"Thrush has formed something called a 'Public Relations' division, and they are quite openly coming to the surface, proclaiming their connection with the parent organization. They simply appear at public functions - theatrical openings, political speeches, and the like - and do nothing. People are gradually becoming used to them. They may help an old lady across a street, and leave her thinking kindly of Thrush. And they have no apparent legal connection with Thrush. All they do is wear the badges and talk to people. This display of confidence indicates some impending coup, I feel sure, probably centered in the southwestern United States."

"And what exactly is our assignment, sir?"

"Something else entirely. Mr. Kuryakin and you will separate for a while. There are signs of imminent war in the Middle East again, and our African continental office in Addis Ababa is quite overwhelmed. They're severely understaffed there, as you may recall, and with the constant problems in Nigeria, Congo, Sudan and Rhodesia they are unable to handle the sudden strain between Egypt and Israel. Mr. Solo, you will report to Tel Aviv; Mr. Kuryakin to Cairo. You will maintain constant contact once you are on station. The situation is extremely serious, and you may be able to alleviate it somewhat."

"How long is this assignment likely to last?" Napoleon asked, glancing at Joey.

Waverly harrumphed. "Due to the severity of the conflict," he said, "you will probably be asked to remain on station until the end of the war." He paused. "This, I believe, is called an incentive."

"Yes it is, sir," said Napoleon. "We'll be ready to leave at noon tomorrow."

"From London," said Waverly.

"Yes, sir," said Napoleon, and the contact was broken.

"Oh, dear," said Joey. "Leaving so soon?"

"I'm afraid so," said Illya.

"But we can still spare the afternoon," said Napoleon. "How would you like another last walk along the cliffs?"

And so they went. Aunt Jane remembered at the last minute that Mr. Escott had sent her three jars of honey to give to them - one was for Alexander Waverly. All three bore the stamp of three heraldic bugle-horns in their wax seals.

Napoleon brought his along, and the four of them broached it for their picnic supper as the sun declined towards the sea, away to their left. The afternoon breeze rippled the grasses and Napoleon was looking thought fully away somewhere. Then he turned to his partner.

"Illya," he said, "didn't Mr. Waverly say it took an hour and a half to contact us?"

"As I recall, he did. Why?"

"No particular reason. I was just thinking again about Baycombe as a spot to retire to."

"Sometime in the indefinite future."

Napoleon laughed. "You make it sound like a verb tense. No, I don't think I could live in absolute solitude forever, but it would be nice for a year or two."

"Or a week or two. That's probably what got the former resident."

"Of the Pillbox?"

"That's what you were thinking about. Perfectly obvious.

"Elementary," said Aunt Jane.

And they laughed and watched the sun drop into the sea one more time, and then made their way home in the light of the late-rising moon.