"'Is it as stinking a tub as it looks?"

"It is for the crew, but passenger quarters aren't bad. You'll survive."

"I always survive. What is the route?"

"Corn Island, Providencia, San Andres, a couple of other calls, and then the island of Taradata, before going back on the same route to pick up cargo."

"Is Lars Carlson with you? Has he made contact?"

"He's a slow and careful laddie, is Lars. I think the sun slows him down."

"More likely that belly dancer he met in what they call the Cargo Town over the mountain. I'm not completely isolated in this lush oasis, y'know."

"Tut-tut to you too! You've got Orlando. Lars has Maria. She's an ex of Captain Sidano, and he, but definitely, is THRUSH. By the way — Sama Paru and Count Kazan are out in the deep blue yonder some place."

"Air?"

"No, water. You are to contact Mr. Waverly. Randy Kovac has been doing some inspired map-reading."

"He would." April glanced up, to see Orlando approaching the beach. "I'll see you aboard. Over and out."

"Watch yourself, darling." Mark smiled as his image faded.

"You too, lover-boy," she said softly, then snapped the compact shut.

CHAPTER TWO: KEEPER OF A THOUSAND SECRETS

THE captain's cabin on the Island Traveller was a shade more luxurious than the old island-run tub would appear to boast. Recent luxuries too — such as a new bunk, electrical fittings, modern desk and other fitments, including a chrome-sparkling new radio built into a bulkhead below a large mirror.

Captain Sidano and Petrov Maleski, his first mate, sat staring at this mirror. By their conversation it was clear that Maleski was the senior, despite his shipboard rank.

Sidano growled some complaint. Maleski said:

"Quiet — enough of your protests. Listen!"

The mirror flickered into a TV screen. The head and shoulders of a balding, bespectacled man appeared.

Sidano sat upright. "Good evening, Mr. Padrack. Shall we have the pleasure of your company this evening, sir?"

Padrack ignored this inquiry.

Maleski said sharply: "Do not waste time, Sidano. This is not very wise, Padrack." He used the tone of an equal. "We agreed not to make contact from shore except in dire emergency."

"You have an U.N.C.L.E. agent aboard. Would you not call that an emergency? It also is a form of carelessness which cannot be tolerated."

"This I cannot believe!" protested Maleski. "I screened every man through our local office. But, if it is true, then I agree it is a big mistake."

"All my crew are tough cut-throats," said Sidano, obviously pleased that Maleski — the arrogantly efficient Maleski — had been discovered at fault. "They are very easy to check through their last prison address." Sidano smirked.

"Quiet! " Maleski snapped. "Who is this man?"

"Carlson — Lars Carlson. He is using the name of Sven Telsen. Our agent C.47 found him."

"C.47!" Sidano gasped. "That is Maria! It is a trick, Mr. Padrack. A jealous woman causing trouble."

"Yes," said Padrack curtly. "For you. That I do not mind. You should learn to keep your women out of your business, Captain. It is fortunate for you that Maria is one of our most loyal agents."

"But I dropped her when I discovered she was one of your agents," Sidano said angrily. "And I personally collected Telsen — or Carlson, as you call him — from the prison on the mainland. How can he be an U.N.C.L.E. agent? He was serving fifteen years for robbery and armed assault. He had beaten up three prison guards. It cost me two thousand to get him paroled to me. No, sir — Maria is mistaken."

"I would find your faith in what is told you to be most touching, were it not that you are an imbecile," said Pad- rack coldly. "Was not Carlson transferred from another prison only three weeks before you visited the mainland?"

"Yes — because he was violent."

"Pah!" Maleski snorted. "That is an old trick. I would have been very suspicious, myself, if I had known."

"So clever, you are!" said Sidano. "You know it all — after it has happened!"

"His record was faked," said Padrack. "Carlson was never in any other prison. He was planted there for you to pick, and you fell for it. You will now get rid of him — at once. You understand? Maleski, I hold you responsible."

"Yes," said Maleski. "There will be no more mistakes. You are coming aboard?"

"Very soon." The screen went blank as Padrack broke contact.

Way up in the old-fashioned rigging of the Island Traveller, Mark Slate listened in to the conversation in the captain's cabin. Tapping into the ship's aerial circuit with a new U.N.C.L.E. device had saved much risk for himself and Lars. The crew were as tough a bunch as he'd ever met, but few of them were very experienced seamen, so when Mark had shown willingness to climb aloft to tend the necessary work there, no one had protested.

Lars worked in the galley and, more often than not, was alone, so their contact could be maintained without it being obvious they were friendly. Mark now operated the switch embedded in the large buckle of his broad leather belt and, when he heard Lars open the circuit, spoke into the ring mike on his finger.

"Ya, me?" said Lars.

"Ya, you!" Mark chuckled. "Hear me. Vanish pronto before we sail. In fact — instanter. Maria has spotted you. Dunno how, but you'll be shark meat if you stay."

"Bliddy women!" said Lars. "She ben saw my tattoo. Was done when I was field agent in Antarctica. So she must be THRUSH bird."

"THRUSH bird ben singing," said Mark. "Get going, my sexful Swede. I'll try to cover you if there's trouble. Contact H.Q. when you're clear. April is due aboard soon. Go now."

"Ya — I go."

Trouble there was. Mark had a crow's-nest view. Lars emerged on deck, heading for the gangway. Four hefty crew men advanced on him from for'ard. Three more were amid ships, closing in from the stern. A Palaga taxi had just pulled up and April Dancer alighted from it. Behind the three men Maleski, gun in hand, stood a pace ahead of Sidano. Mark was a camera viewing a 3D scene.

Lars paused in midstep. Bronzed, blond cat-man — lithe, powerful, balanced to attack or defend. Mark moved fast, slipping knots, jerking stay-ropes on the heavy auxiliary block and tackle. The ropes hissed and whipped as the pulley crashed deckwards, smack among the three men amidships. It crunched on one shoulder and the man was spun back — into Maleski, the other two ensnared in writhing ropes.

Mark backed up his play — screaming curses, swaying at the end of the mast-arm, then springing out, clear in a tumbling dive into the water. Lars didn't look up, guessing Mark was covering him. The four other men were diverted, heads jerking up, eyes staring mastward as Lars leapt. His bunched fists swung like hammers and two men went flat on the deck and stayed there. Lars tangled with the other two, fists jabbing, hands chopping, until both men crumpled.

People were moving up the gangway. Lars ran to the rail, leapt up, poised, then took off, body angled as a low-loader truck came along the quayside. He plummeted into the load of copra, disappearing as Maleski cleared ropes and men to come within gun range.

April Dancer, seeing Mark aloft in the same moment Lars appeared on deck, recognized the signs of trouble. She ran to the gangway. Unfortunately her taxi driver, luggage- loaded, ready to give eager-beaver-service, dashed after her, so choking the gangway against Lars' escape and blocking her own way back.