"Who also works for U.N.C.L.E.," Armden said, unimpressed. "I used to be a friend of his, until he was subverted by his other alleged friends." He laughed shortly. "I always thought he would have better sense than to be taken in by your kind."
"But you also used to work for us," Napoleon pointed out. "You seem to be the one who has changed, not Dr. Morthley."
Armden's face froze for a second, then, as if something had clicked in his mind, he began speaking rapidly. "That was before I knew the truth about you. Now that I know, I'm through. You'll never get me back into that den of murderers!"
"Interesting," Napoleon commented, watching Armden. "How did you find out the truth?"
"I'm sure you'd like to know," Armden said. "Then you could stop other people from learning about you. But you're too late; it's becoming common knowledge. Now then, I have better things to do with my time than waste it on you. If you will leave, I can get back to my real friends."
Armden turned his back on them and sat down with finality. The other two men smiled approvingly at him. "Don't waste our time," one of them said. "Run back to Mr. Waverly and tell him that U.N.C.L.E. doesn't fool us out here."
The two agents glanced at one another. Mrs. Armden stood behind them, looking nervous.
"That would seem to be that," Illya remarked.
Napoleon nodded agreement and turned to go. Mrs. Armden scurried along the hallway and opened the door. Back on the porch, Napoleon asked, "How long has this been going on? You said something about his acting strangely before he received our letters."
"I can't say when it began; I was sick and he was worried, and neither of us was behaving normally. I noticed some – oddities - in his actions. Whatever it was, I just assumed that he had a problem at work. There wasn't anything really definite until the letters arrived. Since then, it seems to have been getting steadily worse."
"And he's never been any more specific than he was tonight?"
"Never." She laughed nervously.
Napoleon looked thoughtful. "If we're going to find out anything useful, it's going to take more than this evening. Can you recommend a good hotel, Mrs. Armden?"
"There's only one hotel in town. It's just north of the square." She pointed vaguely northeast.
"Thank you," Napoleon said. "We'll be in touch with you again before the weekend is over."
She didn't seem overjoyed at the prospect, but she managed a weak smile as they walked to the car. Napoleon motioned Illya into the driver's seat and pulled out his communicator as he slid into the passenger's side.
"Yes, Mr. Solo?" Waverly's voice came to them as the car pulled away from the curb. "I've been waiting to hear from you. Have you communicated with Dr. Armden?"
"I don't think that's quite the right term. We talked with him briefly, but I don't think we communicated with him."
"That's hardly unusual in the world today, Mr. Solo. I sometimes think that's one of our biggest problems; great amounts of talk but no communication. But that's neither here nor there, is it? What seems to be the matter with Dr. Armden?"
"It's hard to say," Napoleon began. "It was a little like talking to a politician who has a set of platitudes but no real knowledge. We couldn't get him to give a direct answer." He recounted their meeting with Armden and his friends.
"So the unfriendliness isn't restricted to Dr. Armden," Waverly mused. "I was afraid of that. Do you know if these other people have influenced him, or have they, too, been acted on by some mysterious force?
"Mrs. Armden gave the impression that no one individual was responsible for influencing her husband. We plan to stay here overnight and investigate further. Tomorrow will be Saturday, and we can reach most of the people we want to see. Perhaps we'll have more definite information for you then."
"Very well, Mr. Solo. There is one other person you might particularly want to speak to. Dr. Arnold Bennett is also employed by Falco, and he also once did some work for us." Waverly paused for a second before continuing. "Approach Dr. Bennett with caution, and keep me informed of the results. This begins to look a trifle sinister."
"Thrush, sir?" Napoleon speculated.
"Perhaps. It wouldn't do any harm to find if Dr. Armden's dislike for U.N.C.L.E. is accompanied by a corresponding fondness for Thrush. However, I don't want my agents to work on the assumption that Thrush is at the root of every problem. There are other inimical forces in the world. Remember to keep an open mind, Mr. Solo."
"Are there any local agents we could contact for information?" Napoleon asked.
Waverly thought for a moment. "The nearest major office would be Chicago, I believe. We have an office in Fort Wayne, but it's quite small; only one full-time agent. I seem to recall one or two part-time agents near Midford; we have several scattered throughout northern Indiana. Their duty is primarily information gathering, but they might be able to render you some assistance, particularly since information is precisely what we are after here. I'll have a check made, and give you a list of names and addresses the next time you check in."
"Right, sir," Napoleon said. "I'll report in as soon as we've talked with Dr. Bennett. Solo out.
Napoleon replaced the communicator in his pocket and settled back in the seat. Another typical U.N.C.L.E. vacation, he thought. Relax and enjoy yourself, and keep your eyes open for any Thrushes who happen to be vacationing in your vicinity.
Chapter 2
"The Hardest Part Is Finding A Rose With Hips"
DR. BENNETT LIVED ON a street bordering the Midford University campus. Illya insisted that they walk and enjoy the Hoosier autumn. They spotted Bennett's house from a block away, Bennett out on the lawn.
The man looked up from a lawn mower as they approached. "You still around?" he asked sharply. "What are you after now?"
"You're Dr. Arnold Bennett?" Napoleon asked.
"Yes, if it's any of your business."
"We understand you've done work for U.N.C.L.E. in the past, Dr. Bennett. We wondered why your attitude is so different now."
"I've come to my senses, is all," Bennett said impatiently.
"What's your opinion of Thrush?" Illya put in quickly.
"Thrush?" Bennett looked at them uncomprehendingly. "I'm a chemist, not a birdwatcher. Good day!" He gave the mower a vicious shove that almost ran it over Illya's foot, then turned and moved away across the lawn.
"I'm glad he doesn't have a power mower," Illya remarked as he watched Bennett disappear around the house into the back yard.
Napoleon was looking across the street at the campus. "Remember what Mrs. Armden said last night, about sometimes thinking the whole town had changed? Let's check someone from out of town."
"And let's hope Armden and friends haven't been broadcasting our description," Illya said as they started across the street.
In the middle of a small area of trees and carefully mowed grass stood a middle aged, portly gentleman, peering about with a distracted air. He looked up as the two agents approached.
"Have either of you gentlemen chanced to see a stray wombat this morning?" he asked, smiling uncertainly.
Napoleon looked startled. "I don't think so; what does a wombat look like?"
"Like a groundhog with delusions of grandeur," Illya explained and turned to their new acquaintance. "No, we haven't seen one. Is one missing?" Napoleon remained silent and made believe he knew what a groundhog looked like.