"Come now. If I gave away everything I should soon lose my value. But you still have not stated your business with me. You are not reporters come for an interview on the latest large robbery. You are not from the Yard; neither of you is English." He was mumbling to himself now, having apparently lost the thread of the conversation. "Besides, the Yard scorns my advice as they have always done. Yet you are connected in some way with law enforcement. These robberies are of no interest to Interpol. The only other organization that would mix nationalities in a team would be the U.N.C.L.E..."
His voice rose again, leaving him apparently unaware of having spoken his thoughts. "You are from the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. This means that my theory as to the disposal of the loot was essentially correct - it was sent abroad by diplomatic carrier."
Illya's mouth was slightly open in amazement, but only for a few seconds. Napoleon stepped into the moment's silence. "Mr. Escott, my name is Napoleon Solo, and this is my partner, Illya Kuryakin. As you have surmised, we are indeed from the U.N.C.L.E., and we are here in regard to the Royal Mail robbery and the recent Rothschild gold robbery."
"In other words, the Rainbow Gang." The old man leaned forward and plucked a pipe from the table. While the effects of his words filtered through the room, he filled, packed and ignited it.
This time Illya recovered first. "You were recommended to us by a friend of Mr. Solo's who held a very high opinion of your abilities. Your parlor tricks are most impressive, but I frankly doubt…"
"You are grasping at straws, in other words." The late afternoon sunlight came straight in through a dusty window and spotlighted his face against the dimness of the room as he leaned forward. "Pray continue. I am so seldom consulted these days that I welcome recognition even in desperation. Tell me the exact nature of your interests - spare no detail. I am no longer able to conduct my investigations in person, but my mind remains keen."
Napoleon and Illya looked at each other, and the latter shrugged slightly and the former nodded, and together they began with the data they had collected in the last few days. Escott listened attentively, nodding occasionally, through the entire recital, then asked a few questions, touching on points he felt had been inadequately covered. During this cross-examination the sun had set, and oil lamps were lit when Napoleon's pocket transceiver twittered, and he excused himself to answer it.
"Solo here."
"Section Two, London. There's to be an airdrop of assorted hardware from Thrush to Rainbow tomorrow night. Sources are unable to establish location. We'll keep you informed. London out."
Napoleon folded his transceiver and replaced it in his pocket with a thoughtful expression. Illya finished clearing up a detail about the house - or more specifically the room - in which he bad met Johnnie Rainbow, and looked up.
"Bad news from home?" Lie asked.
"Not good. The London office got word of a delivery of devilish devices to Johnnie sometime tomorrow night - they don't know when and they don't know where. All they know is it's to be an airdrop."
"Time will be between one and three A.M., the morning of the 19th. The location will probably be in the southern part of England - the terrain is better. The target will probably be near something easily identifiable on radar, but far from major habitation." The old man's voice was calm.
There was silence for several seconds. Illya cut it short with one word: "Stonehenge."
"Quite likely," said Escott.
"Among the papers on Rainbow's desk there were several maps, including one of Stonehenge. It was mostly covered, but I saw the corner with the name. I think it's worth a try."
"So do I." Solo turned to Escott. "I doubt if there will be another train out of here tonight, but we'll leave for wherever Stonehenge is first thing in the morning. Do you have enough data to start formulating a theory?"
"I never theorize. I merely examine, correlate and reason. But I have enough data to begin work. If you could give me a list of the maps you saw on Rainbow's desk it could help."
"I think I can remember most of them. I was mentally recording as much as I could in the short time was there."
"Capital. An excellent habit."
Napoleon interrupted one more time. "What time did you say it would be?"
"Between one and three in the morning. The moon is just past its first quarter, and will set about one A.M. If the airbase is nearby, the drop will arrive shortly after moonset. If they are as far away as France, they may take two hours to make the journey each way."
"But... no later than three?"
Escott sighed. "Dawn comes before five A.M. They would want to be safely back at their base by that time."
"Oh, of course," said Napoleon. "That's really quite elementary."
Escott winced visibly and returned to Illya.
Chapter 10
How the Heel Stone Proved an Achilles Heel, and Napoleon Solo Crossed Salisbury Plain on a Bicycle.
A SLIGHT OVERCAST dimmed the stars, and the moon, as advertised, had disappeared shortly after midnight. The silence of the night was unbroken, and in the faint glow from the sky tall black shapes reared in ancient stillness.
The eldritch sarcens and cromlechs of Stonehenge stood patiently against the night sky, hinting at mysteries older than civilization, waiting for the world to bring them to sunlight again.
Napoleon and Illya sat in moderate comfort in hiding between two great standing stones. They had come with great stealth as soon as darkness was fully upon the face of the land, and had waited many hours since then. About two o'clock they became aware of surreptitious noises, as of several men attempting to move quietly and mostly succeeding. Because of the possibility of the expected aircraft using infrared to locate its target, the U.N.C.L.E. agents did not have similar equipment - an IR floodlight shows up quite as clearly on the enemy's scope as a real one to the naked eye. Illya was quietly regretting the lack of opportunity to return to London and pick up a light-amplifier, which operated undetectably. But at the time, Stonehenge had seemed only the most likely of several possible locations, and the chance of it paying off had not been worth the extra effort, Now it was about to, and they had only minimal gear themselves.
Their job would be to interfere with the airdrop such an extent that they could capture the prize - whatever it was. Casualties or prisoners from the other side didn't matter at this point. It was a simple matter of hijacking the cargo.
Straining their vision across the darkness, Napoleon and Illya watched while a few small pieces of equipment were unpacked and adjusted - apparently signals for the expected aircraft. And shortly before three o'clock it came.
The distant drone of an engine gradually grew to point where the hearing could take conscious notice it, and with a bit of cautious whispering and pointing the two U.N.C.L.E. agents were able to pick it through a break in the clouds.
Across the circle of stone, a light flashed three times, casting deep featureless shadows across the faces of the stones. The plane gave no sign, high above them, as it approached, but continued on its course directly over the monument. Then, just as it passed head, something small and white appeared far below it faintly against the sky. It swayed and grew slowly, drifting towards them. It resolved gradually into a parachute with a crate of some kind swinging beneath it.