"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."
"You missed an earlier assumption," Illya replied. "We can probably find the valves if we can get to the top of gas bags. Shall we start moving?"
Chapter 13
"There Must Be an Operator's Manual In Here Somewhere"
Napoleon hesitantly released one of the girders and reached upward. After a second, he located another handhold and decided he could risk moving one of his feet. As he cautiously lifted his foot and felt about for something solid to put it on, Illya voice came from several feet above him.
"Come on up. There's a catwalk up here, and I think there's some light about a hundred feet toward the front."
Napoleon said nothing, only concentrated on climbing. After a minute, he was standing relatively upright on what felt like a metal strip about a foot wide. Looking toward the forward end of the dirigible, he could make out a faint blob of light. A few feet n front of him, something—presumably Illya—was fuzzily outlined against it.
"I'm here," Napoleon announced. "Keep in mind that despite what we're standing on, I'm not a cat."
"Just follow me. There are plenty of handholds on both sides. The netting around the gas bags is probably the safest thing to grab for in moments of panic, however. Less likely to damage yourself on that than on the outer frame. And remember, if you miss the frame, you can fall right through the fabric covering."
"I'm touched by your concern. Where are we going?"
"Up to the nose and back down through the center if we're lucky," Illya said.