Текст книги "[Magazine 1967-­10] - The Mind-­Sweeper Affair"

Автор книги: Robert Hart Davis

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Which would explain why they had left him and the muscular man alive. They felt safe enough, once they had gone, and they probably did not want dead bodies around to bring the police on their trail. They had simply hit the muscular type too hard. That gave Napoleon Solo a thought: if they had hit the muscular person as well as himself, then that meant that the muscular man was not one of them. Who was he, and why had he been following Forsyte?

Solo went back upstairs. The short, wide man had not moved. He still lay there in a kind of coma. Probably with a skull fracture or a bad concussion. Solo bent down over him to examine his clothes. There were no labels in his clothes

His pockets were empty. Then Solo noticed his fingers.

The fingerprints had been removed surgically.

Solo stared at the fingers for a moment. Then he reached down and pushed up the man's sleeve, unbuttoned his shirt cuff and rolled it up. The number was there: T 778890.

THRUSH.

So THRUSH was in this—interested in Colonel Forsyte and the health club. Solo. narrowed his eyes. He had little doubt now as to what had happened to Illya. The small Russian was certainly in the hands of THRUSH. If Illya was still alive.

Solo looked down at the muscular man. The question was—was THRUSH part of the transmission of the secret data, or was THRUSH after the same thing U.N.C.L.E. was? Was THRUSH, too, interested in just how Forsyte and the others had transmitted vital secrets when they were all men formerly above reproach? From the actions of the muscular man he was sure that that was just what THRUSH was doing—looking for whatever was being used on Forsyte.

It fitted with the action in Anagua. Agent 44 had probably been killed not by the spies but by THRUSH. So THRUSH, too, had somehow learned what information Forsyte could transmit and had joined the search. Solo thought about the weird machine—and what it might do in the hands of THRUSH.

The thought made him shudder—and then he heard the footsteps. Someone, more than one man, was coming up the stairs from the health club. He did not think that it was any of the health club staff returning. It was probably THRUSH. He thought quickly. He was still dressed in the white uniform of an attendant of the health club. He bent down as if searching the unconscious THRUSH agent on the floor.

The footsteps came quickly along the corridor, entered the room where the machine had been, and stopped suddenly close behind him.

"Freeze, friend," a voice said.

Solo did a good imitation of a man surprised, and then scared. He started, gave a small jump, and then froze as directed. Hands came up behind him and touched him expertly for weapons. The hands went away.

"Up. Turn around."

Solo turned.

The tall man who had been driving the car stood with a gun pointed at Solo. Two other men were with him.

The tall man jerked his head curtly toward the unconscious muscular man.

"Take a look at Gregor," the tall man snapped.

One of the other men circled Napoleon Solo and bent over Gregor. The tall man stared straight at Solo.

"All right, friend, start talking. Why'd you hit Gregor?"

"He was snooping around," Solo said in his best tough-man voice. "So are you."

The man who was looking at Gregor looked up. "He's hit bad. Maybe a fracture."

"Did you do it?" the tall man said to Solo.

"He fell," Solo said.

"Where are the others?"

"What others?" Solo said.

"How do they get the info from Forsyte?"

"Who's Forsyte?" Solo said.

The man who had not spoken suddenly swore. "Let's finish the dirty—"

"Shut up!" the tall one said.

"But he—"

"But he's one of them," the tall one said. "This must be where Forsyte passes the data. This joker knows how. They've slipped out on us, but we've got this one, and The Boss'll want to talk to him."

The other two nodded.

"Bring Gregor. I'll handle this one," the tall man said. The tall man grinned a wolfish grin at Solo. "Our Boss'll talk with you, friend. And believe me, you'll talk back."

They marched Solo out. Two of them carried the moaning Gregor. The tall man prodded Solo with his pistol. Napoleon Solo let them take him.

FIVE

EMIL DANTON leaned down over Illya Kuryakin.

"You'll talk, my dear Illya. You know our methods. And don't rely on that sensor you have implanted to bring my old friend Waverly. We have blocked its signal."

"You've been busy," Illya said dryly.

"Too busy," Danton said. "Sometimes I think we all spend much too much time devising weapons and defenses, and then making counter-weapons and counter-devices. It's a weary circle. Perhaps we should make a pact—no more tricky weapons on either side. Go back to plain muscle and guns. It would save a lot of overhead."

Illya smiled. He was in the same room of the mansion, the massive fireplace looming before him, and seated in a special chair. He was not bound; there was no need. The chair held him by the electronic force that sent a searing pain through him if he tried to move. The guards stood silent. Only Emil Danton spoke.

"Come, Illya. You know you will talk. Save me the trouble and mess of torture or drugs. I'm truly weary of all that fuss. I know that you will stand the torture, and you know I'll use it if necessary. But you also know the drugs will do the job, and you can't resist them."

"Try me, Danton," Illya said, "This time you may be surprised. I may not know what you want to know."

"You know a great deal I want to know," Danton purred. "Still, you may be right about the immediate problem. What do you know about Forsyte? The good colonel has a fine record."

"I know that. He has a fine record," Illya said.

"Not a spy."

"Not a spy," Illya agreed.

"Yet he has passed on secret data."

"He has?" Illya raised an eyebrow.

Danton sighed. "Really, Illya, don't fence with me. You were following him. You arranged a test; we know that. I'm sorry about your agent in Managua. Not all my colleagues share my belief in avoiding unnecessary violence."

"You're a gentleman, Danton," Illya mocked.

"I try to be. After all; just because we are spies, thieves, murderers, and all that, is no reason we have to be uncouth. So, let us admit that we all want to know just why a man of Forsyte's caliber turned spy, and how he is transmitting his data."

"All right, I'll admit that," Illya agreed. "I'm rather glad to know that you don't know."

"I'm sure you are, but we will know. Now, I think you know more than we do. A bad situation. I want you to tell me what you know. Right?"

Illya shrugged. "I assure you I don't know anything."

"How does Forsyte pass the data, Illya?"

"I don't know."

"What does that health club have to do with it?"

"I don't know. Perhaps nothing."

"He went straight home from that club. We followed him. He had no other chance to pass data."

"Maybe he didn't sell any secrets today."

Danton slapped Illya. "Don't be too funny, my friend. He follows a routine like a robot! We know that. His routine today was the same as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that!"

"He's a very dull boy," Illya said.

Danton spun on his immaculate heel. The elegant North American Leader of THRUSH nodded to his men.

"Take him," he said.

Two of the black-uniformed men stepped forward, grinning. They had a hypodermic syringe with a very long needle of the kind used to drip a solution into the veins. One of them held Illya's arm tight and stiff. The other prepared to use the needle. Danton had walked to a far wall and stood with his back turned. The THRUSH leader did not like the sight of violence.

Illya braced, concentrating his mind to use all the previous programming against divulgence of information he could. He felt the waves of mental strength tightening on his trained brain.

A loud buzzing sound broke the silence and the tension of the room. Danton turned abruptly and stared at a speaker on his desk. He motioned sharply.

"Wait," the dapper THRUSH leader snapped.

He strode to the speaker and flipped a switch. He listened. The voice over the speaker was too low for Illya to hear. Danton switched off and turned with a smile to Illya.

"We may not need your help after all, my dear Illya. Too bad. I'm afraid that means we have no use for you. You see, my men have brought one of the gang getting the secrets from Forsyte!"

SIX

THE DOOR TO the room opened and four men came in. Illya Kuryakin watched them. Three were obviously THRUSH agents in civilian clothes—the same three who had been in the alley. Illya saw the tall man in particular.

The fourth man was being pushed into the room by the tall man. The fourth man had his head down as if groggy, and wore the white uniform of the health club, but Illya was sure that he recognized the figure. It was someone he knew.

Danton stepped forward. "So, we've got one of you, eh? Good work, men. We'll have this one talking in no time. Or would you rather just tell us what we want to know without any trouble?"

Danton stared at the white-suited man, who still stood with his he down. The tall man pushed him forward.

"They beat up Gregor," the tall man said.

"The devil with Gregor!" Danton snapped. "What I want is to know just how Forsyte transmits his information. There has to be some very special method, and we want it. Now, you, tell us where the others are, and—"

Danton stopped. He stood there with his mouth open and stared at the figure in the white health club suit. His bright eyes blinked. Then he stepped forward and grasped the hair of the man. He pulled the head up.

Solo grinned. "Hello, Danton."

Danton dropped Solo's hair and jumped back as if he had been bitten. For a long moment he stared at Solo, who smiled and looked around the room like a man on a sightseeing tour. Solo grinned at Illya. Danton rubbed his face, brushed his hand through his immaculate grey hair. Then he began to shout.

"You fools!"

Danton shouted at the tall man. "You stupid ape! One of the others, eh? You idiotic incompetents! Do you know who this is? Eh? Don't you know your enemies! What morons am I forced to work with? I send you to get a gang with some method of taking secrets from reliable people, and you bring me another U.N.C.L.E. agent!"

The tall man stammered. "But—but he was wearing one of the uniforms. He was standing over Gregor. He—"

"Idiot! This is Napoleon Solo! Don't you know the Chief of Section-Il of U.N.C.L.E. How did you get to be an agent of THRUSH? I send you for someone valuable, and you bring me Solo!"

The tall man protested. "How could I—I mean, we're new in New York, sir, and—"

"Quiet!" Danton roared. "Do you know what else you've done?"

The tall man gulped. "No, sir.

"Shut up!" Danton shouted. "How many of you were there in your group?"

"Four, sir. The alternate group brought that other man here, and we—"

"And how many of you are there here now?" Danton snarled.

"With Gregor, sir, a total of four. We all—"

"Then who is doing your work? Eh? Who is watching the health club?"

The tall man was white. "No one, sir. They—they got out of the building without our seeing them anyway. So when they didn't come out, we went in, and we found Gregor and this man, and we were sure he was one of them, so we brought him here—"

The tall man trailed off in his weak explanation. Danton stared at him.

"You mean that you have lost contact. We have lost contact. You bunglers have let them get away, and we—"

Danton's tirade went on. All the men in the room were watching him. The three captors of Solo were pale with fear. The guards had their guns down. Solo edged away toward a guard who was looking only at Danton.

Illya touched his nose.

Solo jumped for the guard.

Illya hurled himself out of the special chair. The shock of pain, like a hammer blow, knocked him to his knees, but he was free of the chair. He jumped up and chopped a guard once on the throat.

Solo had a machine-gun in his hand. He shot down two guards who reacted to the sudden break.

Illya Kuryakin had a gun and sprayed the room.

The THRUSH agents all hurled themselves undercover. The tall man went down, spitting blood. Danton screamed and dived for a heavy oak table.

"Door!" Solo cried.

The two agents careened through the door and out into the baronial entrance hallway. Three guards came running into the vast hall. Solo and Illya shot them down with two quick bursts. Moments later they were out the front door and running across a gravel drive way toward the thick bushes of the grounds.

"There! Get them!"

It was Danton's voice, his courage back now that he was out of range. He was in the doorway behind them. Black-uniformed THRUSH guards poured across the driveway and the grounds.

Solo and Illya crashed through the thick bushes, ran across the parklike grounds under the tall oaks in the night. There was a glint of water to the left.

"The river!" Solo hissed.

"If we can," Illya panted.

They ran, and behind them the THRUSH agents pounded in mad pursuit. The night was dark and the THRUSH men were getting in each other's way. Danton's voice could be heard roaring his orders.

Illya Kuryakin stopped. "Not the river yet. They'll block us. Let's cut down the odds."

"Take two of them?"

. "Right."

The two agents circled back and dropped into the cover of a small ravine. Soon the THRUSH search moved close to them. Two THRUSH men passed above the low ravine. Solo and Illya rose up behind them like wraiths in the night. Both men fell without a sound under the single chops of the U.N.C.L.E. agents.

Moments later Solo and Illya were moving in the line of search toward the river. Danton was at the other end of the line. The search fanned out until Danton ordered a halt.

"They've gone to cover. Turn back and don't miss anywhere, you understand!" Danton shouted.

His men all nodded. Danton's voice was no longer smooth and urbane. The penalty for failure was high in THRUSH.

The search turned back inland.

Illya and Solo slid silently into the river and began to swim south.

ACT III

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE LATELY?

THEY EMERGED dripping from the river, a mile and a half south of the massive old mansion on the Hudson shore. They moved warily. Illya Kuryakin motioned Napoleon Solo to silence and crept up from the bank to a paved road that ran near the shore.

"All clear?" Solo whispered.

"All clear at the moment," Illya said. "Danton isn't a fool, Napoleon. He'll have figured it out by now, and then he'll fan out along the river."

"At least we know that THRUSH doesn't know anything about how Forsyte passed the information," Solo said.

"Do we?"

"We do," Solo said, and explained the macabre machine that he had seen in the room above the hot room of the Health Club.

"A machine?" Illya said. "No wonder THRUSH is so interested. They must have an idea, and in their hands such a machine would be murderous."

Solo was about to answer when both men heard the sound. Cars approached along the river road. They had no headlights. Illya and Solo went across the road quickly and burrowed into the deep bushes.

Two dark jeeps went past slowly. They were filled with THRUSH men, and in each jeep a sub-leader scanned the river and the shore through infra-red glasses.

The jeeps passed and vanished. But Illya and Solo did not move. They waited where they were hidden in the bushes. Moments later another car came by, its motor almost soundless in the night. In this car a man scanned the inland side of the road through infra-red binoculars.

The third car passed on and disappeared into the night.

"Let's move," Solo said.

With Illya Kuryakin following, Napoleon Solo walked away from the road toward the lights of a town some distance inland from the river. They avoided the roads, and crossed dark fields in the night. When they were near the town, and were sure that they were clear of THRUSH, Solo bent over his ring.

"Control Central this is Sonny. Come in Control Central. Sonny and Bubba calling."

Waverly's voice came calm in the night. "You have located Mr. uh, Kuryakin, I see, Mr. Solo. Good. Where are you?"

"About thirty miles up the Hudson Valley from New York. We've run into THRUSH."

"THRUSH, eh?" Waverly's voice said quietly. "I can't say that I'm surprised. The affair in Anagua had their fine touch about it. I gather that you have eluded them?"

"We were both caught, but we escaped. Danton is running the operation," Solo said.

"Emil himself? They must place considerable value on the affair," Waverly's imperturbable voice said. "Which I do myself, as I told you, Mr. Solo."

"Do you want us to go back and tackle THRUSH again?"

"That can wait, Mr. Solo," Waverly's voice said, and for the first time there was an edge to the voice of the Section-I Chief. "It seems that you may be safe, but I'm afraid no one else is. In addition to Forsyte, another man visited that health club today, gentlemen. He went there early this morning. Unlike all the others, who appear to have noticed nothing amiss, this man reported to his superiors that he was strangely 'groggy,' as he put it, when he left the health club."

"They must have used the machine, maybe too long," Solo said. "I heard their boss say it could have bad effects."

"Very probably, Mr. Solo," Waverly said. "But that is not my concern just now. What concerns me is the nature of the man in question. You see, he had the full details of the United States' nuclear detection program for outer space in his head."

Solo whistled. "The whole detection system?"

"Precisely," Waverly's voice sail. "You understand that in the wrong hands this top secret system information could mean the control of space. I do not want this data to be passed on—to anyone, especially not to THRUSH. The job has been put into our hands."

Solo and Illya looked at each other. The outer space nuclear detection program was so secret its very existence was not known out side the immediate military, the White House, and U.N.C.L.E. In the wrong hands—?

"We don't know where the machine or the men who use it have gone," Solo said. "THRUSH doesn't seem to know either."

"Mr. Solo," Waverly's dry voice said from the distant room of U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters, "never underestimate THRUSH or me. Or yourself, for that matter. You may recall that you reported the machine. Our men were outside the health club. Fortunately, one of our teams noticed some men carrying a bulky object out of the next building and followed them."

"They must have had a secret passage between the buildings," Solo said.

"Apparently," Waverly said. "Be that as it may, our team followed them to an electronics plant near Princeton, New Jersey. The plant is named Rand Electronics, Inc. A Mr. Edgar Rand is listed as president. We do not know if Rand is involved, or if his plant is simply being used. But I suggest you find out."

"Yes sir," Solo said.

"The team on watch there is Peters and Jenkins. I want you to contact them and assume command of the operation—at once."

"Yes sir."

"And Mr. Solo, get that machine."

"Yes sir."

The night became silent. Where they crouched on the edge of the village they could hear the sounds of revelry and whisky from a roadhouse in the center of the town. The people of the small town were at their pleasure, their momentary joys, while around them in the dark night a deadly game was being played by men they had never heard of, a game that could mean the end of their lives or their pleasures if it ended the wrong way. And one way or the other they would probably never know that the game had even been played.

"Well?" Illya said.

"I guess we go to Princeton."

"Perhaps we better stop and pick up our equipment first, Napoleon."

"Peters and Jenkins can supply us," Solo said. "The Rand plant may be only a short stop. From what I heard, they sounded like they were ready for a big move."

"Then we better move," Illya said.

The two agents searched the night carefully. THRUSH would not give up easily. It was certain that the black-garbed soldiers were still scouring the countryside for them. Solo and Illya entered the small village silently, like shadows in the night that flitted in and out of the light from the windows of the houses. They moved within the desperately happy noises from the tavern.

Outside the tavern there was a row of cars. One, parked farther away from the door than most of the cars, still had its keys in the ignition. Illya climbed in behind the wheel. Solo sat beside him. They started the engine and drove off. Illya turned into a side road that wound through the hills of Palisades Interstate Park. They did not see THRUSH.

An hour later, as the moon rose high, they crossed the border into New Jersey and headed south and east.

TWO

THE PLANT OF Rand Electronics was a long, low, two-story building of yellow brick set in the rich park-like countryside of the Princeton area. Once mainly farmland, and then big estates, the rich area had been caught up with by industry, and now many light, smokeless industries such as Rand Electronics were settling all across the landscape.

Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo parked their stolen car off the road a quarter of a mile from the plant. They walked cautiously closer. The low building of the plant was bright with lights behind its high cyclone fence and a long row of thick bushes that edged a fine green lawn. Shadows moved inside the main factory wing of the plant.

"Night shift," Solo said.

"It doesn't look much like they're carrying on clandestine production of secret machines," Illya said.

"That's probably what they want us to think."

"And it could be a trick. The health club people could have been throwing us off by coming here," Illya said.

"We better find out," Solo said.

"Peters and Jenkins should be able to tell us," Illya said.

They moved on with their eyes alert in the night for their fellow agents. They spotted the dark shape of the U.N.C.L.E. car back off the road just outside the drive up to the plant. At the gate of the plant there was an open gate in the fence and a lighted sentry house. All was quiet at the gate, and Solo and Illya approached the car of their fellow agents.

"All clear, Peters?" Solo said as they neared the dark car.

"All clear," a muffled voice said.

Illya, behind Solo, went for the THRUSH machine-gun he still carried. Napoleon Solo dove for the cover of dark bushes.

The "All clear" of the muffled voice was the wrong signal. All U.N.C.L.E. agents used a recognition signal in answer to the questions of "All clear?" The muffled voice had given the wrong signal.

The two agents reacted instantly—but too late. Before Illya Kuryakin could bring his gun up, two men sprang from the bushes beside him, their guns already aimed at him.

Solo, flat in the bushes, looked up at feet and faces that stood over him. The dapper agent got to his feet with his hands up. Illya already stood beside the car, disarmed and watched by the other two men. A fifth man got out of the car. There was no sign of Peters or Jenkins.

"Sit," one of the five men ordered.

They sat.

"Keep your hands in front of you and in sight."

They placed their hands in their laps in full sight.

"Report to the Boss," the leader of the men said to one of the other men. "Tell him we have two more U.N.C.L.E. agents. These two we got alive."

The man went off to report. Illya and Solo glanced at each other. Solo looked up at the leader above him.

"You killed Peters and Jenkins?" Solo said.

The man shrugged. "They resisted. You two were smarter."

Solo and Illya said nothing. They sat with their backs, against the U.N.C.L.E. car, and their hands in sight. The five captors ringed them but did nothing else. The five were clearly waiting.

What they were waiting for became clear an hour later.

Nothing had happened at the plant of Rand Electronics. No one went in or out as they all waited in the night. Then the sound of a helicopter filled the night some distance away. The copter seemed to come low, and then there was silence.

The five captors waited with expectant looks on their grim faces.

There was noise in the bushes, and three men suddenly seemed to loom up in the night. One man walked ahead of the other two. He came and stood over Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo.

"Well, gentlemen, that didn't take long."

Emil Danton smiled down at the two agents, his immaculate grey hair unruffled.

"You two simply don't seem to be able to keep away from me, now do you?" Danton went on.

"We enjoy good company," Illya said.

"But different circumstances," Solo added

Danton laughed. "Well put. I really can't take any credit for recapturing you, can I? Isn't it lucky that I had a team of my men watching all U.N.C.L.E. agents involved in this affair? They not only led us to Rand Electronics, but to you two. Some days everything just works out nicely."

"You must live right, Danton," Solo said.

"I must, at that," the elegant THRUSH leader said. "And much as I'd like to remain and talk with you gentlemen, business calls. I think it's time I had a look inside that plant."

Danton motioned abruptly to his men. They jumped at his command. One of them, the leader of the five who had captured Illya and Solo, nodded to the two prisoners.

"Shall we kill them, Boss?"

Danton rubbed his chin. "Kill them? Not immediately. No, they are safe here, and after we conclude this little episode, they'll make a fine bonus to hand to Council. We can kill them later."

"Yes, sir."

"Leave three men to guard them. I suggest that you bind them or handcuff them. They are clever fellows," Danton added.

Illya and Solo were roughly handcuffed with their hands behind them, and sat back against the car on the ground. Danton took his four men and conferred briefly. Then he turned to Illya and Solo. The THRUSH leader smiled.

"This should not take long, gentlemen. Then I'll be back, eh?"

"Don't hurry," Solo said. "We'll wait."

"Yes, you certainly will," Danton said.

The immaculately dressed member of THRUSH Council made a sharp gesture to his men, and the five of them moved off in the night, crossed the road, and began to walk toward the gate of Rand Electronics.

The night became silent.

Illya and Solo sat on the ground with their hands cuffed behind them. For a time the three guards watched them. Then, as time passed, the guards became bored. They whispered among themselves, and two of them went and sat down and lighted cigarettes. The third continued to watch the handcuffed agents.

Illya sat against the right front wheel of the U.N.C.L.E. car. Solo was against the front right door. After a time even the guard who was watching them began to pace, turning his back on them from time to time. During one of the periods when his back was turned, Solo touched Illya's foot with his foot.

Illya nodded. His handcuffed hands began to feel along the rim of the hubcap of the U.N.C.L.E. car. Solo, against the, door, worked his cuffed hands beneath the car just under the door. The guard turned back. Illya and Solo grinned at him. He scowled and looked away. It was bad form for a THRUSH guard to let U.N.C.L.E. agents smile at him.

The guard turned abruptly and walked away from them, looking at his watch. He continued toward where his two fellow guards were relaxing. Illya Kuryakin gave a quick tug and the hubcap came off behind him. There was a faint metallic sound. Both men froze and watched the guards. The guards did not seem to have heard.

Illya's deft fingers located the thin strip of foil attached to the wheel inside the hubcap. The handcuffs were just loose enough for him to wrap the foil around the chain in the center. Solo had found the tiny pistol under the car, where it was attached for just such an emergency.

The three guards were having a laughing argument about who was to watch them.

In a moment they would be back.

Illya turned his back toward Solo. Solo turned his back to Illya. The small blond Russian raised his arms away from his body behind him. Solo reached back until their hands touched. Solo's fingers found the thin thread on the foil around Illya's handcuffs and pulled.

One of the other guards was getting up, ready to come and watch the prisoners.

The sudden head of the thermite foil seared Illya's wrists. The Russian gritted his teeth. Two seconds later the thermite had melted the chain and his hands were free. He quickly picked up the pistol Napoleon Solo had taken from beneath the car, and both men resumed their positions against the car.

The guard approached. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. He looked at them. It was clear on his face that he detected something wrong, but he was not sure. His gun ready, he came to them.

"Turn around," the guard commanded.

Illya pretended to try to turn. Impatiently the guard reached down to turn Illya. The small Russian's hand shot up and grasped the man's neck. With a faint gurgle, the guard collapsed.

Solo and Illya were up and running in an instant, straight at where the other two guards relaxed under a dark tree. The guards heard them. One of them got his gun up. Illya shot him between the eyes with a single shot. The third guard tried to stand. Solo hammered him with a single blow of his manacled hands. The man dropped without a sound.

The two agents quickly picked up all weapons. Illya went to the trunk of the car and took out a long length of rope. They bound the two surviving THRUSH men. The one Solo had hit was still unconscious. This done, Illya retrieved another thermite foil from the hub of the wheel. It was a matter of seconds to release Solo. They then took a small picklock from under the rear seat of the U.N.C.L.E. car and removed the cuffs.

Illya looked at his watch. "Over an hour, Napoleon. Danton's been in there too long."

"With no sound of a fight," Solo said.

"Something's wrong," Illya said.

"Well, let's find out."

"Not in these clothes," Illya said. "Strip our friends; their suits might just fit. Lucky they're in civilian clothes."

The two agents changed clothes with the two guards. The suits were good enough. Each took an other pistol from hiding places on the U.N.C.L.E. car—the machine-guns would have been too conspicuous.

"Let's go," Solo said. "We don't have time to hide."

The two agents began to walk across the road and up to the gate of the plant.