"I'm not so sure, Mr. Solo," Waverly said. "I'm afraid our report from Anagua had some bad news. Agent Forty-Four was killed while he was transmitting his message. His body was found in the war department building. Dachado is keeping it quiet, but our information says that he was not killed by Dachado or his men. Our people think there is clear evidence of some third force being involved."
"The spies?" Solo said.
"It seems the logical conclusion. Except for the fact that Dachado took the information on the telephone. Agent Forty-Four reported that much. It seems odd that the spies would make the report by telephone, and then appear moments later to kill Agent Forty- Four."
There was a silence.
"Someone else trying to move in?" Solo said.
"Again, it has the sound," Waverly said. "But we can't be sure. We must be sure. We must know who is getting and transmitting the data—and how."
"Before a third party finds out," Illya said.
"Yes, that particularly," Waverly said. "I think you both had better start watching Colonel Walter Forsyte very closely. Find out how a man can transmit secret data through thin air."
The two agents looked at each other.
THREE
COLONEL WALTER FORSYTE left his house in suburban Manhasset just before eight o'clock the next morning. He stepped into his car, and drove alone directly to the city. He did not notice the blue Mercedes sports car that followed him. Nor did he notice the small man in black on a motorcycle who rode most of the way just in front of him.
Illya Kuryakin, on the motorcycle, and Napoleon Solo, in the Mercedes, worked as the well-oiled team they were, keeping in constant verbal contact with their small radios no one could tell they were using. Illya, on the motorcycle, never took his eyes off the road ahead, or the mirror that showed Forsyte's car behind, as he talked.
"He hasn't even noticed us, Napoleon."
In the Mercedes, Solo had the best view of the colonel up ahead in his car.
"No. He acts like a man who never heard of being followed," Solo said.
Illya evaded a bump in the parkway. "Perhaps he hasn't ever thought about it, Napoleon. Or he's a fine actor."
Solo speeded up to pass a truck and keep Forsyte within his sight. "Or he's so confident of his methods he doesn't care if anyone watches him."
"No method of passing information can be that good," Illya said with Forsyte clear in his rear mirror. The colonel was driving easily, smiling and apparently whistling to himself.
"Hypnosis?" Solo said from the Mercedes.
"How?" Illya said from the motorcycle. "We've been watching him since he had the information. Or you have. Was he ever out of your sight long enough to be hypnotized?"
"No," Solo said flatly, as he watched the back of Forsyte's head in the car in front of him.
The traffic became thick as they approached the city, and the two men stopped talking to concentrate on following their man. Forsyte did not seem in any way suspicious. They plunged into the white echoing void of the Midtown Tunnel and emerged into Manhattan.
Forsyte turned north to his office in the building of the United States Mission to The United Nations. There the colonel worked as second-in-command of a special global psychological warfare team assigned to close cooperation with the State Department. Forsyte parked and entered the building and rode up in the elevator without noticing the lieutenant who was behind him and rode up in the elevator with him.
Solo, disguised as the lieutenant, faced front and gave no indication that he was interested in Forsyte. But he followed the colonel out of the elevator, to his office, and took up a previously prepared position at a desk in Forsyte's outer office where he could watch everyone who came or went.
By the rear entrance, unseen by anyone, Illya made his way up to the floor of Forsyte's office, and into a prepared closet from the hallway where a small peephole, disguised on the other side, made it possible for him to observe the man. A planted mike made the colonel's words part of the closet.
Nothing happened.
The colonel spoke to no one suspicious. No one unknown came to his office. Nothing was passed in silence or by word. No meaningful looks were exchanged in front of the eyes of Illya hidden in the closet. No letters were mailed. No signals were given either in the office or out the windows, by Forsyte or anyone else.
The colonel did not leave his office for lunch.
The afternoon was no more eventful, but it was short. Colonel Forsyte left his office for the day at three o'clock. Illya ran down from the closet to the parking area. Solo casually left the office just behind the colonel. He followed the colonel to the parking lot and saw Illya working over his motorcycle.
Solo saw something else.
Not far from Illya, to the left of the colonel's car, a tail man in a grey suit, his face turned away, was working to pile boxes into the front seat of his car—or pretending to. Because the man was actually watching the side mirror of the car. And the angle of the mirror seemed aimed at Forsyte's car!
To the right of the colonel's car a smaller man, wide and powerful, was seated on the hood of his car reading a newspaper. From time to time this man looked at his watch, and then away toward the entrance, as if he were waiting for his wife. But Solo did not think the man was waiting for anything, or anyone, except Colonel Walter Forsyte.
The colonel walked to his car. No one made a move.
The entire parking area seemed momentarily frozen into a silent paralysis.
Then Forsyte took a bundle of clothes from the rear seat of his car and turned to walk away. The colonel walked casually and easily, carrying the clothes and whistling softly to himself like a man without a care in the world and the prospect of a pleasant afternoon in front of him. He reached the halfway point to the exit before anyone moved.
Then the short, wide man jumped easily down from his car and sauntered off in the same direction as the colonel. There were many people in the parking area, but Solo had little doubt that the wide man was following the colonel. Solo glanced briefly in the general direction of Illya. The small, blond Russian touched his left ear and rubbed his hands together.
Plan One. Solo would continue with the original job, and Illya would assume the new job. In this situation that meant that Solo would follow Forsyte and Illya would follow the new men who seemed so interested in Forsyte. Solo walked out of the parking area without another glance at Illya.
Illya continued to work on his motorcycle. The tall man in the grey suit suddenly finished piling the boxes into his car, got into the car and drove out. Illya mounted the motorcycle and went off after the tall man.
Solo picked up the colonel and the muscular man a block from the colonel's office building. They were both walking west, Forsyte a half a block in front, carrying his clothes. Solo did not like how far behind he was, and he didn't want the wide man to know that he was following, so he speeded up and passed the wide man as if he had no interest in him.
The colonel turned into a dry cleaner's shop. Solo followed him in without a pause.
In the parking area Illya followed the tall man in the car out of the area and left toward Third Avenue. The man drove slowly, obviously working as a team with the wide man on foot. On Third Avenue the tall man's car turned north and double parked. The wide man was standing in front of a cleaner's shop. Illya drove on past and pulled into the curb a block ahead where he could keep his eye on the car of the tall man in front of him.