Pulp Fiction | The Invisibility Affair by Thomas Stratton Page 16
Now the headquarters building was approaching, sticking several yards above the surrounding trees. "Up about ten feet," Illya spoke into the communicator and immediately ducked back inside the field to watch the back wall of the building charge directly at him at ten miles an hour.
Again, he felt a shift as the elevators moved and the dirigible started to gain altitude. He waited until he cleared the last tree at the edge of the clearing and was swinging up and over the edge of the headquarters building, then stuck his head back into the field long enough to snap, "Now!" sharply into the communicator.
Illya dropped the half dozen feet from the hook to the roof. He hit lightly, partially restrained by the ropes around his chest and managed to retain his balance. The hook continued forward in a slightly rising trajectory for a second and the ropes tugged at him as their other ends slid jerkily as Ishmael reeled it off the winch at top speed.
The sound of the dirigible motors as their props seemed thunderous to Illya, but they were still not as loud as that of the helicopter as it clattered over the jungle on its way to pick up another load of the paratroopers.
As the hook came within reach, Illya grabbed it and began tugging it toward one corner of the roof. As he reached it and lay face down to feed the hook over the edge, a brilliant flash of light came from the jungle on the other side of the clearing. Ignoring the flash, he brought the hook level with a cell window four feet down the back wall of the building. He swung the hook against the bars, and called over the edge, "Kerry! Dr. Morthley! Come to the window, quickly!"
In a matter of seconds, a pale face appeared at the bars and stared at the hook dangling inches away. "This is Illya," he explained in a stage whisper that carried over the sound of the receding helicopter and the growing tumult that had resulted from the first flare. "Get that hook in through the bars and loop it around them; then stick it back through and hook it to the cable. Hurry! We only have a few seconds!"
A second flare, brilliant red this time, went off. As Kerry's hand darted through the bars and pulled the hook through, the normal Thrush communicator around Illya's neck erupted into life.
"What's going on out there?" Forbes' voice crackled through. "Helicopter, can you see anything?"
Meanwhile, the sound of men shouting orders and pounding across the clearing toward the jungle was coming from in front of the headquarters building.
"A bunch of flares is all we can see," the helicopter was answering.
"Well, get back here, quick, whatever it is!" Forbes snapped "It's probably those two U.N.C.L.E. agents again—it has to be!"
The communicator fell silent as the hook reappeared through the bars and was fastened over the cable. "Now stand back from the wall." Illya told Kerry and Dr. Morthley. "I'll be in to pick you up in a few seconds."
Without waiting for an acknowledgment, he raised himself from his prone position and moved back toward the center of the roof. The cable, where it disappeared into the field, was now moving back over the roof and rising slightly. The ropes had slid on the cable until they were attached to it a few feet above the point where it dropped over the edge of the roof.
The progress of the cable seemed agonizingly slow, and the sounds of activity below reached a new pitch as a third flare let go over the jungle. Illya was beginning to wonder if creating a diversion by having Napoleon fire the Very pistol into the jungle was going to be a help or hindrance.
Finally, the slack was taken up in the cable and it grew taut. There was a pause, much preliminary crackling and creaking, then a rending crash as the bars, a ten foot section of wall, and a small chunk of the roof tore loose and swung in a short arc toward the jungle in back of the building.
Simultaneously, the dirigible appeared overhead.
The instant the wall tore loose, Illya dashed forward, dragging the three ropes with him. Coming to the jagged edge of the hole, he stopped only long enough to assure himself that the floor of the cell had not been detached along with the wall, than grasped the edge of the hole and swung down into the cell.
Almost simultaneously, he spotted the two prisoners crouched in the far corner of the cell next to the door and a guard, his eyes wide and mouth agape, looking through the bars in the door. Before the guard could fully comprehend the situation and react properly, Illya had his U.N.C.L.E. Special in his hand. He snapped a quick shot the caught the guard in the shoulder just as he was attempting to bring his rifle into play. The rifle clattered to the floor and the guard stumbled back across the corridor away from the door.
Illya stuffed the gun in his belt and began struggling to get two of the ropes from around his chest. "Help me with these!" he snapped at Kerry and Dr. Morthley. "Each of you get into one and be ready to make like Tarzan in about ten seconds."
He broke off as he could feel a tug on the ropes. The slack was gone and they were sliding the last ten feet toward the end of the cable.
"More cable!" he shouted into the communicator. "And reverse the props again! We'll swing right into the trees this way!"
"Helicopter!" Forbes' voice crackled from the Thrush communicator. "It's the dirigible! Open fire as soon as you get within range!"
Kerry and Dr. Morthley were into their ropes. "Okay, we're hooked on," Illya shouted "Haul away!"
The slack disappeared rapidly from the ropes and the three of them were jerked roughly from the cell. Like a large pendulum, they swung toward the trees. The ropes cut viciously into their armpits.
Utter confusion reigned below. Another flare had just gone off and all Thrush troops were milling around in the clearing. No one seemed to realize what was happening except Forbes, who was back on the air shouting at the helicopter to hurry up.
As Illya, Kerry, and Dr. Morthley were hauled above the level of the roof, Illya could see the helicopter approaching rapidly. It apparently spotted them as well, for it veered sharply and took a course directly for them.
In the light of another flare, Illya could see someone leaning out one side of the helicopter. Something that looked suspiciously like a sub-machinegun was clutched in one hand.
"There's someone hanging on a rope, being pulled up into the dirigible," the voice from the helicopter came sharply over the communicator.
"Get them!" Forbes snapped back. "I don't know how, but it must be Morthley, and we can't let him fall back into U.N.C.L.E. hands. Get him first, then try for the dirigible."
Illya looked around frantically. Invisibility would do them no good. They were still a hundred feet below where the field would extend if it were turned on. By the time they could be pulled into it, the helicopter would be on them.
He looked up. The helicopter would be coming directly under the front of the dirigible, he noticed suddenly. If he could remember the location of the ballast tanks correctly, and if there was any ballast left..."
"Napoleon!" he shouted into the communicator. "Get ready to drop all ballast from all tanks when I give you the word. And the instant you drop it, turn the OTSMID on and put on full power."
There was no reply, and Illya watched the helicopter. It was almost beneath the dirigible. A short burst from the sub-machinegun sent bullets hissing by over their heads.
"Now!" Illya shouted.
There was no immediate reaction. The helicopter bore down on them rapidly.
Then the dirigible disappeared.
"For want of a ballast..." Illya muttered and struggled to reach his gun. He had just pulled it free when a second burst of fire came at them from the helicopter.
They were getting his range.
Suddenly, something appeared a hundred feet above and slightly in front of the helicopter, It glittered in the light of another flare, then erupted into a cascade as it fell squarely on the helicopter, cutting short a third burst of sub-machinegun fire.
The helicopter jerked abruptly and began to wobble. Plowing suddenly into the falling mass of water ballast had been too much for the rotors. One snapped off and shot away and the helicopter shook violently from t
he resulting unbalance.
Through the spray, Illya could see the man with the gun shaken loose. He plummeted to earth, the helicopter spinning dizzily after him.
The last thing Illya saw as the invisibility field closed about him was the Thrush troops scattering frantically to avoid the debris.
* * *
Illya stood in the control gondola with Napoleon, Ishmael, Kerry, Dr. Morthley, and McNulty. The engines were running wide open and the dirigible was moving visibly in the direction of Cerro Bueno. Napoleon was patched in to New York through Ishmael's retuned Thrush communicator and the Cerro Bueno U.N.C.L.E. headquarters.
"Yes, Mr. Waverly," he was saying. "The immediate threat to El Presidente is past and we have Morthley, Kerry and the OTSMID."
"Well done, Mr. Solo," Waverly replied. "I knew my faith in you and Mr. Kuryakin was not misplaced. You seem to have cleared up two of our more irritating problems in one stroke."
"There is one more thing," Napoleon said. "At the time of our first report from San Sebastian, you indicated a certain dissatisfaction with El Presidente. Thrush's planned use of the OTSMID and dirigible was really quite ingenious, and there's no reason why we can't give the legitimate rebels some help, once we get the Thrushes thoroughly weeded out."
There was a short silence from New York. "Well," Waverly's voice came after several seconds. "Well, well. I'll have to consider that, Mr. Solo, when the time comes."
McNulty was staring and shaking his head when Napoleon signed off. "But you just risked your lives a half dozen times to prevent us from doing the same thing!" he burst out.
"You just don't understand, Arpad," Napoleon explained patiently. "It's all right for us to do it. We're the good guys."
McNulty turned wordlessly from Napoleon and picked up his parachute.
THE END
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posted 2.14.2010, transcribed by kanders