After breakfast the teams split up to go exploring, hoping to find some evidence of a THRUSH presence on the island. April and Illya would ride back into town and revisit the shop where she had found the bird carving. Perhaps there might be other indications of activity that would lead them to the satrapy, if there were one.
Napoleon and Mark decided to take a hike, following along a guided trail at first.
"Flora and fauna, eh?" Mark would rather have had shore duty, he had missed the leisurely sailing enjoyed by the other three.
"Sorry Mark, I guess you'd be out on a surfboard if we didn't have this to do." Napoleon had his druthers as well; things with Sharon had been left in an awkward and unsettling mood.
As the two men pushed back fronds and listened to the sounds of the jungle, they were each reaching a similar conclusion.
"Nah, no surfing for me, I'll leave that to Illya.' He paused, craning his neck to look far to his right.
"Do you hear that?" There was something out there, a tapping noise. He instinctively started in the direction of the sound as Napoleon strained to hear it, following after his partner for the day.
"I don't hear anything unusual Mark. What does it sound like?" Mark stopped short, looking from side to side in an effort to locate what he thought he had heard.
"It's gone. It was a tapping sound, could've been machinery of some sort, or someone hammering on something." Both men stood perfectly still, willing the noise to start up again.
"I hear it now, it's coming from over there." Napoleon felt the familiar rise of adrenaline as they headed towards the repetitious sound of …
"What is that?" Standing beneath a sweet smelling majegau tree the sound of the tapping intensified. Mark looked up and let an exclamation of disgust escape his lips.
"It's a bloody woodpecker."
"What?" Napoleon almost laughed as thought of the cartoon, and the absurdity of having been fooled by a bird named Woody.
"A woodpecker, and here I thought it was THRUSH." Napoleon was nearly doubled over in laughter at the thought of two UNCLE agents being reeled in by a bird, a real bird.
"Why does that make me feel better somehow? I mean, would you rather confront a THRUSH or a blasted woodpecker?" Now Mark was laughing at the irony, and without anything more to go on, the two turned around and headed back to the beach.
Things weren't any more productive for Illya and April as they masqueraded as the married couple, Rita and Nick Ramsay. The shopkeeper seemed to not recall the story she had related to April on the first day in, and now several varieties of birds could be seen lining the shelves of the little shop. Over on the other side of the store someone was telling a group of tourists a story, the oohs and ahhs indicating the wonderment of the ignorant.
"They're just relating odd bits, superstitions and spirits set loose amongst the islanders. It's all rubbish." Illya felt dispirited, if he were honest. This entire trip seemed to be in search of the proverbial wild goose, and no amount of chasing silly stories would make him feel convinced that there was anything going on here related to THRUSH.
"It would appear that the only real game in town is somehow related to those other spies." April didn't want to say it, name those other espionage agencies out in public.
"I agree, and they seem to be just as flummoxed as we are as to why we're here at all." Illya needed to get in touch with Napoleon, find out if they were having any luck on their expedition. He doubted it. The only game in town was political, and THRUSH wasn't part of it.
"Why did our agent end up dead? Dave Rogers was here for two days before he was killed. Maybe we need to follow his steps instead of trying to track down THRUSH." April searched Illya's face, watching the blue eyes as he considered what she said.
"You are absolutely correct Miss Dancer, or rather… Mrs. Ramsay." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, regretting it instantly as he tried to convince himself it was all in keeping up their image of a married couple.
April's response was to take his hand and lead him out onto the little boardwalk that fronted the shop.
"Let's get some lunch and then head back. Maybe the guys will be back and we can get ourselves a new plan."
Illya agreed. Food sounded right, and April's instincts were right. Whatever had happened to Dave Rogers was where they needed to begin.
