The Sinister Satellite Affair

by Robert Hart Davis

  But at the moment of April Dancer's blackest despair, Napoleon Solo gave her fresh courage.

  “I've got a knee free!” he said. “Now I can get some leverage. Stop trying to dig. Crawl back and pull on my shoulders. Now that I can push with one of my legs, I think we can make it now.”

  April was too out of breath from her exertions to reply. She started to crawl back, but before they could put their plan into operation, she heard the heavy creak from the open end of the tunnel.

  “Someone is opening the barrier door,” she gasped back to Solo.

  “The China Doll coming back?” he suggested.

  “Where did I drop the match-light?” she said.

  “Here it is,” Napoleon said, passing the miniature torch to her.

  Grasping it in her left hand and the U.N.C.L.E. Special in the other, she waited in the dark.

  “There are voices,” she whispered back to Napoleon. “Men's voices. They're talking a dialect I can't understand.”

  “I can only catch a word here and there,” Solo said. “They aren't friendly, April. I caught the words, ’foreign devils.'''

  April slid the selector on the U.N.C.L.E. Special from bullets to the paralyzing pellets. They would not strike with as much force as the slugs. There would be less chance of bringing more of the roof down on them.

  “One of them is urging the other to go on,” Solo whispered.

  April could hear a scrambling noise. The tunnel was only tall enough to crawl through. The newcomers would be at a disadvantage.

  She heard the scramble of the newcomer's knees in the dirt as he came around the bend of the tunnel. Her thumb flicked the light switch. The powerful beam struck the surprised face of a Chinese coolie type. Before the man could jerk back, the paralyzing pellet from April's U.N.C.L.E. bullet smashed into his cheek.

  There was a wild babel of voices from behind him. The screaming voices sounded like at least two more men.

  “I'm free now,” Napoleon's voice whispered behind her. “We had better rush them while they are off balance.”

  April Dancer nodded. She kept inching forward. The tunnel was so narrow that Solo could not get past her. She ignored his suggestion that she try to let him squeeze past.

  She reached the sharp turn. The prone body of the Chinese blocked her way. She raised her head cautiously. A gun fired from the mouth of the tunnel. The bullet was low and smashed into the paralyzed man.

  April snaked her gun over the dying man's body. She pulled the trigger. In the distance a man screamed. There was a heavy noise like a body falling. An excited voice yelled something she could not understand.

  April raised her head cautiously. She could see the open tunnel door, but could not see the other man. She started to snake her body over the dead Chinese.

  She got halfway---and stuck. She was jammed in by the dirt roof and the body she was trying to go over.

  “Help me” she whispered back in agitation to Solo. “Push!”

  Then she saw the form of a man. He had a gun in his hand, but he whirled in the opposite direction. He fired, but his body staggered back at the instant he pulled the trigger. His own shot went into the ceiling of the dilapidated shack. He fell with his head striking the edge of the door. April could see blood welling from the bullet hole in his chest.

  “Push!” she whispered back to Napoleon Solo.

  She wiggled frantically, pulling with all her strength as Solo pushed from behind. Slowly she started to force herself through. Then she started to inch forward, her gun ready to fire.

  The person who killed the Chinese did not come into view. Instead a voice said: “Mr. Solo?”

  It was the bell-like tones of the Chinese girl.

  “We're here,” April replied. “But just barely!”

  The Chinese girl bent down so she could see into the tunnel.

  “I am sorry for your trouble,” she said. “But it is for the best. Had you stayed in the hotel, you would be dead now. It has been destroyed by them in an attempt to kill you.”

  “I understand,” April said. Then, back over her shoulder she said, “Napoleon?”

  “I can't get past this dead man. I'm not as small as you are,” Sold said.

  April inched back. There was not enough room for the other girl to come in and help. April pulled and Solo pushed at the corpse. Slowly they worked it down so Napoleon Solo could break through the trap.

  April looked curiously at the dead men.

  “Who are they?” she asked.

  “Spies from Peiping,” the girl said. “They were returning from blowing up the hotel when they heard you shooting in here. I tried to head them off, but they were too swift for me.”

  “We owe you a lot,” Solo said. “You've saved us twice.”

  She shrugged.

  “It is no matter,” she said shortly. “It is too dangerous to take you out now. The spy master will assume you were killed in the explosion.”

  “We are in your hands,”

  “It will be difficult,” she said.

  “The Red spies are stupid, but they are being aided by some very clever men from something called THRUSH. These THRUSH men fear you very much.”

  “I should hope so,” April said. “Should we report to Mr. Waverly, Napoleon?”

  Solo nodded and extended the antenna on the pen-communicator. Waverly acknowledged immediately. Napoleon hastily gave their chief a brief account of the situation.

  “THRUSH will do everything in its power to eliminate you,” the U.N.C.L.E. chief said. “They have all their murder facilities plus those of the Red Chinese to draw from. You face a difficult task.”

  “It wouldn't be fun if it wasn't tough,” April said.

  “Do you have any later information for us?” Napoleon inquired.

  “We know THRUSH is up to something vicious,” Waverly said. “Our Peiping contact is sure that THRUSH is hiding part of its operations from their Chinese partners. Planning a giant doublecross, I think. We are picking up bits of stray information that are beginning to fit into a bigger and clearer picture. It is a dark picture, Mr. Solo. It is a picture of future death, destruction and world slavery by THRUSH.”

  “We'll just have to stop it,” Solo said. “What do we do now?”

  There was a slight silence from the other end of the trans-world circuit. Then the U.N.C.L.E. operations chief said in a tone that startled his chief enforcement officer:

  “You, Miss Dancer, Mr. Kuryakin, and Mr. Slate are to go into Red China. We are positive, from these bits of information I told you about, that the satellite operation is being conducted outside of Peiping.”

  “Is there any kind of contact for us inside China?”

  “Definitely!” Waverly said. “I have talked to our U.N.C.L.E. scientists. They tell me that in all probability this cluster bomb must be set off by coded radio signals from the earth. It is your assignment, Mr. Solo, to verify this. If it is true, you are to destroy it before it destroys half the people of the world, and all the earth's freedom with it!”

  “Do we have sufficient proof to go to the UN?” April Dancer asked.

  Waverly said slowly, “The situation has worsened there. You know that Red China has made a vigorous protest to France about the killing of their 'diplomat' by an U.N.C.L.E. representative in Paris. France in turn has protested to the UN and has barred our operations in France. The United Nations is considering a resolution asking all its members to cease cooperation with U.N.C.L.E.”

  “This is terrible!” April Dancer gasped.

  “But we aren't whipped yet,” Waverly went on, forcing a note of optimism into his voice. “All we have to do is prove there really is a desperate world threat---and stop that threat before it can destroy us. That is your assignment, Mr. Solo. Any questions?”

  “Yes, sir,” Napoleon said. “How will we identify our contact in Red China?”

  “By the word 'sky-star' repeated twice,” Waverly said. “Once inside Red China you will be completely isolated. Do
not use the pen-communicator . You are completely on your own.”

  “Yes, sir,” Napoleon said. “And Mr. Solo---”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I am sending all four of you, as I said before, because this is the most dangerous mission in U.N.C.L.E.'s history. It is inconceivable that we can win through against such terrible odds without losses on our side.”

  “It's part of the job, sir,” Napoleon said quietly.

  “Very well then,” the operations chief said. “Call me again before you leave for Red China.”

  The Chu girl stood silently watching the two U.N.C.L.E. operatives while Solo talked to Waverly. Napoleon turned to her now.

  “You knew all this?” he asked. She nodded. “My father made the arrangements for you to get into Red China. Now that he is dead, I will carry them out for you.”

  “Who was your father?” Solo asked.

  “He was a very important man---once. Then his name was falsely blackened by the Red Communists in China. He had to flee for his life. He would have been killed except for a young man in the diplomatic corps of a great nation. This young man became your Mr. Waverly. My father owed him a great debt. When Mr. Waverly called for his help in this matter, my father could not refuse.”

  “But you could have said no,” April said. “Why are you helping us? Your chances of coming out of this alive are as slim as our own.”

  The Chinese girl gave her a straight stare. There was a flash of fire in her eyes. “Just say that I have far greater reason to hate the Peiping regime than you do.”

  She turned and walked swiftly to the rickety door. “I will return for you at dark,” she said shortly.

  It was as long a day as April Dancer had ever spent in her life.

  NINE

  THE SLEEP GAS

  The girl---she finally reluctantly told them her name was Mei-ling---was back shortly after dusk. She led them past a small hilltop park, then down the slope, along the banks of the Keelung River. To their left a modern concrete bridge spanned the river on the road's way into the city of Taipei.

  After another short walk, they entered a hovel made of many-sized and oddly-shaped packing cases. It was so close to the river that they could hear the lap of water on the shore.

  The place was unutterably filthy and unused. Mei-ling removed some rubbish from the corner, exposing a trap door. They descended through it to some stone steps. The edge of the stones were encrusted with moss and had a worn look that showed they had been in place for centuries.

  Mei-ling explained briefly that the steps were remains of a temple that had long since fallen in ruins. They went back into the hill for a considerable distance to a stone-walled room. A curtain hid half the room.

  A guttering candle lighted the other half. It showed them a table spread with several earthen ware pots and a very old Chinese man standing behind them. He bowed slightly as they entered. She did not introduce them to him.

  “First,” Mei-ling explained, “you will go behind the curtain and remove your clothes. There is a vat. Kindly bathe in it, but do not let the liquid get on your face. That must be handled more delicately. Dr. Lee will do that for you. You may go first, Miss Dancer.”

  While April Dancer soaked in the vat---which Mei-ling told her was a yellow skin dye---the Chinese girl removed the Girl from U.N.C.L.E.'s clothing, bringing in return a drab Chinese dress.

  After she left the skin-dye bath and dressed, April took her place in a chair beside the table, while Solo went behind the curtain to immerse himself in the yellow dye. Swiftly the old man's hands removed all her makeup and then rubbed her temples with an astringent that burned fiercely.

  “Never mind,” Mei-ling said, although April had made no complaint. “The chemical he just placed in your skin draws the flesh tight. This has the effect of pulling up the corners of your eyes to perfectly simulate the Chinese shape. Since this is done chemically, it cannot be detected as can the usual actor's method of using tape and covering it with makeup.”

  After April's eyes were shaped to the make-up artist's satisfaction, he started massaging yellow color into her skin. He was still at work when a signal came from above, Mei-ling darted up the stone steps and came back with Mark Slate and Illya Kuryakin.

  They looked at April Dancer without recognizing her. She waited until Mark Slate asked Mei-ling how long it would be before April and Solo arrived.

  “Confucius say he who looks and sees not is a dope!” April Dancer said.

  Slate looked startled, but the Russian's face never changed. After the first jolt of surprise, Slate grinned at April.

  “I don't think Confucius said anything about how a smart man finding himself in a mess like this would do well to go home, crawl in bed and pull the covers over his head.”

  “I doubt that he did,” April said.

  “I wish that he had,” Mark Slate replied. “And even more, I wish I had sense enough to follow his advice!”

  “You don't know half how bad it is yet,” April said.

  “If what I suspect is in store for us, I'm getting off in a corner and having a good shiver,” Illya Kuryakin said.

  “It's what you suspect,” April said.

  She sketched for them Waverly's plan to send all four of them into Red China. Then there was no more time to talk, for Mei-ling took Kuryakin and Slate to the dye vats. When the makeup artist finally finished and Mei-ling approved his work, the four huddled for a conference.

  “Four of us against all of China?” Mark Slate said. “Mr. Waverly must surely be the king of optimists.”

  “I think the correct figure is somewhere around five hundred million,” Kuryakin said. “But let us not quibble over it.”

  “You can joke at a time like this?” Mei-ling's voice sounded half-wondering, half-exasperated.

  “This is the time to joke,” Illya said.

  “Are you ready?” Mei-ling broke in impatiently.

  “Lead on,” Napoleon said. Silently they trailed after the Chinese girl as she led them to the river, where a sampan waited. Although they had made light of the mission back there in the shack, each of them realized fully the tremendous odds against them. The chances of success were far less than for any affair they had worked on before.

  Finally after a devious route, they arrived at a back corner of the Taipei International Airport. A ramshackle Nationalist Chinese transport took them to Tainan Air Base on the south end of Taiwan. Here they were informed that they would be smuggled into Red China via Nationalist Chinese reconnaissance planes which flew regular missions over the mainland.

  A Chinese lieutenant colonel reminded them that Nationalist China and Communist China were officially at war. They were subject to being shot down as soon as they got over the Chinese mainland.

  “Also,” he said. “You must never mention that we assisted you. Nationalist China is a member of the United Nations. We have information through diplomatic channels that certain delegates in the UN are preparing to introduce a resolution requesting all members to withdraw support and assistance to U.N.C.L.E. We do not intend to do this, but there is little point in stirring up extra trouble.”

  After their briefing on the air flight into China, Solo made a report to Waverly.

  “Will your disguises hold up?” Waverly asked.

  “They are masterpieces,” Solo replied. “Illya speaks the dialect like a native. I can get by and so can April. Mark will just have to play dumb.”

  “Good,” Waverly said. “Our information from within China is extremely sketchy. Our secret informant has pinpointed THRUSH's operations. The rockets were fired from up in Yunnan Province. However, it appears that after the firing, the THRUSH group concentrated outside of Peiping. There is a control station there. We have reason to believe it is a dummy because---to refute our claims about the sinister nature of the satellites---Peiping permitted French and Polish newspaper men to tour the site.”

  “Then where is the actual control site?” Solo asked.

  �
��In Yunnan, just outside of Shunning on the Mekong River, directly north of the Burmese border. Unfortunately, our contacts there are not as extensive as they were in the Peiping---or Peking as they call it now---area. Your job will be more difficult.”

  “That's good,” Solo said with a wry grin. “If it were easy, April would probably quit in disgust.”

  “This then will be our last contact until the affair is ended,” Waverly said. “Be extremely careful that all operations are directed only against sinister forces. It would be fatal for us to interfere with any project that was in fact a peaceful space experiment.”

  “I understand, sir,” Napoleon Solo said. “Now about Mei-ling---she surprised me by saying she was going along.”

  “This is a surprise to me also,” Waverly said. “That is your decision to make. I suppose she would be a tremendous help.”

  “What is her background?” Solo asked. “She has aided us immeasurably, but I know for a fact that April Dancer has never completely accepted her.”

  “This woman has a strong anti-Communist background. There is a price on her head in China that would keep you and me in luxury for the next hundred years. I also know that THRUSH tried to kill her on more than one occasion.”

  “That's good enough background for this job. She isn't apt to betray us to either of them.”

  “That is an excellent assumption, Mr. Solo,” the U.N.C.L.E. operations chief said. “I can understand your suspicions---and appreciate them.”

  Oddly, it seemed to Napoleon, Mei-ling was not surprised at their change of destination. She acted as if she was under the impression they were going to Yunnan all the time.

  They were two days in reaching their destination. Then another day was lost in getting in Shunning. They had to land far north of the river city. Here they were met by a young man and woman who identified themselves with the U.N.C.L.E. password. These two arranged for them to move down the Mekong River into the city. They traveled by sampan. The river was narrowed by huge gorges and the route complicated by dangerous rapids.

  Their guides left them about ten miles from the town after giving them instructions on how to find their next contact.