by Unknown
Illya raised up as much as his handcuffs would allow and asked, "Did Kerry get away?"
"No, she's in another room. Also, they found the real Rudolph and brought him on board. What are they up to, anyway?"
"I don't know, but they're planning a long trip. They're taking sonar equipment from the submarine and installing it in the dirigible." Napoleon looked surprised, and Illya explained. "It won't work very well in the air; response will be very slow, and the range will be limited. I wouldn't have thought it could be adapted at all, but they seem quite confident about it. Of course, they won't be moving very fast, and there really isn't very much up here that they can run into, as long as they stay out of mountains. They can shut off the invisibility occasionally, in order to see where they are, since they can't navigate by sonar."
"But where are they going?"
"I wish I know. McNulty was crowing about pulling off the coup of the century, and Hunter was making snide comments; I gathered that dropping the sandbag on Lavell was due to one of McNulty's errors, and Hunter isn't about to let him forget it. They were using the sandbags as dummy bombs, but I gather that with no bombsight and with McNulty tripping over things, the practice bomb run was a complete fiasco, so McNulty came up with this other idea. But they didn't say what it was or where they were going."
"Is Forbes around? McNulty seems to be bossing the show."
"They said Forbes had gone on ahead, wherever that is. Apparently he trusts McNulty to move the dirigible."
Napoleon signed and lay back on his bunk. "You don't happen to have a file or a tiny hacksaw in your shoe, do you?"
"I don't even have a shoe." Illya wiggled his toes in proof. "McNulty may drop an occasional sandbag, but he is extremely efficient when it comes to searching people."
"Yes, I found that out, Too. I suppose our best bet is to catch up on our rest. We'll want to be at our best when we reach our destination."
* * *
They reached their destination after dark on the fourth day of travel. The dirigible, with invisibility field off and engines silent, drifted slowly downward into a clearing on a tropical plateau near a range of mountains. In the light from a few electric bulbs and dozens of torches scattered around the clearing. Napoleon and Illya could see one large building and several smaller structures. Men on the ground grabbed for lines dangling from the dirigible's descent, but their tugging was enough to maneuver the aerial giant so that it settled with its nose and control gondola near the large building and its length stretched along an open area which appeared to have been recently hacked out of the tropical forest.
"San Sebastian!" Napoleon exclaimed, recognizing the large building below them as the fortress-like three-story structure which was Thrush headquarters in that country. The smaller buildings had been used as barracks for the Thrush mercenaries fighting in the Army of Liberation of Ferdinand Pessina.
There was a light tremor as the bumping bag under the control gondola came to rest on the roof of one of the barracks. The soldiers scurried about with the lines, looking for convenient hitching posts. With no mooring mast available, the ropes were fastened to whatever buildings and trees they would reach. Seconds later, the door to Napoleon's and Illya's room opened and McNulty, Hunter, and a crew member entered. At a gesture from McNulty, the crewman stepped forward and released them from their bunks, while Hunter stood watchfully, gun in hand. Using one of the pairs of handcuffs, he fastened Napoleons right wrist to Illya's left.
"I suppose you've recognized our destination," McNulty said. "I understand you two were here once before and escaped. You may find it harder to do, this time."
Napoleon shrugged. "We do our best."
"I don't think your best will be good enough. Now that I'm here with the dirigible, San Sebastian will belong to Thrush in a matter of hours, with a minimum of blood, sweat and tears—I don't mind the blood but I object to work through that ridiculous idealist, Pessina."
"McNulty, you talk too much," said Hunter.
"That's all right." McNulty smiled at the two U.N.C.L.E. agents. "You wouldn't repeat anything I've said, would you? Now then, you should know the way to the cells in the headquarters building; they'll constitute your home away from home until Forbes gets a chance to question you. Walk slowly and try not to think too much about escape. I hate to see people disappeared."
Chapter 12
"I Never Sabotaged a Dirigible Before"
Napoleon and Illya sat gloomily in their cell. They had occupied the same cell less than two weeks before, but then they had been equipped with a coil of thin, tough wire with which to saw through the bars, shirt buttons which were in reality tiny gas grenades, and other well-tested U.N.C.L.E. equipment. Now they had nothing but their hands and wits.
"I wonder what the San Sebastian contingent has been up to since we left." Napoleon asked.
"Dirigible watching, I hope," Illya replied.
"I'm amazed Thrush didn't move their headquarters after we escaped. It seems careless of them to remain after their security had been breached. For that matter, I'm surprised that El Presidente hasn't flattened the place; he does have an air force."
"Of dubious loyalty," Illya pointed out. "Quite possibly, however, El Presidente doesn't know about this place. Mr. Waverly wasn't at all happy about supporting El Presidente; perhaps he still hopes to get Pessina out from under Thrush domination. In which case..."
"Spare me the speculation on Mr. Waverly's methods of intrigue," Napoleon broke in. "I'm content to realize that he usually knows what he's doing, even though I seldom do."
"In any case," Illya continued, "remember that Latin America has been having a population explosion second to none. Really good bases in isolated areas are getting hard to find; except in the Amazon Basin, isolated areas are hard to find. Quite possibly they haven't moved because they don't have any place to move to, and they feel capable of protecting this place. They certainly know that they have far more men in San Sebastian than we do, and I doubt if they worry much about El Presidente getting this far from Cerro Bueno."
There was a metallic sound and a small object dropped into the cell. Illya picked it up and discovered it was a miniature grapnel, a twin to the one he had been using, attached to a length of monofilament line. He peered out the cell window, but could see nothing. He looked at Napoleon.
"I suggest," said Napoleon, "that we haul it in and see if there is anything on the other end."
There was: a bundle so large that Napoleon had some trouble in wedging it between the bars. Most of the bulk consisted of two sets of native clothing. Inside the clothing were various small metallic items, including knives, a picklock and a pen-type tear gas gun, and a not reading, "The guard will be called away in ten minutes. Meet me behind the northwest barracks in fifteen." It was unsigned.
Napoleon smiled in satisfaction. "Apparently one reason why Thrush headquarters has not been molested is that the local U.N.C.L.E. group prefers infiltration."
"Luckily for us," Illya said, beginning to strip off his clothing. Napoleon looked with some distaste at the ragged native pants and shirt, but followed suit. After changing clothes, he applied himself to the lock of the cell, and was rewarded by hearing it click open. Carefully keeping the door closed, he turned to Illya, who was stuffing his discarded clothing under the blanket that covered the bunk. Illya looked up and shrugged. "So it's an old trick; do have any better suggestions?"
After a moment's consideration, Napoleon walked over and stuffed his clothing under the blanket on the upper bunk.
"What's the guard doing?" Illya asked.
"Sitting on a chair near the head of the stairs, with a shotgun on his lap. He seems to be reading something; he's certainly not paying any attention to the cells." He walked back to the cell door. "He's gone. Let's move."
They eased the cell door open as quietly as possible, slipped through, and eased it shut again. Napoleon hesitated a moment, then relocked the door. Their cell was midway down the corridor. As they rec
alled from their last incarceration, there was only one stairway to the floor; the guard had been sitting in front of it. They hastened down the corridor, noting that the other cells were empty. The stairway was similarly empty, and they hastened down to the second floor of the building. From here they had a choice of exits.
"I suggest the back way," said Napoleon, and they hurried down a long, bare hall.
"The place seems remarkably deserted," remarked Illya as they reached the rear stairway.
"Yes, I've been wondering about that. It wasn't this easy the last time, even with the gas grenades." Napoleon halted suddenly as a pair of Thrushes ran past the foot of the stairway. He peered around the corner to find the lower hall bristling with activity, and drew back. "Now we know where everybody is. I wonder what stirred them up?"
Checking again, he found a momentary lull in the action. "Now's our chance; come on!" The U.N.C.L.E. agents slipped across the hall and out the back door.
The activity seemed equally frenzied outside, but here there were more people affecting the ragged peon garments, and nobody paid any attention to two additional peons who moved briskly to the rear of the northwest barracks. Once beyond the corner of the building they were beyond the furor of the central area; the clearing at the rear was totally deserted. "We're here," Illya said, "but where is our unknown benefactor?"
He received no answer for several minutes. Both agents were becoming increasingly nervous; at any moment a Thrush might wander around the corner of the building and spot them. Napoleon had almost decided to abandon the waiting and try to get away on their own when a figure emerged from the edge of the forest and motioned them to come. They followed him down a little-used path until he stopped, a good distance away from the clearing.
"Mr. Solo? Mr. Kuryakin?" They nodded. "I am Ishmael Gallinas y Sotavento," the man said. "I work for the local U.N.C.L.E. headquarters." He smiled deprecatingly. "I am only an interpreter, not a regular agent, but when U.N.C.L.E. needed to infiltrate Thrush headquarters, I had the right sort of contacts and background."
"What's all the excitement about?" Napoleon asked. "I hope it isn't McNulty putting his master plan into operation already. We need time to get more equipment."
"I am not sure, senor. As I said, I am not used to information-gathering, and I fear I am not very good at it. However, the activity seems to center about the dirigible. They are loading men with parachutes into it, and I heard the man called Forbes urging them to hurry, because they had to move while they still had good weather. It is usually quite rainy here at this time of year. I have not discovered where they are going. But surely, they cannot get far. El Presidente's air force will shoot this slow dirigible out of the sky."
"I'm afraid El Presidente's air force will have a hard time finding this dirigible," Illya commented. Sotavento looked blank.
"It looks as if this is McNulty's master plan," Napoleon said. "Do you know how many men are being loaded?"
"I do not know the exact number of the crew. But there are fifty Thrushes with parachutes, submachine guns, and hand grenades. I heard McNulty say that with these men Thrush could take the place without any trouble."
"Take the place," Napoleon mused. "Now what place could they take that would automatically assure them of control of the country? I can think of only one."
Illya nodded. "Fifty fully armed Thrushes, appearing out of a clear sky inside El Presidente's fortress. The elite guard at the fortress would never know what hit it. McNulty just might make good on this one."
"Can you get in touch with U.N.C.L.E. headquarters in Cerro Bueno?" Napoleon asked.
"Si; it is not safe to carry an U.N.C.L.E. communicator in this place, but I have two Thrush communicators, adjusted to operate on a special wavelength that Cerro Bueno is monitoring." Ishmael held up the communicators, smiling. "If it is discovered, why, they are merely defective communicators, and I am a poor peon who is not intelligent enough to understand that I have faulty equipment."
"Very good," Napoleon said. "Now, what about the other two prisoners? The girl and the old man?"
"Other prisoners?" Ishmael shook his head. "I saw no other prisoners. But then, when I saw you and Se�or, I followed to see which cell you would be placed into, and then I left to gather the materials for your escape. Perhaps the other prisoners were taken from the dirigible later."
"We have to get them out somehow," Illya said. "We have an obligation to Kerry; and as long as she and Dr. Morthley are in Thrush's hands, even if we destroy the existing OTSMID; they can force him to build them another one."
"We seem to be confronted with a dilemma," Napoleon observed. "Which way do we jump? I don't think that notifying the local U.N.C.L.E. headquarters will do much good. They certainly won't be able to convince El Presidente that an invisible dirigible is going to dump fifty paratroopers on his head within an hour or two. And there certainly aren't enough local agents to stop something like that by themselves. On the other hand, the best time to get Kerry and Dr. Morthley away from Thrush is before they discover that we've escaped.
"Ishmael said they were loading the paratroopers already," Illya reminded him. "We don't have much time to choose."
Napoleon nodded and turned to Ishmael. "We'll have to knock out the dirigible. How would you go about it, Illya?"
"I don't know; I never sabotaged a dirigible before. But I'd suggest that the first step would be to get on board."
Napoleon began giving Ishmael instructions. "It is of the utmost importance that the other prisoners are located and helped to escape. Notify U.N.C.L.E. and see if they can give you any help. If not, try to get them out yourself, any way you can. Let us have one of your special communicators, so we can keep in touch with you. I we succeed, we'll try to get back to give you a hand. When you contact Cerro Bueno, tell them about the invisible dirigible. If they don't believe you, have them contact Mr. Waverly in New York. He knows about it."
Ishmael nodded reluctantly. "I will do the best that a poor interpreter can," he said as Napoleon and Illya started back down the path toward the dirigible.
* * *
Five minutes later, the two agents were peering cautiously out of the undergrowth that lined the clearing in which the dirigible rested. The tail section towered over them, and they could see Thrushes swarming about the control gondola, almost a city block away.
Napoleon looked up. The body of the ship was a good dozen feet off the ground. "How do we get in if we can't reach it?" he asked.
Let's get a little nearer the front. Maybe something will occur to us." Illya moved forward, keeping out of sight in the trees and bushes as he went.
After a minute, Illya paused and held up his hand to caution Napoleon to stop. "Here we are," he said, gesturing upward. "We couldn't ask for anything more convenient. Just follow me up the tree." An engine gondola hung fifteen feet in the air, mashing down the middle branches of a medium-sized tree.
"What is it with you and trees?" Napoleon asked resentfully, but he followed Illya into the branches. Without undue acrobatics, Illya eased himself down onto the top of the gondola, then looked toward the Thrush activity that was still a good three hundred feet in front of them. After a second, he motioned Napoleon to follow him.
Pulling a knife from his shirt and placing it in his teeth, Illya started up one of the metal struts that held the engine gondola to the body of the dirigible. In a short time he had himself braced among the struts and was inspecting the surface. He tapped it with his fingers and muttered something that Napoleon couldn't catch. Then he took the knife from his teeth and poked with it. After a few unsuccessful jabs, he returned the knife to his teeth and descended.
"I was afraid of that," he explained as he stepped down next to Napoleon. "Around the engine mountings, they cover everything with metal."
Napoleon nobly refrained from commenting. "How far does the metal extend?" he asked, eying the other areas the engine struts were attached to.
"As far as we can reach, at least. It's pu
t on to keep gunk from the engine from damaging the fabric." Illya looked around, trying to locate an available entrance. Something caught his eye. "Maybe we're in luck after all," he said and started moving along the horizontal struts to a different area, keeping a careful watch to the front as he went. Finally he crouched low and eased the last few feet to the dirigible body. Holding to a strut over his head with one hand, he took the knife with the other and carefully placed it, point first, against a point on the metal covered fabric. "Pity Ishmael didn't supply us with screwdrivers, along with the other stuff," he said.
After a moment's effort, the knife turned. Illya carefully unscrewed something, moved the knife to a second spot and repeated the performance.
Napoleon watched for some time, then edged out on the struts. "If you're planning to unscrew the engine, let me know and I'll get off."
Illya carefully fitted the knife into another screw head. "As long as you're here, make yourself useful. Reach over my shoulder and hold this thing in place while I get the last screw out."
Napoleon obediently stretched his arm out and placed his hand where Illya indicated. Another half dozen turns of the knife, and he found himself precariously balancing a round metal plate about two feet in diameter. "What is it?" he asked as Illya put the knife away and grasped the plat.
"An inspection hatch," Illya told him. "There are probably a dozen of them around, but this one will be sufficient." He leaned down, dangled the plate for a second, then dropped it with a small thud onto the grass below. "Now let's get inside; they're getting ready to cast off.
The two agents eased through and found themselves in total darkness. "We must be near the keel," Illya whispered. "We'd better get a grip on the girders and work out way up before some wandering Thrush spots us."
