The Final Affair

Several wooden buildings on both sides of the island were roaring skyward in flames, and the waning moon was obscured by the smoke of their burning. The rear of the Big House was a cratered ruin, thin topsoil scattered and coral blasted to dust. No more lightning was flung at the sea, and no more shells were being fired; the surface moved dark and peaceful.

The invading force from U.N.C.L.E. was stalled, running into concerted defense through the Long Buildings to the south and from the fortified Guard Quarters to the north of the Big House. Once again light machine guns perched behind concrete cornices of the old mansion, sleeting leaden death on anything that moved in their free-fire zone. Their infrared sniperscopes were aided by the flickering heat of the rising flames before which the U.N.C.L.E. troops advanced and towards which they were forced to retire again. Something fat and shiny in an upper story window spat whirling spheres of yellow-white fire across the open yard to the north, and uniformed figures scampered away from its line of fire, as bullets spattered the stonework about the window.

Downstairs Joan could only tell that the gunfire overhead was less frequent, and the shelling seemed to have stopped. It was comparatively restful now in the darkness of the cell, and breathing was easier as the dust settled.

'…He played lacrosse in college – and I remember he threw the javelin…' Illya's voice murmured softly, prompted occasionally by Joan, as they waited for the telephone to ring again. It might have been five minutes, it might have been fifteen.

When it rang, Joan grabbed the handset. 'U.N.C.L.E. base,' she said. 'How is it?'

'Pretty, good, I. guess, but I'd better talk directly to Illya. '

Joan helped the Russian prop the phone on the pillow next to his ear, his right hand operating the talk switch.

'Right here, Napoleon,' he said. 'What do you see?'

'A mess of wires. There are a few switches – not mounted, just hanging in there between wires. And there's a red pilot light on – and an orange one a blue one and a green one that aren't on. Is that good?'

'I wouldn't count on it. What color are the wires leading to the light that is on?'

'Uhhhhh lemme see… One of them is red and one's a red-green stripe…

'Trace them back and see which one goes to a switch. It should be the striped one.'

… and one is 'a blue-and-white stripe. What did you say?'

'Never mind. Trace both striped ones, and the red one too. Tell me which goes where.'

'Okay. Hey – the blue light just went on. The red one is still on. What does that mean?'

'I don't know yet. Trace the red wire first,' said Illya. 'And see if there's any way you can get through the panel into the triggering mechanism -unless there's a wiring diagram stuck inside the door.'

'Nope. I looked. The solid red wire goes with a bundle out a little hole in the left hand side. The red-green goes with a bundle out the back.

The blue-white wire runs to a switch, and another blue-white runs… ah… to the green light? That, doesn't seem right. Just a minute.'

Something like a grenade went off somewhere overhead. 'Don't take that minute,' said Illya urgently. 'Can you get past the wiring? Can you get- into the space beyond that wall?'

'I'll see.'

'What's happening?' Joan asked as a machine gun stammered intently above them.

'Trying to get at the mechanism,' said Illya. 'Sounds as if the attack has picked up again. If Thrush is going to wait until this building is taken before they set off that device, they may not have too much longer to wait. Incidentally, did you get a look at some of the underground areas on your way -'

'Illya, you there?'

'Right here.'

'I've got two panels pried loose – and finally broke the blade of my knife. There's something about as big as my desk up on a trestle, and a box with cables. Some of them lead up to that box in the wall with the lights and switches in it. I'm behind the wall now and looking around… That pipe with the valve on it leads into the big thing on the trestle – and there's another pipe out the bottom. What is it?'

'There's a water jacket around the device; a steady flow of water past it is monitored for radioactivity to detect leaks. The water's off, so I had you close the valve. It might come back on with a pressure surge, and this way the inner casing will be protected. Tell me about that box with the cables.'

'It's solid all the way around. Maybe I could break into it, maybe not. There's one fat cable to the thing, though, and… Lemme see… – No it won't unplug.'

'Don't cut it! Can you get into the mechanism?'

'Through the water jacket?'

'No, like where the plug goes in. That should be right up at the front, and it might not be solid.'

'I'll see.'

'Be gentle.'

Five irregularly spaced blows in as many seconds bludgeoned the building, and there was a heavy roar like a wall caving in upstairs. Simultaneously a thunderous wave of smoke and shrapnel filled the hallway as the outside door was blasted by a high explosive charge.

'I'll work on it. It sounds as if the mortars are coming up. Aren't you glad you're in a nice safe bomb shelter instead of out here where it's dangerous? Okay I'm going into the firing mechanism now…'

The Big House was built like a fortress, and would have to be stormed like one. Outer defenses fallen, the stone mansion stood, deadly fire spitting unabated from shuttered casements and sheltered crannies. A hold gaped in one third-floor wall where a missile had found the narrow opening of a window, and porch pillars around three sides were bullet-pocked and splintered.

Beyond the Barn and to both sides, the U.N.C.L.E. forces now surrounded the house, unable to make a decisive attack. Sustained mortar fire had hardly diminished the defensive capacity of the Big House, but now scattered attack groups were gathering themselves for one concerted rush. Dark-windowed, bulking against flame-lashed cloud's of smoke behind which hidden armies clashed, it stood like a besieged tower of dark sorceries in some legendary war. Then another mortar shell blasted its flank, and white stone fragments flew.

'Yeah, they lead to a lock like an ignition switch on a car.'

'Any numbers on it?'

'None. Hey how's your room holding up? It sounds like you're taking a beating back there.'

'I can't tell. It's still dark. But I think part of the ceiling came down a few minutes ago.'

'Is Joan okay?'

'She's just fine. Right here holding the phone for me. There should be two more wires coming out of that lock, one off the right side and one off the bottom.'

'I can't get at the back of the lock – it's set into a welded box. Two other wires come out together twisted around each other. One's yellow and green, one's purple and white.'

'Where do they go?'

'Down inside. I can't see where. Into the casing I think.'

There was a long silence, broken by a shuddering blast somewhere above them and the hysterical chatter of machine gun fire. Another blast punched down the hall outside and shook the door in its frame.

'Illya? There's these two wires…'

Illya took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 'Okay, Napoleon. Cut one of them.'

'Check.'

Raduysya Mariye, blagodati poliaya, Gospod s't'voyu; blagoslovyenna ti mezhdu zhenami i blagoslovyen' plod' chryeva tvoyevo Iisus'. Svyataya Mariye, matyer' Bozhi, ya moli o nas'