“Allee allee in free! We’re doing the ‘Bird’, the ‘Jailbird,”’ Andy shouted as he picked up an imaginary ball and chain on his leg and started dribbling the ball.
The U.N.C.L.E. agents dropped their jaws, and lowered their guns in disbelief. They had all tangled with Thrush before, but never with Thrushes quite like these. “You three kids get down and out of the way,” Matt ordered over the loud hailer. “You on the inside, come out with your hands raised.”
The flower children continued to dance, Mai putting all the curves of her healthy young body into her newly invented “Jailbird.” None of the U.N.C.L.E. agents noticed, until three Thrushes grabbed the children, that three more figures had come out of the maze.
“All right,” the self-styled leader of the three thugs commanded, “open up and let us through, or well kill the-whooof!”
It’s doubtful that “whoof” was really the intended target of the threat, but Mal’s elbow shooting into the thug’s diaphragm made any other pronouncement impossible. His lungs emptied, and instant unconsciousness followed. Andy stomped the instep of the Thrush holding him and gained release. He then double-teamed the thug holding Charlie. The two boys soon had that situation in hand; one of them wrapped himself around the thug’s legs, the other sat on his chest and arms and smashed his head into the ground.
Mai, in the meantime, wasn’t letting the third thug go unnoticed. He was just getting over his sore foot when the girl grabbed him by the ears and yanked his head down, to smash his nose on her forehead. She brought her knee up sharply between his legs, and left him curled in a fetal position.
Then, as if they had choreographed it, the three flower children fell back into the comic steps of the “Jailbird.”
Thrush bullets spat from the loading door, and Matt and the squad leader reacted instantly. Matt leaped, picked up Mai in one arm, snagged Charlie with his free hand and yanked the two to relative safety. Andy was plucked into the air and carried to the skirmish line by the second agent. U.N.C.L.E. returned fire with a vengeance, and two Thrushes tumbled out of cover. The firing let up and Matt scrambled to his feet, discovering he still had an armful of Mai.
“Are you a spy, too?” she cooed, kissing him on the forehead. “I just love spies.” Matt reluctantly disentangled and picked up the abandoned loud hailer.
“Come on out with your hands raised. You haven’t got a chance. We have the exits covered, and were ready to shoot if we have to, so let’s make it easy. He repeated this several times and then ordered his men into the attack.
Bullets flew, and four of the Thrushes tried to make a way over the side of the pier. They fell into the waiting firenets of U.N.C.L.E. and were wrapped up and put away with no trouble at all.
Inside the darkened pool room, Illya stopped to orient himself. The muggy heat of the room gave all surfaces a strange unshadowed appearance. Next to the pool* a darker blob stood out as the only cool thing in the room. The blob moved, and Illya raised his U.N.C.L.E. Special to cover Avery Porpoise.
“Stand very still, Mr. Porpoise,” the Russian said, moving constantly to keep the fat man from pinpointing the source of his voice. “We have your little place surrounded, and I have a pistol pointed at your fat little tummy.”
“My, Mr. Kuryakin,” Porpoise answered in a conversational tone, “you U.N.C.L.E. people are quite talented. I presume Mr. Solo is behind all this. I knew once he had effected his escape that I would have to leave my little retreat, but I must admit I doubted he could work up any sort of annoyance for me in so short a time. And you, Mr. Kuryakin, you appear to be able to walk through walls and see in the dark. Yes, you U.N.C.L.E. people are very talented.” Porpoise, under cover of his monologue, finished adjusting the straps and zippers of his wetsuit. Illya, circling wide to avoid the pool, kept continual watch on the dark blob.
“You had better step back from the pool’s edge, Mr. Porpoise. You’re right, I can see in the dark, and as I’ve mentioned, I’m aiming a pistol right at you. I’m not at all sure just what kind of ammunition I was provided with; it may only be mercy bullets, or it may be the real tiling. If you do what I say, neither of us will be forced to find out.”
He had brought himself to within a dozen feet of the fat villain. The deceptive shadowy quality of the cool rubber
suit kept him from really seeing what Porpoise was about.
“Oh dear,” Porpoise continued as he edged closer to the pool. “I do believe you’re upset with me over that little conversation we had earlier. Really, Mr. Kuryakin, there was no offense offered there. It’s just that I was in something of a hurry, and you U.N.C.L.E. people, among your other qualities, are noted for your lack of cooperation when being put to the question.”
“It wasn’t a matter of faith,” Illya corrected. “And I don’t hold it against you personally; it’s just that despite having broken your crossword code, it turns out we will need you to add the corroborative evidence against the five thousand or so people you have buying and selling Breelen’s common.” He was within three steps of Porpoise now.
“You lied to me about the crossword.” Porpoise sounded crestfallen. “You really do seem to have the upper hand. You can see in the dark, you have a gun, and you’ve broken my code. I must admit that compared to all this I can do very little. But there is one thing I can do.
“What is that?” Illya asked as he placed one hand on the fat man’s shoulder.
“This,” Porpoise answered as he twisted from Illya’s grip and plunged into the pool.
The U.N.C.L.E. agent swung his pistol to follow the fat form. What does he think he’s doing? He can’t stay down forever, even with a re-breather9 and even if he could we could always drain the pool.
The water splashed and rolled, showing activity below, but Porpoise failed to resurface. Illya peered into the pool to try and catch a glimpse of his quarry, but the infrared goggles caught the heat radiated from the pool’s surface, and gave^ it the appearance of a glowing, molten bath.
The activity ceased and the water settled. Illya completed a circuit of the pool, failing to spot any sign of the fat man. Tucking the U.N.C.L.E. Special in his belt, he dived into the pool, prepared to drag his prey out by his rolls of fat.
The pool was empty.
Illya dived twice more, doubting his senses. No matter what pattern he searched, there was no one in the pool. His searching fingers touched a wheel. Instantly he surfaced,
took several deep breaths followed by a shallow taking of air, and dived back to the same spot.
He turned the wheel and opened a circular door. Below there was an opening; the warm water kept him from seeing anything at all inches from his nose, so he dived deeper to search the opening out. A second wheel, six feet below, turned easily in his grip. Suddenly it was torn from him as he and the tons of water above were flushed through the open lock into the ocean below. Illya spun and bounced in the massive current. He slammed into a huge metal eggshelllike covering. He spun, senses blurry, and was swept down the metal egg and slammed into the ocean bed.
Porpoise, swimming up under the empty shell, was in a panic. His submersible craft gone, U.N.C.L.E. surrounding the pier, he was lost. The sudden blast of water from above shook the ovoid hangar, but the eddy pocket of water around him wasn’t disturbed. The thundrous noise of the swimming pool emptying into the sea shocked him back to sanity, and when he saw the limp form of Illya pounded into the sea floor his mind came up with a rational plan.
First he must kill the unfortunate Kuryakin, then he could swim at right angles to the pier until he was beyond U.N.C.L.E/s cordon. Without him, U.N.C.L.E. would have no case against the Thrushes actually involved in the buying and selling of Breelen s. He resolved not to be taken alive; even in death he would win. For U.N.C.L.E. couldn’t reverse what had already passed, and Thrush already owned more than a third of Breelen’s.