"They don't take siestas in Tibet," Illya said. "Where is everyone?"
"I believe many of the laboratories and facilities are underground, Mr. Solo," Mei said. She had thrown back her parka. Her dark hair shone like a sleek bird's wing.
The look she gave Solo was warm and worshipful. Illya made a resigned face.
Grumpily Illya climbed out of his two sets of coats and trousers. He stowed them behind a rock and adjusted his priest's robe and headgear. In a moment the transformation of the whole group was complete. They were now two priests with darkly-hued faces and slanted eyes, plus an elderly farmer and his daughter.
They crouched behind rocks while Solo surveyed the valley with field glasses which he had taken from his robe. "That big building close to the far end of the airstrip looks like a hangar. But I still don't see a single human being anyplace."
"It will be too dangerous to attempt to approach during daylight," Ah Lan said.
Solo nodded. "But there's enough cover for us to go as far as that orchard. From there we can watch till nightfall."
Ah Lan peered toward the barracks-like structures. "Surely our entrance to the valley cannot have gone unobserved. Yet it appears that it did. As my daughter told you, much of the facility is believed to be built under the earth. Perhaps THRUSH feels itself so secure that guards are unnecessary.
"We'll find out after dark we try to get in the place," Solo said. He sat down against one the tree trunks. "Right now we might as well rest. The fun and games in the snow made me tired. Illya, how about breaking out some more of those crumbly crackers? You'd think U.N.C.L.E. could afford better fare for -"
A chill went all the way through Napoleon Solo as a sliding panel opened in the trunk of the tree directly across from him.
Other panels snapped open in the other tree trunks around them. Rifle muzzles appeared in the openings. Mei jumped into her father's arms with a cry of horror. Illya's jaw hung down in untypical amazement. Solo whipped his gun hand toward a fold of his robe.
"That would be inadvisable," said a voice from the largest tree in the lane.
The whole side of the trunk opened outward like a door. Through the door walked a tall man in the peaked cap and smart, tight-fitting black uniform of the officer elite of THRUSH.
The man had a large automatic in his right hand. A slender white scar traced an S-curve down the left side of his cruel face, hairline to jaw. It was the Red Chinese officer from the truck.
"You folks certainly switch sides fast around here," Solo said.
"Not at all, Mr. Solo," said the officer in English. "My loyalty has but one fixed point – THRUSH. Of course I know who you are. The cameras hidden in several imitation
pomegranates hanging on these trees have already supplied your photographs to our technologists just there."
The officer used his gun to indicate the black buildings in the center of the valley. "Our computers have analyzed the photos and sent back your names. Mr. Napoleon
Solo and Mr. Illya Kuryakin of U.N.C.L.E. These two traitors -"
The officer's cruel expression turned lascivious as he studied Mei. She huddled against Ah Lan. The old man's chin came up, defiant. The officer smiled.
"- we are familiar with them, too. They shall be dealt with."
"Since when does a Chinese nightingale turn into a THRUSH?" Illya asked.
The officer shrugged. "Actually, it's a most convenient arrangement. I have access to information from all the Chinese radar installations in the district. You see, we have been expecting visitors from U.N.C.L.E. ever since our experimental flight on Air Pan-Asia apparently met with failure due to your meddling.
"You were observed in Hong Kong taking Mr. Chee aboard the flight for the United States. So we have been preparing. As senior officer in charge of the district beyond the pass, I receive immediate reports of all unidentified aircraft in our airspace. Thus I was reasonably certain you had arrived by parachute two nights ago.
"Of course I was forced to carry out the charade of searching the terrain with the truck convoy. A pretty predicament! I knew you were hiding behind those rocks beside the road. I saw the marks in the earth. But one of my soldiers also saw them, so I was unable to overlook them. Fortunately the wild yak happened along to explain away the marks and give me a legitimate excuse to call a halt to the search."
The scarred officer stepped two paces forward, to allow room for the other THRUSH soldiers who were appearing from the door in the tree. There were six of them, a squad, all in black boots, trousers, blouses. They carried rapid-fire machine pistols with large, round infra-red snooper sights mounted on top.
They were a mixed lot, typical of THRUSH forces: two appeared to be European, one English or American, and three Oriental. All of them had the flat, featureless expression of the professional assassin.
"Are there any more questions before it is my turn to be inquisitive?" the officer said.
"Yes," Solo said. "You didn't take us prisoner yesterday because you wanted to save us for THRUSH. Isn't that a pretty risky business?"
The officer looked amused. "In certain quarters it might be. Here it is not. This region of Tibet is sparsely populated. It is even more sparsely garrisoned by the Chinese army. Since I am in command of the area, my orders are executed without question."
Illya gestured at the valley, the peaceful, sun-dappled rice fields. "How do you convince your Chinese friends to leave this place alone? After all, observation planes from the Chinese air force must have spotted it."
"Naturally," the officer said. His tone indicated the question was naive. "Again, by deft maneuvering, all Chinese military units within a certain radius have been convinced that this valley is actually a highly secret research installation - which is true - operated by the
Peking regime - which is not true. We manage to maintain the fiction."
Solo shook his head. "From Mao to THRUSH. That's quite a transformation."
The officer's lips curled. "We find the Chinese contemptible milksops."
The officer jerked his gun muzzle down the hill. "I believe we have wasted enough time. Shall we go?"
"Preferably to hell," Solo said, diving his hand under his robe for his pistol.
The odds were hopeless. As Solo dropped into a fighting crouch and leveled his gun, the THRUSH squad swarmed forward. Machine pistol butts thudded against his skull, into his midriff, onto the back of his neck. Solo swung a punch and hit nothing but air. A THRUSH soldier kicked him in the belly.
Solo went down on his knees. A rabbit-chop drove him flat. Other soldiers rushed out of the tree door to seize Illya, Ah Lan and Mei.
A little line of blood ran out of the left side of Solo's mouth as he sprawled on his back in the warm, fragrant orchard. The officer loomed above him, S-scar shining white. The officer placed the hobnailed sole of his boot on Solo's Adam's apple and pressed down.
"That was a damned fool trick," said the officer. He smiled thinly. "I can see by the expression on your face, Mr. Solo, that you are surprised I speak your language."
"Yes," Solo grunted.
"It's quite simple. I was educated. in your country. At U.C.L.A."
Solo said, "I should have guessed."
For his sarcasm he got another forty pounds of pressure applied to his throat, hard.
Act III: So Sorry, Mark Twain