"A space station? From the island in the swamp?" Montoya said. "It is quite a story, Mr. Solo, if that is indeed your true name."
"You have my credentials!" Solo snapped. "Colonel, I have friends, prisoners on that island. I have to get in there and help them! I came out to give General Hoyos a chance to get here and stop the launch."
Colonel Montoya sat down on his camp stool inside the field tent. "Mr. Solo, again if that is truly your name," Montoya said. "Do you take me for a fool? You think I do not know that my men are here for some important project? Only you continue to talk about General Hoyos, when it is General Valera who commands this mission. If you were what you say you are, would you not know that? Would you not ask for General Valera?"
Solo studied the short, dark colonel. The soldier had the ring of truth in his voice, and yet? Thrush men were well trained. If Valera was a Thrush man, then why not Montoya? Only Solo had a hunch. In a country like this, men protected themselves. With Valera in command, General Hoyos would probably have assigned a second in command loyal to himself, Hoyos. Anyway, he had to take the chance.
"Because I am pretty sure that General Valera is the leader on the other side," Solo said. "I think General Valera is the man in charge of Project Condor. He has taken my partner prisoner, and has him on that island in the swamp."
Montoya slowly twirled his dark mustache. "General Valera, you say?"
The dark colonel stared hard at Solo. Montoya did not leap to Valera's defense, did not fly into a rage of outraged honor. Instead the colonel seemed to be thinking, considering, watching Solo very carefully.
"You tell me that General Valera is actually a traitor?"
"I think he is a top leader of Thrush. You've heard of Thrush?"
Montoya nodded slowly. "I have heard of this Thrush."
"Then you know how dangerous this affair is. You have to get through to General Hoyos," Solo said. "You can check up on why Valera isn't here where he should be!"
A tall, gaunt figure loomed in the entrance to the field tent. The cadaverous face stared at Solo and then at Colonel Montoya. Montoya had leaped to his feet at the sight of the tall man.
"But he is here, and if you have anything to ask, ask Valera himself!"
General Miguel Valera stood in the doorway flanked by four of his special staff. They were all armed. Solo looked at the armed men, and at Montoya.
"Who is this man, Colonel Montoya?" General Valera asked.
"He claims to be one Napoleon Solo of an organization named The United Network Command For Law and Enforcement."
Valera snorted. "A spy! Shoot him!"
"His credentials seem genuine," Montoya said.
"Forged, my dear Montoya. Anyone can forge a set of U.N.C.L.E. credentials, especially a Thrush agent," Valera said.
"He claims that you are a Thrush leader, General," Montoya said.
"And do you believe him, Colonel Montoya?" Valera snapped.
"Of course not, but, with your permission, his credentials should be checked," Montoya said.
"Shoot him! I, Valera, take responsibility!"
Montoya stared straight ahead. "With your permission, my General, you are not empowered to shoot without a trial."
"Empowered? Fool, I command in the field! That is all the power I need, you know that," Valera snapped.
"With your permission, such power was removed by General Hoyos when he assumed the Defense post. Article Twelve of the new Military Code."
"The devil with Article Twelve," Valera snapped. "But if it bothers you, Colonel, I will simply take your prisoner off your hands. You agree I am 'empowered' to do that much?"
"Yes, General," Montoya said "But, with your permission, I think the matter should be taken to General Hoyos. This man has, of course, made some mistake about you, but he may well be who he claims to be, and—"
Valera stared at Montoya. The eyes of the gaunt general were grim and careful.
"I see," Valera broke in. "General Hoyos, eh? And if I take your prisoner, you will, of course, immediately inform General Hoyos of that fact?"
"Of course. It would be my clear duty." Montoya said.
Valera nodded. A pistol seemed to appear in his thin hand. There was a sharp, soft cracking sound. Montoya seemed to leap backwards and sprawl out flat on the ground. Valera held his silenced pistol and looked down at the dead man. Then he holstered the pistol.
"Come," Valera said to his men. "Bring Solo."
Outside, Valera called over two of the soldiers of Headquarters Company of the 16th Regiment. The soldiers stood at rigid attention.
"Colonel Montoya does not wish to be disturbed," Valera said crisply. "Is that clear? I will return later, see that no one bothers the colonel at his work."
"Yes, General," the soldiers said in unison.
"Very good," Valera said. And to his men, "Bring the prisoner." Solo was marched to the grey Bentley and pushed inside. The touring car drove off. Once out of sight of the soldiers of the Sixteenth Regiment, the grey car turned toward the island in the swamp where the space station waited to be launched. Valera smiled.
"So, Mr. Solo, now we have you all."
"They'll find Montoya," Solo said.
"Of course. But what will they learn from a dead man?"
Valera began to laugh aloud.
TWO
SOLO STOOD in the dark night. The four guards watching him. Valera faced an angry Dr. Guerre. The cherubic little man still looked like some rotund pixie despite his anger.
"Kill them or throw him into the pit with the others, Council Member," Guerre said. "We have wasted too much time on them as it is. We will have to launch at dawn; they will find Montoya! Did you have to kill him? Stupid!"
"They will learn nothing from a dead man," Valera snapped. "And may I remind you who is in charge here?"
"You may remind me forever," Guerre roared, "but it is my project! I have waited too long to let you ruin it. Do you think I need a computer to tell me that Waverly will put two and two together once Hoyos informs him of Montoya's death? Those soldiers saw you in that tent, you fool! They will talk to anyone."
Valera turned purple with anger. "How dare you call—"
"Oh shut up! The space station goes at dawn; we cannot risk discovery! When will you Thrush fools learn that Waverly is as good or better than your damned computer!? Kill them now, if you have to. That is about what you are good for, to kill gadflies!"
Valera boiled with rage. "You take care of your project, Dr. Guerre; leave U.N.C.L.E. to me. You did not do very well with them in New Mexico. I think they are too valuable to kill. Once Condor is in orbit, we will still need other information. Condor alone will not bring us the world."
"Then throw this one into the pit with the others and be damned!" Guerre raged. "I have work!"
The fat little man turned and waddled off into the night. Valera, still in a rage, barked an order. The four men hustled Solo to the edge of a yawning pit. Valera turned and strode off after Guerre, his eyes blazing with rage against the fat Doctor. The four men bound Solo's hands, looped a rope under his arms, and lowered him into the pit.
On the bottom Solo lay in soft dirt. He felt the rope jerk; then it was loose and going up. He saw the faint faces of the four soldiers far- off above. The pit was at least thirty feet deep. Solo lay there struggling in his bonds. Then he heard a noise. The face of Illya Kuryakin peered down at him. The blond agent grinned and went to work on his ropes.
A few moments later Solo sat up, free. He smiled at Illya.
"At least we can play cards, if we had any cards," Solo said.
Illya shook his head.
"You don't feel like talking?" Solo said.
Illya shook his head again, pointed to his mouth. Solo stared. Illya pointed to his mouth, shook his head, shrugged.
"You can't talk?" Solo said. "They used that drug on you?"
Illya nodded, pointed off into the dark at the bottom of the pit. Solo looked and saw a figure. The figure moved, sat up. I
t was Penny Parsons. At least the girl was still alive, but there was fear in her eyes.
"Did they drug her too?" Solo asked.
Illya nodded. The girl just stared as if in a trance. Solo looked around.
"At least they left us our clothes again. Shoes, too, this time," Solo said.
Illya held out his flat suitcase. Then the blond agent pointed up, and at the walls, and shrugged, tossed the case away. Solo watched Illya, and then walked and touched the walls of the pit. Soft dirt everywhere.
There was no hold, nothing but dirt towering thirty feet up.
Solo nodded. "I see what you mean. Our weapons are all designed for the twentieth century; they're useless against a pit of simple dirt. So they didn't bother to take them."
Illya nodded.
"We can cut through metal, wood, concrete. We can blow up doors and locks. But what do you do against dirt?"
Illya shrugged. Solo laughed.
"Well, nothing is all bad," Solo said. "It's the first time I've ever seen you speechless."
Illya glared. Solo laughed again. The girl, Penny Parsons, began to cry. Solo looked around.
"There must be some way out," Solo said.
Illya nodded and pointed off to the left. Solo saw a hole in the side of the pit. A large hole like a passage that seemed to lead downward. Solo studied it and nodded.
"This pit is connected to something else," Solo said. "Do you know where it leads?"
Illya nodded, and shrugged.
"Well, we have to try something. Maybe you missed a way out. Let's go."
Illya nodded again. The two agents took hold of Penny Parsons and led the girl to the large hole. They crawled into the hole with Solo leading.
The passage led downward at a sharp angle. It seemed to go on and on. But at last Solo saw light ahead. They emerged in an enormous underground chamber. Solo looked around. Many other holes led off all around the circular chamber. Illya pointed up.
Solo looked up and saw the gigantic base of the space station launching rocket. The rocket engines protruded from the base, ten of the largest engine cones he had ever seen. And they were different in appearance. Solo looked at Illya.
"Nuclear engines?" Solo said.
Illya nodded.
"This is the blast chamber. The passages to the pits are to give escape for the exhaust gases when it lifts off," Solo said.
Illya nodded. The small Russian indicated a sudden explosion, gas spreading out and into the exhaust holes, and filling the pits beyond. Then Illya indicated the end, finished. Solo nodded.
"The gases will finish us. Is there a way out of this chamber, maybe up along the rocket?" Solo asked.
Illya indicated that they could try. Solo looked around and saw the steel ladder that led up the side of the chamber to a platform on a level with the engine above. He walked to the ladder and climbed up to the stage. Illya came up behind him. On the platform the two agents looked at the rocket, and then upward.
There was no way up the sheer steel sides of the rocket pit. Solo shrugged and leaned out. He reached the tail section of the rocket itself and pulled himself up. Illya walked around and did the same on the other side. Slowly, painfully, both men pulled themselves up over the gigantic tail section.
Solo reached the end of the tail section. Above him the monster rocket stretched round and smooth. There was nothing more to hold on to and the steel-sided pit faded away above. Solo tried, but it was no use. He slid, slipped, and fell back to the tail section. There was no way up.
On the platform he waited. Illya appeared. Obviously the small Russian had had no better luck. The two men descended the ladder and rejoined Penny Parsons on the bottom. The deadly engines towered above them. Solo looked at the hundreds of holes all around to allow the ignition gases to escape.
"Well, we might as well see if they lead anywhere better than our original pit," Solo said.
Illya shrugged and the girl began to cry again. Solo patted her heaving shoulders.
"We might find something," Solo said.
But they did not.
They searched all the exhaust passages, but found nothing but more pits exactly like the one they had been dropped into. They split up and searched. There was nothing.
Dawn light tinged the open space above the pits. A hum had begun somewhere. The rocket was being readied. Then Illya came out of a side passage and nodded his blond head eagerly. The small Russian picked up his flat suitcase and motioned for Solo and the girl to follow.
The hum of engines warming grew louder.
Solo crawled along the dark passage behind the girl. Illya was up ahead. They emerged into another pit—a pit exactly like all the others they had reached. Solo swore.
"Damn it, Illya, this is—"
Illya pointed up. Solo looked up to where a very faint dawn light showed some kind of object hanging over the pit.
Solo narrowed his eyes and looked at the object. Then he saw what it was—a crane!
Above this pit there was a crane and boom hanging out over the hole itself. A crane intended to lower material into the pit. The cable of the crane dangled tantalizingly over the pit.
If they could somehow manage to reach it.
THREE
ILLYA OPENED his small suitcase and brought out the tiny electronic meter and activator. Solo looked at the tiny instrument designed to activate any electrically-controlled device. Then he looked up at the crane. It was just possible . . .
"If it can range that far," Solo said.
Illya's quizzical eyes smiled, indicated that the range was okay; the question was whether or not the crane was electrically operated and controlled.
"What have we got to lose?" Solo said.
Illya set the controls of the tiny actuator and aimed it upward. There was a silence.
Illya increased the power in the actuator.
Nothing happened.
The two agents looked at each other. Somewhere the hum of the nuclear engines pre-heating grew louder.
Illya slowly changed the direction of the electronic signal from the actuator, revolving the instrument in his hands.
Above an engine coughed, missed, struggled—and went on.
The crane began to vibrate. The sound was that of a gasoline engine, started by an electric spark.
"Now, are the controls electric?" Solo said. "Give it the gun, my Russian optimist."
Illya twisted the control dial on the actuator. There was a grinding of gears above, a whirring of a drum, and the cable began to move upward.
"Quick!" Solo cried. "If it reaches the top it could jam!"
Illya reversed the controls. There was a loud grinding of gears. The crane boom above shuddered as the gears reversed. The whole machine above shook, hesitated.
At the bottom of the pit, Solo and Illya watched.
Illya increased the power on the actuator the fraction of a turn. The crane shook—and the cable started down. It came down fast now. When it reached the bottom Illya stopped it with a flick of the control. There was a large cargo sling at the end.
Solo went first, his foot in the stirrup of the cargo sling, holding to the cable, riding up. He crouched and peered out as he was raised clear of the edge. There was no one near.
Penny Parsons came up next, then Illya.
In the faint light of dawn a thick mist rose from the swamp all around the island. Vague figures moved in the mist far off. Solo and Illya kept the girl between them as they advanced warily, unable to see more than twenty feet.
The mist that hid their enemies from them, hid them from their enemies. Men passed close to them in the thick white mist and did not even glance at them. The base was a beehive of activity. None of the men who passed them were armed until, suddenly they came out into an open space in front of a thick- walled concrete building.
The mist has thinned. It still hung heavy over the water of the swamp that surrounded the island, but here it had thinned. Two armed men stood in front of the main doorway into the building
. Illya nodded to Solo. The two agents warned Penny Parsons to stay where she was, and vanished into the swirling mist.
They appeared from either side at the same instant, each creeping up close along the wall behind one of the two guards. Both guards fell without a sound, chopped across the neck. Solo and Illya scooped up t heir weapons, motioned to Penny to come ahead, and the three of them went into the building.
Solo led the way down broad corridors that were strangely deserted. Illya pointed to an open door far down a wide main corridor. There was light in the doorway. The three approached the doorway carefully. Solo peered around the corner, his Thrush rifle ready.
He saw a large office. There was a desk, leather chairs, all the appointments of the office of some high executive—and a large computer! A door stood open to the left. Even as Solo watched, the computer began to operate, flashing lights and the whirring of a thousand tiny electronic circuits.
Solo looked at Illya. The blond agent came to the door and looked in.
"The Ultimate Computer?" Solo said, watching the awesome machine blinking and whirring.
Illya shook his head. No. With his mobile hands the Russian indicated that this was a smaller copy, a field model of the heart of Thrush operations, but worth destroying. The two agents stepped into the room.
As a man came through the open door to the left.
General Miguel Valera froze as he saw them. His hand moved to his holster. Illya motioned with his stolen Thrush rifle. Valera hesitated, seemed to glance for an instant behind him, then shrugged and moved his hand away from his weapon. The gaunt Thrush council member walked casually into the center of the room.
"So, again you surprise us. Someday, perhaps, we will learn not to underestimate the resourcefulness of U.N.C.L.E. agents. Or perhaps it is just you two, and, of course, Waverly. Guerre was right; I should have killed you. Now, of course, you will kill me."
Solo smiled. "Not necessarily; we need information, too. Where is Dr. Guerre?"
Valera shrugged. "Alas, I do not know. Preparing the launch, I imagine. I suggest we all leave here very soon. You have noted, I trust, the absence of personnel in this building?"
The Unspeakable Affair Page 8
