The Monster Wheel Affair - McDaniel David. Страница 34

"... esti pli zorga estonte," he concluded, and the carrier wave continued its unmodulated hum for perhaps thirty seconds while the lighted numbers supplied the countdown. As they crossed zero, it simply ceased.

And it was as simple as that, as far as the world was concerned.

Somewhere in the star-crusted, black-floored vault a thousand miles above the night side of the Earth, a metal cylinder had flashed towards a slowly-turning wheel and exploded into a shower of steel shards, each of which continued moving, faster than a rifle bullet relative to the target.

In a fraction of a second, the thin fabric was a tattered rag. The small package of electronic equipment at the hub was punctured three times, and the solar power panels, inoperative in the Earth's shadow, were shattered to powder. A thin cloud of Argon gas puffed out invisibly, and began to disperse as the random motion of its atoms sent them in every direction towards the edges of the universe.

No human eye saw its ending. Only a few radar traces showed any change as the rigid wheel collapsed slightly and began to drift from its orbit as it absorbed a fraction of the kinetic energy of the shrapnel that had pierced it. And a few receiving sets noted the cessation of the signal from the ruined transmitter.

Napoleon and Illya were a few hundred feet above the Thrush island base in a stolen helicopter when the first of their time fuses completed its job and the radome blossomed out in a billow of yellow flame. Within seconds one of the adjoining buildings on the hilltop disappeared in a similar blast, silent for several seconds at their distance. Before the sound of the two explosions reached them they were able to see the light metal structure of the big antenna sagging and crumpling in raging flames as its protective umbrella floated earthward around it.

"Now," said Napoleon, "there will probably be a whole swarm of hornets raging over the island since we set fire to their nest. And obviously the only thing for us to do is go back to the ship."

"Try to sneak back into our comfortable cell and pretend we haven't been outside all evening?"

"I'm afraid not this late. Toujours l'audace, Illya. I think we should continue with our original plan."

"Well, as long as we're heading towards certain death, you won't mind if I check in at home."

"Not at all."

Alexander Waverly was startled slightly when his communications unit signaled him. Nothing less than a Code Seven call should reach him here. He answered, and heard a familiar cool voice murmur from the speaker.

"Agents Kuryakin and Solo reporting in, sir. The voice of the Wheel has been silenced, and we are on our way back to the ship for the gold. You may feel free to destroy the Wheel at your leisure."

The U.N.C.L.E. Chief felt a wave of relief wash over him—not only because he had been saved the time and expense of training two new top agents. But there was no emotion in his voice as he said, "Very good, Mr. Kuryakin. The Wheel has already been destroyed, for that matter, shortly after you gentlemen completed your lecture. If you had been a few minutes later in your broadcast, it would have passed entirely unheard. Will you need any help in securing the ship?"

"Despite my partner's characteristic confidence, sir," came the voice from the far South Atlantic, "I feel some help could definitely be useful. If you could attempt to contact the Egyptian High Command, and have them transmit orders to the Captain of the ship that he cooperate with us, we would have a much better chance of defending the vessel against the forces of Thrush. They are not likely to let two billion dollars in gold slip from their grasp without putting up a certain amount of fight."

"We should be able to establish communication with them, but at this hour it may be difficult to find anyone in authority quickly. Have you any more requests?"

"Just one. Sir, do you know where we are?"

"If you are on or near an island and the Egyptian aircraft carrier, you are at forty-six degrees south, fourteen degrees east. The island is San Juan de la Trine."

"Thank you. Oh, by the way, sir—we were able to save the airplane we came in."

"Very good. Keep me informed."

Kuryakin disconnected, and Waverly signaled his New York office. The operator there answered immediately.

"Get me the highest available official in the Egyptian High Command. I know it's three o'clock in the morning there—wake them up. Call me back as soon as you have the connection."

The Thrush helicopter handled very smoothly under Napoleon's hands as they swooped over the beach and clattered across the half-mile of water separating them from the ship.

He leaned back as Illya put the transceiver away and shouted over the noises of the motor, "Hey, this is fun! No wonder you always want to handle the controls."

"When we get back to New York you can take the qualifying test. Slow down, now—here comes the ship. You'd better set down on the flight deck."

"Right out in the open?"

"Toujours l'audace, as you said a few minutes ago. Besides, they certainly won't be expecting us; they'll think we're somebody important from the island."

"And come running out to greet us with an armed honor guard."

"Besides, frankly, I wouldn't trust you to land this on anything smaller with as little practice as you've had."

"For shame, Illya. Don't you know that I can do anything? It says so in my contract."

"All right, Napoleon, but it says in my contract that I can live forever, and I don't want to make a test case just at the moment. The flight deck."

"The flight deck," Solo agreed resignedly.

The landing was fairly neat after all—they didn't hit hard enough to bounce, and Napoleon feathered the blades like an expert. He threw the engine into idle, and bounded out of the cockpit ahead of his partner, calling loudly for the Captain.

"There has been an explosion on the island," he snapped to the nearest crewman as he imagined an important Thrush would, "and your orders must be overruled for the time being. Bring us your Captain."

Without looking back the two U.N.C.L.E. agents stalked across the wide bare deck towards the control structure. They were almost to the hatch when they heard footsteps trotting up behind them, and a voice said sharply, "What does this mean? My orders were to unload the cargo as quickly as possible and return..."

Napoleon wheeled neatly and faced the Captain over the barrel of a leveled automatic. "Your orders have been overruled," he said simply. "Now you will not unload the cargo. Instead you will order the entire crew to battle stations, and prepare to resist any attempt to take over the ship and its cargo by force."

The Captain froze where he was, one foot raised for another step. Slowly he lowered it to the deck. His face showed recognition of them as his rescued prisoners. "That will be difficult," he said harshly, "since it appears you have already done exactly that."

Napoleon shook his head. "Only for your own good," he said. "In a matter of minutes you will receive orders from Cairo to cooperate with us. But even sooner those men out there"—he gestured towards the island with his free hand—"will receive orders to attack and capture this ship, whatever the cost. If you successfully defend it against them, you will be rewarded as a hero. Right now, since you haven't heard from Cairo, we have taken the liberty of informing you of your superior's decision so that you may abide by it while there is still time."