The Final Affair: A Man From U.N.C.L.E Novel

by David McDaniel

  But Stevens should have been incapable of consciousness. let alone coherent thought. let alone this intense and coordinated display of physical activity. Even granting his miraculous immunity to whatever was used on him.

  the coincidence of the television monitor malfunction was just too much to take.

  He flipped a toggle beside his speaking horn. “Robin’. would you order printouts of Harry Steven’s medical reports from last night? And find out who followed him down when they put him to sleep. Then request a polygraph operator to my office for two this afternoon. I will have a team of medical technicians to interview.”

  “Certainly. sir. Will you want me to postpone Mr. Shimbu’s appointment?

  He can be very unpleasant about waiting.”

  “Ask him to come at one. The support of the Black Panthers in this city is invaluable. though they are sometimes less than cooperative. If it weren’t for the progress of construction on the TransAmerica Building. I’d wait and do it myself.”

  “You have a Pascual Lopez Sanchez scheduled for two-thirty…”

  “Put him off until tomorrow. I loath the thought of him. but he won1t 90 back to Barcelona without seeing me. Why they sent this butcher to pollute my satrapy…”

  “Two o’clock Friday?”

  “1 suppose. Full security. of course. He’s a treacherous dog.”

  “Mr. Steven’s final pre-narcosis interview was conducted by Joan Perry; she reported r.:J understandable verbalizations.”

  “Is there a tape of the noises made?”

  “No.”

  “Call Miss Perry, Perhaps she can reproduce some of his mumbles. I’d like to know as much as possible about Mr. Steven’s last few hours on earth.”

  “She checked out. Emergency leave. Her mother broke her hip. She had nine days coming. Should I still call her?”

  “Local?”

  “Iowa City.”

  “Never mind. She’s competent: if she said he was unintelligible. then he was. A pity he wasn’t a higher priority case. I may call her later. We’ll see what ballistics says. after all. before I leap to the unwarranted conclusion that U.N.C.L.E. has been sneaking into my top secret areas in the small hours —a disquieting thought. to say the least.”

  Baldwin’s disquietude faded as he passed on to other reports. but concern over the grotesque charade in his basement occupied half his mind.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You’d Better Humor Him.”

  Illya was left to his own devices for the next few days. Mr. Waverly had politely declined Joan’s offer of information, rather to her surprise, but she and Napoleon found many things to talk about privately. The sunroof of the U.N.C.L.E. office was now barred to them because its view of the hills .

  and the bay worked both ways, and anyone with a good telescope could have identified them from any of a dozen public prominences; nevertheless, while the electronic synapses of the Ultimate Computer were being quietly unraveled and copied, they were all three under effective house arrest. Joan’s green triangle badge allowed her escorted access to lower security areas, and Napoleon spent a lot of time being her escort.

  The flow of data from U1Comp’s vast storage was increasing as more paths were opened, and the Terminal Gang unofficially expected they would soon find some indication of the geographic positions of all three Central Units; when these were located, specific action could be taken to strike at all three ganglia simultaneously. Napoleon and Illya had been promised an active part in this final resolution of Thrush, but until that promise flowered. they had only rooms and corridors to pace and walls to stare at.

  At least, Illya had. Napoleon and Joan stared at each other far more than seemed necessary —in the commissary. in the entertainment room. in the gym, in the target range, in the library. Illya spent a lot of time downstairs watching people sorting reports, typing precis, reading gibberish off small CRT screens and typing gibberish back to them. After two days he was starting to talk to himself. so he began picking up reports and contributing his own analyzes, which were filed and mostly ignored.

  His personal clearance allowed him to scan anything that looked interesting, and he satisfied much curiosity. Only the highest-priority programs. the decision-making, planning and strategic programs which gave the whole system a sort of meta-intelligence of”;ts own. were kept in areas simply not available to any remote terminal. These key programs could be accessed only through Central’s own home console. The system had been inaugurated less than two years ago. apparently after one particularly brilliant Satrap had used his terminal to copy many top secret programs. having solved the access procedure as an intellectual exercise, and made off with the copies temporarily during a power struggle which had shaken the whole Hierarchy. Now satrap terminals simply would not access that part of the bank.

  The day-to-day business of Thrush was laid out before them in vast and intricate variety almost beyond comprehension, from the private telephone number of the London Satrap and biographical data on his staff of 470 to the accounts of a two-man bicycle shop in Hobart, Tasmania. which had been continually subsidized for 19 years with only one call to duty.

  Mysteries were being solved daily.

  The Russian heavy cargo plane (AN-22-09303) which disappeared last month off southern Greenland while carrying earthquake disaster relief to Peru was hijacked by Thrush. The AN-22 was the largest (100-ton) cargo plane until superseded by the American C-5A; the Russian fleet now consists of nineteen.

  #09303 was believed to be carrying an eleven-ton helicopter and 40 prefab houses, plus several tons of medical equipment and supplies.

  …Infrasonic z.weapon in 7 Hz range mounted in heavy truck, powered by jet turbine. Lavavasour insulation far operators; possible one-man version.

  Fatal to all life over radius of one-half to one mile, moderate structural damage within 75 to 100 yards. Construction cost: $150,000. Cost per use:

  $200 - $300. Minimal technology level three, given power source. code name: Earthquake Whistle. Design specifications classified White-Plus.

  At the lunch break Illya asked Hr. Gold, “Have you gotten into the whiteclassified material yet?”

  “Hm? Oh, yes. Yesterday —no, t~ days ago. It hasn’t been too hard to break their internal security systemsi UlComp designed them, and now it’s solving them for me. All I have to do is ask it properly.”

  “ you know anything about what they called ‘The Earthquake Whistle’?”

  Mr. Gold shuddered. “Thrush hasn’t built one yet, but you ran into a pilot model a couple of years ago in New York. It was a low-power job, on a higher frequency with a shorter wavelength tuned to resonate your building.

  I heard it did pretty well.”

  .It was most impressive. Napoleon blew it up with a 75mm armor-piercing shell.”

  “Well, the 7-cycle note over fifty or a hundred decibels starts to break down living tissues. Human, animal, insect, plant. It’ll kill a tree in ten minutes at sufficient intensity, and a man in seconds. And it doesn’t give any sign or warning, unless you have something handy that will detect a 7 Hz tone. You just feel dizzy and fall over. The French were doing some scary things with infrasonics a few years ago, apparently Thrush has picked up on it. Mr. Simpson has a ten-minute lecture on the subject which would make it all clear to you —how the thing that generates it works, and what it can and can’t do. All the Earthquake Whistle is, structurally, is a big whistle mounted on a truck. The inside of the truck is shielded —the French researchers also developed an insulation against subsonics, light and .simple, which was a good trick since ten feet of concrete is transparent and a forty-foot sandback negligible —and the whistle is blown by a jet turbine, which burns cheap kerosene.”

  “And ‘technology level three’?”

  “I’m told it means more or less that it would help if you could weld the metal, but it isn’t absolutely necessary. It could be built in a backyard by a couple of guys who were handy with tools. More than 90% of th
e estimated cost is a medium-big truck-and-trailer rig about the size of a small moving van, and the jet turbine which goes inside it. The rest of it would go for sheet metal and tubing. I think Thrush had a price tag on it —”

  “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” said Illya.

  -Uh-huh. That included labor.”

  “Considering it would kill as many people as a small atomic bomb, without destroying valuable real estate, and could be used over and over for two or three hundred dollars a shot, I’m surprised it hasn’t been developed already.”

  “Well, there’s always the problem with infrasonics that you cannot try something out on a small scale. Sound waves have to be a certain size, and whatever generates them has to be big enough. Why 00 you think you get such lousy sound out of a transistor radio? Transistors are clean and give fantastic response, but besides the cheap circuits you have a two-inch speaker -you can’t expect it to generate a twenty-foot wavelength. And a 7 Hz wave is about 155 feet long. So nobody has quite had the nerve to build the Earthquake Whistle. I don’t know whether they’re afraid it won’t work and they’ll be laughed at, or afraid it will work and they’ll be assassinated.-So what else is new? Anything outstanding in the last six hours?”

  -I think we’re getting close to the Central locations and scheduling records. I can smell ‘em. But nothing specific yet. I think. it’s in the section we’re starting into —maybe the next couple of days. let’s see, what else? Did you hear there is probably a major hard base somewhere? Some evidence it’s used for top secret research and training —thinqs like ‘that.

  Don’t know how big it is, or whether it’s tied directly into the communications net or where it stands in the Hierarchy.”

  Illya prodded his sauerkraut with a reluctant fork. “Any mention in the local bank of Joan’s disappearance?”

  “She’s listed on ,leave, with a request for her to see Baldwin as soon as she checks in. Nothing suspicious at all. Except that two’ agents have been sent here from Central On some top secret mission and report only to Baldwin.

  I’m surprised Mr. Waverly hasn’t contacted you about that yet.”

  “He wouldn’t if that was all he knew. Any idea what they’re here for?”

  “Not a thought. Baldwin didn’t send for them, and nothing has been mentioned to or through UlComp about them. Maybe it1s something personal.”

  “Two agents from Central? Who?”

  “I don’t remember. You can see the report copy if you’d like.”

  “I would. Who ever it is, I don’t think they can be up to any good. We may be able to get some idea of what they’re here for from who they are.

  Remember, this is the age of specialization.”

  About the same time, less than two miles away, Ward Baldwin sat in a worn leather swivel chair and looked at a few typed sheets and several large photographs as though he found them personally repugnant.

  The photographs were clinically sharp and gruesomely detai1ed, but received less attention than the underscored sentences which had brought the report to him.

  “Second wound made no sooner than five minutes after death. First wound burst heart, instant1y fatal. Slug split against posterior rib, recovered. , (See still 16.) Second slug trajectory closely parallel first, but fired after , blood had pooled and tonus lost. Indications body was reclining on right side be+ore second wound inflicted. Second slug recovered, undamaged. (See still #7.)”

  Ballistics: “S1ug B matches test s1ug from Guard E1lernfs sideann. (See Comparison Frame #1.) Slug A damaged beyond comparison, but not standard Thrush sidearm issue; reconstruction yields a full-jacketed s1ug, exact original configuration undetennined. (See Frame #2.)”

  Baldwin knew perfectly well what the report did not feel was fluite proven.

  The microphotograph of the second slug told his practiced eye the unidentified slug had come from an U.N.C.L.E. Special; its base bore the distinctive scratches left by the threading inside the muzzle.

  His musings were interrupted at this point by the gentle chime of his intercom and Robin’s voice announcing visitors. “The two men from Central are here,” she said. “Were you expecting them?”

  “Wasn’t that some obscure communications prob1em?” he asked.

  There was a pause, followed by a strong, friendly voice Working a 1ittle too close to the mike. “Ah, Dr. Baldwin. you were told to expect us. It’s simply a matter of exp1aining a technical problem and getting your official permission to work on it. Surely you can spare us eight minutes.”

  “Young man, would you return the intercom to my secretary? I will take great relish in underwriting your report, should you survive to complete one.”

  A distant shriek came through the intercom, and the voice spoke sharply, off-mike. “Fang, put her down! Fang!”

  Something between a snarl and a grunt answered him, followed by Robin’s voice, breathless but nearly composed. “I’m all right, sir. Really. Shall I send —”

  The office door opened and two men strode in. The second closed it quietly behind them.

  “— them in…” she finished lamely.

  -Yes, thank YOU. Robin. You might also send for a security force and have them ready at the door.“Good afternoon t ,Doctor. ” said the front man. in the same sturdy tones which had come through the intercom. -Allow me to introduce myself and my partner.“Don’t tell me.” said Baldwin. “You’re Gryptytte-Thynne and he’s Count Fred Moriarty.The second individual. a large mound of what might have been muscle but was probably fatt stepped forward and bowed silently.

  “Not even closet” said the first. “I’m Vince Kerrigan and this pitiful wreck is my partner. Chou Tee Fang. He’s Formosant of course. Now what we have to do here need never bother you again. It’s just a technical sort of thingt running around with instruments and checking a few circuits and talking to a few people. We’ve done this before and we guarantee not to get in anybody’s way. Now if you’ll just initial this, I will vanish out of your life as swiftly as I came into —”

  “What sort of technical?”

  “Surely Central explained it to you.”

  “They served me a helping of doubletalk about imbalanced impedances and unaccounted line losses. Before I give you permission to prowl my territory I want to know just what is going on.”

  “Simply, Doctor, that there seems to be an open circuit somewhere in the San Francisco Relay Area.” Chou’s nasal bass joined the conversation. “The probability was determined by demand analysis and checked by Central through UlComp as far as could be accomplished remotely. My partner and I are here to inquire more closely into the matter.” His voice was deep for a Chinese, and slightly pompous.

  “In all likelihood it’s no more than a faulty piece of equipment” said Kerrigan. “Didn’t you just receive a new master terminal?”

  “Yes —and I must thank someone at Central for the special cabinet in which it was constructed. It goes quite as well with my office as the old one did.”

  “Well, I hope you won’t have to lose it. The transmission anomalies first appeared about a week after the change-over, and there might be a stuck .relay or scwnething like that. It’s as’if you didn’t hang up the telephone.”

  “No, Vince,” said Fang. “Then you couldn’t receive any incaning calls.

  In this case it doesn’t seem to interfere with the full functioning of the tenninal unit.”

  “Sure, Fang, but what I meant was that it’s as if he had an open line all the time.”

  “Of course. I only meant that your ana1ogy was poorly chosen. you have no grasp of these technical things. You must forgive my partner, Dr. Baldwin.

  All he ever has on his mind —”

  .Gentlemen,” said Ward Baldwin harshly. .You broke in here to tell me about a telephone problen?”

  -Well, it’s more than just a –I “You invited us int and .t.k)w long do you expect to take finding it?”

  -Oh, the checking routine takes about a week, but we might
find it the first day.”

  “On the other hand, it might not be routine,- said Fang.

  .1 see. You gentlemen are experienced field agents, are yoo not?”

  Baldwin asked sweetly.

  “Our record speaks for itself,” said Kerrigan with a bit of a swagger.

  “I was afraid it might,” said Baldwin. “Nevertheless, I have an interesting and possibly challenging intellectual problem at the moment, and I was wondering if you might be able to help me with it. It involves a recent double murder under very suspicious circumstances, with the distinct likelihood that U.N.C.L.E.

  may have been involved. r suspect there may have been a plot to extract information from the very heart of Thrush, using a subverted agent. That agent may now be dead.”

  He studied them from the corner of his eye as he sorted absently through some papers on his desk.. “Have you heard of the KugelBlitzGewehr —or Plasmoid Projector? My Satrapy has been testing the pilot model for the last three months. In the course of a general investigation surrounding the emotional breakdown and subsequent mysterious death of this suspected agent we discovered that one k.ey device, fortunately a spare, is missing. I stron9ly suspect that U.N.C.L.E. has it. I have evidence that United Network Commandos attempted to rescue Harry Stevens. but were surprised in the attempt. I should give a great deal to k.now how our other security systems were avoided. The guard who stumbled across them apparently fired once and hit Stevens. while the agent carrying him had time to return his fire fatally. Then he set up this little tableau.R

  Baldwin indicated the photographs of the murder scene. and sighed. “All these modern stylists.” he said. “It looks good from a distance, but under any intellectual scrutiny it falls to pieces.”