Pulp Fiction | The Invisibility Affair by Thomas Stratton (17 page)

"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 recalled 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 put 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."

"I have a grip and I intend to keep it for awhile," Napoleon said. "Isn't there something we can do right here?"

"Not much. Don't forget that helium is lighter than air so it won't leak out through a hole in the bottom. We have to make out hole in the top of the bags if we want to sink this ship of the air." Illya paused for a moment before continuing. "Some old Russian dirigible lore is coming back to me." Perhaps we won't have to cut any holes."

"Don't tell me there are inspection hatches on the gas bags?"

"Something even handier, if we can find it: valves. They were used to adjust the buoyancy. These engines burned a lot of fuel and on long trips the loss of weight sometimes had to be compensated for."

"Isn't that a rather expensive way? Helium isn't the cheapest gas in the world."

"Necessity knows no expense—old Russian proverb. Besides, this is an old German airship, designed for use with hydrogen. Too bad they aren't still using hydrogen in her; one well placed tracer bullet and the whole thing would go up in flames."

"Your fast store of knowledge is amazing," Napoleon said. "However, I seem to have detected a concealed assumption in your reasoning; we can use the valves
if
we can find them."