Then his hands grew weaker, he flailed once more at nothing, and lay still.
Illya released the wire. The man groaned. Illya pressed a spot on the man's neck and the man lay still, unconscious. Illya found the keys on the unconscious man and crossed the silent room to the second door. He opened this door cautiously and found himself in another corridor. He moved down this corridor.
The cave turned out to be not a single unit but a honeycomb of passages and small rooms and larger rooms down side tunnels, where Illya heard activity. A vast maze of caves like the caves of Guam and Okinawa during the Second War, where an army could hide and vanish like wraiths in the wind.
Now the maze came to Illya's aid. By using his ears he was able to move unseen, hiding whenever any of the black-uniformed men approached, their footfalls clear on the stone floor. But the real aid was the narrowness of the tunnels. Through the dark and narrow passages the air moved strongly in a venturi effect, and, by feeling the direction of the air, the blond agent moved steadily toward the exit from the complex of caves.
He saw a faint silver light ahead, a round area of silver darkness, before he was discovered.
He saw the exit and passed a wide side gallery at the same instant. In the gallery men worked. A shout went up. Illya darted a quick glance at the gallery and saw the men in black running toward him. He knew that there would be guards at the entrance. His quick mind saw that he could reach the exit before he was caught, but there would be the guards.
He was dressed all in black.
He took out the tiny marble-sized object and hurled it at the advancing men from the side gallery. There was a flash of flame, a loud explosion, and thick white smoke blocked the men from the gallery. The cloud of white smoke spread with incredible speed. Illya ran shouting toward the exit.
"Attack! Attack! They've broken through! Everyone to the rear!" Illya shouted in perfect Zambalan-English.
His running black figure, the smoke and flame behind him, gave the three guards on the exit no chance to think. They left their position and came running toward him. Illya stopped, urged them on to the rear. They ran passed him, their weapons ready, their eyes on the thick cloud of smoke.
With a grin, Illya watched them run to the rear, turned, and ran on to the exit. He reached the exit and went out into a moonlit night before he heard the shouts behind him that told him his trick had been discovered.
Outside, he turned once to look back, his eyes narrowed to remember where he was. The cave entrance was camouflaged cleverly, impossible to see from the air or the ground unless you knew it was there.
Directly above the hidden entrance was the tall peak of a mountain. A peak with a little white scar. Illya lined the scar up with a black boulder lower down on the mountain—and he had his line for the cave entrance. Men now came pouring from the camouflaged entrance.
Illya Kuryakin turned and ran off into the jungle.
* * *
Solo watched the small detector attached to his dashboard with one eye as he drove on into the mountains of Zambala. His other eye alternately watched the road and the truck still behind him. He could lose the truck, but he was more interested in knowing who was in it.
He was almost sure that whoever was driving the truck, and the masked woman, and the men who had attacked him on the hill behind the prison, all belonged to the same group.
But what group?
He wanted to find out, but the first order of business was to locate Illya and free him from whatever was holding him.
Suddenly Solo jammed on his brakes. The detector showed that the trail made a sharp left turn. Solo peered out his window. To the left, perhaps five miles off, he saw a tall mountain with a long white scar just below the summit. A narrow track led off toward the mountain.
Quickly checking the truck behind him—it was closer now—Solo turned his car and plunged into the narrow track. The going was hard; the car bounced from ruts and deep holes in the narrow track. But there were tire marks in his headlights; some vehicle had come this way. Where another vehicle could go, Solo could go!
Behind him he heard a squeal of brakes and the grinding of gears as the truck tried to follow him. He did not think the truck could move as fast on this narrow road, but he hoped that they kept coming. He turned his attention back to negotiating the murderous road. Then he jammed on his brakes again.
He listened to the moonlit night.
Far ahead there were shouts and the distant sound of men running through the jungle.
Solo jumped out of his car and began to run along the track, his U.N.C.L.E. Special set for automatic and fitted, as he ran, with its stock and hand grip. He listened to the sounds ahead and behind. The truck was battling the road but coming closer slowly. The men ahead were rapidly closing in.
A twig broke in the jungle to Solo's right.
He heard the click of a stone.
Crouching low, Solo circled through the jungle toward the sounds. Ahead, in the gloom of the moonlit night in the jungle, he saw a sudden movement. Solo hit the dirt and crawled ahead toward where he had seen the movement. In front of him a bush moved. He crawled closer. A face emerged from the bush directly in front of him, not more than inches away.
"Well, Napoleon," Illya said, "you took your time getting here."
Solo sighed. "You'll never learn to wait, will you? If you don't stop rescuing yourself, I may give up my rescues."
"I can't depend on you, Napoleon. You're so slow."
"But steady," Solo said. "I mean, I'm here."
"Yes," Illya said, "and why are we lying on our faces?"
"I heard you," Solo said.
"And I heard you," Illya said.
"Perhaps we could stand up now," Solo said.
"I had the same thought," Illya said.
The two agents stood up. Solo passed Illya his small spare automatic. Toward the mountains the sound of pursuit was closer. Toward the road the sound of the truck echoed in the night. Illya looked at Solo.
"You brought some company," Illya said.
"That I did," Solo said. "I presume they will now join your friends."
"It is a distinct possibility," Illya said. "I'd prefer not to be sandwiched in the middle."
"Wait!" Solo said.
The two agents listened in the moonlit night. The sound of the truck had changed. There was a sharp grinding of gears and the truck sounds began to move away. The two agents listened until they were certain. The truck was going away.
"Your friends do not seem to be friends with my friends," Illya said.
"It would appear that way," Solo said.
"Then I suggest we give that some thought while we make our escape," Illya said.
"Good thinking," Solo said. "Now?"
Illya listened to the sounds of pursuit coming much closer.
"Now," Illya said.
The two agents ran through the jungle and emerged on the rutted narrow track beside Solo's car. It was the work of seconds to turn the car and drive as fast as the narrow track allowed toward the main road.
There were distant shots in the night as they reached the main road and roared away, leaving the black-uniformed pursuers shooting at shadows.
THREE
Before they reached San Pablo again, Illya had told his story, Solo had reported what had happened to him.