Zud shook his head. "What then can we do?"
"Trust Piebr. Set him in charge. Trust him. Allow me, and my agents to aid him. Order Aly David to move his armies to within sight of the mercenaries—but to hold their fire until Piebr, with us, can locate and confer with the THRUSH people for Soraya's safety."
Zud waved his arm, nodded. "So be it. And may Allah speed you and bless you."
* * *
PIEBR DROVE the forward jeep. In it rode two of his plainclothes operatives, armed with handguns, equipped with hidden machine pistols and hand grenades.
Solo drove the second jeep. Illya slouched beside him, the wind thrusting through his fair hair. Wanda sat in the back seat, armed with a machine pistol which she held across her lap.
Piebr's intelligence had placed Pretty Wilde, the THRUSH operatives working for her, and their royal prisoner at the refinery near El Massif.
A mile from the refinery Piebr halted. One of his operatives slid under the wheel of the forward jeep. Piebr walked back to where Solo had braked the second car.
"I will drive from here," Piebr said. He glanced at Wanda. "You will hide all guns and grenades when we reach the gate. Our plan is that we will get in to the THRUSH agent in charge by agreeing to exchange the three of you for the kidnapped queen."
Napoleon Solo moved over. Illya Kuryakin sat in the rear with Wanda. Piebr drove past the other jeep, and so they arrived at the chain-link fences surrounding the huge refinery. Even in the darkness the great storage tanks gleamed metallically, strung together by elephantine pipes.
Solo whistled. Troops of mercenaries lined the roads, the fences, stood guard at all the tanks and pumping stations. They were halted at the gate while the officer in charge made a phone call.
The duty officer replaced the receiver, stepped out of the guard shack. "Search them and send them in."
Soldiers searched the two jeeps, confiscated all weapons and grenades. Wanda's face sagged as she watched her machine pistol added to the stack inside the guard shack.
Three weapon carriers pulled alongside the jeeps and convoyed them to a brightly lighted administration building. A dozen armed mercenaries marched the six prisoners into the tiled-floored building. Sandbags had been placed near windows and doors.
At a desk in the rear of a large, well-illuminated office Pretty Wilde sat with a squad of hand picked personal body guards.
Pretty wore a bandage jauntily about her head. She stared malevolently at Wanda. Near a window Queen Soraya of Xanra sat with two ladies-in-waiting at her knees.
"King Zud offers the agents of U.N.C.L.E. in exchange for the life and safety of Queen Xanra," Piebr said.
Pretty Wilde smiled coldly at the new minister of security. "You speak boldly for an unarmed man."
Piebr did not blink. "We are indeed unarmed. But this refinery is surrounded by five thousand troops, led by General Aly David."
Pretty considered this. "Is Zud welching on his agreement with THRUSH? Our agreement to aid him in conquering Xanra, in return for certain concessions?"
Piebr smiled coldly. "Let's say the king has reconsidered. Let me add that momentarily a flash gun will be fired over the dunes. This is the signal for our troops to attack this refinery. Small cannon are at this moment trained on those storage tanks. Does one need to do more than suggest what would happen if only one cannon scores a hit on one tank?"
Solo saw Pretty Wilde's lovely face pale. "You play a rough game of poker, don't you?"
"Never deceive yourself that I am bluffing. I suggest that you hastily agree that my men and I remove Queen Soraya from this imperiled zone. I believe even THRUSH might have great difficulty recovering from her death in these circumstances."
Pretty waved her arm. "Take her and her sniveling wenches. Get her out of here."
Piebr nodded. He and his men strode across the room, escorted the queen and the frightened ladies out of the door to a jeep. The soldiers stepped back and stood aside as the jeep raced toward the gates.
At the precise instant that Piebr's jeep hurtled through the gate, a flare burst like a meteor over the dunes outside the refinery.
Its orange light illuminated the office. Pretty Wilde gazed around in panic.
"They're attacking. Kill these three people and let's get out of here," she shouted at her bodyguard.
But Illya Kuryakin shook his arm and let a hand grenade roll from the folds of his silk robe. "Here's one they missed!" He jerked out the pin. "Now. Pretty Wilde, your men can shoot me, but we'll all go up in the biggest holocaust this part of the world has seen since Gomorrah burned."
"Hold your fire!" Pretty Wilde screamed in panic.
Illya Kuryakin jerked his head toward the doors. Distantly they heard gunfire. It grew louder as Aly David's men approached, full speed.
Solo leaped into the jeep, started the engine. Wanda dove into the rear, head first, striking the seat and lying there, face down.
Solo had the car in motion as Illya sprang into the other seat. All over the refinery, mercenaries were running to their battle stations.
Solo shouted at Illya. "You're still carrying that grenade!"
"Why waste it on her?" Illya shouted.
As they roared past a huge storage tank, Illya lobbed the grenade toward it. For an instant, breathless silence hung over the desert.
"Faster! Faster!" Illya Kuryakin shouted.
At that instant, the grenade exploded. Solo pressed harder on the gas. The exploding grenade burst the seam of the tank, and the second explosion followed immediately. The earth rumbled, shivering. The jeep danced wildly, turning all the way around before Napoleon Solo could right it.
He straightened the jeep in the road again, fixed a course on the gate, pressed the accelerator as a second tank exploded, turning the sky white and the world a fiery crimson.
The jeep danced, bounced, lurched around. Solo fought the wheel, straightening it. The outward blast of air, the savage pull of the vacuum held the car, trembling.
"Faster!" Illya shouted in Solo's ears, hanging on to the windshield with all his strength. The heat was intense, unbearable. Ahead of them stretched the dark empty desert, so close, but suddenly an eternity removed beyond the peri meter of the exploding refinery. "Can't you go faster?"
"I've got the pedal on the floor now!" Napoleon Solo shouted.
But Illya Kuryakin couldn't even hear him above the scream of the flames, the roar of chain explosions. The fire reached out after them. Solo thrust down on the gas as hard as he could, looking back across his shoulder.
They'd get away, by a whisker. No one else would, barring a miracle. That hell of solid flame was too pulverizing in its intensity to offer any chance for survival.
Solo sighed. Pretty Wilde had been a lot of woman. It was hard to think of her charred and dead. What a waste of loveliness!
But there was new work to be done, new girls to meet. He nodded, forced the car forward into the night, smiling.