Mr. Smith leaned and whispered to Steng. Steng nodded, his fanatic's eyes on Illya Kuryakin.
"Mr. Smith suggests there is much more than meets the eye about you two. You, the taller one, are obviously an American. The small, blond one is not American. Mr. Smith says that he mumbled in Russian when we had him earlier. What organization employs American and Russians together? Perhaps Interpol?"
"No," Mr. Smith said. "That is a police organization. These men are not policemen."
Steng nodded. "True. Who are you and who sent you to Zambala?"
The two agents sat on their boulders and watched the Stengali leaders. All around the Stengali stood and sat in the box canyon in the jungle night. Illya studied the bearded guerilla leader from under his brows.
"Perhaps you will tell us why you killed Mura Khan and tried to kill Premier Roy?" Illya said.
Mr. Smith answered. "We did not kill Mura Khan, or try to kill Roy. We gave no such orders."
"Then what were your men doing there?" Solo said.
Max Steng looked at Solo. "That we would also like to know. We want to know how Tavvi got into that room."
"You don't know?" Illya said quickly.
"We do not. Tavvi was in San Pablo on a routine observation. He vanished. The other man, the one arrested at the scene of Mura Khan's death, was supposed to be with Tavvi. Both men vanished. How or why they were where they were we do not know."
Illya and Solo looked at each other. The two Stengali leaders watched them. At last Napoleon Solo turned to Max Steng.
"It appears that someone was out to start trouble, to make it look like the Stengali were ready to begin a civil war," Solo said.
"Why?" Mr. Smith said.
"Obviously to cover a real coup," Illya said.
Max Steng pulled on his wisp of beard. "You were being pursued by the second regiment. They were in full battle gear."
"They were," Solo said.
"Then it is Colonel Brown," Steng said. "But not alone. The colonel is a soldier, a loyal one. He would not attempt a revolt."
"How about with Jemi Zamyatta?" Illya said softly.
Max Steng shook his head.
"It is probable, yet hard to believe. For years I have tried to convince Zamyatta that Roy was hurting the country, that his deals with the West are not for our benefit. Deals that make a few Zambalans rich and the majority poor. He always refused to join me. He always said he was tired of violence."
"We saw him with the colonel," Solo said.
Steng smiled sadly. "What do we do, then? We would not want to stop the ending of Premier Roy. But we would not want to see Zamyatta come to power on a military coup."
Mr. Smith laughed harshly. "We will oppose them all as we have always done! Until Zambala is truly free!"
Smith's voice echoed down the box canyon and a sudden silence fell over the Stengali.
It saved their lives.
In that sudden silence the falling boulder was heard. The boulder fell down from the rim of the canyon, bouncing from rock to rock loud in the silent night.
FOUR
The sound of the falling boulder was like the end of the world. The Stengali all froze. The rock bounced down and down and down. Then there was no more noise.
"Move!" Max Steng shouted.
The Stengali moved. They seemed to vanish like wraiths in the night. Silent, barely making a sound, the whole band of swift guerillas vanished. Solo and Illya followed the two leaders.
In an instant, they were all in among the giant boulders of the box canyon in a move that was obviously so well-trained into the Stengali that it was a reflex action.
From above, on the rim of the canyon, a voice now called down.
"You cannot escape, pigs!"
The Stengali were silent among their rocks.
"We cover both sides, the open end! You are boxed in the canyon. Surrender, dogs!"
On the floor of the canyon no one moved or spoke.
Up on the rim a figure appeared. It shone a light on itself. It was a tall man wearing the uniform of a major. The major stood there with the flashlight in his hand trained on himself.
Nothing happened. Illya and Solo watched upwards. The Stengali could have been a hundred miles away, they were so silent and so unseen from above. The major turned to speak behind him.
"They must have escaped," the major said.
"I think not," a voice said from the dark behind him.
"Such pigs always have an escape route. They would not stay to fight with us," the major said.
"They are down there," the voice said. "I say we use the grenades."
"Coward! Grenades for such pigs? Next you will say send for the artillery!"
"If there was artillery, I would say send for the artillery," the hidden voice said.
"I say they have run like the dogs they are, Lieutenant," the major said.
The major still stood there with the flashlight on himself. He looked down at the silent and motionless floor of the box canyon. The major took a step closer to the slope down the to canyon floor.
"Shoot, pigs! Look, I stand here! I have a light! Shoot! Even you must see me! Shoot me, you pigs!"
Nothing moved in the night.
"They are gone," the major said. "No dog of a guerilla could resist shooting at me."
The major began to walk down the slope, the flashlight still held on his arrogant face. In his other hand he held his pistol. He walked slowly down, his eyes alert and jumping from shadow to shadow below on the canyon floor, but his face set in a sneer of courage.
"Look! I defy you! Shoot, pigs!"
The major stepped farther down the slope. Behind the major, faint against the night sky, other heads appeared to watch. Down in the canyon, Illya touched Solo on the shoulder. The small blond nodded up toward the slowly descending major.
"Napoleon! I know him. He's the tall man in black who was watching the prison the night the Stengali was killed trying to escape! The one who tried to ambush me."
On the slope of the canyon, the tall major continued down. He began to move faster now. His arrogant face broke into a small smile. He had started in bravado, and now it looked like he had been right. The Stengali were gone, and he would make good his display of courage. It would impress his men very much.
"Pig dogs! Where are you? Do you fear one man? Come on, you dogs; shoot if you dare!"
There was neither sound nor movement from the rocks on the canyon floor. The major turned to look up the slope.
Now the hidden lieutenant stood there on the crest.
"You see, they are gone! We would have been up there hiding forever. They cannot have gone far. There must be some way out through the closed end."
"Perhaps you are right, my major," the lieutenant said from above.
The major laughed scornfully. "Men do not say perhaps. Come, there is no danger."
The major turned and walked three more steps down. He was almost on the canyon floor. Illya and Solo sensed movement to their right. Max Steng rested his rifle on a boulder.
"Pigs!" the major shouted.
The single shot echoed up and down the canyon.
The major pitched forward on his face and skidded down to the bottom of the canyon. He neither moved nor spoke again. Max Steng lowered his rifle.
The second shot killed the wary lieutenant, who had not been as wary as his intelligence had told him to be. The lieutenant rolled halfway down the canyon wall and stuck against a boulder.
"A brave man," Max Steng said ironically.
A wild fusillade of shots filled the night from all sides of the canyon. Hidden in the night, the soldiers up on the mountain poured fire down into the canyon.
The Stengali did not answer. Hidden behind their rocks they were invulnerable. After a time the firing died down. Someone up above had realized that the fire was doing no good.
Then the troops above started down.
The Stengali waited.
The troops came on; they reached a spot ha
lfway down. Two soldiers paused to make sure the lieutenant was indeed dead.
The Stengali opened fire.
Caught on the slope, the soldiers were no match. Half of them fled back up the hill, leaving bodies all over the slope. The other half dove for cover. There, on the slope, they lay pinned down by the accurate fire of the Stengali.
"Move out," Max Steng whispered.
The word was whispered down the line of hidden guerillas. Half continued to fire. The other half left their places, and, hidden by the boulders, moved silently away into the dark at the closed end of the canyon. Illya Kuryakin watched admiringly.
"I thought they would have a way out," the small Russian said. "A good trick, Napoleon."
"Sit in what looks like a box canyon and keep the enemy from covering one side," Solo said.
Another half of the Stengali slipped away. On the slopes the pinned-down soldiers were quiet. Up on the crest there was movement as the soldiers regrouped. More Stengali slipped away. Now there were only a few guerillas left—and Max Steng. Staying with his last men. The small, bearded leader hissed to Illya and Solo.
"Come."
The two agents followed Steng. The last guerillas fired a heavy fire, then turned and slipped back into the dark. Illya and Solo followed Steng through the rocks in the night. They reached the sheer wall at the box end and found a narrow crevice. They went through the crevice into a dark tunnel.
Five minutes later they emerged on the far side on a small slope downward to the jungle. Illya pointed up and to the left. Solo looked and saw the tall mountain with the white scar—they were very close to the Stengali caves.
"Very clever," Solo said.
But the soldiers proved to be clever, too. As Illya and Solo followed Steng down the slope, there was sudden movement on the mountain behind them. Soldiers poured down—they had guessed the only escape route.
Firing broke out all across the mountain and the jungle. Illya and Solo followed Max Steng into the cover of the jungle. They passed a line of Stengali fanned out in skirmish order among the trees and brush to cover the retreat of the others. But ahead there was also firing.
Max Steng moved among his men, giving low orders. The guerillas moved in silence and precision, fighting an open fight and retreating slowly toward the other firing ahead. Mr. Smith was there, calmly directing the fight. The Stengali had fallen into a bad situation, but they were handling it like the veterans they were.
Illya and Solo watched the progress of the running fight. No one was bothering with them now. Clearly, the attacking soldiers were out to destroy the Stengali if they could. Illya and Solo looked at each other. Here was their chance. Silently, the two agents slipped away into the jungle.
They had gone perhaps a hundred yards when they heard the sharp click of a bolt being drawn on an automatic weapon. Ahead, in a clearing, they saw soldiers in uniform pouring through the night toward them. They searched for an escape.
"Here! Quick!" a voice hissed.
A face peered out from the bushes. Illya and Solo did not pause to ask questions. They ran into the bushes and found a deep hole. They jumped down into the hole. Someone pulled a cover over the hole. Moments later there was the sound of voices above. The soldiers were searching for them.
In the hole they squatted with their unseen benefactor. The soldiers above beat the bushes. Then the voices moved away. Solo lighted his small ring flashlight. A dark man they had never seen grinned at them.
"Ah, Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin, a pleasure to meet you!" the man said. "A greater pleasure to be of service. I think we will be safe now."
Illya narrowed his sharp eyes. "Who might you be?"
"Ah, allow me to introduce myself. I am Ahmed Bengali, a member of the security police. As you can see, I have been working undercover with this regiment."
"For the premier?" Solo said.
The dark man shook his head. "For Zambala! I am a policeman, not a politician. The premier assigned me to watch Colonel Brown. As you can see, I worked closely."
The dark man wore the uniform of a captain in the second regiment. He indicated his uniform, and then he looked anxiously at the two agents.
"I imagine you gentlemen learned what I learned."
"What would that be?" Solo asked.
"That Colonel Brown and Jemi Zamyatta are plotting a coup to take place tomorrow!" Bengali said.
Illya nodded. "We learned the same. But not the time."
"I have the time, and there is no time to lose bringing our word to the tribunal," Bengali said.
The dark man listened. The night was totally silent now. The three men emerged from the deep hole and stood in the jungle. Then they turned and ran off into the night.
An hour later they came out on a road where Bengali had a car waiting. They got into the car and drove off fast toward San Pablo and the presidential palace, where the international tribunal was convened at once.
ACT IV: WHERE ARE THE REBELS OF YESTERYEAR?
ONE
The San Pablo airport is on the southern outskirts of the city, set between the mountains and the sea. It was noon when Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo stood on the runway with Premier Roy beside them.
The tall premier was serious and grateful.
"I want to thank you personally, gentlemen, for clearing up this appalling situation."
Since dawn the premier had been back in office, the wheels turning to head off the coup. Zamyatta and Colonel Brown were in San Pablo prison. Martial law had been declared, the other regiments brought into San Pablo and the second regiment contained and disarmed in its barracks. A full hunt was on for the Stengali, and the Organization of American States had been alerted to have troops ready to move in case.
"That U.N.C.L.E. was here was a pleasant surprise," Premier Roy said to the agents. "I will not ask how you learned of our need, but I will be eternally grateful for your so expert aid. Without your testimony, I doubt that I could have convinced the tribunal of the necessity for immediate action against Zamyatta and Colonel Brown."
Illya frowned. "But the Stengali, Your Excellency. We found no evidence of their complicity. They were being used as dupes."
"Ah, perhaps. But they are very clever, my friends. Steng is a devious man. I think, perhaps, he fooled you. Bengali has proof that Steng has been dealing with Colonel Brown. Undoubtedly they had a falling out.
"No, they must also be crushed if we are to have peace in Zambala. I have allowed them to exist too long. I blame myself. Max Steng detected weakness, and it gave him hope. He must be taught that there is no room in Zambala for violence."
Solo was about to speak, when Illya smiled and nodded.
"Of course, you are probably right," Illya said. "Tell me, that woman, Jezzi Mahal, have you apprehended her?"
"Ah, Brown's lady," M.M. Roy said. "No, but we will. I have a search on for her. Rest easy, gentlemen. Your work has been well done. I do not think I will even need OAS troops. Of course, the tribunal will remain in session until I can suspend martial law. I want all my actions open and observed. That is the only true course of democracy. All open, no ugly, deadly secrets."
"Of course," Illya said. "I think we can report that all is secure in Zambala."
"Take my solemn oath for that, gentlemen. And once more my thanks, and the gratitude of my poor country. I believe your plane is ready."
Solo and Illya saw the stewardess of the plane waving to them. It was time to go. The two agents looked toward Martin O'Hara, who was showing no recognition. They thanked the premier, and walked to their plane.
Solo carried his attache case. But Illya carried a large suitcase the small blond could barely carry. At the plane he turned this suitcase over to the stewardess, and the agents boarded the small, twin-engined plane.
There were few passengers, the plane making two more stops in more popular tourist areas of Jamaica and Antigua. The two agents took their seats and watched out the window. The official group of the tribunal and the premier were stil
l watching the plane. Then the plane taxied down the runway, and took off into the blue sky over San Pablo. It few high over the mountains and the jungle on its route across the island, its propellers glinting in the sun.
"We're not really leaving, are we?" Solo said in a low voice as he smiled at the pretty stewardess.
"Of course not," Illya said, beaming at the stewardess. "It is all very wrong."
"Very," Solo said, nodding at the stewardess.
The two men talked very low while they smiled and nodded at passengers and the stewardess. They looked like two young men on holiday without a care in the world.
"How did Bengali know who we were? Even our names," Illya said.
"The premier is very anxious to wipe out the Stengali," Solo said.
"No one should have known who we were," Illya said.
"How did Bengali happen to find us so easily?" Solo said.
"We escaped very conveniently," Illya said, looking out the window at the high central Zambalan mountains below.
"We escaped very conveniently many times. Those soldiers were terrible shots on that cliff road," Solo said. "That note from Zamyatta was very conveniently left where I could find it. And I got away."
"But we did see Zamyatta with Colonel Brown," Illya said.
"The regiment was on the move, and did try to hold us," Solo said.
"It is confusing," Illya said, "and I don't like it. Are you ready?"
"Ready," Solo said. "In that suitcase, of course?"
"Of course," Illya said. "Shall we go?"
The two agents stood up and sauntered back toward the baggage room. Inside, they quickly opened Illya's suitcase. They took out the two parachutes and the two small oxygen masks and cylinders. The cylinders on, the parachutes on, and the masks in place, they opened the cargo hatch.
Moments later the two parachutes floated down in the afternoon sun toward the jungle below as the plane flew on toward the sea.
* * *
Along the familiar fence, the two agents watched the soldiers in Tidworth Barracks. It was night now, the trip across the island toward San Pablo having taken many hours. There was singing in the barracks, a great many soldiers wandering across the parade ground and the quadrangle, and no sign of guards anywhere.
The Cat and Mouse Affair Page 7
