Chapter 4
"The Men from U.N.C.L.E."
"Hario!" Joseph shouted looking up at his partner.
Beldon lay still, precariously dangling over the ever widening abyss. The flames jumped as tiny explosions continued to rock the tiny island. The tree pinning him down had begun to smolder as sparks leapt up and buried themselves deep in the bark.
Joseph noticed that his partner's jacket had been pulled back tight against his throat. Beldon was slowly being suffocated by the jacket and smoke combined. His hood had been pulled back by the tree and his head and face were totally exposed to the elements.
Benderhoffen managed to turn himself around and started using his partner as a means of escape from the fire pit. He made it up the crumbling wall and swung his leg over one end of the tree. He could hear Beldon moan as the log pressed him harder into the ground. Joseph scanned the area and saw two of the other agents trying to get back to the barracks. He flagged them down.
Another roar and a violent shake sent the three men onto their backs. They heard a cry of agony. While the two agents tried to move the tree, Joseph held his partners legs and pulled. The tree rolled into the fire pit, throwing flames high into the air.
Joseph grabbed his partner and fell back into the ground. He carefully pressed the wet, heavy snow against Beldon's head as he moaned in pain once more. The agent quickly removed his jacket then his clean shirt beneath. One of the others held Beldon steady as Joseph wrapped the shirt around Hario's head.
Beldon blacked out. The pain in his head was tremendous. The last roar of flames had caught him in the face. His forehead, cheeks and eyes were blistered. His beautiful sandy blond hair was burned away leaving his head pocked with small patches of brittle stubble and blistered skin. With each beat of his heart, Joseph could see the vessels below the skin struggle to move the blood.
"What's happening?" one of the other men shouted over the roar.
"I am not sure…..An earthquake would have stopped by now," another said.
The men tried to gain their balance, something they found was only achievable if they stayed low or on their knees. Joseph thought hard. He made the other two men crouch side by side. He joined them on one end.
They managed somehow to drape Beldon across their three backs. It was a strange sight but one that gave them the balance and weight to at least stay on their feet. Benderhoffen grabbed his partner's arm and held tight. The man at the other end wrapped his arm around Hario's legs.
"Colonel Dickering what is going on!" Hendricks shouted.
Plaster from the ceiling was beginning to fall; the windows were coming out of their frames. The old building was falling apart around them. One of the men had already been killed when a large beam snapped and struck him. The division leaders scrambled to gather as much Intel and equipment together as possible as they headed for the doors.
Dickering continued to monitor the radio. He sent a coded distress call out. Someone had to hear them.
Hopefully someone close by.
The rumbling began to grow stronger. Now small pockets of earth were blowing out all around the island like bubbles blown in a glass of water. The snow was covered in ash. One side of the barracks building had collapsed and the other was swaying with each vibration.
Waverly, Del Floria, Smithe and Driscoll were scrambling on hands and knees towards the smoke column that was rising from the center of the field. The men plowed thru the snow as if it were merely piles of cotton instead of heavy wet precipitation. Almost like large moles they pushed it aside digging thru.
Driscoll was the first to find Santar's hiding place and tumbled head first into the hole containing the fuselage. Willie and Smithe reached into the smoking hole, finally finding their friend and pulling him back into the fresh air.
Waverly pointed to a set of tracks that swayed away from the hole. He motioned the men closer and nodded at the trail.
"I'll follow the main path, Willie to my right, Smithe to the left. Driscoll stay here and try to radio for back up. He couldn't be very far ahead."
The small group broke and followed the path. Driscoll pulled out his radio and called Dickering.
"Mayday….Mayday….." Dickering called thru his wireless.
The static was deafening but he kept on hoping someone was listening.
The rumbling below was becoming louder and stronger. The trees shook to their roots. Small almost volcanic type eruptions were happening everywhere. There was no positive space that was safe.
Alexander dove into the snow bank as a small pocket blew up in front of him. He had barely managed to dodge it in time. The young agent took a deep breath and steadied himself. He carefully lifted his head above the snow field and looked for the next snow trail. Five feet ahead he quickly calculated then two paces right.
He took another breath and moved quickly around the burning hole and rapidly melting snow finding the connecting trail. Another burst of speed and Waverly drove onward.
Santar had found another place just beyond the woods near the shoreline. In the shelter of the rocks he sat up his radio once more. The normally calm man was on the verge of hysterics as he called for help. At the moment he would even settle for anything, even Waverly.
His hands fumbled to get the radio antenna up and he cursed himself when his trembling fingers snapped the thin metal pole in half. His fist pounded the radio violently. The static, whirls and whines filled the air as he grabbed the transmitter.
"Kommen in Steinadler..(Come in golden eagle)," he called, "Kommen in Steinadler…..Amsel ruft Steinadler (blackbird calling golden eagle)….Please come in….." He pounded the radio again.
"Was geschieht Amsel…..Haben Sie entsorgt die Agenten?" (What is happening Blackbird…Have you disposed of the agents?")
"Ich bin mir nicht Sicher, was passierd…..ich los, eine kleine Gebuhr zu eninem team nun beseitigen die gesamte Insel….." (I'm not sure what is happening…I set off a small charge to eliminate one team now the entire island…")
His words were interrupted by a continuous stream of profanity as the voice on the other end erupted himself. Most of it Santar knew but the static and the other man's heavy accent made it difficult to decipher. The two words stuck out.
Ammunition Dump.
The island had been used by the British during the war as an secret underground storage dump for its fuel, bombs and other weapons. Cleared out after the war and given to MI5 to use for training purposes, the often abandoned island had been subsequently used by smugglers and another enemy as a place to stockpile gunpowder, gasoline and various other materials.
Underneath the rolling fields and small landing strip were miles of tunnels, caves and hidden grottos which had been filled to the brim again. The booty cleverly hidden with dirt, rocks giving the illusion of a cave in.
The one explosion in the cave along the shore had set up a massive chain reaction that was now threatening to sink the small piece of land into the sea. Already large segments along the shoreline were crumbling and falling into the water. The further the waves came inland, the more was washed away.
Santar felt the ground below his feet shake with a fury unlike any he had ever felt before. He clutched to a small tree nearby trying to hold it and the radio. He could hear the ranting man on the other end. The radio went dead.
The little man on the other end of the radio slammed the transmitter down, denting the top of the radio as he did. He dropped back in his chair and gave his face a hard rub. His fingers pushed his hair back and then gently drummed against his small black mustache.
He hated to lose the statically placed island. But his ambitions were set a bit higher. He picked up a cup of tea and glanced out the window of the Brunswick flat. At least the new division was finished, the one small element that might have possibly threatened his plans. He would have his devoted followers behind him with no one to interfere
No one to stand between him and his high hopes for the future.
Glory was just around the corner for him.
And the Fatherland.
The boulders began to rock beneath him. The ground gave way and only by holding onto the tree was Santar able to stay above the rocks and fridgid water below. But the vibrations rattled the ground so violently that the roots of his sanctuary came up from the ground.
Santar hit the jagged rocks some twenty feet below. He lay there stunned from the impact. A quick check of his limbs found nothing broken so he tried to sit back up as the cold water splashed over him. Another tremor and the remaining boulders found their mark pinning him down.
He shook the icy water from his head and looked up to see Alexander Waverly standing near the edge looking down at him, weapon drawn, aim true. A large wave crashed over Santar nearly filling his body with the salty seawater. His one hand reached upward.
"Alexander….Please….Help me…" he begged as he watched the other man.
Waverly stood looking down at his former partner. He felt tightness in his chest as he thought about the times Bartomal had betrayed him on missions to save his own hide. He thought about his father. Now dead at Santar's hand.
"Please Alexander…" Santar cried out almost in tears, the once arrogant man now reduced to begging.
He saw Waverly disappear from the edge of the drop. Bartomal Santar felt his body jerk as he cried like a child. He was alone. Left to die a long, slow and agonizing death as the waters broke over him once more. He begged the higher powers to forgive him for what he had done. He thought of all the people he had hurt along the way in his life, his family, his partners, the only woman who had ever cared about him.
"Got it?..."
He heard a voice shout from above.
Looking towards the sound he saw Alexander Waverly quickly repelling down the side of the drop about twenty yards away. The agent untied the ropes and they were hastily hauled back up as Willie Del Floria prepared to drop as well.
Once down both agents looked up as several more feet of coiled rope were tossed down to them. They made their way to the pathetic figure pinned under the boulders. Waves crashed over them as they looped rope around the top stones. Jumping back to the sandy shore they pulled with everything they had and the first boulder shifted enough.
Waverly jumped on the large stones and worked his arms under Santar's shoulders. He grabbed one of the smaller rocks and put it on the man's mouth.
"You're going to need this," Alex said.
Willie took a large branch from the tree and wedged it into the space between Santar and the boulder. As Alex let him go, Santar felt the intense pressure of the branch. He bit down on the rock nearly breaking it into pebbles.
Waverly grabbed the branch as Del Floria once more took the rope. The pain was intense as the pressure built. But with one hard effort the boulder fell away and Santar was free. Waverly could see that the man was badly hurt and quickly tried to block off the bleeding in Santar's side and thigh.
Both agents secured the makeshift bandages and managed to get Santar up between them. He jerked violently from the pain as they stumbled back to the ropes. Having secured the man, Waverly called up for them to haul him up.
The ropes dropped again and Alex shoved them to his partner helping get him tied in securely.
About fifty yards up the coastline another massive explosion shot rocks, trees and earth out into the water. The tremor rattled the entire island and an eerie low roar cut above the sound of the waves.
Willie and Alex looked down the shore and saw a massive wall of water and dirt heading straight for them at an alarming speed. Willie grabbed his partner around the shoulders and shouted for the men above to hurry. Alex grabbed his partner's arms and held on.
Smithe, Driscoll and three other men who had found the group pulled to get the agents above ground. The wall was moving faster and pulling more of the shoreline into it as it approached.
The two men crested the ledge. Two of the others grabbed Waverly and pulled him to safety just as the ledge disappeared.
Taking Willie Del Floria with it.
"Willie!" Alex shouted.
He grabbed the rope that was threatening to pull Smithe and Driscoll into the tumult. They all pulled against the pressure of the water. There was a loud snap and the rope gave way, throwing the three men to the ground.
Alex got to his feet and look at the raging current. Willie was gone. He had failed to save his partner, his best friend. He took off running, making a parallel line along the water and what was rapidly disappearing shore.
"Alexander come back," Smithe yelled throwing the rope to the ground.
By now several of the others had found the only refuge from the quickly disappearing land. The agents watched as Waverly disappeared from site. Dickering, Hendricks and the other trainers found the small group.
"This way," Hendricks shouted, waving them in the direction Alexander had gone.
"We contacted a fright vessel that was nearby…..They are on their way to help," Dickering said.
He looked at Bartomal Santar. Then he saw his other agents, bruised, burned, bloodied from their hunt for the fugitive. He quickly counted his men. Four missing. Alexander he knew was still alive, so three were actually not accounted for.
"Who is missing?" Dickering asked.
"Hasani, DeMonte…..Del Floria," Hendricks said looking at the Colonel.
Another violent tremor and the island shifted. There was an eerie cracking sound and part of the north end of the island disappeared into the cruel sea.
Somewhere off in the distance came a strange sound. One of the men pointed across the open water to the small cargo ship headed their way. Hendricks opened his own gear bag and took out a flare gun, firing a shot high into the air. The small ship responded with a loud blast.
Alexander was being thrown everywhere as the grounds shifted below his feet. But he was determined to find his partner. The young agent kept as close to the shoreline as possible scanning the sea and land for any signs of life. He thought aloud to himself asking for any help to find the missing agent alive.
"Willie!" he shouted as loud as he could.
No response.
"Willie….Can you hear me?"
No response.
Waverly heard the horn of the ship blow and saw the small rescue boats heading towards the island. He stopped and looked around once more, checking the bushes and rocks for any signs. He removed his own flare gun and fired to let them know he was alive.
It was only now that he was standing still that he felt the cold.
He felt the wet spray of the sea.
He felt something take hold of his ankle.
Alexander knelt down and pushed the heavy wet sand and snow back. Willie's hand still held tight to his boot. Waverly uncovered his friend who was none the worse for wear and a bit blue from the cold water.
"Trying to tie my boot laces together?" Waverly said with a smile.
Bill Del Floria made a weak smile to his partner and shook his head yes.
The men were all safely aboard the small ship. The crew was quick to give the men warm tea, blankets and dry clothes.
Everyone went to the infirmary for a complete check and those who had been injured were quickly tended to. Beldon was still unconscious; the burns to his face and head treated the best they could for now. Santar needed emergency surgery and although the methods were somewhat crude, his life was spared by the ship's doctor. Three agents were posted to his room, one inside and two outside the door.
Willie suffered from a mild case of hypothermia, but the warm compresses, blankets and hot tea were just the ticket for that. His color was coming back and he could finally talk without his teeth chattering. Alex made sure he was doing well before taking time to see to his own bruises.
Hasani and DeMonte had been found, both suffering from extreme hypothermia and delirium. After a few hours they managed to let their Chief know about the bodies they had found. The agents would take a long time to recover, but they would remain with the new division using their skills and tactical knowledge in other departments.
The next day.
MI5 Headquarters.
London.
Dickering, Hendricks and the other instructors were sitting around a large table. They acknowledged the young agent as he entered the room.
"Quite an unusual training course." Hendricks said smiling at him.
"Yes sir, quite," Alex said standing at attention.
The men at the table studied the young agent. They nodded to one another and a few wrote down their observations.
"Agent Waverly, we want to commend you on amazing abilities. You have been a champion for the new division since it was first hinted at. You have been unwavering in your training, recruitment practices and your abilities as a firearms teacher," Dickering said.
Alexander felt a knot form in his throat. They were going to drop the new division.
"Thank you Colonel Dickering sir."
"And therefore, we have decided unanimously to make you Chief Enforcement Agent of the new division. Your partner William Del Floria will be second in the Enforcement division. This is a tremendous responsibility but one we feel you have earned. Congratulations Agent Waverly."
Alex felt like he was going to explode. But outside he maintained the demeanor fitting his new appointment. He simply smiled.
"Thank you gentlemen…I will do my very best."
"Of that we're sure," Dickering said.
Hendricks stood up and walked over to the young man, handing him a thick black notebook.
"This is the new procedures and policies book. Study it. Make sure the men understand that this is in fact the Law of the new agency. It also contains a break-down of the various departments, department heads and the responsibilities of each department member, dress code, conduct code, etcetera. We have also implemented a new radio call system. Agents will be given a list of channel codes to use depending on the urgency of the call. In honor of our new Section one Chief, Colonel Dickering, the main operations radio call will be referred to simply as Channel D."
Alexander Waverly looked at his boss and smiled. The elder man made a modest shrug.
"And one more thing," Hendricks added, "We have also decided to accept your suggestions for the division moniker, both name and logo. Very ingenious. I understand it was a combined effort of yourself and your partner…."
"William Del Floria, sir."
Alex saw Dickering smile and give him a secretive wink of approval.
"Dismissed Agent Waverly," Hendricks said.
Alexander Waverly turned to leave but hesitated. He looked back at the table.
"Do you have any questions Alexander?" Dickering said, noticing a slight change in the young man's face.
"Well sir…..Something that has bothered me for the last 24 hours," Alex said, "Did anyone else think it was strange that a cargo ship just happened to be near the island…five hundred miles from any other ports or vessels?"
The men around the table looked at one another smiling. A few chuckled under their breath. Dickering stood up and walked over to him.
"That Agent Waverly is your first Affair," the elder man said giving him a pat on the back.
Three weeks later….
The museum was small and abandoned. The windows had long since been painted out. Once a haven for the arts its marbled hallways, majestic columns and maze of galleries had been left to ruin after the war. The paintings and sculptures were gone, the fountain and garden in its heart now dry and littered with brown decaying foliage.
The grand entryway was once bustling with people. The mahogany welcome desk, flanked by two large Corinthian styled pillars, stood empty, the grey marbled walls now dusty.
No one even noticed the building anymore.
Together the fifteen agents, six section Chiefs and the Operations Chief, head of the organization, stood proudly in the large marbled hallway. Suits, ties and bandages all spit and polished.
Brigadier General Davidson looked at the row of smartly dressed young men. He nodded to Colonel Dickering.
You could have heard a pin drop as Colonel Dickering stepped up to each man, receiving from each a simple sheet of paper. He looked at each paper carefully before putting it with the others. He made his way down the long line.
The last paper collected he motioned the men to follow.
In almost military fashion the men turned in single file and followed down the hall. They each felt a swell of pride as the filed into the main entry. Bill Del Floria saw the beautiful young girl behind the desk blush as they filed past. He smiled, shook his head and then gave Alexander a firm poke in the back with his hand. Only he heard his partners soft laughter.
The dark grey and off white marble floors, the majestic columns framing the doorway the room sparsely decorated with potted palms. There, etched carefully into the stone of the back wall, a large globe of the world, bands radiated from the top, symbolizing their commitment to serving all and just to the side the figure of an agent head up, body ready serve, his gun held steady at his side. And carved below the figures:
United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.
They had made it happen.
Dickering looked at his tattered and bruised troops. They had given everything they had. Completed their training and proven their worth. His fingers pressed against the stack of papers on the table. Their signed and notarized Loyalty Oaths.
He smiled as he heard each individual voice repeat the sworn vow of the agency. Their hearts, bodies, minds were all set on a common goal. To protect the world no matter the cost. They would be forever bound as a group, to protect each other, their partners and above all, their Chief.
They were the elite.
The Champions of Justice.
The Men from U.N.C.L.E.
