In a matter of minutes Piebr returned, saying a car and driver awaited them at a side exit.
Solo thanked him, nodded to ward Ordwell. "Take Solo out to the car, leave Frun to guard him and return for us."
He waited until Frun and Piebr struggled with the leg-dragging Ordwell through the door. Then he saw that the young soldier remained standing at attention just inside the room.
"Guard the hall," Solo ordered.
Aly David hesitated a moment, then nodded. "As you command, Master." He stepped through the door, closed it after him.
Solo went directly to Illya, gave him a loaded pistol to conceal in the folds of his linen robe.
"We've got to make at least the bluff of turning the three of you over to THRUSH," he said.
Illya hid the gun. "I understand. But tell me something. Where'd you get the mask? You know—on you it's an improvement."
"I'll worry about my looks when we learn what nonsense THRUSH is up to."
"Then let's get on the road," Illya said, moving toward the door.
"Don't I get a gun?" Wanda cried.
Solo stared at her. "I should get shot in the back? You hang close to Illya—and keep absolutely quiet, no matter what happens."
With Piebr leading them, and Aly David bringing up the rear, they went hurriedly through the brilliant halls to a waiting car.
The driver sped out a side gate, drove along the high wall to the four-lane highway and turned north toward Kurbot.
Solo, Illya, Piebr and run sat on the rear seat. Ordwell was sprawled across their feet. Solo could feel the stocky man stir as the effects of the neuroquixonal wore off.
"How much further?" he asked.
"Not many kilometers, Master. As you know, THRUSH'S agents have taken over Sheik Zud's retreat at Paradise Oasis."
"Yes, of course," Solo said. "So much on my mind."
They were silent for the rest of the drive through the desert night. The stillness pervaded everything, bearing down on the car like a tangible pressure.
Wanda sat huddled between the young driver and Aly David on the front seat. Solo wanted to say something to reassure her, but he could think of nothing. There were no words.
The car swung off the highway, going east on a secondary road over sand dunes in washboard monotony.
Suddenly ahead a splash of electric lights illuminated the sky-reaching date palms of Paradise Oasis. Beyond the twenty-room villa, stark oil derricks reared against the roof of heaven, their pumps pounding like the heart of parasites, sucking life from the earth.
Lights burned in every room of the retreat, a concrete and stucco mansion cresting a small hill above the pool of water in the heart of the oasis.
"Something is odd, Master," Piebr said. "There are no lights on the exterior of the house."
"Yes." Solo ordered the driver to slow the car. They peered into the darkness, seeing nothing moving in the deep shadows of oleander bushes, lemon trees, fig bushes. Still, Solo shared Piebr's instinct of something being wrong.
"Drive all the way to the front door," he told the chauffeur.
The chauffeur allowed the car to roll to the wide steps before the spacious veranda. The silence continued unbroken. The pumps throbbed away in the darkness.
"Leave your lights burning," Solo said.
Aly David got out of the car first. He walked up to the top step, stood looking around, gun at ready across his chest. Piebr opened one rear door and jumped out, gun in hand, Frun exited from the other. Still nothing happened.
Then Solo bent down, getting out of the car. As his head cleared the protection of the bullet proofed glass, guns erupted like orange flares in the Stygian darkness and the night went wild.
Solo hit the ground hard, looking around for a target. Piebr crouched in against the car, gun ready.
Above them, Aly David sank to his knee, gun against his shoulder.
Bullets screamed like raging hornets past them. Frun fired once, and there were dozens of answering shots, the bullets ripping into the car.
Suddenly a woman's voice broke across the sound of gun fire via a public address system. The guns were quieted, waiting.
"Solo," the voice said. "Tell the deluded men with you to lay down their arms, or they will be slain along with you. We have guns fixed on you from the darkness, and from all the windows on the lower floor behind you."
Solo glanced up at the lighted windows, saw the dark forms in them, guns held ready.
"Ordwell," the voice said. "Are you there?"
Solo watched the stocky man pull himself from the car. He managed to stand up, the effects of the neuroquixonal fading swiftly as he moved around.
"I'm here," Ordwell called.
"Then disarm them," the woman's voice ordered. "All of them. Then march them into the house." Her voice took on an air of contempt. "THRUSH hopes you can accomplish this."
Solo heard Orwell gasp in rage, but he made no reply. He moved, from Piebr to Aly David to Frun, gathering the weapons. A man appeared from the darkness and collected them. Then Ordwell came close to Solo.
"Your gun, Mr. Solo," he said.
Solo heard Piebr's sharp intake of breath. He did not glance toward the young detective.
Ordwell took the gun, barrel first, closed his fist over it and coldly back-handed Solo across the head with it.
Solo staggered to his knees, feeling the blood trickling from the cut down the inside of the plastic mask. For a moment all the date palms were strung with glittering stars of a million hues, and then darkness settled. He gritted his teeth, managed to hang on to consciousness.
He heard Ordwell snarling at him. "On your feet. Move, Solo. Or I'll kill you, just as I killed that fool ambassador in the airport terminal."
Solo managed to pull himself up slowly. Illya came out of the car, supported him. And after a moment, Piebr stepped close to him, lending the strength of his arm, Solo was thankful Piebr finally knew the truth about the senseless slaying of his father.
Piebr whispered savagely, "Somehow, by the grace of Allah, we will get out of this. I know now they slew not only my good and faithful father, but also the protector of my country, the real Kiell."
"Shut up!" Ordwell said. "Get him inside the house. Move. All of you."
They were herded into a living room, shut off from other rooms by silken draperies of bright colors. Solo staggered slightly as he walked. He would have fallen except that Piebr and Illya supported him. Objects and people in the room wavered before his eyes.
They stood some moments in this room, alone. Even Ordwell grew restive. He glared around at the silken draperies. "Well, what's wrong now? Here they are. THRUSH wanted Solo and Kuryakin delivered as hostages. Here they are!"
Ordwell Slybrough laughed in triumph. He gripped the plastic mask over Solo's face, slipped a knife blade under it and cut it away.
He jerked it off Solo's head. He stared a moment in sadistic satisfaction at the cut across Solo's temple, the blood streaming along his cheek.
"Here he is!" he shouted.
The silken drapes parted and Pretty Wilde came through them, followed by two scowling native gunmen.
Solo stared at her, the gash in his temple for the moment forgotten, or supplanted by a more poignant agony. Pretty Wilde was lovelier than ever in black blouse and black stretch pants which seemed annealed to her stockpiled elegance.