was represented by another notch code; a fence, an arsonist, a forger, all could be sorted out of the hundreds of professional criminals here catalogued in seconds.
This primitive box of Hollerith cards had grown in the founding office of the Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the Subjugation of Humanity during the first few years of their pioneering operation. Building from an earlier, individually run organisation, they had applied the most advanced methods of their time to the problem of undisciplined crime and the establishment of a central information service which maintained certain control and direction over the activities of its clients. In twenty years – with the help of the first outbreak of the Great European War – the Hierarchy had become truly international. The acronymic nickname was coined in 1919, and the first warbird symbol appeared in 1923 on a blazer badge in Chicago.
During the first and fourth decades of the Twentieth Century they reorganised internally, broadening their base of power. Then when the simmering pot of The War returned to a boil, and the world erupted a second time, the Hierarchy was ready to profit from both sides.
The War had brought him Irene, he reflected, and set in motion events that had brought him all else he wanted from life: San Francisco, a comfortable income and freedom to pursue his own researches. He didn't expect to change his way of life just because the Hierarchy had fallen – though the data banks of Thrush Central had been seized legally after all, with a special warrant signed by the Governor, the name of Ward Baldwin was entered there only for royalty payments on several dozens of his patents, and only those texts could be subpoenaed. His lawyer would appear in court to explain just why.
Months had passed, and nothing had been heard from Central. If the Island were still in operation, no word had come to any of his friends on five continents. Could it be possible that after three-quarters of a century the Hierarchy was no more? He had been born in the same month that five men met in London to form the First Council, he mused. So much had happened since then.
But the Hierarchy was more than men and machines – it was more than the reels of magnetic tape and files of paper. Like this tray of cards, the value in the Hierarchy was information. Tape can be erased, and paper can be burnt, but data can be endlessly duplicated or be carried in the untappable mind or generated anew. Patterns erased from the tape or burned with the paper have a ghostly life of their own, and can never be destroyed, only lost for a while.
There came a tap at the door as he sat musing, and Irene entered at his invitation. She held an envelope and a card in her hand.
'Ward, this note just arrived in the mail. I thought you should see it – it's from Mr. Kuryakin. He says Alexander Waverly is dead.'
'Waverly, eh? Does he say when or how?'
'No, but apparently it was sometime ago. He says both he and Mr. Solo have been incapacitated or he would have written sooner, but he doesn't go into details.'
Baldwin sighed. 'Old Waverly. He was a year younger than I, you know. A fine man; I wish I could have known him better. Interesting coincidence, don't you think; all this incapacitation in the fighting arm of U.N.C.L.E. – but it gives me the odd feeling we may not expect to hear from Central at all for quite some time, my dear. Remarkable… One can't help but wonder how it was accomplished.'
'And this one is addressed to both of us. The postmark is the same but the handwriting is different.'
Baldwin slit the envelope and drew out an inner, unsealed envelope. This yielded an engraved card which he regarded seriously for several seconds before passing to his wife.
'Mr. Solo is getting married! How nice,' said Irene. 'I wonder who Joan Galton is.'
'Her second married name,' said Baldwin in an odd voice, 'was Perry. Widow of a Thrush Tech with us almost twenty years. Did you know she was involved with Mr. Solo before he started with U.N.C.L.E.? I'd wondered about that. Her profile had recommended she be kept away from him.'
'Somehow they seem to have gotten back together despite everything,' Irene observed. 'Wait! Joan Perry – wasn't she -
'She was working, in our BioPsych section when last seen. She took a weekend's leave early in August, just before things started to go wrong, and never came back. And I had written her off.' He chuckled. 'Now that I think of it, she checked out the same night Stevens was killed – and she was the last one to talk to him. I remember noticing that when her AWOL case came up.' He chuckled again. 'I do believe Mr. Solo has put one over on us,' he said, tapping bony fingers on his knee.
'Now, Ward, you weren't going to do something to spoil things for them. It's too late to help Thrush, and vengeance is a sour dish for an old mouth.'
'Vengeance?' said Baldwin. 'Nonsense. Waverly played the game fairly and won – I'm glad to have escaped the – sinking of the Hierarchy with no more damage than a slight tightening of the belt. After all, I still have you – and Robin, and my work.'
'And two thousand dollars a month in industrial royalties.'
'I'll miss the computer – most of my working data is still on microfilm in the files, but it was convenient to have it available through the terminal. Perhaps we could subscribe to a service locally. Varan Haruchi picked up most of the old hardware. He might be persuaded to trade service for service… I must contact Saul Panzer in New York, and have him find out how Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin are. Perhaps some appropriate observance…
Napoleon shifted uncomfortably in his antique formal attire, and shook his head at Illya. They sat in an ivyed niche at the foot of a wide lawn and a sunlit crowd around white-draped tables. 'I must say I never expected my best man to show up in full dress uniform as an Admiral in the -'
'Vice-Admiral, Napoleon. Remember, I was originally detached from Russian Naval. Intelligence, and my commission is still with them. ' Besides,' he smiled, 'I thought it lent a touch of color to your drab ceremony-in pink and qrey with a little bit of yellow. Now, you should see a village wedding in the Ukraine, with bonfires and dancing and hundreds of guests.'
'I'd like to,' said Napoleon. 'Maybe some time you can show me one.'
He paused. 'There was something else, wasn't there.'
'Yes… I've been called home, along with my promotion. Would you believe I'm the second youngest Vice- Admiral in the Russian Navy?'
Napoleon nodded. 'You look very dashing with the sling. How's the shoulder holding?'
'The pins are nearly solid, I'm told. Should be just as good as new in another month or two. I'll be in some instructional position when I go back – I'll send you my address.'
'You?' said Napoleon. 'At a blackboard?'
Illya sighed. 'Probably not for long. I expect to spend the next six months polishing my Manchurian dialect and studying some new techniques. I'll probably be in China next summer. My Moscow address will stay valid, but there may be delays in forwarding.'
Joan, in a small cloud of pink, came across the grass towards them from the reception. 'Napoleon,' she was saying, 'I'm so glad your partner could be here.'
'Does Mom seem to accept your amnesia story? We've got the best medical evidence money can buy.'
'I don't really think so, but she's too nice to say anything. She's just glad you're settling down.'
'Behind a desk;' said Napoleon.'
'But the big desk,' said Illya. 'You'll never get fat in that chair.'
Napoleon nodded… 'I remember the last time I held it. Without Thrush working on me it should be a relative picnic. Did you see the file on that, W by the way? I was code-named
'Mr. Simpson has been running barefoot through the top secret research reports and filing a summary every day on the most interesting ones,' Joan said. 'You can look at them all when you no back to work – not before. I talked it over with Miss Cramer. Local offices are doing fine at sweeping up and you won't really be needed for another month or so. Mr. Allison has come back to sign a few things. After all, you're still officially on medical leave, and I expect it'll take you at least until Christmas to recover fully.'
'Did he ever find anything On the Flin Flon Monster?'
'The what? Oh, yes, in fact he mentioned you'd be interested in that. Very disappointing. It was something that didn't work out – they scrapped it a little later.'
Illya stood. 'You'd better be getting back to the reception, Napoleon. I have a plane to catch. But first, there's one more wedding present for you. It came to my apartment last week, and I've had the boys in the lab checking it
