"I think Illya has arranged that, eh, Illya?" Solo said.
"Of course," the small Russian said. "Come on."
Illya led them through the streets and past the now dark and silent pub with its blazoned sign, The End Of The World. When they reached a building a block past the public house, Illya stopped and looked at Solo.
"There?" Illya said.
His hand pointed to one of the ruins still left from the second world war. It had been a church, and was now only rubble and jagged walls against the night sky. Solo nodded.
"By distance from the river, and general location, that should be right above the Cult shelter," Solo agreed.
"It would be just the place they would pick," Illya said. "I don't imagine anyone in the whole city knows what is down there. And we don't have any time to waste, do we? Napoleon, you better get us a helicopter, and quite fast. I'm getting a signal!"
In the hands of Illya Kuryakin a miniature gauge had appeared. Paul Dabori looked at the gauge, and at Illya. The gauge had a white dial with black numbers and a black pointer. Closed, it seemed no more than a cigarette lighter, and there was a small receptacle attached that was empty now.
Illya smiled. "When I tackled Morlock, I managed to plant the sensor on his trouser leg. A radioactive sensor. This gauge picks it up as far away as fifteen miles. You see, we don't know where he is going, so I thought we would probably have to follow him."
"The gauge is moving!" Dabori said.
"Yes," Illya said. "Morlock is coming out."
Bent over his ring transmitter-receiver, Solo called for help. "London Control, this is Sonny. Come in, London Control. Sonny and Bubba, Mayday. Come in, London Control!"
The ring seemed to speak. "London Control. Go ahead, Sonny."
"Request helicopter. Repeat. Request helicopter immediately," and Solo gave the location.
"Helicopter at the river near The End Of The World. Roger, Sonny. Helicopter already in area; will be there in two minutes!"
"Over and out," Solo said.
Illya watched his gauge. "He's out!"
The three men ducked down in the shelter of a doorway. From the ruins of the church across the street four men appeared as if by magic. Three were morlocks, armed and wary, and the fourth was Morlock The Great himself. The four walked quickly to a long black car that suddenly glided down the street.
Solo pointed upward. "There!"
The helicopter circled the area, keeping well away until the black car had pulled away and vanished toward the west. Then the helicopter swooped down toward the river. Illya, Solo and Dabori hurried down the dark city street to the river. The helicopter floated on the river.
"Paul," Illya said to Dabori, "this time you must stay here. Watch the old church until we get back."
Dabori nodded. The hunchback stepped back and smiled at Illya and Solo as the two agents waded through the mud and swam to the helicopter. Aboard, the helicopter lifted off at once.
"Where to?" the pilot said.
Illya looked at his gauge. "West, about fifty miles an hour, make a zigzag and stay ten miles back. I'll guide you."
"Roger," the pilot said.
The helicopter swung off to the west across the great city. Illya and Solo bent close over the gauge that tracked Morlock The Great.
ACT IV: NOT WITH A BANG BUT A SCREAM
THROUGH THE dark English night the chase continued. Hours had passed and still the dial of Illya's gauge showed Morlock and his men driving west. The car, some ten miles ahead, was driving fast. In the helicopter, by the light of the instrument panel, Solo and Illya bent over a map.
"He's heading in the general direction of his Salisbury house," Solo said.
"Where he most surely has another atom bomb shelter," Illya pointed out.
"But how does he plan to start a war out here?" Solo said.
"The naval base at Portsmouth?" Illya said.
"Not near enough."
"Some installation at Southampton?"
"Possibly, but—" Solo began.
"He's turning off!" Illya said, his eyes on his gauge.
The dial on the gauge indicated that Morlock The Great had turned his car and was not heading sharply north. The pilot swung the helicopter in pursuit.
The first faint grey of dawn was just tinging the eastern sky when the pilot suddenly spoke.
"You say he's out to start a war?" the pilot said.
"We think so," Illya said.
"Then I think I know where he's going," the pilot said. "on your map. You see the town of Colingbrane?"
"Yes," Illya said.
"Well, it won't show on your map, but there's an IRBM missile base at Colingbrane. According to our information, the missiles are hot, are aimed at major Soviet cities!"
"Then that's it!" Solo said. "How close is Morlock?"
"A few miles from the town," Illya said, looking at both his gauge and the map.
"But how does he figure on starting anything?" the pilot said. "Those missiles don't go without a call on the hot line from the top. The base has world-wide communications and missile tracking. They can't be surprised, and they can't fire without clearance from the top. Only the general has control of the firing button."
"Foolproof?" Illya said, his voice a question.
"I'd say so," the pilot said.
"No," Illya said. "Nothing is foolproof, because there are always fools. In everything there must be a human element, no matter how small, and what one human can make almost perfect, another can always destroy by locating the tiniest flaw."
"Well—" the pilot began.
"Illya!" Solo warned, pointed down to the gauge in the blond Russian's hand.
The gauge showed that Morlock had stopped. The helicopter was closing in rapidly.
"Set down right on top of them!" Illya snapped.
The two agents prepared their weapons, leaned out the windows of the lowering helicopter. A very faint grey light revealed the black car parked below at the edge of a high fence. Beyond the fence there was nothing but houses and trees and small hills.
But the trained eyes of Solo and Illya saw that the houses inside the high fences were not houses. The trees were newly planted. The small hills were not hills but mounds covered with sod.
That was all they had time to see. As the helicopter swooped down, hovered over the car, morlocks came out into the open. Exposed, in the open, and stupidly fearless, they raised their weapons to fire.
They never fired.
Illya leaned out of the copter, dropped a small cylinder that exploded with a silent puff. The gas spread incredibly fast, and the morlocks slumped to the earth, asleep.
"Set us down," Illya said to the pilot.
The helicopter touched down just outside the fence. The fence, the two agents knew, would be electrified. They took their tools and weapons and turned to run toward the fence.
Solo instructed the pilot. "They'll have picked you up on their radar. Take off, but stay around. Let them catch you a mile or so away. Don't talk for a half an hour; that should give us time. If it doesn't, it won't matter by then."
"You are so encouraging, Napoleon," Illya said.
"A realist, my Russian friend. Come on."