But this particular door held a most special significance. Behind it was the office of the chief of U.N.C.L.E. operations in New York, the office from which policy was dictated, from which decisions effecting the nations of the world were reached, from which the wheels of the entire U.N.C.L.E. organization were set into motion.
It was the office of Alexander Waverly, one of only five men who formed Section 1—Policy and Operations. The door opened and Solo and Illya stepped inside.
Alexander Waverly was somewhat of a legend, and a mysterious one at that. It was said that he had spent some fifty years in British and American intelligence, but no one knew this for a fact and Waverly never offered any enlightenment. Though his accent was British his speech was punctuated with the inflections a man acquires when he has lived his life in many countries.
He was fond of rough tweeds and pipes. He had absolute recall of vital facts and information, but he had extreme difficulty in remembering the names of the men he saw every day.
Outwardly, he resembled a tired and elderly bookkeeper, eyes heavily wrinkled at the corners as if he had spent his entire life squinting at columns of figures in a ledger. His appearance belied the quick deadlines of his mind, the respect and obedience he neither commanded nor asked for, but which he unfailingly received.
It was impossible to tell by looking at him what went on behind those gray eyes, as Solo and Illya well knew. Waverly turned one of the sheets of paper before him face down and scratched his thinning, but neatly-combed gray hair absently.
"Bad news," he said without looking up "Umm, yes. Bad news indeed."
Napoleon Solo sneezed—twice.
Waverly looked up. "Are you catching a cold, Mr. Solo?"
Solo sniffed. Illya said with a faint smile, "The mountain air doesn't agree with him."
"Yes," Waverly said. "Quite so." He picked up a letter opener from his desk and scratched at the blackened bowl of his pipe. "I have just been reading the chemical reports of the sample you gentlemen sent along."
"Were they able to analyze it?" Solo asked.
"Analyze it?" Waverly said. "Yes certainly, Mr. Solo. Of course."
"What were its properties?"
"Why salt, Mr. Solo. I expect you know that already."
"Yes sir?" Solo said patiently. "But what I meant was, were they able to determine what was added to the water to cause the crystallization?"
"Not as yet," Waverly said. "No. All that has been learned to date is that the salt is genuine, not a synthetic composition with fresh water as its base."
Illya frowned. "Then there wasn't any trace of foreign substance in that chip of salt?"
"No, Mr. Kuryakin," Waverly said. "None at all."
"That is bad news," Solo said.
"Eh?" Waverly said.
"Bad news," Solo said, sniffing. "You were saying that just a moment ago."
"No, no, Mrs. Solo," Waverly said. "I was referring to something quite different."
He shuffled through the papers on his desk again, found several sheets bound together with a brad, and peered at the top page. He handed it across the desk to Solo.
"Section III's weekly report, gentlemen."
Section III—Communications and Research—was commanded by red-headed May Heatherly, a very pretty and capable young lady. Part of her job was to compile each week a report, gleaned from the heads on U.N.C.L.E. agencies throughout the world, on current THRUSH activity and movement. These reports were invaluable to Waverly and the other members of Section I in mapping out counter-offensives and strategy in U.N.C.L.E. ceaseless duel with the power-mad THRUSH Council and their quest for world domination.
Solo read through the report. When he had finished, he handed it to Illya, frowning. "Nothing," he said.
"Exactly, Mr. Solo," Waverly said. "THRUSH activity is at a virtual standstill. I trust you realize the import of this?"
"Yes," Illya said. "The entire THRUSH operation has been mobilized into a single objective, a major offensive."
I daresay," Waverly said. "Each time THRUSH has become dormant, some sort of master scheme has been in the offing. I should think that this time will prove to be no different.
"Do you have any idea what they might be planning?"
"Not at the moment," Waverly said. "However, what you gentlemen witnessed in Oregon rather smacks of THRUSH work, wouldn't you say?"
"We had that though," Solo said.
"There have been other developments as well," Waverly said. "I expect you will be interested."
He stood and clamped his cold pipe between his teeth. He pressed a button on his desk, and then led them to the circular briefing table with the movable top at one end of the room. When they had seated themselves, a panel located on the wall slid back, to reveal a large screen.
The screen was operated by May Heatherly in Section 111. Presently, the gray screen lighted and an aerial film clip flashed in view. May Heatherly's voice came to them through the intercom network.
"this film was taken early this morning from an U.N.C.L.E. helicopter, three hours after we had received a report similar to the one from Oregon. It is a small lake in Northern Minnesota, in the foothills behind a resort community."
Illya and Solo and Waverly stared at the screen. Thick forest land surrounded the lake; the entire scene held a close resemblance to what Solo and Illya had seen in Kamewa. The film was in color, and the vivid green of the trees and the pale blue of the sky stood in bold contrast to the gleaming bleached whiteness of the lake itself. It lay silent and unmoving, like a pocket of fresh snow.
"Rock salt," Solo said softly.
"A team of U.N.C.L.E. agents attempted to reach the lake to investigate further" May Heatherly's voice said. "But a large rock slide had blocked the only road yesterday. They were forced to make a lengthy detour, and when they reached the lake this is what they found."
Another strip of film flashed onto the screen, this one having been shot from the sore of the lake. Placid blue water had replaced the glaring white of the aerial pictures.
Two succeeding bits of film were shown then, one of the tine dam in a Canadian province near Quebec, and the other of a lake in Alabama. Although both showed only blue water, May Heatherly explained that identical chemical changes had taken place in each. By the time U.N.C.L.E. investigators arrived, there had been no traces of the transformation, but eye-witness accounts attested to the validity of the report.
In each of the four wide-spread cases, including Kamewa, the bodies of water had been small, isolated, and accessible only be a single road, which had been rendered impassable by land or rock slides a day or two earlier.
When the screen had gone dark, ending the commentary, Illya said, "What do you suppose all of this means?"
"A definite pattern, Mr. Kuryakin," Waverly said. "THRUSH is no doubt carrying out a series of tests. They have devised some type of chemical which is capable of converting pure water into hardened salt, as well as the antidote which reverses the process, and are testing its capacities. Preparatory to the major offensive we were speaking about, I should think."
Solo tugged at his ear. "This chemical THRUSH apparently has takes several hours to crystallize water, but the antidote reverses almost immediately. I shudder to think of what they might be planning to use it for."