There was a distant humming which rose and fell, and a fine dust filled the air. Rainbow raised his voice slightly. "Last minute precautions. I have no idea what form their attack will take, but I do expect a direct assault on the light. We should be able to defend against any reasonable offensive move, unless they resort to using tactical atomic weapons."
"Not here," said Illya positively. "Radiation monitoring stations all over. It would attract a tremendous amount of attention."
"Well, we're reinforcing our structure and preparing to withstand a possible siege; we may be able to hold off the Wogs after all."
"But they aren't likely to stop. You may have to evacuate."
"Leave my stronghold just as it is becoming livable? I may be of British stock, but I am not overly fond of castle life; the cold and damp are most unpleasant. Now it is nearly comfortable. And after all, a man's castle is his home. Besides, I expect Thrush to slack off once you are safely away."
"Possibly," said Illya. "Possibly."
Rainbow looked at his wrist watch. "Nine-thirty already! We must have a bite of supper. I have a great deal more to tell you, and the hours are passing far too quickly. Come - I will have trays sent up from the galley. Would you care for a turn around the rock before we get back to work?"
Napoleon shook his head. "There'll be time enough for exercise in the morning." He turned thoughtfully to Illya. "Under the circumstances," he said, "I feel we should conclude our investigation of Mr. Rainbow, and concentrate upon the unexpected angles that have opened before us."
The Russian nodded. "Succinctly put, Napoleon. I agree."
Their host enjoyed this bit of byplay, and returned with them to his office. In the following hours, they gradually came into an open exchange of data on Thrush, with the U.N.C.L.E. agents adding less-secret items to Rainbow's invaluable file. After midnight, Illya started taking written notes.
Thrush was not the sole topic of conversation. Rainbow would occasionally drift into a story from his military career, under Montgomery in the North African campaign, in Palestine after the War, in Korea and other combat zones later.
"Where in Korea?" Napoleon asked.
"Wonsan," Rainbow said. "Where were you?"
"Up and down the other coast, mostly. Mokpo to Seoul."
"It was a rotten little war, wasn't it?" There was silence on both sides for a moment, as Illya looked uncomfortably from one to the other. Solo returned first, and said, "Incidentally, your data on Thrush's political participation was most interesting."
"Indeed," said Illya. "I'm somewhat hurt to find them siding with the Russians so often."
"So is the Kremlin, comrade. That's probably why you're here."
"Gentlemen, before we part I would like to offer you an insight. Your organization is evenly matched with Thrush as things stand now. Thrush is small, mobile, flexible, decentralized. U.N.C.L.E. is large, powerful, comparatively sluggish and regulation restricted. For this reason Thrush has the initiative, striking wherever it will. If Thrush grew to develop sufficient strength to defeat you, it would also be that much slower and easier for you to hit. Conversely, you cannot speed up enough to follow them without changing their entire structure. You would also need to seize the initiative. Your position vis-à-vis Thrush is much the same as theirs with reference to me. You may take this for what it is worth - a thought late in the night, perhaps born of inspiration, perhaps of the bourbon."
He tipped the shared bottle over his glass, and leaned back into the chair. "The hour is late, and you must be leaving before dawn. Would you care for a short nap here? We will have a boat made ready for you, and you will leave about four o'clock."
"We hate to talk and run..." said Napoleon automatically.
"…but under the circumstances," said Illya, and they let it go at that as Johnnie tapped a key on his intercom.
"Harry?" he said. "Do it." He released the key and rose.
"I leave you here for your nap. The last of the bourbon was laced with another of Thrush's chemical wonders - it will put you comfortably to sleep in the next minute or two, and you will wake up refreshed in two hours, with time for a quick breakfast. Good night. I'd like to get to my quarters before it takes effect." And he closed the door.
Napoleon looked at Illya and said, "I hope he makes it."
"He will. He held off drinking his until a minute or two after we'd finished ours. I remember thinking at the time..." His voice faded away, but Napoleon didn't notice. He wouldn't notice anything for two hours.
Shortly after four Napoleon stood in the gasoline-and-salt smelling area of the concealed clock. A large piece of camouflaged steel protected the anchorage, where several oddly assorted craft bobbed gently on the swells rolling in under the sea door, which was raised slightly to admit the breeze. He and Illya still held a last cup of steaming tea, and were bundled in most of their seafaring gear from the trip over. At their feet an impossibly tiny blue-gray inflated rubber liferaft rose and fell. Attached somehow behind it was a motor.
"Practically invisible to radar," Johnnie was saying, "and quite invisible to an air-borne eye from any altitude over three hundred feet when the matching canopy is drawn over the passenger area."
"Rather a distinctive color," said Solo. "I'd hate to try it in the Fijis on a clear day."
"Of course they are customized for the area in which they expect to see service. Another of Thrush's little gifts." He looked proudly around the cavern. "This," he said, "I have done without help. My ideas, my plans, my money and organization. Thrush has never given me anything really valuable," he continued, turning back to them. "Nothing but simple gadgets - like bright beads to a savage." His face clouded over, and he clasped his hands behind his back. "You should never have wasted your time and talents on me, but instead concentrate on this mob of foreigners who are trying to take over the world. This is what you're supposed to be doing, isn't it? It should certainly take precedence over chasing down a simple, honest, hard-working train robber." The clouds cracked, and he smiled at his own final line. Then he shook hands with each of them. "Mr. Solo - Mr. Kuryakin. It has been a true pleasure meeting both of you, even under such trying circumstances. I hope we may work together sometime, against our mutual enemy."
The two U.N.C.L.E. agents shot a glance at each other, and read agreement. Napoleon cleared his throat. "Ah, it's not impossible," he said slowly. "It might even be profitable."
"Quite. We must keep in touch."
"Quite," echoed Illya.
A turtle-necked dock worker hurried up to Rainbow. "Ten after, chief. Radio room says there's a call for you from somebody about an account coming due."
"Thanks, Bill," said Rainbow, and turned to Illya and Napoleon. "Time for you to leave. I'll have the lights dimmed and the door lifted for you. The tradespeople can wait until I've seen you off."
Quickly and cautiously they climbed over into the swaying little boat and started the engine. Rainbow said, "Compass?" and Illya held it up. "Remember the camouflage shroud," added their host, "and bon voyage."
He lifted an arm, and the lamps all over the cavern dimmed until the thin space of sky seemed light. Then the space widened as the door rose slowly, and Illya fed fuel to the engine. The outboard muttered behind them, and they hurried forward. The waves caught them just before they passed the wall of the cavern. The swell was low enough not to interfere with their propeller's functioning, but they rose and fell a considerable amount as the tide swept past them, running into the mouth of the cavern. Napoleon looked down at the compass as the disguised door eased closed behind them and then looked up at the sky.