13 - The Rainbow Affair (11 page)

"You have recently been in Devonshire, where you had a misfortune of some kind. You spent a short time there, and returned to London... yesterday. You came from London today to see me. Why?"

Taken off balance by the sudden question, Solo said, "That's very good. How do you do it?"

"From the looks of mudstains on your coat, I should imagine," Illya murmured.

"But I had it cleaned and pressed as soon as I got back."

Escott chuckled, a surprisingly deep rich sound. "Precisely how I placed you in London yesterday." He pointed to Napoleon's trouser cuff. "That particular type of crease is affected by a chain of dry cleaning establishments in London, and while the garment has obviously scarcely been worn a day since the pressing, the cloth lacks the slightly matted appearance of moderately long storage. I decided it was pressed yesterday. The slight tear in your coat indicates the misfortune, but the fact that it is only stitched up, not fully repaired, also indicates that it was quite recent. Presumably you would have had the damage taken care of on your return to London unless you only had a day - enough time for a dry-cleaning but not enough for invisible reweaving."

"Oh," said Napoleon inadequately. "How did you decide it was in Devonshire?"

"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.

It made an audible landing just to the west of the circle, and four men detached themselves from the shadows and ran across the grass towards it.

In seconds they had surrounded the case, which was perhaps three feet on a side. Apparently secure in the belief of solitude, they were caught quite unprepared when a sharp voice out of the darkness said, "All right - hold very still and raise your hands. All of you." At the same moment a powerful battery-operated floodlight pinned them to the spot. The four men stood frozen in their various positions, harshly lit against the blackness of the night.

Then, as though directed by a single control, all four of them leaped away into the darkness in different directions. Napoleon's first shot snapped through the space where one of them had been standing, and an instant later muzzle flashes flickered from the shadows. Illya swept the light across the plain, but no heads were to be seen above the grass. As two slugs whipped past him, he killed the light and dived for cover behind the nearest stone himself.

He wriggled over to Napoleon for a fast conference. In terse whispers, punctuated by occasional gunshots, they worked out a plan of action.

A few seconds later the floodlight appeared again, weaving and bobbing, picking out the hiding men. As the light rose higher and higher from the ground it swung about, bathing the short scrub grass in light. The Rainbow men stayed concealed, as Napoleon's sights traversed the area.

At the same time, Illya, having thrown the cord of the floodlight over the top of a lintle-stone so it dangled in the air, and hauled it up to perhaps twelve feet from the ground, was running silently in the opposite direction. Just beyond the Heel Stone to the east was a road, and just across the road their little two-seater was concealed. While Napoleon kept the opposing team under control, he could zip around among them, pick up the box and remove it.

He whipped the camouflage blanket away, vaulted into the seat and hit the starter. The engine raced, and rear wheels threw clouds of dirt as they tore at the ground for traction. In seconds he was around the end of the fence and bounding over the tussocky grass, his headlights stabbing at the sky and sweeping the ground. The dangling floodlight picked out the crate he was after, and he gunned the engine in second gear, hoping the defenders would be able to keep out of his way.

The car jerked to a halt between the light and the box. Illya leaped out the near side and hoisted the case. Three shots whipped by him, and a short burst from somewhere below the light clipped the tops of the grass blades.

The case was large enough to be clumsy, but weighed no more than fifty pounds. Illya crouched, gripped fingers under the edge, and lifted. For a moment he was silhouetted against the harsh floodlight, and the car lurched slightly as he dropped the case into the passenger seat. He took off again, swinging right, as a fusillade went off behind him and to his left. As he made a long U-turn, headlights out, the communicator in his pocket twittered. Steering one-handed, he fished it out and flipped it open. Napoleon's voice whispered in his ear.

"Illya - I've been pinned down by the four of them while you were loading up. I can hole up where I am, but you can't get in to me. Get that box somewhere safe, and I'll call for help."

The Russian clicked an acknowledgment. Solo could take care of himself, as had been noted, and under the circumstances the box of Thrush's latest developments was worth as much as a chance on his life.

A few slugs sang by like mosquitoes as Illya dropped into top gear, fighting the steering wheel and forcing the bucking car back towards the road.

Napoleon, at the same time, crouched behind a stone and stuffed cartridges into his long magazine. There seemed to be more than four men out there now - perhaps there had been another crew with a truck some where nearby. He had seen Illya go bounding away over the plain with the box in the left-hand seat, and there had been no concerted effort to chase him.

He glanced at his watch. The glowing hands read shortly past three. It would be dawn in another hour and a half, and darkness would no longer hide him. His last act before escaping from his former hiding place had been to disconnect the lamp and deactivate the battery; that was one weapon they wouldn't be using against him. He finished reloading his twenty-shot magazine and settled down to wait.

Some ninety minutes later Napoleon crouched once again behind a stone - the Heel Stone, the same that Illya had sprinted past on his way to the car. During the last hour and more, he had been harried and chivvied from place to place, dodging from one stone to another in an effort to avoid encirclement, retreating slightly. And now he was at the easternmost stone in the whole monument - a great rough boulder perhaps ten feet wide and twenty high, jutting up from the Wiltshire grass. A wide stretch of open space lay between him and the edge of the monument.

The stones were beginning to show lighter against the western sky, now, and the last of the stars were swallowed in a light mist which formed in the air. The Rainbow men - those who were left - could not rush him across the open ground, but he could not escape from the sanctuary of the standing stone. If he could only hold them off for a while longer...

Then he felt a warmth on the back of his neck, and turned his head, shading his eyes with the palm of a chilly hand. The sun had just cleared the horizon, and the mist was burning away. The golden rays were suddenly dazzling against the last wisps of night, and he looked down.