West shook his head. "We at the Yard are well enough acquainted with the Rainbow story. We haven't traced the source of the rumor yet, but it has been demonstrated to our satisfaction that there is no such individual as this 'Johnnie Rainbow.' He's a sort of legendary idealization the criminal elements have created, much in the manner of the Robin Hood Ballads of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries. Let me put your minds at ease at once - there is no 'Johnnie Rainbow.'"

"How do you account," Illya asked, "for the recent success of large-scale crime all over England? I believe thieves have been netting an average of some three hundred pounds a week for the last few months."

"Highly biased figures, Mr. Kuryakin. Highly biased. They include a few fortunate coups on a large scale. There is no connection among them - except possibly for inspiration. One large haul gets into the newspapers, and some other gang is tempted to try it. That's all."

"But the methods of operation seem so similar," said Napoleon. "From what we'd heard it seemed as if every operation could have been planned by the same man. The organization, the choice of targets, the timing, and especially the lack of violence - all point to the same source."

"By no means," the Inspector stated flatly. "Several robberies have not fallen into these categories. A jewel robbery a few months ago was quite badly bungled, and a shopkeeper shot. It happens with increasing frequency. We caught the killer, of course."

"And of course he had no connection with the Rainbow gang."

"Mr. Solo, there is no Rainbow gang. He was completely independent, wanted for questioning on two other jobs, had done penal servitude twice. A typical old lag, far out of his depth. Should have stuck with second-story work."

Illya leaned back in the form-fitting chair. "We do not maintain that Johnnie Rainbow is responsible for every crime committed in the British Isles, Inspector; merely that he is the motivating intelligence behind the most successful ones."

The Scotland Yard man sighed and leaned his elbows on the desk top. "Mr. Kuryakin, admittedly we have little to go on in the Rothschild robbery so far. But we have some of the participants identified, and are expecting to make arrests momentarily."

The Russian scowled. "We aren't reporters, Inspector. You don't have to quote press releases at us. As I recall, you have had the eleven men who robbed the Royal Mail almost four years ago identified for some time, and the last I heard you were still expecting to make arrests momentarily."

"There's no need to be rude, Mr. Kuryakin. Everyone takes our successes for granted, and only our failures receive widespread notice. We have hardly closed the books on the Royal Mail job - one of the robbers was taken only a few months ago."

"And he denies ever having heard of Johnnie Rainbow?

"We didn't feel the question worth asking. Scotland Yard is always bombarded with crackpot theories after every major crime; when you've worked here a while you get so you can smell out the worthless ones. The idea of a secret criminal mastermind went out of vogue even among the pulp writers some two decades ago, but the well-meaning citizens…"

The intercom buzzed, and he answered it.

"Inspector Seagoon on line two, sir."

Nodding a wordless apology to Napoleon and Illya, Inspector West picked up the telephone. "Hello, Neddie. You got my memo? Fine. Look, I'm somewhat occupied at the moment, but could we meet for dinner? Very good. The usual place. See you shortly after seven, then." He disconnected, and turned back to his visitors.

Illya spoke first. "I can't really see calling one of your own Detective Superintendents a crackpot. After all..."

West sighed. "You've read the book."

"Book?" asked Napoleon.

"A retired D.S. has written a book on the robbery. His sources have been feeding him the Rainbow story, and he has accepted it. But of course, being retired, he has no official connection with the Yard, and we have given his theory every reasonable consideration and found it actually quite untenable."

There was a long uncomfortable pause. It was be coming increasingly obvious to Napoleon that they were getting nowhere. Well, Waverly had told them not to expect much cooperation from Scotland Yard - and as usual, he was right.

After several seconds their host stood up. "I'm really sorry we can't help you. But rest assured; Johnnie Rainbow is as imaginary as Robin Hood or King Arthur. Those jobs have all been organized and executed by independent criminals. No mysterious genius hiding in a dingy flat in Brighton - just ordinary small-time crooks who've gotten inspired and lucky at the same time. And their luck is running out."

Napoleon and Illya stood as well, and shook the proffered hand. "Now will you be able to find your way out again, or shall I call a sergeant to guide you?" the Inspector asked, only half joking.

"I think we can find our way back to the street," said Illya, who would never admit to being lost.

"Getting out is much easier than getting in," the Yarder agreed, as he saw them to the door. "Not much like the old place, is it?"

"Hard to imagine anything less like it," Napoleon admitted.

West laughed easily. "Actually, I'm not at all used to it yet. I much preferred the feeling about the old Yard. But we were desperately in need of the space for records and files. We're computerizing, you know: most complete set of fingerprints, mug shots and criminal records in Europe. From a few apparently unconnected pieces of data on a crime, our machines will be able to pick out a list of likely suspects complete with their records and last known addresses in seconds."

Illya smiled coolly. "It doesn't seem to be doing you much good at the moment."

"It's doing its job. But even the best computer is no better than the data fed it. The human equation will never be removed from detection until it is removed from crime as well. Good afternoon, Mr. Solo - Mr. Kuryakin. Please take my advice, and leave the pursuit of criminals to us. Surely the U.N.C.L.E. has more important things to do than run after bank robbers."

Illya looked at him and Napoleon suppressed a grin. "I've had that thought myself," the Russian agent admitted. "But I don't pick our assignments."

"Well, I wish you the best of luck on this one, though I doubt if you'll have any as long as you insist on chasing Rainbows." He chuckled, and closed the door behind them.

Solo looked at it and said softly, "Chasing Rainbows. Bleah."

The secretary looked up. "I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing - just an involuntary exclamation on my friend's part," said Illya, and they stepped out into the corridor, closing the frosted glass door gently behind them.

He looked at Napoleon as they started off toward the elevator, and said, "Well?"

"Not very. He seemed pretty certain, didn't he?"

The Russian nodded. "Perhaps a little too certain. He stated the official position with great clarity, however, and no little redundancy. Are you convinced?"

"I almost was," said Napoleon as he touched the lift button and the doors sighed open. "Until he said Johnnie Rainbow was as imaginary as Robin Hood and King Arthur. Personally, I've always believed in King Arthur, and the existence of Robin Hood never seemed to be open to doubt."

"The point is well taken," said Illya as they stepped out into the main floor corridor and started toward the daylight. "Perhaps the good Inspector was telling the absolute truth after all when he compared the three of them."