Illya Kuryakin frowned. "Just to stay in power is not enough for all this. I mean, no election had to be held for four years."
"The pressure on the government to spend more money on peaceful development might have caused Roy worry," Zamyatta said,
Illya shook his head. "No, there is more behind this."
Zamyatta looked at the two agents. "Let me say again, there was no planned coup. I know nothing of the attacks on Roy or Mura Khan. I had no dealing with Max Steng, or with the Colonel here."
Illya rubbed his chin. "I saw you two meet."
"Colonel Brown asked to speak to me," Zamyatta said.
"I had been told to question Mr. Zamyatta," Colonel Brown said. "There was a report of undue influence among my men by Mr. Zamyatta."
"Who gave you that report?" Solo asked.
Colonel Brown looked at Zamyatta. "The premier told me! He said it was a test. He did not want anyone to know he had ordered it. I was to prepare my men for a move, but tell no one why."
Illya shrugged. "He set it up, Napoleon. All of it. It was all intended to create the threat of a coup."
"And we fell into it," Solo said.
"No, we were guided into it," Illya said.
Solo turned to Colonel Brown. "Why did your men shoot at us on the cliff road, and later when we were with the Stengali?"
Brown showed surprise. "My men? No, Mr. Solo. My men pursued you in the hills. We had orders to hold anyone who came to Tidworth. But we gave up after you escaped our trap. We did not pursue the Stengali, and we did not shoot at you on the cliff road. None of my men left the camp."
"The major who was killed," Illya said, and described the dead major to Colonel Brown.
The colonel shook his head. "I have no major like that, no officer who fits that description."
"A fake, and a fake unit!" Solo said. "And Bengali was with them!"
"We've been played like fish on a line," Illya said.
"Maybe we can be the fishermen," Solo said.
"It seems like a good idea," Illya said.
"What do you want us to do?" Colonel Brown said.
"Be ready," Illya said. "Colonel, do your men trust you? I mean, will they follow your orders against the premier?"
Brown shook his head. "No, not unless I can prove to them that the premier is a traitor."
"But they will follow your orders against someone else? If they get proof later?"
"Yes, I think so. Who else?"
Illya frowned again. "I'm not ready to say, it's only an idea, but it seems that there are some other armed men on this island we have to deal with."
"You want me to return to my command?" Brown asked.
"Yes, and bring them into San Pablo," Illya said. He looked at Zamyatta. "Can you reach the Stengali, Mr. Zamyatta?"
"I can try," Jemi Zamyatta said. "They must have heard of my arrest. Max Steng and I were long-time friends."
"Try to reach them and bring them into San Pablo."
"Where in San Pablo?" both men wanted to know.
"The presidential palace," Illya said. "Bring all the men you can as soon as you can. Capture anyone you don't know, or anyone who resists. We can apologize to the wrong ones later."
Without more discussion, the four men left the cells and quickly stripped two of the guards. Zamyatta and Colonel Brown disguised themselves in the guards' clothes. Then the four men went down through the silent prison corridors and out the front door.
In the prison yard they found police vehicles. Solo went to work and crossed wires to start two of the jeeps. Zamyatta took one and headed off into the mountains toward the tall mountain with the long scar near the summit.
Colonel Julio Brown took the other jeep and started along the road toward Tidworth Barracks.
Solo and Illya drove their own small stolen car through a silent and deserted San Pablo toward the presidential palace. They had to drive carefully. The city was silent under the edict of martial law, and patrols of troops walked the streets.
But there were few patrols. Illya and Solo looked at each other.
The martial law was another fake—just enough martial law to convince the people of Zambala that a crisis existed. A crisis someone wanted to exist!
"When we get to the palace," Illya said, "I'll go in. You take the car and go to O'Hara."
Solo nodded. "Bengali knew who we were, by name. Only O'Hara knew who we were."
"Unless he told someone," Illya said.
"When I have the word, I'll call you," Solo said.
The car drove on carefully through the silent city.
The wide grounds of the presidential palace were silent and shadowed in the night. Illya Kuryakin glided silently from tree to tree, closer always toward the palace. Men in uniform patrolled the grounds—men not in army uniforms but in black uniforms!
Illya crept and crawled until he reached the cover of the thick bushes that surrounded the palace. He moved through the bushes around the palace, sinking out of sight from time to time as soldiers passed in groups of two. He reached the kitchen door he had noticed earlier. It was locked. With one of his picklocks he opened the door and slid inside.
Illya moved along the dark halls. There were voices. He entered the enormous entry hall of the palace. The voices came from the room where the tribunal met. Illya cat-footed to the door and looked in. Chairman Ramirez was there with most of the other members.
But both O'Hara and Boya, the labor leader, were not there.
Illya turned away and moved silently through the other downstairs rooms. He did not find what he was searching for. From the rear of the house he went up the service stairs to the second floor. He saw a line of light far off at the end of the long upstairs corridor that was as wide as the corridor of a grand hotel, and carpeted with deep carpet.
The light came from a room at the opposite end of the palace from the room where the tribunal met below, a room that showed no light from the outside or Illya would have seen it. He started along the hall and saw the guard.
The man in the black uniform was seated in a chair between Illya and the room that showed light. He held a submachine gun across his lap, and was tilted back in the chair, cleaning his nails with a long trench knife.
At his feet was a small black box that had to be a radio.
There was no way past the guard, and no way to creep up on him silently enough. If Illya shot the man with a sleep dart, the chair would go out and there would be noise. In addition, his ears told him that the radio was switched on! It was a transmitter, and any sound would be heard at the other end, wherever that was.
Illya looked around. He was near the door of a room that showed no light beneath it. He went into the room and crossed it to the window. As he remembered, a narrow ledge of decoration ran around the palace at this height. He opened the window and climbed out onto the ledge.
Flat against the building in the dark, he inched like a fly on the wall toward the window of the room where the guard sat—he had noticed that the guard was practically against the door of the room. As he inched his way he saw the soldiers pass below, but they did not look up, and, luckily, this night clouds covered the moon.