"Now," said Napoleon, "there will probably be a whole swarm of hornets raging over the island since we set fire to their nest. And obviously the only thing for us to do is go back to the ship."
"Try to sneak back into our comfortable cell and pretend we haven't been outside all evening?"
"I'm afraid not this late. Toujours l'audace, Illya. I think we should continue with our original plan."
"Well, as long as we're heading towards certain death, you won't mind if I check in at home."
"Not at all."
Alexander Waverly was startled slightly when his communications unit signaled him. Nothing less than a Code Seven call should reach him here. He answered, and heard a familiar cool voice murmur from the speaker.
"Agents Kuryakin and Solo reporting in, sir. The voice of the Wheel has been silenced, and we are on our way back to the ship for the gold. You may feel free to destroy the Wheel at your leisure."
The U.N.C.L.E. Chief felt a wave of relief wash over him—not only because he had been saved the time and expense of training two new top agents. But there was no emotion in his voice as he said, "Very good, Mr. Kuryakin. The Wheel has already been destroyed, for that matter, shortly after you gentlemen completed your lecture. If you had been a few minutes later in your broadcast, it would have passed entirely unheard. Will you need any help in securing the ship?"
"Despite my partner's characteristic confidence, sir," came the voice from the far South Atlantic, "I feel some help could definitely be useful. If you could attempt to contact the Egyptian High Command, and have them transmit orders to the Captain of the ship that he cooperate with us, we would have a much better chance of defending the vessel against the forces of Thrush. They are not likely to let two billion dollars in gold slip from their grasp without putting up a certain amount of fight."
"We should be able to establish communication with them, but at this hour it may be difficult to find anyone in authority quickly. Have you any more requests?"
"Just one. Sir, do you know where we are?"
"If you are on or near an island and the Egyptian aircraft carrier, you are at forty-six degrees south, fourteen degrees east. The island is San Juan de la Trine."
"Thank you. Oh, by the way, sir—we were able to save the airplane we came in."
"Very good. Keep me informed."
Kuryakin disconnected, and Waverly signaled his New York office. The operator there answered immediately.
"Get me the highest available official in the Egyptian High Command. I know it's three o'clock in the morning there—wake them up. Call me back as soon as you have the connection."
The Thrush helicopter handled very smoothly under Napoleon's hands as they swooped over the beach and clattered across the half-mile of water separating them from the ship.
He leaned back as Illya put the transceiver away and shouted over the noises of the motor, "Hey, this is fun! No wonder you always want to handle the controls."
"When we get back to New York you can take the qualifying test. Slow down, now—here comes the ship. You'd better set down on the flight deck."
"Right out in the open?"
"Toujours l'audace, as you said a few minutes ago. Besides, they certainly won't be expecting us; they'll think we're somebody important from the island."
"And come running out to greet us with an armed honor guard."
"Besides, frankly, I wouldn't trust you to land this on anything smaller with as little practice as you've had."
"For shame, Illya. Don't you know that I can do anything? It says so in my contract."
"All right, Napoleon, but it says in my contract that I can live forever, and I don't want to make a test case just at the moment. The flight deck."
"The flight deck," Solo agreed resignedly.
The landing was fairly neat after all—they didn't hit hard enough to bounce, and Napoleon feathered the blades like an expert. He threw the engine into idle, and bounded out of the cockpit ahead of his partner, calling loudly for the Captain.
"There has been an explosion on the island," he snapped to the nearest crewman as he imagined an important Thrush would, "and your orders must be overruled for the time being. Bring us your Captain."
Without looking back the two U.N.C.L.E. agents stalked across the wide bare deck towards the control structure. They were almost to the hatch when they heard footsteps trotting up behind them, and a voice said sharply, "What does this mean? My orders were to unload the cargo as quickly as possible and return..."
Napoleon wheeled neatly and faced the Captain over the barrel of a leveled automatic. "Your orders have been overruled," he said simply. "Now you will not unload the cargo. Instead you will order the entire crew to battle stations, and prepare to resist any attempt to take over the ship and its cargo by force."
The Captain froze where he was, one foot raised for another step. Slowly he lowered it to the deck. His face showed recognition of them as his rescued prisoners. "That will be difficult," he said harshly, "since it appears you have already done exactly that."
Napoleon shook his head. "Only for your own good," he said. "In a matter of minutes you will receive orders from Cairo to coöperate with us. But even sooner those men out there"—he gestured towards the island with his free hand—"will receive orders to attack and capture this ship, whatever the cost. If you successfully defend it against them, you will be rewarded as a hero. Right now, since you haven't heard from Cairo, we have taken the liberty of informing you of your superior's decision so that you may abide by it while there is still time."
"But this is entirely beyond regulation," the Captain began in a thoroughly understandable confusion. "That the High Command should so completely change its mind..."
"... is admittedly unlikely, but nevertheless is true," said Illya. "We are saving you from making a most grave mistake, though it is also true we must use force to do so. We will surrender our weapons as soon as the communication arrives from Cairo."
The Captain sighed and spread his arms helplessly. "As you say. I have no choice in the matter."
They stepped apart and let him pass between them, then followed him to the bridge. And there he stopped.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I am willing to compromise. I will order the preparations for unloading delayed for a period of ten minutes. If in that time my orders are reversed by higher authority I shall do as you suggest. If not, you may shoot me if you will, but with my dying breath I intend to order the mission completed."
"Half an hour," said Illya.
"Twenty minutes."
"Done," said Napoleon. "And what if the intended recipients of the cargo out there get impatient and try to take it by force?"
"If force is attempted, it will be met with force."
"Good. That's all we ask."
The order was given. A few members of the crew were appraised of the basic situation, and requested not to interfere. They were perfectly willing.
It was a matter of minutes before the radiophone signaled for attention. Illya picked it up.
"What is the meaning of this delay?" it barked angrily. "Proceed with the unloading operations at once!"