"Delightful cache you have there, my dear," Solo said.
Marie swore at him in blistering French, English and Italian.
Holding Marie before him, Solo unlocked his cuffs, let them fall before him.
Then he loosened the chain about his waist.
As Marie raged, he snapped one of the cuffs on her. Then he thrust her forward, moving her toward Gizelle.
The dark-skinned girl wailed at them. "Stay there! Stay away from me!"
Her hand shook so badly she almost dropped the gun.
Marie screamed at her.
Suddenly Gizelle wheeled around, grabbing at the doorknob, trying to fight her way from the room.
Solo pushed Marie against her. He snapped one of the cuffs on Gizelle. The Arab girl sobbed, between rage and relief.
Solo reached out and took the gun from her unprotesting fingers. It was as if she were pleased to lose it.
Sole led them at the end of the chain to the foot of the bed. He locked the chain to the iron post.
"I'll leave you girls now," be said. "I know you've got a lot to say to each other."
Marie turned the air blue with her swearing.
Solo spoke to Gizelle. "She's beginning to repeat herself. Why don't you teach her some Arabic?"
Marie spat at him again, frustrated.
Solo stood another moment, regarding them. "You might pull the bed over to the phone, but you've pulled the phone out of the wall." He shook his head. "Au revoir, Marie, Gizelle. I hope you're able to think of something except bad words."
"You pig!" Marie wailed at him. "Are you such a fool that you believe the doctor will let you get away with this?"
He locked the hotel room door behind him. As he came off the lower step, he could hear Marie screaming.
At the street door he paused. A black sedan sped into the street and slammed to a screeching stop at the curb.
Holding his breath, Solo retreated into the shadowed hall. The doors were thrown open on the car. Four men piled out, hurrying across the walk.
Solo leaned against the wall until the four of them ran past him, going up the steps. When the last one was on the first landing, Solo stepped through the door, went down to the sidewalk and walked away rapidly.
He did not look back.
Twenty minutes later he reached the hotel where he had registered earlier with Illya.
As he took the key from the room clerk, he caught a faint shiftiness in the man's eyes. He went taut, thinking that death played with you—it missed you only by inches—it had allies everywhere.
Two men moved from chairs to ward the elevator. Solo saw them from the corners of his eyes.
He thanked the room clerk, turned away. He walked toward the elevator, at the last moment changed his mind and strode swiftly into the stairwell.
He ran up the steps. At the second floor, he looked back; the two men were following him.
He moved against the wall, going upward swiftly.
Panting, he came out of the stairwell on the fifth floor. The first thing he saw was a man standing too casually at the far end of the corridor.
He turned, seeing another at the other end. He shifted his jacket up on his shoulders, thinking that the doctor worked swiftly when aroused.
The two men moved away from their posts. Behind him, Solo heard the hurrying steps on the stairs.
He strode purposefully, trying to conceal any sign of panic, toward his door. He held his key ready to thrust it into the lock. Then he thought: even if he made it that far there was no time to unlock the door. They'd be on him.
He reached for his gun, realizing in that instant that it was gone and that he had alerted the two men who might not until this moment have been certain he was their prey.
He walked faster, reaching the key toward the lock. But as his hand touched the door, it was pulled open.
He hesitated, seeing they were waiting for him everywhere, and he had walked into a trap.
He would have retreated, but Illya reached out, snagged his wrist, jerked him through the opening. Illya slammed the door in the faces of the pursuers.
"Welcome to the Tower of London," Illya said.
Solo flinched, "How about this? Prisoners, at twenty-five dollars a day!''
Illya exhaled and sat down on the bed. "They've been out there for some time. I tried to go out, but they were unpleasant about it, and I changed my mind. I've been thinking about calling the law."
Solo exhaled. "We are the law, Illya."
Kuryakin grinned. "Oh, yes. I keep forgetting. This means we're in something of a real bind then, doesn't it?"
"If you care for understatement."
Solo prowled the room. From his window he saw men standing in the street below, peering up at him.
Solo lifted his gaze. In windows across the busy street he saw other men, armed with guns, telescopes, fixed on his window.
He retreated a step.
He spoke over his shoulder. "The doctor is really mad with us."
"Who's the doctor?" Illya said.
"It beats me."
He moved his gaze across the faces of the watching men, men in shadows, without faces, standing tautly. They waited down there, and he knew they were in the corridors.
"That's the way I feel about Caillou," Illya said behind him.
Solo moved away from the window.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Caillou. It beats me." Illya shook his head. "I got back into his office. I waited in there until he came in."
"You talked to him?"
"I talked to Caillou's face."
"What are you talking about?"
Illya scowled. "I only learned one thing in that office. The man I talked to isn't Caillou."
Solo stared at him. "Are you coming unglued?"
"I don't know. I may be. All I know for sure is that the man in Caillou's office is no more Caillou than I am." Illya paced. "Are you sure the man you met that night at Orly was Caillou?"
Solo considered. Finally, he nodded. "It was Caillou, all right. He recognized me—"
"And your watch?"
"Yes. It was Caillou. Besides, they tried to kill Caillou. That night."
They sat some moments in silence, trying to add what they had. At last, Illya said, "Suppose that man at Orly was really Caillou. Suppose he was trying to get away."
Solo nodded. "Sure. THRUSH got something on him. They forced him to go along with them. Then it got so bad that Caillou couldn't stomach it. He tried to run. They were after him—that's why he was so scared when I spoke his name. Out on the runway they tried to kill him—"
"Maybe they have," Illya said.
"I didn't see him any more. Albert and his Arab girlfriend pushed me in a corner—"
"Then they must have finished Caillou off and put a ringer in his place at the banking company. The guy there didn't know me until I told him who I was. And he had no idea at all that the real Caillou had given me this watch!"
"Little trivia that THRUSH's computers overlooked," Solo said.
"How about this?" Illya said, his eyes glowing as he figured the angles. "THRUSH saw that Caillou was going to be hard to handle, so they got a ringer ready to run in his place. Only Caillou broke and ran ahead of time, and we showed up, and that forced them to bring in the ringer—"
"Before he was fully briefed!" Solo nodded. "They had to use him before he was ready."