Текст книги "The Rainbow Affair"

Автор книги: David McDaniel

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The man in the gray suit rose slowly to his feet. Napoleon and Illya could not see his face, but his voice was tightly controlled. "We have indeed missed an understanding. We will have those men from you one way or another, and you may never control Europe if you persist in your stubbornness."

"I have no desire to control Europe. They probably deserve whatever troubles they have, and I'd rather let them fight. England holds all I shall ever want or need." He smiled. "The Bank of England, the Crown Jewels, the British Museum... I am satisfied with much less than the whole world, but I will not part with what I have."

The Thrush picked up his bowler and his briefcase. "If you are not willing to work with us, Mr. Rainbow, you certainly cannot be allowed to continue working at cross-purposes. We are a worldwide organization, and for a local operation to interfere with our larger plans is unheard of. If this sounds like a threat, please accept it as such."

Rainbow stood firmly, but his face clouded again. "Damme, sir, if I will give over to a bunch of heaven-forsaken foreigners. The finest police force in the world has been unable to run me to earth – you found me only by a stroke of fortune. You could not stop me and my men if it were to be an all-out war. My men are of the people, and can move among them at will. You will find few good men willing to join your organization in this country."

The visitor remained unmoved. "You will contact us as you have been instructed within the next twelve hours," he said. "Four-thirty tomorrow morning. Before that time you will have agreed to a price for these men. There is no alternative."

He turned and left. A messenger closed the door, and Johnnie Rainbow sank slowly into his seat. After several seconds he spoke again in a normal voice. "Mr. Solo – Mr. Kuryakin. Come down to the office again, please."

They descended the narrow stairs and rejoined their host. He looked up as they entered, and a trace of strain showed around his eyes.

"I give you my word, gentlemen, that this was not prearranged. Thrush is indeed pecking at my heels." He gestured them back to their seats, and continued. "It was by no means altruistic that I withheld you from their grasp. My ancestry is Scots, and wanton wastefulness is alien to my nature. I believe Thrush merely wanted to establish mastery over me. But I will not give way to them. I consider them not only melodramatic to the point of foolishness, but far too enamored of simple violence for my tastes. I have reached a point, gentlemen, where I need no longer take orders from men whom I do not respect.

"Thrush may be able to defeat me – they have the power, certainly, but I question their ability." He smiled briefly. "I expect to take a lot of killing. At this moment, since this is apparently to be a war, I must do all I can to inflict damage on my enemy before his impending attack. I have an advantage over him because of the extreme amorphousness of my operation. I have less than thirty people working for me full-time; all my labor is contracted out to independents who know nothing beyond their assignment. Thrush, on the other hand, has a fairly large central organization with a number of local semi-autonomous things -"

"Satraps," said Illya. "Although the correct term is 'satrapy' for the local group, and 'satrap' being the individual in charge. The meaning has slipped askew in three or four thousand years."

"Thrush Central is large," agreed Napoleon, "but highly mobile. It seems to be able to be anywhere in the world, but it doesn't stay there, but it doesn't move. We hope to get a little more data on this sometime. The satrapies are in constant communication with Central, where the Ultimate Computer is located."

Rainbow nodded. "They keep in touch by means of a miniaturized satellite computer on a random time sharing basis. The satrap has a small computer-combined-with-multiplex-transceiver. The whole thing can travel in a large suitcase or a small trunk. It is tied into the Master, which in this case is the Ultimate Computer, and is used for most secure messages, instant access to all data anywhere within the organization, daily orders, and all record storage. A Thrush-backed small business with a satellite computer can edge out its competition because it will not have to buy time on a computer or maintain one."

Illya's eyes were a little wider than usual. "The satellite has access to the entire storage of the Ultimate Computer?" he said quietly.

"Of course," said Rainbow. "But the satellites are heavily protected against kidnapping. Any attempt to take one without authorization would simply result in the machine's wiping all memory banks and irretrievably severing communications with the Ultimate Computer."

"Nothing is perfect," said Napoleon. "It would be a challenge."

Rainbow smiled. "We may discuss that later," he said. "There is much more you might like to know. Before I give it to you, I offer a treaty. My operation may be severely damaged soon, and your job will essentially have been accomplished. Will you agree to do what you can to keep U.N.C.L.E. off my back for a while in return for useful information and – possibly – some practical cooperation against Thrush?"

"We can't promise anything," said Napoleon. "But we can make a full and favorable report to our chief, including your offer. He is the only one who can accept or decline."

"I could ask little better," said Rainbow. "You are men of honor, and your word is good."

"Thank you," said Illya. "Now about that computer…"

Chapter 15

How Napoleon and Illya Departed Precipitously, and the Dawn Truly Came Up Like Thunder.

THE REMAINDER of the afternoon was spent in conversation. Illya's photographic memory took down everything he heard and fastened the threads together.

"There are three Ultimate Computers, actually," said Johnnie Rainbow at one point. "And here and there about the world, in the most unexpected places, are large concealed areas with a water supply, electrical lines, sewage, and full covers. One Thrush Central, call it alpha, is in one of these – perhaps a warehouse in Liverpool. At the same time, in a large cave in Argentina, Thrush Central beta is on standby, ready to go into operation literally at a second's notice. Also at the same time, Thrush Central gamma is in transit from an office building in Karachi to a tramp freighter which will cruise about the Pacific Ocean for several weeks. When gamma is completely set up and functioning, alpha dumps the records since it went active into beta's bank, and hands active control over to beta. Then alpha transfers all data into gamma's bank, gamma goes on stand-by, and alpha is torn down and moved to Reykjavik. One Thrush Central may maintain control for as short a time as two weeks or as long as two months. The Computer tells them when and where to move in a completely random manner.

"The twelve members of the Supreme Council very rarely meet. Their communications are normally through their satellite computers, and the Ultimate Computer maintains records of all their discussions."

"And the satellite computers have complete access to the Ultimate Computer," Illya said again under his breath.

"But they are impossible to steal," Rainbow reminded him, and Illya looked up strangely.

"Are they impossible to steal?" he asked directly.

Johnnie cleared his throat. "I don't know yet," he said, and the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Then he rose to his feet. "Come along, gentlemen. I would like to see how the work is proceeding." He guided them to the door, and they started out.

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.

A few bright stars came through the thinning mists, and Solo said, "Well! I was turned around. Apparently this passage is on the side away from the mainland."

"Did you expect it would be oriented for the view?" asked Illya.

Napoleon didn't answer. In the gray light of pre-dawn he was occupied working them around the coastline of the island and into the open sea where the tide would carry them to land.

Shortly he took a compass bearing and a sighting, and shook his head. "We'll have to crab," he said. "Other wise we'll end up right about the foot of those steps they were going to take me down."

Realization came to both of them simultaneously. "So there was evidence pointing directly to Donzerly after all!" They congratulated each other on the belated ratiocination, and resolved to spring it on Escott at the earliest opportunity.

They looked back at the rocky spur of Donzerly almost two miles away as the light in the sky behind them grew. The dark lighthouse was still a shadow against the horizon, and the air was very still.

Illya heard it first, a low distant whistle that swiftly developed bass overtones and swelled into an approaching roar. They looked into the east, as the mists thinned and vanished about them, and saw a tiny dot low in the sky. Napoleon looked at Illya without a trace of e pression. "What time is it?" he asked, although he wore a watch on his wrist.

Illya also had a watch, but he didn't look at it. His gaze was fixed on the small jet that bore towards them. "I would hazard a guess," he said slowly, "that it is very near to four-thirty."

Neither of them said any more, being occupied for the next fifteen seconds with breaking out and rigging the camouflaging tent which covered the entire liferaft.

Illya made a peephole and looked up as the plane passed high overhead. "It's a Mystere. Probably a ranging run, or a threat of one. It's about 8000 feet."

"It's past," said Napoleon as the sound went over them. "Open the curtain. I want to..."

The curtains had already parted in Illya's grasp. Both of them had an unobstructed view as the twin-jet light bomber passed over Donzerly, and neither missed a detail an instant later when the entire rock was lost for an instant in a green flash. In the shocked fractions of a second that followed, stunned eyes registered photographically the smoke and blast that accompanied the flash. The lighthouse leaped skyward like a missile, but crumbled with terrifying slowness in midair as it rose. The rock itself seemed to disintegrate, and great pieces blew into the sea.

"Ulsenite," breathed Illya. "So Thrush got that after all!

"Get down and hang on!" snapped Napoleon. "That shock wave is going to hit us in -" The shock wave hit them before he finished, but it caught both of them prone with fists around anchored lanyards. Their ears were buffeted only a moment before the sea rose up under them and hurled them skyward like an express elevator, then fell from under them like an amusement park ride. The secondary and tertiary shocks followed, and the outboard engine screamed as the propeller clawed at the air a moment. They rode the waves for several seconds before daring to let go and look up.

The island was shattered. Ten or twenty feet of it stood up from the water like a broken tooth in an old skull. Through binoculars, Napoleon could barely make out any remains of the inhabited areas. Smoke rose slowly from the wreckage, and the sea lapped once again over the splintered rocks of Donzerly. Of the light, there was no sign.

From somewhere a seabird appeared, and circled the stump of rock, then dived at a stunned fish. In minutes thousands of seabirds clustered around the corpse of the island, like white vultures tearing at it. And their sound came across the slow-swelled sea, screeching and cawing over the choice morsels, fluttering, lit with the golden light of the newly-risen sun.

Chapter 16

How Napoleon and Illya Made Their Farewells, and The Rainbow Faded for a Time.

SOMEWHERE IN THE winding maze of alleys that is Soho, beneath the night-shrouded streets, in a hidden room hung with silks and reeking with incense, two men sat as they had before.

"Your hospitality does not sway me," said the man in the gray suit as he picked at a plate of chow mein with his fork. "You said you would give me an answer in two weeks, and tonight your time is up. What is your answer? Will you work for us?"

The old Chinese raised a thin hand. "Business over shared food is not proper. Let us speak instead of inconsequential things. Your latest operation, perhaps." He returned to a bowl of something indescribable, and lifted out a piece of the contents with his chopsticks. He toyed with it a moment, enjoying his guest's reaction like a Moslem tucking away a slab of roast beef before the eyes of a devout Hindu.

The Thrush watched him with care. "This is also business. The destruction of Johnnie Rainbow was necessary. It will also serve as an object lesson to those who oppose us. Do you choose now to join us – or to join him?"

"Please, Englishman. You return to business again. I wish only to speak idly of your successes. You are certain this is one of them?"

"Beyond a doubt. The light was utterly destroyed, and Rainbow with it – because he refused to cooperate."

"Practical and efficient, if somewhat ruthless," said the old Chinese. "How did you identify his body?" He took a sip of tea.

The man in the gray suit paused. "The entire island was destroyed. It would be impossible to find, let alone identify, any bodies after the blast."

"I see." The old Chinese nodded slightly, smiling to himself. "There is a saying, ancient among the warlords of my people. An enemy should not be accounted defeated until his head has stood on a pole at your gate, and you have seen his wife weeping before it."

The Thrush almost registered an emotion. "Perhaps a valid axiom a thousand years ago, Excellency. But to day's engines of destruction are far more capable than your ancestors could have imagined. Rainbow is dead – this is a certainty."

"I have heard those words many times," said the elder. "They have been pronounced over my own humble person more often than I can count, and yet I sit here talking with you."

"Talking, but always avoiding the main question." The man in the gray suit set his plate neatly on the edge of the desk. "I have finished eating, and we will now discuss business."

"I fear we cannot continue this evening," said the aged Oriental, as he opened an intricately-inlaid box at the side of his desk and brought out an ancient, carved pipe with a tiny bowl. "The stars are not favorable for giving a decision at this time." He set something in the bowl of the pipe and picked up a candle. In seconds, the pungent odor of a Ming-Three began to seep around the incense in the room. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, stroking the marmoset which rested silently on his brocaded shoulder.

Finally he spoke again, distantly. "I will contact you when I am ready. Until then it will do you no good to continue approaching me. The interview is at an end."

The man in the gray suit leaned over the desk and sniffed. "You may force our patience too far. Rainbow's fate could be yours as well."

"I have much that you want, Thrush," came the other's voice, slowly and more faintly. "Destroy me, and you will lose all that I have to offer you. I know what you desire from me, and perhaps someday you may find something for which I would exchange it. I will know when you do."

The man in the gray suit felt a touch on his arm, and turned to find two great, bare-chested, turbaned guards. He accompanied them out, pausing a moment at the door to look back into the hazed interior of that enigmatic room, where an old Chinese with a brow like Shakespeare, a face like Satan, and eyes of the true tiger green, lay dreaming.

The following morning was Friday, and Napoleon and Illya hurried up the steep cobbled street of Baycombe towards Joey's cottage shortly before the clock would strike noon. They knocked, and she answered the door, tiny and quick, looking up at Napoleon under a sweep of coppery hair.

"Come on in," she said eagerly. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. Aunt Jane's just starting the rolls."

They had just time to recover from their trip and refresh themselves before dinner was laid. Conversation was minimal until the fish came, and then Illya said, "By the way, Napoleon, have you looked at that envelope yet?" He explained to the others, "It was handed us at our hotel just as we left in a hurry to catch the train,"

"In the rush I put it in my pocket," said Napoleon. "Probably just a note from the manager wondering if we want to keep the room since we use it so little." A clean knife slipped into one corner and the envelope surrendered its contents – a small sheet of paper, folded twice. Napoleon opened it up and looked at it.

After several seconds he passed it over to Illya, who studied it in equal silence, then looked at his partner and said, "Wordsworth." Napoleon took it back and extended it across the table to their companions.

It bore four typed lines, and across the bottom of the page a polychromatic smear of watercolor described an arc. The message read simply,

"The Rainbow comes and goes,

"And lovely is the rose

"Waters on a starry night

"Are beautiful and fair."

Aunt Jane read it twice slowly, and nodded. Illya said, "I believe the quotation is from Intimations of Immortality. Johnnie seems to have escaped the destruction of his castle, at any rate."

"Yes, I believe he has," said the old lady. "But I was thinking there was a far, far truer line in the same stanza which he did not quote. Stanza two." Her darting eyes looked up like those of a little girl who is called upon to recite, but she seemed to be looking at something else – something which no one could see and which none but she and a few others could remember. And she said, "'But yet I know, where'er I go, that there hath passed away a glory from the earth.'"

Sunlight poured into the silent dining room through a bank of lace-curtained windows facing the calm sea. A gull wheeled and screamed somewhere.

"You don't mean Johnnie Rainbow," said Illya softly.

"No, I don't," said Aunt Jane. "He is one of the last."

Napoleon looked from one to the other of them, and gradually the meal resumed. "He'll start over," said the American agent. "And next time I'll bet he gets his elevator."

"Napoleon!" said Illya, scandalized. "Surely you aren't wishing success to him. After all, he is a criminal."

Solo quickly and emphatically denied any partisanship, and good cheer was restored. Dinner was leisurely paced, and small glasses of brandy were circulated in the neighborhood of one-thirty.

Just as the mantle-clock chimed, Napoleon's pocket communicator demanded his attention. He answered it, and Waverly's distinctive voice filled his ear.

"Mr. Solo? What are you up to now? It has taken an hour and a half to locate you. I will want a complete report on the Rainbow affair filed with the London office in twenty-four hours. Two reports have come in, both alarming, one immediate."

"We'll have the report in on time, sir," said Napoleon. "Itt's more than half finished. What are the problems?"

"Thrush has formed something called a 'Public Relations' division, and they are quite openly coming to the surface, proclaiming their connection with the parent organization. They simply appear at public functions – theatrical openings, political speeches, and the like – and do nothing. People are gradually becoming used to them. They may help an old lady across a street, and leave her thinking kindly of Thrush. And they have no apparent legal connection with Thrush. All they do is wear the badges and talk to people. This display of confidence indicates some impending coup, I feel sure, probably centered in the southwestern United States."

"And what exactly is our assignment, sir?"

"Something else entirely. Mr. Kuryakin and you will separate for a while. There are signs of imminent war in the Middle East again, and our African continental office in Addis Ababa is quite overwhelmed. They're severely understaffed there, as you may recall, and with the constant problems in Nigeria, Congo, Sudan and Rhodesia they are unable to handle the sudden strain between Egypt and Israel. Mr. Solo, you will report to Tel Aviv; Mr. Kuryakin to Cairo. You will maintain constant contact once you are on station. The situation is extremely serious, and you may be able to alleviate it somewhat."

"How long is this assignment likely to last?" Napoleon asked, glancing at Joey.

Waverly harrumphed. "Due to the severity of the conflict," he said, "you will probably be asked to remain on station until the end of the war." He paused. "This, I believe, is called an incentive."

"Yes it is, sir," said Napoleon. "We'll be ready to leave at noon tomorrow."

"From London," said Waverly.

"Yes, sir," said Napoleon, and the contact was broken.

"Oh, dear," said Joey. "Leaving so soon?"

"I'm afraid so," said Illya.

"But we can still spare the afternoon," said Napoleon. "How would you like another last walk along the cliffs?"

And so they went. Aunt Jane remembered at the last minute that Mr. Escott had sent her three jars of honey to give to them – one was for Alexander Waverly. All three bore the stamp of three heraldic bugle-horns in their wax seals.

Napoleon brought his along, and the four of them broached it for their picnic supper as the sun declined towards the sea, away to their left. The afternoon breeze rippled the grasses and Napoleon was looking thought fully away somewhere. Then he turned to his partner.

"Illya," he said, "didn't Mr. Waverly say it took an hour and a half to contact us?"

"As I recall, he did. Why?"

"No particular reason. I was just thinking again about Baycombe as a spot to retire to."

"Sometime in the indefinite future."

Napoleon laughed. "You make it sound like a verb tense. No, I don't think I could live in absolute solitude forever, but it would be nice for a year or two."

"Or a week or two. That's probably what got the former resident."

"Of the Pillbox?"

"That's what you were thinking about. Perfectly obvious.

"Elementary," said Aunt Jane.

And they laughed and watched the sun drop into the sea one more time, and then made their way home in the light of the late-rising moon.