The counting voice continued. "Two-hundred-sixty . . . two-fifty- nine . . . two-fifty-eight . . . two- fifty-seven . . . two-fifty-six . . . "
Solo had one last look at the grinning and triumphant face of the cherubic Dr. Ernesto Guerre as the fat little man stared at them through the glass-and-steel wall of the control room.
FOUR
THE MIST HAD begun to burn off out in the open beyond the main building. Solo, Illya and Penny Parsons ran across the deserted swamp island toward the narrow stretch of water that separated it from the mainland of the swamp.
There was no one in sight; the entire secret base was deserted. In its launching silo the gigantic space station quivered on the end of the giant rocket.
The three reached the edge of the water and plunged in without an instant of hesitation. They swam across and emerged wet and sliding in the mud on the far side.
They staggered up the bank and into the first line of swamp jungle growth.
Illya Kuryakin looked at his watch and urged them on.
They came out on a dirt road. Voices shouted at them. Six soldiers wearing the insignia of the 16th Regiment covered them. A captain stepped forward.
"Who are you, quick?" the captain snapped in Spanish.
"Agents of U.N.C.L.E., we're working with—" Solo began.
The captain broke in. "You are Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin?" he said in English,
"Yes," Solo said, "but how—"
Illya caught his arm, indicated speed and quick escape. Solo faced the captain.
"We better get away from here fast, Captain."
The captain nodded. Already the earth was shaking as the space station was about to blast off. The captain whistled and a command car appeared.
They all piled in and the driver tore off along the road away from the swamp land.
They drove fast and Illya sat in the rear looking back. The whole land was shaking now as the nuclear engines of the launching rocket began to gain full power.
The command car heaved and lurched on the road as the ground shook. Illya looked at his watch.
They passed other vehicles with soldiers, and the captain waved them all to go to the rear. The soldiers needed no urging, the ground trembling as if in the grip of an earthquake.
There were more and more soldiers now, all wearing the insignia of the 16th Regiment, and all armed in full battle gear.
Suddenly, Illya touched Solo's shoulder and pointed to the direction from which they had come. The earth was shivering madly now.
Solo looked back and saw it.
The space station, with its six black nuclear craft attached, had risen above the swamp, far back.
Half the rocket was visible now, rising slowly, so very slowly.
Solo could not believe, even now, the size of the gigantic launch vehicle. It seemed to fill the horizon. So big it seemed on top of them, although it was many miles away now.
The vehicle climbed so slowly higher, gathering speed.
The tail section appeared.
Then the mighty engines, blasting great sheets of flame that seared the swamp growth beneath them.
Illya gripped Solo's shoulder.
The rocket moved clear of all the vegetation, seemed to hang there in the air, an impossibly giant rocket moving slowly upward, gathering speed.
"It's making it!" Solo cried.
Illya's fingers dug into his shoulder.
Then the monstrous space vehicle seemed to hesitate, falter.
For a long second it hung there, still moving, but somehow leaning.
It seemed to shudder once.
And then it tilted, turned, began to shake like a tall tree in a high wind.
With a final shudder it fell over on its side and crashed back to earth. It fell over so slowly and seemed to float gently back down. Slowly, and then faster, and faster, until it hurtled down sideways and vanished beneath the swamp growth.
A mighty sheet of flame shot skyward.
The flames engulfed the entire island like a giant tidal wave.
Then the shock wave came.
The command car was picked up as if a giant hand and hurled off the road. It landed upright in the swamp, men flung all around.
Napoleon Solo picked himself up out of the mud. Penny Parsons was sitting up, grinning as she looked back to where the swamp island was a mass of flames.
Illya Kuryakin struggled in the muck, holding his wounded shoulder, but grinning as Solo came to help him up.
"All right, my grinning Russian, how did you do it?" Solo said.
Illya reached into his pocket and held up a tiny threaded bolt. The bolt was two inches long, no more than a quarter of an inch wide.
"You took it out of the rocket?" Solo said. "When we climbed up the tail?"
Illya nodded and began to laugh soundlessly.
On the road many soldiers were slowly advancing. Solo and Illya turned to face them. Walking calmly ahead of the soldiers they saw General Hoyos and the tweedy figure of Alexander Waverly. The U.N.C.L.E. Chief was tapping at his pipe, looking annoyed.
* * *
IN THE SMALL, sunny office of Alexander Waverly, the New York skyline outside through the window, Solo, Illya and Penny Parsons sat around the revolving table.
Alexander Waverly sucked on his cold pipe.
"So, I imagine it's good to have your speech back again, Mr.—uh —Kuryakin. And you too, Miss Parsons. No serious ill-effects, I hope?"
"No," Penny said, smiling. "I'm glad I was able to help. I feel I owed it to Mark. He got mixed up in something evil and it killed him. I wanted to try to help make it up."
"And so you did," Waverly said. "General Hoyos informs me that they identified the bodies of Wozlak and Dr. Guerre in what was left of the Thrush installation. Everything was totally destroyed; there will be no space station or nuclear engines. Our various governments are still checking on any other rocket pilots involved in the affair, but the matter is essentially closed."
And Waverly smiled one of his rare smiles toward Illya. "Destroyed for want of a nail, you might say, eh, Mr. Kuryakin?"
Illya grinned.
"Even a rocket is no better than its smallest part," the small Russian said.
"The removal of that one bolt destroyed the operation of the tail stabilizers," Solo said. "Boom! Was there much nuclear radiation as a result?"
"Very little, actually. Dr. Guerre was a good scientist, if not quite sane. The nuclear bombs in that space station were not armed. The only radiation came from the rocket engine."
"I was wondering about my friend Maxine?" Solo said. "Were there any survivors on that confounded island?"
"None, Mr. Solo," Waverly said, and began to light his pipe. "However, General Hoyos later learned that you were not the first one off that island. It seems one of his patrols, like the one that picked you up, picked up a lone woman earlier. She fits the description of Maxine Trent, I'm afraid."
"What happened to her?" Penny Parsons asked.
"No one seems to know," Waverly said. "It appears that the entire patrol deserted after capturing her. The various men of that patrol have been found all over Caracas, in varying stages of drunkenness, but Maxine has vanished. The soldiers do not appear to regret their escapade. They say it was worth it."
"That's my Maxine for you," Solo said.
Illya smiled his enigmatic smile. "Some day that woman will finish you, Napoleon."
"I know—but what a way to go," Solo said.
Even Waverly smiled suddenly as Napoleon Solo sighed in the sunny room.