should you survive to complete one.'
A distant shriek came through the intercom, and the voice spoke sharply, off-mike. 'Fang, put her down!
Something between a snarl and a grunt answered him, followed by Robin's voice, breathless but nearly composed. 'I'm all right, sir. Really. Shall I send -'
The office door opened and two men strode in. The second closed it quietly behind them.
'- them in…' she finished lamely.
'Yes, thank you, Robin. You might also send for a security force and have them ready at the door.'
'Good afternoon, Doctor,' said the front man, in the same sturdy tones which had come through the intercom. 'Allow me to introduce myself and my partner.'
'Don't tell me,' said Baldwin… 'You're Gryptytte-Thynne and he's Count Fred Moriarty.'
The second individual, a large mound of what might have been muscle but was probably fat, stepped forward and bowed silently.
'Not even close,' said the first. 'I'm Vince Kerrigan and this pitiful wreck is my partner, Chou Tee Fang. He's Formosan, of course. Now what we have to do here need never bother you again. It's just a technical sort of thing, running around with instruments and checking a few circuits and talking to a few people. We've done this before, and we guarantee not to get in anybody's way. Now if you'll just initial this, I will vanish out of your life as swiftly as I came into -'
'What sort of technical?'
'Surely Central explained it to you.'
'They served me a helping of doubletalk about imbalanced impedances and unaccounted line losses. Before I give you permission to prowl my territory I want to know just what is going on.'
'Simply, Doctor, that there seems to be an open circuit somewhere in the San Francisco Relay Area.' Chou's nasal bass joined the conversation. 'The probability was determined by demand analysis and checked by Central through UlComp as far as could be accomplished remotely. My partner and I are here to inquire more closely into the matter.' His voice was deep for a Chinese, and slightly pompous.
'In all likelihood it's no more than a faulty piece of equipment,' said Kerrigan. 'Didn't you just receive a new master terminal?'
'Yes – and I must thank someone at Central for the special cabinet in which it was constructed. It goes quite as Well with my office as the old one did.'
'Well, I hope you won't have to lose it. The transmission anomalies first appeared about a week after the change-over, and there might be a stuck relay or something like that. It's as if you didn't hang up the telephone.'
'No, Vince,' said Fang. 'Then you couldn't receive any incoming calls. In this case it doesn't seem to interfere with the full functioning of the terminal unit.'
'Sure, Fang, but what I meant was that it's as if he had an open line all the time.'
'Of course. I only meant that your analogy was poorly chosen. You have no grasp of these technical things. You must forgive my partner, Dr. Baldwin. All he ever has on his mind -'
'Gentlemen,' said Ward Baldwin harshly… 'You broke in here to tell me about a telephone problem?'
'Well, it's more than just a -' / 'You invited us in, and -'
'How long do you expect to take finding it?'
'Oh, the checking routine takes about a week, but we might find it the first day.'
'On the other hand, it might not be routine,' said Fang.
'I see. You gentlemen are experienced field agents, are you not?' Baldwin asked sweetly.
'Our record speaks for itself,' said Kerrigan with a-bit of a swagger.
'I was afraid it might,' said Baldwin. 'Nevertheless, I have an interesting and possibly challenging intellectual problem at the moment, and I was wondering j if you might be able to help me with it. It involves a recent double murder under very suspicious circumstances, with the distinct likelihood that U.N.C.L.E. may have been involved. I suspect there may have been a plot to extract information from the very heart of Thrush, using a subverted agent. That agent may now be dead.'
He studied them from the corner of his eye as he sorted absently through some papers on his desk. 'Have you heard of the KugelBlitzGewehr – or Plasmoid Projector? My Satrapy has been testing the pilot model for the last three months. In the course of a general investigation surrounding the emotional breakdown and subsequent mysterious death of this suspected agent we discovered that one key device, fortunately a spare, is missing. I strongly suspect that U.N.C.L.E. has it. I have evidence that United Network Commandos attempted to rescue Harry Stevens, but were surprised in the attempt. I should give a great deal to know how our other security systems were avoided. The guard who stumbled across them apparently fired once and hit Stevens, while the agent carrying him had time to return his fire fatally. Then he set up this little tableau.' Baldwin indicated the photographs of the murder scene, and sighed. 'All these modern stylists,' he said. 'It looks good from a distance, but under any intellectual scrutiny it falls to pieces.'
'You think an U.N.C.L.E. agent killed a guard in your own restricted area?'
'I doubt it was Zodiac,' said Baldwin sarcastically.
'An U.N.C.L.E. infiltration, and a good one,' said Kerrigan, obviously interested.
'Infiltration, attempted kidnapping and double murder,' said Baldwin.
'And not a bad job on the first two, I must admit. For amateurs.'
'What about the KBG?' asked Chou. 'You think this Stevens passed something of it to U.N.C.L.E.?'
'I think he stole a spare unit from the aiming mechanism, which is a key sub-assembly. U.N.C.L.E. could just as well have broken in here to pick it up; we don't know Stevens took it. But he was not suspected of more than incipient nervous collapse; he could easily have carried the missing device on his person. We may never know how he was induced to betray us. His loyalty had been unquestioned. His profiles, his whole record was exemplary. Whatever force they used caused such emotional conflicts his mind apparently began to crack. I would like to know just what was the hold they had on him. Their meddling has cost me a valuable worker – I'm told – and an annoying security leak. Regrettably, my bailiwick has a shortage of such highly trained men as yourselves, or I should already have directed steps of retaliation against the United Network Command. My work here is largely of a theoretical nature – pure research, if you understand me. My staff is more suited for the battles of the laboratory than the conflicts of the streets, and against the Network's trained killers we would be hopelessly outmatched.'
'But not weaponless,' Chou pointed out. 'I believe your prototype KBG is operational. Has it been tested under combat conditions?'
'Hey,' said Vince. 'That sounds like fun. How much dope do you have on U.N.C.L.E.'s local defenses?'
'Quite enough,' said Baldwin. 'I do not lack for plans – only for men capable of carrying them out. I have permission to employ the KBG at my discretion, and inasmuch as U.N.C.L.E. already knows about it, I thought we might arrange to give them a practical demonstration.'
'What can it do best? We'll want to use it to best advantage.'
'You may have time to familiarize yourselves with it. But I want this punitive raid undertaken before the week is out.'
'Would Thursday night be convenient?'
'Perfectly. Such a blow must be neither too hastily struck nor too long delayed. Pull up chairs, gentlemen, and I will show you an attack plan for your consideration…'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'Absolutely Fascinating!'
Of course Baldwin checked with Central for permission to use their… two men and the KBG, and inevitably Alexander Waverly knew that permission had been granted about thirty seconds before Baldwin knew. Thus, when the final attack plans were confirmed and set in motion, recording units in U.N.C.L.E.'s San Francisco office copied down every step, and every calculation leading to that step. The defenders had begun preparations and rehearsals
