Текст книги "The Cross of Gold Affair"

Автор книги: Fredric Davies

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

With no more ado, he turned and led the way through to the “zoo,” a high-ceilinged room with four seals and a submarine waiting in a sea-water pool. The pool took up over half the room’s area, and had plenty of room for the sub and some rocks to serve as rest stops for the seals.

“We don’t hold much with saluting here,” said Bransen, referring to the youngster who had introduced them, “mainly because our most able-bodied ‘seamen’ can’t get their flippers up to eyebrow level. This pool is where they come to visit, to look at freaks who choose to spend most of their time on dry land. We zoo-animals get walruses, sea lions, dolphins and elephant seals as visitors, with an occasional experimental whale. They’re a lot better behaved on the whole than the visitors at most other zoos-for instance, I’d balance them any day against the lot who go down to Coney zoo to watch Oscar the Walrus get fed.”

“Well, Commander, I must say you run a pretty tight—

ah-zoo, here. Do your visitors just come and go when they feel like it?”

“Almost. There’s a depth-compound outside here we keep fenced in, and they’re free to roam all through it, up, down and sideways. New trainees are brought in aboard ship or in tow, through gates that we keep secured other times. We let recruit frogmen get the hang of their equipment by assigning them patrol duty repairing the fence. Frequently the marine mammals are rotated by our request, other times by Navy requirements to train other breeds in the close coordination techniques we’ve developed here.

“Right now you’re kind of lucky. The current project involves testing out our diver-mammal linkage by scouring the local bay and river bottoms for junk that’s been dumped here during the past four centuries. We’ve been using these four harbor seals”-he waved his hand at the quartet of wet noses and whiskers pointing at him-“and from the word headquarters sent, I’d say these are the best workers we could have for your job.”

He bent down at the water’s edge and snapped his fingers loudly twice. One of the seals separated from the group and scudded in, leaving almost no wake. Before Napoleon could blink, the animal was out of the water and balancing on its flippers, barking in Bransen’s face. As smoothly as if he were doing an Orpheum circuit routine at the Palace, Bransen reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out a quarter. The seal sniffed it, and then watched suspiciously while he flipped it out into the pool.

The seal stayed, looking from Bransen to the pool, until he barked rapidly like one of them. Then it did a side-flip, hitting the water belly up, and Napoleon could make out an underwater twist, a sudden nipping motion, and a quick reversal. Before the quarter could have sunk to the bottom it was back neatly deposited on the deck at Bransen’s feet. With magnificent elan the seal twisted around and rejoined the other three on the rocks.

“What on earth did you say to it?” asked Napoleon.

“Her, not it. Her name is Sourpuss, and I told her to go get that coin before it hit bottom, and bring it back here. If she wasn’t in a particularly unplayful mood tonight, I

might have bought an eyeful of quarter plus salt water-usually when I give her quick instructions, she does things like spit in my eye.” He reached out and took back the quarter and pocketed it. -

“All that?” asked Napoleon. “It’s a very economical language. I suppose your finger-snapping told them which one you wanted.”

“Right. Each seal has a number, and I call more than one at a time with a little code of hand-claps. That’s the first thing we take on ourselves to teach a new animal, and the others help newcomers learn. They have a pecking order as strict as Naval rank, and sometimes I think they even help us learn the code. After you’ve worked with a team of them, and worked with the personnel who have been on SEALAB n, you pick it up. It’s far more subtle than a system of numbers and acoustic emergency signals, but you pick it up.”

“I imagine a two-way dictionary would be pretty hard to compile, though, Gus. Is there a Berlitz course in Seal?”

“Oh, for tonight, you won’t have to talk to them. I ve been working here as a trainer almost since I joined U.N.C.L.E.‘s underwater division, and you and I will go in with them. That sub will take us up to a position offshore from your pier, and my whiskered quartet will be right there with us. After we group, all six of us will tear into the ungodly right on their soft white underbelly.”

Napoleon looked out at the fishy smelling group with its eight black eyes staring straight at him. “That’s quite a job for two men and four seals.”

“After a man has been down below with a team of them and recovered the ruins of Dutch exploration ships and Yankee clippers from New York Harbor, he kind of gets the feeling that these fellows are unbeatable.” He leaned against a pillar, and flipped four fish from a canvas bucket out to the seals. All four fish were caught neatly, with much barking and smacking. “You know how delicately an archeologist picks up each thimbleful of sand when he’s near a find-imagine trying to resurrect ships that have been down on the dark river bottom since the time of Henry Hudson. They re in worse condition than the tomb of Cheops, I figure, and

for that kind of heavy, controlled work I’ll take the strong backs and sensitive noses of my team, any day.”

In the dressing room, Napoleon found a wetsuit laid out for him. “Just your size,” said Bransen. “Mr. Waverly sent your measurements over while you were sky-riding, and asked that you please not get your new suit wet.”

“Should I strip for this?” Napoleon looked over the black rubber suit and watched Bransen don his own gear right over his clothes.

“Not at all. When we can fit you as closely as this, you can put the suit on over full evening dress, swim miles, and step out with your white dinner jacket dry and uncreased. You get a lot better fit this way than we ever got overseas.” Strapping and zipping himself in, Napoleon looked at Gus. “Frogman?”

“Yup. Sixteen months Search and Destroy in the Bay of Haiphong. I just got rotated back here a year ago, and elected Reserve duty so I could sign up with U.N.C.L.E. Stateside Navy work just didn’t have the feel I wanted-in the Regulars, I’d probably be a full Commander by now, pushing a pencil instead of suiting up to invade Coney Island. With U.N.C.L.E.‘s underwater activities, training the Navy people during their programs here, and working with all kinds of the sea folk, I’ve had more than my fill of action.” For a moment they couldn’t talk, helping each other check out connections on their scuba apparatus and getting used to the bite of their mouthpieces.

“I do more than just salvage work,” said Bransen as he helped check Solo’s weapons compartments. “I was an observer with the unit that brought up the nuclear device off Spain-just in case our side missed, U.N.C.L.E. wanted to make sure no one else made a successful grab. We danced around with a team of sea-going Thrushes for days, while everybody wondered if we’d have to detonate it to keep them from getting it.”

Bransen was standing in front of Napoleon, adjusting his visor for maximum peripheral view. Napoleon looked through his face-plate and through Bransen’s, squarely into a pair of steel-blue eyes with the flat look that gets into a man who’s seen it all. U.N.C.L.E. was a hard enough taskmaster

on land, but the underwater squad seemed to work just as hard, under tons of pressure in an environment that would snuff out human life as quickly as outer space would. Given a knife-fight with Thrush underwater, Napoleon thought, he’d bounce right in for the old team.

They finished checking each other out, and carried their swim-fins out to the submarine’s berth. As they climbed aboard, Napoleon noted that the four seals had been fitted with harnesses stenciled “U.N.C.L.E.”

“That’s so the Navy can’t be implicated in case some of us are intercepted,” said Gus. “Those are four prisoners who won’t talk, and all Thrush or anyone else can learn is that they were working for us.”

They found snug nooks inside the sub, and Bransen made as good a round of introductions as possible, considering that six of the eight-man crew responded by welcoming Solo over the intercom system. Before he had been “shown around” the sub from his station, they were out the sea-lock into the bay, through the fence, and turning south, routed for Coney.

“Are your unbarbered quartet keeping up?” Solo asked.

“If they aren’t, I won’t let them back in the zoo to feed the people. We’ve made this kind of run before, and the sub is pacing them at their top cruising speed. They can actually outrun us for short distances, but everybody wants them to arrive relaxed where the action is. Each seal has to surface twice during the run, so our periscope is up, elevated to leave a wake they can track. When we move into a re-group formation off the pier, I expect to step out the conning tower amid a chorus of happy barks from my friends. Each one gets a fish-flavored candy at that point, and then we really move into high gear.”

The submarine came to a churning halt off Coney Island’s beach, tower above water, half a mile offshore in line with Porpoise’s pier. Solo and Bransen synchronized their watches with the crew, climbed up the ladder, and undogged the hatch to find themselves surrounded by the four eager seals. While the candy was going down long gullets and the animals were as close to purring as a seal can get, the two men fixed each other’s tanks and donned their flippers. Napoleon

waved goodbye to the stars, and they slid over the side.

Bransen made sure Napoleon had a good grip on the cow named Sourpuss and took a big male for himself. Holding the harness made enough work for both hands as the animals turned on top speed and headed for land. The other two seals remained on guard, fanned out from the submarine and alert for any land of action. The same sentry duty served when they watched poised near Navy divers, using their tremendous sensitivity to their own environment as an improvement over watch-dogs and radar scanners.

The pair of man-seal units went in parallel to the pier, not under it, as Bransen had no desire to swim right into a bed of knives. Just as they reached the approximate location of the trap door from the Space Maze, Sourpuss turned and arrowed over to her mate to nudge Bransen in the shoulder. He looked at her and slapped his chest twice in command, but she pushed her black nose into his shoulder again. He shrugged, and signaled a return to the surface.

“She’s seen something way out of the ordinary,” he said, “and I doubt it’s the knives you warned us about. She knows what a pier should look like around here-she’s been near here about a dozen times. And she wouldn’t shy from those knives until we were nearly on top of them if they’ve been in the sea for a long time. She’s one of the canniest big bitches I’ve ever worked with.”

He barked at Sourpuss, and she pointed off toward the beach, at the base of the pier.

“She wants me to let her investigate something. She’s not afraid of it; it’s just something unusual, something she doesn’t think belongs in the ocean. If I’m any judge of seal hunches, we ought to take a minute and follow this up.” They pulled down their masks and submerged again.

Sourpuss led the way in when they gave her her head. Under the pier, she stopped abruptly, went back over to Gus, and nosed his shoulder again. Nestled cosily on an opened sphere of metal was a flying saucer, reflecting their flash-beams’ red light like Detroit’s newest chrome bumper.

“Did you see that?” asked Bransen when they surfaced again. “If that isn’t something straight out of The Day The

Earth Stood Still, Tm hallucinating. What’s a baby flying saucer doing underwater?”

“Well, I doubt that Thrush has an alliance with the Martians,” said Napoleon. “Whatever it is, I’m willing to bet that the gang upstairs will be planning on it being there, and they’ll be considerably discomfited if it isn’t, all of a sudden.” He looked at Sourpuss and her boyfriend, and turned to Bransen. “Do you think these two huskies could tow it out to sea, and give it to the submarine for safekeeping? We can wonder about what it is later at your base, when we can take it apart and decide why Thrush would want one.”

“Easy enough. If it navigates underwater, its weight ought to be balanced almost to an ounce. All we have to do is get it moving, and I think the two of them can do that. If not, I can get in behind and push, and even call in the other pair for more muscle with my sonar signal.”

“They better come in immediately, then. You get all four in position and tie them onto it, and I’ll make the assault on my trapdoor alone. If I can’t do it alone, it possibly can’t be done-besides, I think it’s designed to let people out suddenly, not to keep out surprise visitors.” He looked around.

“We’re already attacking Porpoise from two directions. I think that that saucer would be set to sound an alarm if anyone tampers with it, and then he’ll have what looks like three sides jumping him. I want you to be ready to move out on the double when your watch says quarter to the hour. I’ll have plenty of time to get inside by then, and give the signal to my crew on the beach simultaneously with your little hijacking job. With all that trouble hitting at once, Fatty won’t know which way to belch “first. In point of fact, if I may be permitted a small conclusion jump, I suspect that this saucer is his way out in case of trouble-maybe we’ll really give him an ulcer.”

With that, Napoleon headed back for the trapdoor and its bed of knives. He was still dragging a little from the punishment his body had been taking. “The cuts and bruises wouldn’t be so bad,” he subvocalized around his mouthpiece, “if only I could get some sleep once in a while.” He thanked his stars that the pain-killer U.N.C.L.E. doctors used

wasn’t habit-forming, but he hadn’t thought to ask if the pep-shots were.

Knives started showing up in his field of ^vision with an infra-beam sort of eerieness. He worked his way through the outer ones until he got up to the steel briar patch that waited under his trapdoor.

He hung his flippers on a nearby twelve-inch butcher knife, and strapped on a pair of telephone lineman’s spurs. Two very careful climbing steps brought him up under the latticed framework supporting the crisscrossed blades. From the pouch at his hip he took a tube not unlike a container of toothpaste. Squeezing the tube underwater proved to be more of a job than he had anticipated, but with growing skill he managed to get a minimum amount of the gray paste spread over key bars of the framework. Casting the empty remains of the tube well away from his point of vantage he depressed the plunger on his wristwatch. The burst of radio signal worked as well underwater as it ever had on the surface: the gray paste flamed brightly, and Napoleon felt the water warming momentarily.

Instead of falling clear as planned, the section of the bladed platform that Napoleon had freed from the rest jammed in place. The U.N.C.L.E. agent looked bleakly at his would-be doorway to the trap above. There was none of the incendiary paste left, and he wasn’t carrying a jemmy. For a lack of a better tool, Napoleon jabbed at the framework with his U.N.C.L.E. Special. The loosened rectangle of steel and knives lifted off the obstruction, twisted, taking the pistol from his hand, and slid through the opening into the depths. Napoleon picked his way around the few knives remaining. It was quick work climbing the piling he had shinnied up hours before with naked legs. He worked easily, with no waste motion, glorying in the leverage he had with spurs.

Now that Tm here, two feet from it, I suppose there must be a best way to get back into this trap, he thought. Imagine making something for falling through. There’s much more to be got here by climbing up into it. His eyes roved over the door s underside and its meshing with the pier, while he mentally selected each of the gadgets, in turn, that he carried tucked in pockets and compartments of the wetsuit.

I could insert a throwing knife, figuring that it would cut the electric beam, so I could climb through while the door was open. But probably a thermite bomb is best. Fulminate of mercury is a good clean idea, but I have to stick it out right here while it goes off-too hot. He leaned out over the knives, looking at the floor’s slit to find a convenient lip for the bomb, and found none. A little instant-epoxy will stick it onto that steel, he decided.

The bomb in place, he found his flare pistol and got ready to signal Matt and the land team when he was ready to start. But he didn’t get a chance to trigger the pistol or the bomb, because the door sprang open without a touch from him, and a rolled-up jacket fell through.

He was immensely relieved to recognize the jacket, and the head that looked down through the floor at him.

“Good timing, Illya,” he said quietly. “When it closes, wait a minute for me to recover my bomb and get in position, then spring it again. Or can’t you spare any more dirty laundry?”

Napoleon grinned up at his partner, wondering how long it would be before Illya found his voice to toss back a retort. But when the Russian spoke, it was only to yell back over his shoulder, “Sing louder! Sing a lot louder!”

Before Napoleon could figure that out, the halves of the door slammed together again, and he shifted to be ready for the next opening. Thermite and flare gun went back into their proper compartments, and he swayed backwards from the pole, removing his feet from their spurs and standing on the little steel gadgets that were designed to dig into any kind of wood at a slight pressure, and hold their position under hundreds of pounds on each spur. Legs bent to push him upward, he waited for Illya to make the floor do its trick for him again.

“Sing louder,” Illya said over his shoulder. Mai and the boys reacted like trained militia, bouncing into When the Saints Go Marchin’ In just as the Russian reopened the trapdoor. He said “Allez!” as loud as he dared and Napoleon shouted “Oop!” back at him.

The trap snicked shut again, with Napoleon safely up in the Spaceship Room. The kids clustered around him joyously, pumping his hands until they realized he was wincing under the affection. “You’re all bandaged up/’ said Mai.

“Well, those cuts haven’t gotten in much healing time in the last six hours. The surface anesthesia keeps them from hurting too much, except when you pound on them in outbursts of affection. But how did you three get mixed up with such bad company as Illya?”

“Oh, when we left you, Arnold and his mob snuck up on us, while we were watching Illya enter the Space House. I’m not surprised at them catching these two poor fish”-she indicated Charlie and Andy, who struck Peter Pan poses of offended pride-“but me! They actually snuck up on me and jumped me, when I’ve been living for a year on this beach with a clean record. Tonight I’m just angry, trying to get out of here; but starting tomorrow I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself.”

Illya said, “Then we really ought to get down to business. Napoleon, I hope you brought some extra weapons for me, since you must have known my tracer ended here.”

“I have a small knife, a communicator, a pistol, and lots of miscellany for you, but especially I have an extra pair of infrared goggles, because at exactly fifteen minutes before the hour I’m going to start an attack on Porpoise by turning off the power and seeing how our pudgy friend likes his hothouse pool at winter temperatures.”

“But what will we do with our friends? I’m sure they would be handy to have along for fighting, but …”

“We can take a hint,” said Mai. “You just turn off the power. We’ve spent hours and hours in every funhouse maze at Coney, and once this one stops dumping people in the ocean and exploding at them we should be out the front door in one minute.”

“When I turn off their power, they’ll be attacked from the land as well. When you reach that front door, I recommend you go out with your hands up, just like you were surrendering, and let the men there sort you out from Porpoise’s agents later. Once you get to Matt, stick with him and you’ll be all right.” Looking at his watch, he twisted to remove

a device something like a lightbulb from a packet on the back of his belt. With a boost from Illya, he removed the ceiling bulb and replaced it with U.N.C.L.E.Y device.

“When I tap that bulb,” he said, “it will do more than just bum out some single power source. It’s a timed charge, to bum out three power sources as they come into play, just in case Porpoise has more than one auxiliary dynamo to switch in on these lines. Can you kids be certain of getting through in the dark?”

The three looked at each other in mock pain, and Charlie stepped forward. “Sir, we have snuck into this maze individually and collectively at least once a week all summer. We used it to sack out, odd times last winter until they took to guarding it now and then. We are perhaps the world’s greatest living authorities on this funhouse, and it is an attack on our professional pride for you to doubt that we could get through it blindfold, backward, on one leg, and singing Gregorian chants.” He did an about face, two stiff goose-steps away, and then did a half-twist back flip that landed him nose-to-nose with Napoleon. “Do I get the job, chief?” he asked brightly.

“You could replace Russ Tamblyn, Marlon Brando and Lassie,” replied Napoleon. “But we’ll have to take your word for your abilities in the maze. In thirty seconds I tap that bulb, and you wait for the lights to go out, flash on, and go out twice more. The bulb fires three times and you can’t risk the maze before the third power source has been given the kibosh. If there are that many.”

“One thing more,” said Charlie. “I think I ought to jump up and hit that gizmo for you. You’ve been through a lot for a guy your age, and remember what lousy condition you were in when we found you on the beach. You couldn’t even take on two little kids like Andy and me; we wouldn’t want you tiring yourself, considering how much more you’re gonna go through.”

Before Napoleon could protest or Charlie could turn, Andy leaped without saying anything, slapped the bulb, and landed in total darkness.

Before Andy was back on his feet and standing erect, the lights blinked, and stayed off. “If he’s got a third power

supply for this kind of emergency,” said Charlie, “I bet he can’t find it in the dark. Let’s hit that maze and see if we can’t get out there before all of Fatty’s goons come out crying because they’re afraid with the lights out.”

As six healthy young feet slapped through the trapdoor room, Napoleon called after them, “Remember, the men out there are only expecting Thrushes or us-go out with your hands up, let them arrest you with no shooting, and we’ll get you sorted out later.”

He hoped they heard him. In seconds, the turns of the Space Maze cut off their laughing and calling to each other in the dark.

“Now that our scout troop has fled, I’d better give you your gun and we can get this show on the road,” Napoleon said. From one pocket came the remaining U.N.C.L.E. Special, and from another he drew a packet of ferral paste.

With two quick motions, he spread the super-thermite around the edges of the spacelock door, and he and Illya stepped back to press against the wall on either side. As the paste became exposed to oxygen it flickered quickly into clinging white fire which they allowed to bum until, instead of solid steel, the door was held in place only by a few remaining half-liquid threads of metal. Napoleon stepped back from the door and put one foot into it, opening the way into Porpoise’s inner sanctum to the accompaniment of a titanic bass gong as the spacelock fell.

Chapter 14

“Why should I lie?”

TOTAL DARKNESS filled the Space House. Walls, built to keep unwanted trespassers from glimpsing any Thrush activity, acted just as well to keep what little night light there was along the deserted beachfront from illuminating any of Porpoise’s lair. Arnold, his fingers acting as his eyes, quickly laid out his master’s rubber suit, while Apis, freed from the dead control console, trod silently toward the Spaceship

Room. He flexed the long rippling muscles of his back and shoulders and grinned expectantly.

A small explosion told Apis of the opening of the spacelock, and he sped towards the entrance to the maze. His eyes began to adjust to the translucent glow of the glassite ceiling. Dim shadows took on various shades of black and gray where only black had been before.

A blow across his kidneys and a two-handed chop to his neck stopped him. He reached out blindly with both hands as his unseen attacker delivered a karate kick that would have disabled a lesser man.

Illya, having delivered the three blows, traveled on, leaving Apis for Napoleon to finish off. His own target was Porpoise, and accordingly he wasn’t wasting time with underlings, much as he would have liked to even up the score a bit for Apis’s water games.

Apis stretched his arms out wide, groping for anything or anybody. Napoleon watched the progress of the blind giant and met him with a running leap that placed both of his feet in Apis’s face.

The big man stumbled back, regained his balance and bellowed, “Where are you? I’m gonna kill you when I find out”

Napoleon braced himself and answered, “Here I am, Apis, right in front of you. Come and get me.”

Apis charged and Napoleon swung to one side, kicking the running giant just above the ankle. Both of his feet knocked from under him, Apis spun and flew, hitting the deck face first. He rolled over himself, snapping his head full around; Napoleon was mentally counting him out when the giant struggled back to his feet.

“That’s funny, it’s supposed to be the bigger they are the harder they fall,” Napoleon muttered.

“Solo, is that you?” Apis asked, not really believing he was going to get the chance to repay Napoleon for the dunking he had received earlier.

“It’s me, all right. What’s keeping you up?” Napoleon delivered another kick, this time to the solar plexus. Apis batted aside the foot and sent Napoleon sprawling. Following the sound of the U.N.C.L.E. agent, Apis walked right into a

double handed blow that nearly fractured Napoleon’s knuckles. Apis grinned and slammed out with both fists. The wall behind Napoleon vibrated and cracked from the force of the double blow.

Napoleon realized that the fight was using up precious minutes. Illya would probably appreciate a bit more help than was being offered in handling Porpoise and the rest of the Thrushes trapped in the darkened space house.

“Come on, chum,” he directed Apis; “let’s get out into the light were we can see what’s happening.”

Apis was quite happy to fight it out in the dark, but if Napoleon wanted to go to where there was light, Apis would follow. Napoleon talked and taunted Apis back toward the opening to the Spaceship Room.

“Stand still, Solo. I wanta break you in two,” Apis bellowed at the specter before him.

“I’m standing still, chum. Come on ahead.”

“You promise, you aren’t going to dodge me?”

“Why should I lie?”

Apis lowered his head and charged. Napoleon brought both fists up from the floor in a reverse pile-driver blow that straightened the giant out. Apis, still rushing, felt as if his nose had been smashed. Napoleon dropped backward, lifting his feet into the giant’s gut, and sailed him on over, through the broken spacelock and into the maze beyond.

The crash following bespoke the loss of at least two more mirrors and parts of the Space display. Napoleon felt even more confident in counting Apis out as he raced along the dark corridors to his partner’s aid.

Apis dragged himself out of the wreckage and stumbled around the room. He found the Spacelock by pure chance and fell back through the opening. He pulled open a locker and emptied it out onto the floor. By feel he found and donned a strange three-lensed contraption with twin horns looping up from behind. He flicked a switch, and the two infrared beams over his head came to life. The room, viewed through the lenses of the Thrush night-sight helmet, seemed to be fully lit.

Apis clutched one of the legs of a nearby stool, and by

twisting it once, ripped it loose. He swung it once to check the balance, and then set out after Napoleon.

The U.N.C.L.E. agent, after making a couple of wrong turns, found himself coming into the radio room. The extensive electronics and the carpeted floor acted as heat dampers. Despite his goggles, much of the room was too dimly lit to see. He slowly felt his way forward, step by step; the only sounds he heard were those of his own breathing. Part of the room glowed and slowly dimmed as the heat beam traveled on.

Suddenly he heard a half-animal growl and heavy footsteps behind him. Napoleon spun, to see the indestructible Apis charging, his short club raised to strike. The U.N.C.L.E. agent dived across a flat table covered with tools and rolled to safety beyond as Apis smashed the club into the shadows.

The eerie glow wavered, rising as the beams from Apis’s headpiece struck, and falling off as the room sucked away the heat. Apis charged again, and Napoleon met the flashing club with a metal stool. Apis missed his target and struck a metal rung with his wrist. The stool, bent and warped, was tom from Napoleon’s grip, while Apis raised the club for a second blow. Napoleon brought his right fist up to the giant’s jaw, and then danced aside.

Apis checked for a moment, and then swung around to pin the U.N.C.L.E. agent in the twin beams. Solo backed slowly away, taking on a karate stance. The giant stepped forward and brought the club full around. Napoleon wavered back and then forward. He put one hand under the giant’s elbow as the club passed and swung a foot between the spread legs. A lift and swing, and Apis, already off balance, crashed backwards through the matched radios. Napoleon brought a tapedeck down on the giant’s head, and repeated the blow as Apis tried to shake free. The twin infrared beams went out, Napoleon struck twice more, and Apis slumped back, unconscious.