“We’ll close out his file well enough,” Napoleon said with a frown. “Now that Illya has, if you’ll excuse the expression, solved the crossword puzzle. I only wish he could have managed the timing a bit better; I’d really rather not have spent the last few hours the way I did.”
“Speaking of timing, Mr. Solo,” his chief answered, a touch of concern coloring his usually dry tones. “I believe Mr. Kuryakin entered Mr. Porpoise’s establishment just as you were making your exit. You both might have improved upon your timing. Further, and more to the point,” said Waverly, “is the distressing lack of communication in the past hour. At last word he was on the beach at Coney Island, intending to head into the Space House to rescue you. Naturally we couldn’t risk contacting him when you showed up in such abused condition, but it is well past the alarm point; he certainly should have called in before this.”
“I came out a side door, sir, and he may well have been taken by the search party that was sent out to get me. I didn’t know he was there. If he went in and didn’t report, they probably have him; some of the residents of that fun house are far from slouches, and the place itself is wired for sight, sound and general unpleasantness. May I suggest the obvious course is a full-force attack on the pier, to retrieve Illya if he’s there, and wipe out the nest?”
“As Chief Enforcement Officer, that is precisely your area of responsibility, Mr. Solo. From the information we have been able to gather, you will be removing the core of this stock market fiasco at the same time. You may use my desk, if you wish.” With a gesture, Waverly took one of his pipes and began pacing the room, tamping it. Napoleon slipped into the vacated chair of command, and tripped a switch on the communications panel before him.
“Yes, sir?” said a girl’s voice from elsewhere in the building.
“Solo,” he said. “Get me the Enforcement Duty Agent, and while I’m on the line with him please find the supervisor of our STEP coordinating team and ask him to come into this office for a word with me.”
“Yes, sir.” ,
“Two other things. Alert the helicopter to stand by for
me starting thirty minutes from now for a run to Long Island; and if Mr. Kuryakin reports at any time, interrupt me immediately and tie him in here.”
The Enforcement Agent standing the night duty was delighted to talk to his superior. Napoleon smiled for the first time with real excitement as he felt the enthusiasm surging through the phone.
“Matt, I want your squad to meet me in ten minutes down in the Communications area, in laboratory 17C. We’re going to get Illya out of a jam, and I want to brief you on it down there.”
“Yes, sir!” snapped the communicator. “We’ll be there with bells on, chief; all we’ve done all week is shine our gear, except for the day-men who backed up your action in the brokerage. Our night crew is getting pretty itchy.”
Napoleon looked up from the communicator to greet the long-faced U.N.C.L.E. man entering Waverly’s office.
“I’m sorry not to be more familiar with your work, Dr. Angers,” he said, offering a seat while Waverly stood by, watching. “I must confess most of my activities have been confined to dry land. Let me outline our current problem, and ask your help in solving it.”
Spinning the conference table, Napoleon placed a map of Coney Island in front of Angers. “We plan to assault this amusement pier by land, with a standard operation by my Enforcement personnel. However, I’m afraid this attack will fail in one important respect, in that it will give the Thrush contingent time to kill Illya Kuryakin. We have reason to believe he’s held captive there, but Thrush has had no incentive to harm him yet; we don’t want to give them a chance.
“Now, I escaped from the fun house atop this pier via a trapdoor opening into the sea. This exit is designed as a fall onto a bed of knives, and it’s safe to assume Thrush would be taken by surprise if we entered that way. I visualize the whole thing starting with men placed under the trapdoor-can you get me in as far as that starting point?”
Angers looked to Waverly and Solo for permission, and started loading a big curved pipe that made his face look even longer and sadder. “I believe I know how to get you in, and at the same time stop anyone else who might try to
get out.” His audience waited while he pulled on the well-used old pipe, examining the map with one eye. He looked up from the map and analyzed the visible bandages on Solo, comparing them with tie calm story of escaping the death-trap. “If you can get up past those knives, I can get you to the pier, and mount a solid guard while you do it.
“We have men training in conjunction with the Navy’s Submerged Test Engineering Platform operation. They were working together at the Brooklyn Naval Yard facility until military spending was curtailed and the Yard had to be closed; thereafter, the Navy has been using our undercover training grounds as a base for STEP in this area.
“One of our men has been accepted by STEP’s marine mammals, and now serves part-time as their trainer. If we didn’t have him there, the Navy would probably furnish enough men; but he’s one of U.N.C.L.E.‘s best frogmen, and I know he can position four harbor seals around that pier in an iron pattern. You couldn’t slip past his seals even if you knew where they were. He, and one of the animals, can take you in from the sea to any point you name. While you’re about your business, they’ll be on guard waiting for word.”
“Great. I can get to Jamaica Bay in a few minutes by copter. While I’m getting my land team ready, I’d appreciate your help in alerting STEP’S U.N.C.L.E. operatives that we want to mount a top priority mission within the hour.”
As Napoleon stood up, Waverly spoke.
“You’ll lead them yourself, then?” he asked. He didn’t need to mention the night’s work and the ravages Napoleon had sustained so far.
“As Chief Enforcement Officer…”
“Mr. Solo, I know your responsibilities. But I hardly need point out that you’ve put your body through a rather brutal evening and it could probably use some rest. An undersea expedition just now would be most difficult, finishing up with an unpredictable but potentially dangerous reception at the hands of Thrush.”
“But I’ve come down through that trapdoor, and I know exactly what it looks like. I know the layout of that Space House, and the size force we’re likely to encounter. You can
send another man in if you wish, sir, but in my opinion a little local anesthetic will numb these cuts. This display isn’t a shaving nick compared to what those Thrushes will do to Illya if we muff our attack.”
Waverly cleared his throat, frowning. “There is no question of removing you from the operation, unless you elect to place yourself on sick call. If your condition degenerates to the point that someone else must perform that service for you, it will be the first time in your career. You must pick the man best suited for the job, and I can do nothing but remind you not to involve the United States Navy in any way.” Waverly and Solo looked at each other, and both understood.
As Napoleon left, Waverly continued to work on his pipe and to pace. He waved to Dr. Angers to sit in his chair, and the pacing continued while Angers made arrangements for the task force Napoleon had requested.
Below, Napoleon strode into laboratory 17C to find Matt and eight men sitting and smoking, waiting for him. He greeted all of them, and went right to the end of the room where Illya had demonstrated the 315 data-display optical device. He stared at it for a few seconds, and then started moving his hands over the console as Illya had done. Power came up, and he got a picture.