The Final Affair

'Satisfactory. I see no reason to delay – mobilise at once. Effect armaments and security preparations according to the memorandum I left you. Put all this in motion in my name, and call me back in ten hours.'

In the next few days, mighty forces shifted silently, focussing on an obscure, almost forgotten speck of land lost in the southern ocean, while Illya, Napoleon and Joan cleaned their guns and did roadwork along the wide dark beach at low tide, alternately running a mile and jogging a mile each way every afternoon. Mr. Waverly reclined beneath a wide sunshade shared with Ladju, Dr. Kaja kibitzing, across a four foot checkerboard, just awash at the edge of the pool. Evenings were spent over maps and charts of Thrush Island or working out in an improvised gym. Terse conferences were held over a jury-rigged radio link through Djakarta to Ambon with the commanders of the attack forces; coded co-ordinate systems pinpointed locations on their copies of the charts. The full plan of attack was worked out during these final days.

A heavy cargo jet, unable to land at the small Makasar field, parachuted the Squid II minisub into the ocean half a mile offshore from Dr. Kaja ¹s lab on Thursday afternoon. Ladju gave Napoleon and Illya a tandem ride out to where it bobbed low in the water, and exhibited tremendous curiosity about the sub, especially its finless propulsion and steering system. More than twice the size of Mr… Simpson's first model, which they had employed in a similar but smaller operation against an insular Thrush base, it was nearly identical in design: a fat grey teardrop with a ring of Coanda jets pointing out at right angles to its longitudinal axis just ahead of the bulge. Silent, invisible to sonar while in motion, capable of forty-five knots submerged, it would carry the four of them to rendezvous with the main assault force, covering the three hundred miles in under eight hours with no effective limit on functioning depth; the ocean was not deep enough to crush the pressure hull.

Ladju was impressed by its speed and range, having often swum circles around conventional submarines; he discussed it with Napoleon and Illya as they checked it out until the ruddy equatorial sunset faded into the sea.

Ladju's part in the operation would be simple but essential – only a dolphin could approach the silent detectors without alerting the island's defenses, and after the transfers of personnel from one craft to another had been accomplished eighty miles beyond the ring of listening devices, Ladju would lead two or three of his friends towards the island, accompanying the Squid II as far as the outer defense Tine, closely followed by the troop subs…

The modern calendar-clock on the stone wall had an anachronistic look like a wristwatch on a knight. It showed 1830, 22 August, when two alarm lights went on almost simultaneously and a previously silent loudspeaker clattered to life. Two reclining Thrush guards snapped to alert as the Duty Tech hurried to check an illuminated diagram.

'What's that?' one of them asked. 'Some kind of fish?'

'Uh-huh,' said the Tech. 'Couple of dolphins, I'd say. But there's more – or something. Just a minute… They're on two adjacent stations. That's funny.'

'More than one of 'em?'

'Yeah. 247 and 248 are three-quarters of a mile apart, and both of 'em have something right up close making noise.'

'Why dolphins?'

'I dunno. It sounds like dolphins. Maybe I'd better tape it. Dr. Egret will be able to tell. In fact,' he added, as a switch started reels turning, 'I think I'll call her right now. My orders are to report to her if anything unusual happens, and this is unusual as far as I can tell. The Council had held a few quick sessions, and they see armies from U.N.C.L.E. in every cloud formation.'

'Me too,' said the Guard. 'Call Dr. Egret.'

The dolphins were still at it and the tapes continued to roll when Dr. Egret arrived fifteen minutes later. She listened intently for a few moments, and then said, 'They're taking turns. One of them talks for a minute, then the other one. How regular has that been?'

'Uh, I couldn't tell the difference. What are they talking about?'

'I haven't the least idea. Your microphones won't pick up most of their speech frequencies, and we couldn't hear them if they did.' She bent over the oscilloscope and studied its cryptic green trace. 'Do you have both stations on at the moment?'

'Yes.'

'Turn one off.'

Then only one voice emerged from the speaker, alternating something like a high pitched Bronx cheer with an unearthly titter. Dr. Egret listened intently. 'Can you take that tape and slow it down?' she asked the Tech.

'Yeah – at least to quarter-speed.' He started a second recorder going, stopped the first and rewound the tape a short distance. A knob was turned and the tape-started again. Another switch gave them the sound, grotesquely stretched.

The Bronx cheer became a staccato heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh lasting several seconds and the titter seemed almost articulated.,

'It almost sounds like it's saying, 'Erdeycum, erdeycum' said the Guard, and Dr. Egret nodded.

'It is strange,' she agreed. 'That almost seems to be a word. I'll check it in Flint's Vocabulary. I think I recognise the other sound it's a kind of laugh a dolphin gives when he's about to play a joke on an unsuspecting victim* Most of them seem to be fond of practical jokes. I've occasionally thought they might be willing to trade services for underwater versions of a whoopee cushion or an electric buzzer.' She shook her head. 'How long have they been at this?'

'About a quarter of an hour. They just started up all of a sudden'. We didn't even hear them approach the stations.'

'You wouldn't. Switch back to the monitors, please. Let's see what they're up to now.'

The tape playback stopped, and only a faint hiss and thrum of open sea filled the room. The Tech flicked a couple of switches, then looked up and shrugged his shoulders. 'Huh! They're gone.'

Dr. Egret snorted. 'There was probably nothing to it,' she said. 'I'll never understand dolphins – I don't think a human being can. In some ways they're far better than people. But in most ways they're just very different.'

'But a whole bunch of them – at least four, anyway – swimming up to our detectors and jabbering? What could they possibly been up to?'

'I have no idea. Some alien game, probably. I remember a couple of years ago there was one in this area who came by two or three times a week. I think it was the same one every time – it used to come up to one or another of our stations and say, 'Hello, Doctor Lilly, hello Doctor Lilly,' over and over for a few minutes before swimming away. Kept this up for a couple of months before it lost interest.'

'Oh well,' said the Guard, 'as long as it doesn't mean anything…'

Ten miles west of the island two submarines rode low in the dark water, linked by a short catwalk two feet above the gentle swells from the darkened bridge of the command sub to the top hatch of the Squid, where a faint greenish light showed. Alexander Waverly, bundled in his camel's-hair coat, hat settled firmly on his head, stood in the bridge compartment to see the first assault group under way. One at a time they went up the ladder to the starlit top deck and across after a final checkout of assignment and equipment. The pilot who would put them ashore and pull back, went first, followed by Sanders and Goldin who would accompany Illya to the powerhouse, to settle their explosives comfortably for the short ride to shore. Voices were low, as a directional pick-up on the shore could still spot them over open sea. Dim golden lights on the eastern horizon indicated their goal.

'The main landing forces are in position,' Mr. Waverly said. 'They will hit the beach approximately ninety seconds after the power goes off.'

'And the power should go off about thirty seconds after I've hit the telephone exchange and started the jammer,' Napoleon said. 'I could do it in my sleep.'

'I trust you can do it awake. Mr. Kuryakin?'

'All set, sir.'

A voice spoke quietly down the hatch from above. 'Ready for the rest of you.'

Short and Mills, Waverly's personally chosen support for Napoleon and Joan, hoisted their packs and clambered