An officer, seeing the general fall, ran forward and reached for the key.
Solo shot him in the neck. He collapsed, asleep.
In the room pandemonium broke loose.
Morlock The Great, crouched in his corner, was cursing, firing at the two agents now. Illya tossed a sleep-gas cylinder, and another. The gas filled the room.
Men fell all across the room.
One more officer made a frantic last attempt to unlock the red fire button—and fell to the floor before he could.
In the room there was now complete silence.
The men all slept.
The machines that had been silent were still silent.
The red fire button was still locked, and the red telephone stood silent.
Illya and Solo stood up on the balcony. It was over. There would be no atomic war today. But tomorrow?
"Where is he?" Solo said.
They both looked to where Morlock The Great had been firing at them. The spot was empty now. Behind the place, in the steel walls, a door stood open, a door into a black hole.
"The elevator!" Illya cried. "He was standing at the elevator. He got away!"
"Then we better get him!" Solo said.
Illya pulled out his tracking gauge. The dial showed that Morlock The Great was above them somewhere, above and moving away.
The two agents did not wait to explain to the general or his men. That could wait. When the general and his men woke up, the effects of the diabolical powder would have worn off. Then there would be time for explanations.
Now Illya and Solo had a man to catch. They raced back up the stairs and out into the bright sun of morning.
THREE
THE MISSILE base was still quiet and undisturbed. All the action below had not ruffled the surface. But already men were moving, the day shift getting ready to take over the endless job of doing nothing but wait for a disaster that, if it happened, none would be likely to survive. An endless, terrible job, where a man could not even hope for action since, when action came, it would be the end.
Illya and Solo moved as swiftly as they could and still remain unseen. They checked the dial on their tracking gauge and saw that Morlock was apparently heading straight back to his car. The magician seemed to need no help, could move unseen wherever he wished. Illya and Solo trotted toward the same spot.
Then they were seen!
But the soldiers who converged on them did not fire. It was clear at once that the soldiers knew who they were, and that they were friends.
A jeep raced up. In it was the helicopter pilot and four officers.
"The jet guys forced me down. I got a going over, but I finally convinced these boys to call 'Washington direct and we're all cleared. What happened."
Illya and Solo explained. Two of the officers ran off toward the control center. The other two waited. Illya checked his gauge.
"He's in his car, moving away fast. Come on; we'll have to borrow the jeep."
The two officers, armed, the pilot, and Illya and Solo, roared off in the jeep. The gauge of the tracking instrument showed Morlock moving fast, about four miles ahead. They passed where the black car had been. The four morlocks still lay asleep.
"He's heading for his house," solo said as he looked at the tracking gauge.
"Then we had better get there with him," Illya said.
But they did not make it. At the old gothic house five miles from Salisbury the car was parked, but there was no sign of Morlock The Great. Solo looked at Illya.
"Below? In the shelter?"
Illya shook his head, studied his dial. "No. The gauge shows that he is over there, to the left about a mile."
They all turned to look. The land was flat in that direction, and there was nothing in sight. Not a house, not a trace of a human being.
"The gauge is working. He has to be out there."
"Let's find out, then," Solo said.
The five men moved at a fast walk out toward where the gauge said they would find Morlock The Great. When they were still a half a mile from the spot, a small aircraft appeared on the flat land. Its motor was running. Before the five men could run to the spot, the small plane raced down its runway and rose into the air. Illya looked at his gauge. It showed that Morlock was in the plane.
"He's gone," Illya said.
Solo bent over his ring radio. "London Control! Come in, London Control, Sonny here. Code One!"
Instantly the ring answered. "London Control, Code One, all facilities alert."
"Morlock The Great escaped in a light plane. No destination known, but probably London. Notify police, Interpol, and organize an intercept. Alert Mr. Waverly in New York. Sonny and Bubba returning to London."
Solo clicked off, and the five men returned to the jeep. A half an hour later they were in the helicopter again, flying toward London.
* * *
IN THE RARE London sunny day, Solo and Illya approached the ruined old church that stood above the underground complex of the Cult. The tracking gauge in Illya's hand showed that, somewhere far below, Morlock The Great was still in the city. Solo looked for their friend, Paul Dabori. The hunchback was not in sight.
"He should have been here," Solo said.
"Yes, but we have more important problems," Illya said. The blond Russian nodded towards the ruins of the church. "There is something odd over there."
Illya led the way across the street and into the ruins of the old church. There was a clear space in the rubble that had not been there before. Somehow, the rubble itself seemed to have moved.
"The rubble was camouflage," Illya said. "Real rubble and bricks on a movable platform."
In the center of the clear space that had not been there before, a large slab of stone lay heavy and flat. The altar stone, but not where it had been. Where it had been was now a gaping hole in the earth.
"The stone was under the rubble," Solo said.
"It must work electronically. Much too heavy to be moved any other way."
The two agents surveyed the hole in the ground that led downward—a flight of narrow stone steps.
"This they didn't build," Illya said. "It's an old hideaway, built under the altar."
Solo took a breath. "Well, he's down there. Shall we wait for Mr. Waverly and help?"
"We missed him at Salisbury. I don't think we have time to wait," Illya said.
Solo checked his Special. "Let's go then."
The two agents started down the stairs into the ancient hideaway under the altar.
At first it was pitch dark. Then, as their eyes became accustomed, they saw that they were indeed in a very old stone room. The followed the homing signal to a blank wall. Solo felt carefully around. Four feet from the floor there was a tiny projection. The projection was metal and not at all ancient.
Solo pulled it. The wall slid silently open. The two agents looked at a shaft. Illya peered over the edge. Far below there seemed to be a dark object. Cables ran down the shaft.
"Elevator, at the bottom," Illya said.
"If we bring it up we'll alert them," Solo said.
"Then I expect we shall have to go down to it," Illya said.
With no more words, Kuryakin swung out on the cables and began to slide down. Solo followed. The two men slid carefully, breaking themselves to prevent their hands being burned raw by friction.