Pulp Fiction | The Invisibility Affair by Thomas Stratton Read online

  McNulty laughed. "You don't scare, U.N.C.L.E. doesn't operate that way."

  Napoleon moved over to the door and released the catch. "When he's gone, I suppose we'll just have to make do. Do you think that we could just open that door back there and yell at them?"

  "I don't see why not," Illya said. "The communicators could have been affected by the blackout, for all they know. Come on, now, Arpad." Each agent took one of McNulty's arms and urged him toward the open door.

  McNulty held back. "Oh, come on, now. We all know that you're not going to push me out. You can't; it isn't civilized. You simply aren't going to do it, I know you're not. You..." He paused briefly as he faced the opening from a distance of less than a foot. "By George, I believe you would, at that," he decided. "All right, I know when to quit. There's an intercom system up front. You just announce 'Prepare to jump,' then give them a couple of minutes to get the hangar doors open, and say 'Jump' and they jump."

  "Very cooperative," Napoleon said, keeping McNulty facing the open door. Illya stepped back to the OTSMID and reversed every switch he had previously thrown. The view of the ground outside the opening was replaced by blackness. He walked to the indicated intercom, studied it for a moment, then flicked a switch and announced, "Prepare to jump."

  They could hear a grating sound from somewhere back of the gondola. When it stopped, Illya said "Jump!"

  There was a very slight swaying motion as fifty men dropped almost simultaneously through the open hangar doors. "Go check, just to make sure," Napoleon said.

  Illya crossed the length of the gondola, pausing for a moment to administer a thump to Sanders, who was beginning to show signs of life. "Tough old bird," he remarked. Checking the body of the dirigible he found no one. Even the man who operated the hangar doors had apparently jumped with the rest; the doors still swung open. Tidily, he closed them and returned to report.

  Napoleon nodded in satisfaction. "See if you can find something to tie all these people up. We can't be stopping to crack someone over the head every few minutes."

  Rummaging through the storage areas in the gondola, Illya located an assortment of odds and ends including a very large coil of rope. He cut several lengths from the latter and tied up the Thrushes.

  "Now then," Napoleon said, "we are approximately a thousand feet up, invisible, and heading in the direction of, first, Cerro Bueno and, second, the Pacific Ocean. What does your dirigible lore say about getting us back to hearth and home?"

  Illya looked about the interior of the gondola. "First, I'm going to look for some instructions. There must be an operator's manual somewhere."

  Chapter 14

  "Hi-Yo, Dirigible!"

  After a few minutes, it became obvious that there were no operating instructions aboard.

  "Well," Napoleon said as he looked around the control room, "there don't seem to be too many controls. Why don't we try them one at a time and see what happens."

  Illya nodded. "I'm sure Arpad will let us know if we start to do anything dangerous; it's his neck as well as ours."

  McNulty glared at them.

  "And of course," Napoleon said, "if he doesn't cooperate, there's no real reason to leave him around, is there? Why don't we try waking up Hunter? We'll keep the one who cooperates and pitch the other one out the door."

  McNulty grimaced. "Very well. A practical man must be governed by the circumstances, which seem to favor you at the moment."

  "Fine," Napoleon said. "Now about these controls?"

  "Quite simple, really. The wheel in front controls the rudders. The one on the left, facing the side, controls the elevators. The one on the right controls engine speed, and those switches above the elevator wheel releases the ballast. You seem to have figured out the OTSMID for yourself, and presumably you know something about sonar."

  "We seem to need more ballast, not less," Illya said. "But I suppose the elevators can get us down...?"

  McNulty nodded. "Just turn the wheel clockwise and set the engines at Slow."

  "That's where they're set now," Napoleon said.

  McNulty nodded. "We hoped they were. We had to set them by feel when the nullifier quit on us."

  "What happened there, anyway?" Napoleon asked.

  "I don't know. We were trying to expand the invisibility field, so the paratroops could jump from a good altitude and still be invisible most of the way down. Morthley had shown me how to work the controls. All at once the nullifier quit."

  "Some sort of interaction with the expanding invisibility field," Illya said. He turned elevator wheel slowly. There was a slight shift in the deck beneath them as the dirigible's nose lowered, but nothing else.

  "What does the sonar say?" Napoleon asked.

  "I can't tell from here," Illya said. "Maybe we'd better shut off the OTSMID until we get some practice on this thing. I don't want to plow into any mountains." He walked over to the OTSMID and fiddled with the controls until the absolute blackness outside the gondola windows was again replaced by moonlight. He checked their progress. "We're going down slightly; still pretty high. Incidentally, hadn't we better get this thing turned around? I have no particular urge to provide target practice for El Presidente's boys."

  Napoleon nodded, left the engine controls and approached the rudder controls warily. Several full turns were required before Illya reported that the ship was beginning to turn.

  "While you were at it, you might have put in power steering," Napoleon told McNulty.

  Suddenly the Thrush communicator in Napoleon's pocket buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket while Illya hastened to McNulty's side and gestured suggestively with his knife. McNulty nodded. Napoleon flipped open the communicator and put his hand over the pickup. Someone was already speaking.

  "...what happened. We came down in the jungle. I don't even know where we are. I've just managed to collect the group, and we'd like somebody to get us out of here."

  Another voice cut in. "Forbes here. You can't contact the dirigible if the OTSMID is functioning. I'll get some help to you from headquarters. Keep talking so we can get a fix on you."

  The first voice began to swear, steadily and without inflection. After a minute, Forbes cut in again. "You're not more than fifteen mile from headquarters! You say you don't know what happened?"

  "No. The lights went out, and Sanders came back and told us it was just a temporary failure and for us to sit tight. Then they came back on, and a couple minutes later we got the orders to jump. We jumped, and we landed here. Couldn't see the trees until we got out of the field and by then we were in them. Worst foul-up I ever saw!"

  It was Forbes' turn to swear, and he did it with more feeling. McNulty has done it again! Well, that young man has either failed or double-crossed me once too often. When I get my hands on him, he'll learn a few things about Thrush discipline." Forbes continued at some length on McNulty's failings and his anticipated punishment for them.

  On the dirigible, McNulty's faced paled until it resembled old putty.

  Finally Forbes broke off his tirade. "We'll try to get a helicopter out to pick you up. Keep your communicator on so we can locate you. We only have the one copter, so we'll have to bring you in a few at a time."

  Napoleon put the communicator back in his pocket. "At least we some of the paratroopers are out of the way for a while. If we work fast, we might be able to get Kerry and Dr. Morthley out before the bulk of them return. It will take the helicopter some time to find the troops and arrange for a pickup."

  McNulty looked up, startled. "You aren't going back to Thrush headquarters!"

  "Of course," Napoleon replied. "Why not?"

  "Look, I don't want to go anywhere near there. Just give me a parachute and let me jump. I know Forbes, and he meant every word he said. Give me a chance to get out of the country."

  Napoleon looked thoughtful. "How bad do you want out, Arpad?"

  McNulty shuddered. "You don't know Forbes. I do."

  "What are you thinking about, Napoleon?" Ill
ya asked.

  "Mainly that two men can't operate the dirigible controls, the sonar, and the OTSMID simultaneously. Now, if we let Arpad loose—without a gun, of course—he could handle one of the controls for us. Would you do that Arpad, in return for being allowed to bail out a good long way from Thrush headquarters when the job is done?"

  McNulty nodded eagerly.

  "Should we trust him?" asked Illya.

  "I think we can trust him with reservations. Don't let him get near your gun. Also, I think we should dispose of temptation in the form of his buddies here." Napoleon gestured to the recumbent forms of the Thrushes lying about the control room. "Arpad, are there any extra parachutes about?"

  McNulty nodded. "In the second cabin back, on the left. Most of the crew were a little nervous about out airworthiness, so we brought along parachutes for everybody." It was obvious from his tone that McNulty held no sympathy for those who doubted the virtues of his ship.

  While Illya brought the parachutes forward, Napoleon opened the gondola door next to the OTSMID and roused the still sleeping Thrushes. After considerable confusion, Hunter, Sanders, Salzwasser and the unidentified crewman were roused and bundled into the parachute packs.

  "All right, gentlemen," Napoleon announced as the last buckle slipped into place, "just step through the door over there and remember to pull your ripcords when you've cleared the ship."

  "Wait a minute!" Hunter exclaimed, pointing at McNulty, who was cowering near the front of the gondola. "What about him?"

  Napoleon smiled. "I shouldn't be giving away secrets, but I'm sure you'll find out eventually. Arpad is one of our best agents."

  Hunter nodded. "I should have guessed it. Nobody could foul up that often unless he did it deliberately. All right," he said to McNulty, "you win this time, but if I ever see you again—"

  "At the count of three," Napoleon broke in ominously. "One..."

  At the count of three, Hunter, followed closely by Sanders, Rudolph, and the unidentified Thrush jumped.

  "That seems to dispose of possible saboteurs," Illya said. "Now we can get down to business."

  McNulty came hesitantly toward Napoleon. "Don't you think I'm in enough trouble without your telling Hunter I'm one of your agents?" he asked accusingly.

  "No, I don't," Napoleon replied firmly. "The more trouble you're in, the less likely you are to think you can double-cross us and get away with it."

  Pulling the returned communicator from his pocket, Napoleon called Ishmael. "This is Solo," he said when the man's voice answered. "Have you located the other prisoners yet?"

  Sotavento sounded unhappy. "No Se�or. They are on the third floor of the headquarters building, but I have not been able to find out which cell."

  "Never mind." Napoleon turned to McNulty. "Which cell did you put Kerry and Dr. Morthley in?"

  "The corner cell at the far end of the corridor."

  "Which side of the corridor?"

  "Toward the back of the building."

  Napoleon relayed this information to Sotavento, who sounded even more unhappy than before. "Se�or Solo, I do not think that I can rescue the prisoners from that location. Se�or Forbes has discovered your escape and put guard all around the building, with a man at each end of the upper corridor. Undoubtedly a man of your skill could affect a rescue, but for a poor interpreter..."

  "That's all right," Napoleon said. "Try to find out if the prisoners are likely to be moved in the near future, then meet us at the clearing by the river a mile east of the base in half an hour." He turned to Illya. "We're getting close enough so that we could be spotted by the helicopter on one of its flights. Better switch on the OTSMID."

  Illya did so, and the bright moonlight around them was replaced by utter blackness. Illya came back and looked at the circular screen on the sonar. "Doesn't tell you much, does it?" he observed after a few seconds.

  "Just watch the bottom blip," McNulty offered. "If it gets within ninety degrees of the upper one, you're too close to something, probably the ground. To find out where you are, of course, you have to shut the OTSMID off for a moment."

  "Over this jungle, at night, I don't think 'moment' is quite the word," Napoleon said. "Just for the record does anyone know where we are now?"

  "We have to be somewhere west of Thrush headquarters," Illya said. "Probably southwest, since Cerro Bueno lies a bit to the south. If we head north, we should cross that little river that flows past the Thrush base, and we could follow that."

  "Good," Napoleon said. "The only remaining problem is to find out which way north is."

  McNulty pointed to a compass mounted near the helm. "Turn the OTSMID off long enough for this to operate and we can get a heading. It's a little unhandy, but we didn't have time to get an inertial guidance system to install."

  Illya followed McNulty's instructions and minutes later they were heading approximately north. They moved steadily, occasionally switching off the OTSMID so they could check the ground below and the compass. Eventually, Illya spotted the gleam of moonlight on water, and they turned toward the rising mountains in the east.

  Now they had to switch the invisibility field off more frequently to avoid losing the slender thread of the stream, and with each brief foray into visibility, they nervously listened for the helicopter. Everyone, except McNulty, breathed a sigh of relief when a cluster of lights was spotted ahead.

  "Thrush base in sight," Illya announce, hastily snapping on the OTSMID. "It's still at least a mile ahead; we'd better stay invisible until we pass it."

  They moved silently along, with Illya checking one of his watches at intervals. Finally he rose, switched off the OTSMID, and hurried to a side window near the rear of the gondola. After a moment, he moved to the other side and exclaimed in satisfaction.

  "We're fine," he announced, "but you'd better swing north about fifteen degrees or we'll miss the clearing. Incidentally," he added, "how are we going to pick up Sotavento?"

  "Can't we just hover and lower the cable like Thrush did on Lake Michigan?" Napoleon asked.

  "Not exactly. The dirigible was moored then, and it had more ballast. We lost a lot of weight when the paratroopers jumped. Now we're being held down by the elevators. The minute we stop moving forward, we start rising."

  "Well, then we drift across the clearing as slowly as we can, dragging the cable, and Ishmael grabs it as it comes past."

  Illya considered. "We can do that, I think, but I'd hate to snag that hook in a tree."

  "You needn't worry," McNulty assured him. "The winch is very sturdy, and even at low speed the dirigible has enough inertia to tear a fair-sized tree out by the roots. Don't forget, it weighs fifty tons."

  "We can do it, then," Illya decided.

  Napoleon contacted Ishmael again and advised him of the plan. The local agent sounded dubious but reluctantly agreed to at least try.

  A few minutes later, the dirigible coasted slowly over the clearing. The hook at the end of the cable splashed down in the middle of the stream, dragged across the bank, and headed for the first line of trees, less than two hundred feet away. Ishmael Gallinas y Sotavento valiantly dashed after it and overtook it about fifty feet short of the trees. He attached himself to it, leechlike, and closed his eyes. Illya engaged the winch and hauled him aboard.

  Ishmael was still trembling and picking small leaves and branches from his clothing when he stepped into the control gondola ahead of Illya. He managed to smile weakly at Napoleon. "It is good to see you once again, se�or."

  Napoleon returned the smile. "Glad to have you aboard, Mr. Sotavento. I believe you and Mr. McNulty have met?"

  The local agent stared. "But he—"

  "Is at present working with us to avoid the wrath of Thrush. However, keep in mind that he is rather inventive and untrustworthy, so under no circumstances allow him near a weapon."

  Sotavento nodded, and the four men settled down to a discussion of the possibilities of rescuing Kerry and Dr. Morthley. The dirigible, its rudder loc
ked in place, drifted in large, lazy, invisible circles.

  * * *

  Illya stood on the hook at the end of the winch cable, one of the retuned Thrush communicators and one of the normal ones tied around his neck. Three ropes were attached to the cable fifty feet above him in such a way that a solid pull on the ends that were looped about his chest would slide them down the cable until they were stopped by the hook. A hundred and fifty yards above him, Ishmael was cautiously operating the winch.

  "Very slowly now," Illya spoke into the retuned communicator. "The hook is just starting to disappear. Just another couple of feet and I can duck down enough to see out."

  As Ishmael lowered him further, the hook disappeared entirely into the floor of blackness beneath him, then his feet and legs up to his waist. "Stop!" he said, and the winch halted with only inches remaining between the edge of the field and the communicators hanging around his neck.

  Illya squatted down on the hook, and the tops of the trees suddenly appeared, moving by at a leisurely pace less than a hundred yards below. Looking forward, he could just make out the lights of the Thrush base a good half mile ahead. He watched for several seconds, then stood up with his head inside the field.

  "To the left about ten degrees," he said into the communicator, and ducked back down. He could feel the cable sway slightly as McNulty shifted heading. Ahead, the cluster of lights grew larger and seemed to be dropping lower. "We've got the heading about right," he said as he stood up into the field again, "but bring it down a little. At this height, I'll need one of the parachutes myself."

  Back outside the field, the trees rushed up at him with disconcerting suddenness, but before he hit the upper branches, the dirigible leveled off and he skimmed over the highest trees by twenty feet. "Hold it level," he said, sticking his head for a second back into the field.

  As the Thrush base loomed nearer, Illya could make out the sound of the helicopter. Even at a quarter mile, its clattering roar began to drown out the quiet rumble of the dirigible's engines. So much the better, he thought; the more distraction, the better chance we have.