8: "Charles Fort Never Mentioned Sandbags"

9: "I Never Realized Hunding Was a Thrush"

10: "Only Your U.N.C.L.E. Agent Knows For Sure"

11: "Well, If It Isn't Mr. Kuryakin Again"

12: "I Never Sabotaged a Dirigible Before"

13: "There Must Be an Operator's Manual In Here Somewhere"

14: "Hi-Yo, Dirigible!"

Chapter 1

"I Had Hoped It Was a Real Revolution"

In U.N.C.L.E. field headquarters in Cerro Bueno, the capital city of the Republic of San Sebastian, Napoleon Solo was reporting to Mr. Waverly in New York.

"Your idea was correct," he said. "It's Thrush that is masterminding this revolution. The heroic and patriotic rebels are mostly a front; they're allowed to do some of the dying, but Thrush mercenaries are the backbone of the rebel forces, and the financing and leadership come form Thrush. The rebel leader, Ferdinand Pessina, seems to be a genuine patriot, but his staff is composed mostly of Thrush agents, and they make the decisions. Illya and I have discovered the method they're using to bring in arms, and we have their headquarters located. Once the U.N.C.L.E. group here stops the arms shipments, I think the local government can handle the rebels."

Mr. Waverly sighed. "A good job, Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin," he said, "but in a way, I'm disappointed."

"Disappointed? In what way, sir?"

"I had almost hoped it was a real revolution. El Presidente is not precisely an enlightened ruler, you know, and he is extremely unpopular in the eyes of much of the world. Just about everyone would be better off if there were a legitimate revolution, but since the choice seems to be between a dictation and Thrush, we really have very little option in the matter."

Waverly paused before he continued. "I hope you won't require too much rest after your recent adventures, Mr. Solo..."

"From the tone of your voice, I suspect we won't," Napoleon said. "What did you have in mind, and can we take a bath and purchase some new clothes first?"

"Another new suit, Mr. Solo? We've already overdrawn our clothing budget for the year."

"Yes sir. I'm afraid I wasn't exactly dressed for jungle travel when we spotted that Thrush courier and followed him to their headquarters. Besides, we both need baths. After several days in the jungle, out ability to operate secretly in confined quarters has been greatly impaired."

"Well, if you must, you must," Waverly paused thoughtfully. "You do seem to be caught in inappropriate garb rather often, however."

"Perhaps you could speak to Thrush about not being so unpredictable," Illya commented. "It would save a lot of wear and tear on out nerves as well as our clothes."

"I suppose you're right, Mr. Kuryakin. I just want to make sure that my agents know that being part of a great international peacekeeping organization does not absolve them from paying attention to details. Quite the contrary. However, there should be no difficulty about appropriate attire for your next assignment. Something conservative and mid-western, I would suggest."

"Midwestern, sir?"

"Yes, southern Wisconsin to be precise, Mr. Solo. Some weeks ago, one of our part-time agents there sent in a rather strange report. One night he saw-or thought he saw-an entire house disappear, leaving only a hole in the ground. It reappeared later and has not disappeared again to his knowledge.

"Then this morning, we received word that a Dr. Willard Morthley has vanished. Our computer came up with an interesting correlation: the disappearing house has been Dr. Morthley's residence for the past six months. Dr. Morthley is a physicist of some repute. We have no idea what, if anything, he has been working on, but the coincidence is too much to ignore. The computer recommended sending you and Mr. Kuryakin to look into matters."

"But why us? Why not someone in your Milwaukee or Chicago offices?"

"The computer indicated the possibility of Thrush activity, and you are our most experience agents in the field of Thrush and unusual inventions. That's why I have made arrangements for you and Mr. Kuryakin to take a chartered flight from Cerro Bueno to New Orleans this afternoon. After a good night's rest, you can catch the six-thirty to Chicago. A full report of our knowledge of the situation to date will be waiting for you in New Orleans. I've arranged for a member of our Chicago headquarters to meet you at one of the oases on the Tri-State Tollway. He'll have the Wisconsin agent with him.'

"But how could you have made those arrangements already, sir?" Napoleon asked. "You hadn't heard from us for four days when you made them."

"I'm afraid it's one of my weaknesses, Mr. Solo," Waverly replied. "Optimism. Over the years I have come to develop a certain, perhaps childlike, faith in your ability to come through when the chips are down. Don't spend too much time-or money-shopping for that suit."

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, Napoleon and Illya stood waiting at the auto rental desk in O'Hare International Airport near Chicago. Napoleon was eyeing the pert brunette bustling about behind the counter, getting the forms sorted and filled out. As she slid the final one across for Napoleon to sign, he smiled and asked, "In case we bring the car back after hours, could you suggest an appropriate spot for turning it over to you? Some quiet spot nearby, perhaps?"

"I'm sorry, but our airport offices never close, Mr. Solo." She managed a regretful smile as she took the form from his hand and moved back quickly. Napoleon winced as Illya jabbed him sharply in the ribs with his elbow and started walking toward the door through which their rented car was waiting. Napoleon followed more leisurely, and Illya had the motor running and was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of the car when he arrived.

"Really, Napoleon!" Illya said as Solo settled into the seat beside him.

Solo smiled, "After all, their motto says they try harder and one never knows..."

* * *

A twenty-minute drive along the Tri-State Tollway brought them to the Lake Forest Oasis. Carrying their briefcases, they walked slowly from the parking lot toward the glass front of the main building. The day was warm and muggy and the air-conditioning that greeted them as they stepped into the tiled entrance section was welcome. Next to the snack bar, two men were standing near the milk and ice cream vending machines. One wore a conservative business suit, while the other had matching dark olive trousers and open necked shirt with the letters WSD on the left sleeve. The man in the suit spotted Napoleon and Illya as they entered, spoke to his companion, and strode to meet them, extending his hand as he came.

"Mr. Solo? Mr. Kuryakin? I'm Russ Wolff of the Chicago office." He shook hands with them both, then turned to the other man. "This is Charlie Reed. He's a part-time agent for us and a deputy sheriff of Waukesha County, Wisconsin. His reports brought this matter to our attention"

Reed managed to look proud and embarrassed simultaneously. "I never thought I'd get to meet you two," he said. "I've heard a lot about you."

Napoleon smiled deprecatingly, while Illya merely nodded. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Reed."