The rustling noise ceased.
"Don't you understand?" he said. "If I was one of them, I would have shouted for help. I am their enemy and your friend."
This argument was telling. She realized the same as he that a THRUSH agent would have yelled. He would not have fought in silence as they both did, each afraid of alerting the enemy inside the bunker.
She stepped back into the small clearing.
Napoleon Solo looked at his watch. There was still two minutes before the explosion.
"You came in the boat that flies?" she said, her voice low and as sweet as he always imagined the brown-skinned beauties of the Far Pacific islands.
"Yes," he said. "What are these men doing here? How can we help each other?"
"They are evil men!" she said fiercely. "They came to our island. They threatened us with death. They forced our people to build and slave for them."
"What are they doing here?"
"I do not know," she said. "But my—the man I love, he knows. He is the son of the talking chief and very smart. He went to the native college in Laie and then came back here. He said they were very evil men and he would find out what they were doing and when the British commissioner makes his annual inspection, he would tell him."
"Where is your boy friend now?" Solo asked. "Perhaps he and I can work together."
"He is in there," she pointed at the closed door of the bunker. "He is very big and very strong. They use him for their work slave. He makes them think he is stupid so he can learn what they are doing."
"I see," Napoleon said, remembering the big Polynesian who tried to free him in the plane.
"Oh, I am so afraid for him!" the girl cried. "That is why I came here to watch. I am afraid they will find him spying and kill him!"
"We'll help him," Napoleon assured her. "How about your people? How many of them can we trust to help us?"
"They will do what Kahlihi tells them," she said.
"Can you arrange for me to talk to Kahlihi?"
"He is with the bad men," she replied. "Even I cannot get to talk to him. That is why I came here in the storm. I just want to see him."
"Then can I talk to your next chief?"
"Nobody will talk to you unless Kahlihi orders," she replied. "They fear all strangers."
"But can't—"
"There is nothing anyone can do. These bad men have placed a terrible taboo on this end of the island. Any of our people who come here, except those chosen for slaves, die by the death lights?"
"What are the death lights?"
"They placed them around this end of the island. They work night and day and anyone approaching this place dies. The storm tore them down and so I came, hoping just to see my beloved. Just a glimpse of him is all I ask. Then I could sneak away. After the storm they will replace the lights."
There was a resigned defiance on the girl's face that told him she spoke the truth. Mentally he drew a line through the idea that he might get native help. Whatever he did he must do alone.
"What about you?" he asked, "Will you help me?"
"If Kahlihi tell me to," she replied.
Napoleon Solo sighed, defeated.
"Well, I guess—"
He broke off startled by the sudden opening of the bunker door. The big Polynesian came bounding through it. Napoleon saw the shadow of someone running after him. He saw the outline of a gun raised in the shadow's hand.
The girl screamed. Napoleon tried to grab her hand, but she broke away, running to help her lover.
Solo jerked his gun out and half raised up from behind the protecting barrier of trees.
Before he could shoot to protect the hysterical girl, the charge he set went off. Wet sand and debris shot into the air. The ground rocked. The shot fired at her went wild. Shooting before the sound of the explosion died, Napoleon put a shot into the body of the THRUSH man. Then he jumped the storm piled debris and ran toward the bunker door, carrying his improvised gum bomb.
A shot whined past his ear. Someone was shooting at him from inside the door. He threw himself flat, scrambling for cover. Another bullet smacked into the coconut log.
"Give me some help! I think it's that other rat from U.N.C.L.E.!" the gunman yelled back inside the bunker. "He wasn't burned after all!"
"Get on the intercom radio!" Napoleon recognized Lupe de Rosa's voice. "Call the submarine! Tell them to send men up here at once!"
THREE
The wind was rising fast. The rain was getting harder. Napoleon Solo knew the full fury of the typhoon would be upon him within minutes. His chances of survival here in the open were slim. Even if he lived, he would come out of it so beaten and exhausted he could not possibly hope to elude the searchers Lupe was sending to hunt him.
He felt he had only one slim chance—and he took it. He jumped up, even though it presented a perfect target for the gunman and hurled the gum bomb at the open doorway.
As he threw, he heard the report of the THRUSH gun. But the gunman fired too quickly, startled as he was by the unexpected appearance of Solo. The bullet went wild and Napoleon fell flat, scrambling for protection behind the fallen trees.
As he fell, the gum bomb went off. It was a larger charge than the one he set in the ground to pull attention out the bunker. It ripped the concrete facing around the door, and ripped the heavy wooden barrier from its hinges.
Smoke, debris and dust from the shattered concrete choked the opening. Solo, gun clutched in his hand, leaped the fallen trees and darted toward the opening. The wind was increasing in fury by the second. Napoleon could only hope that he could get inside before the wind flushed the dust and smoke away.
He charged into the blinding cloud, bumped against the shattered door and pressed against the inside wall. He held his gun ready to shoot at the first sign of a target.
"Put up your hands, Mr. Solo!"
It was Lupe de Rosa's voice, cold and deadly.
"I have you squarely in the sights of an infra-red scope!" she went on. "You know I can see you perfectly in the dark!"
Her voice echoed so that Napoleon could not place her position. He let the gun and the last remaining gum bomb drop from his hands to the floor.
"Get a light!" Lupe snapped. "And shore up that broken door. The storm is moving again. I don't want the rain ruining our equipment."
Light flooded the room. Napoleon Solo saw the girl standing across the room with a THRUSH gun aimed at him.
There were two THRUSH men across from her. Illya Kuryakin lay on the floor by Lupe's feet. His hands were bound to a chair back. Remnants of the rest of the chair were scattered, showing Illya had put up some kind of battle. His legs were free. Kuryakin didn't move.
Napoleon flicked a quick glance at the two THRUSH men. Neither seemed to be armed, but he could not be sure.
"Bind him!" Lupe snapped, motioning toward Solo. "I want his mind dredged by the interrogation machine before he's shot. This is a break. The other one may be dead, but we can still find out what U.N.C.L.E. knows about our work. Where is that machine? Get on the intercom and call the sub after you tie him up."
The two men came toward Solo, but Lupe was too smart for him. When he tensed, she warned the men: "Get back, you fools! Don't come between my gun and that U.N.C.L.E. rat!"
The two men jumped aside, split and circled around the bank of electronic equipment to come at Napoleon Solo from different sides.
Solo shot them a quick glance. Neither appeared to be armed—probably because Lupe did not trust them. He cut his eyes back for the briefest contact with Kuryakin. Illya gave him a nod.