have work to do, and we'll contact him later."
    She didn't like it, but she had her feelings under icy control, and Solo realized more and more that this female was ten times as potentially dangerous as Miss Thompson. All at once she shed her intensity.
    "That's a tune to dance to," she declared. "Can you?"
    It was obviously a challenge, and a good one. You can tell a lot about a person by the way he or she moves in response to music. Solo got to his feet at once. "I'm no exotic," he disclaimed, "but I can manage a few basic movements, nothing fancy."
    She came into his arms tense but within three steps all was changed. She could move, and did, like a well oiled dream. When the music died she sighed.
    "You're very good. That's something, anyway."
    "You're not exactly lame," he retorted. "Professional?"
    "I was once. You two have me baffled." She led the way back to the table "I was told you were troublemakers. My job was to pick you up,