As Illya Kuryakin approached, he saw that the light came from an office. A glass partition allowed him to see that it was empty, containing only a single, cluttered desk and a row of metal filing cabinets.
Estrellita entered the office, and then turned, facing him. Illya stood in the doorway. "All right," he said. "Now tell me where Napoleon is."
He did not hear the man come up behind him. He did not even know the man was there until he felt the hard thrust of metal in the small of his back, and the rough hand that jerked his arm from the pocket of his overcoat and tore the U.N.C.L.E. special from his fingers.
He stood motionless, feeling the pressure in his back, pressure that could only come from a gun muzzle, and cursed himself for not being more careful. He should have checked the warehouse. He should have
Estrellita Valdone, clad in a khaki shirt and men's trousers, was smiling coldly at him. "I am going to do better than tell you where your friend is," she said. "I am going to take you there. I think, perhaps, we can arrange for the two of you to share the same cell. An U.N.C.L.E. reunion, as it were. How does that strike you, Mr. Kuryakin?" Illya said nothing. He was staring at the Army-issue, .45 automatic that was clenched, black and deadly, in one of Estrellita Valdone's small, white hands.
TWO
I've GOT to get out of here, Napoleon Solo thought.
I've got to get out of here and warn U.N.C.L.E. what THRUSH and this madman are planning to do. They've go to be stopped, no matter what the cost.
It was a fantastic plot. But it would work, Solo knew. If THRUSH succeeded, the world would indeed be at their mercy. They could wreak havoc, destruction. Panic would result, and nations would crumble into chaotic ruin. If THRUSH gained control... He had to get out of there. But how? Solo looked at Dr. Sagine. I could grab him, he thought. Use him as a hostage.
No, that was no good. Dr. Sagine, even though he probably did not know it, was now expendable. He had perfected his chemical. THRUSH no longer needed him, no matter what they had promised. Once the crystallization had taken place world-wide, they would undoubtedly reward him with a bullet in the back of the head. Dr. Sagine might think he was the only one who knew the chemical antidote, but THRUSH scientists, working in close proximity with him, would have undoubtedly learned the secret by now. No, using Dr. Sagine as a hostage wouldn't work at all.
Solo had to think of another way. And it couldn't be here, not in this office or in the laboratory outside. It had to be...
He had an idea. It was a slim chance, a very slim chance. If he failed, there would be no second opportunity.
He said, "You're insane, you old buzzard."
Dr. Sagine jumped up from his chair. "What?" He said.
"That's what I said," Solo told him. "A psychotic old buzzard with delusions of grandeur."
A sound like the enraged squawk of a bird came from Dr. Sagine's throat. He brushed past Solo, into his private laboratory, and threw open the outer door.
"Guards!" He yelled. "Take this man back to his cell! Lock him in! We'll break him and reduce him to a quivering mass of jelly! Nobody talks to Dr. Sagine like that!"
The two guards rushed inside, grabbing Napoleon Solo. They hustled him out into the main laboratory. Solo could still hear the mad doctor screaming hysterically, even above the clamor.
Roughly, the guards prodded Solo across the laboratory to the elevator. The electronic panel slid back, and they stepped inside, one guard on either side of Solo. The panel closed again, and they began to descend.
Solo had accomplished what he had set out to do by infuriating Dr. Sagine. He needed to get out of the office and out of the laboratory as quickly as possible, to get into the elevator alone with the two guards. This was his chance. He allowed his body to relax, arms hanging loosely at his sides. One more second, now. One more...
The elevator stopped. The panel began to slide back.
Solo dropped to one knee. It was a single, fluid motion, catching the two guards completely by surprise. They reacted just as Napoleon Solo had hoped they would. They both turned toward him, leaning forward.
As soon as his right knee touched the floor of the elevator, Solo pushed upward with his left foot, hands clenched into fists, touching one another at his chest, elbows extended to the sides.
He had come up into a crouch, body still moving upward, when he drove both elbows out, simultaneously, in piston-like quickness It had been perfectly timed. Both elbows ripped with pile-driving force into the respective stomachs of the two guards, bending them over at the waist. Twin explosions of gasping pain escaped from their throats.
Solo, standing once again as the two guards went double, lifted both hands and brought the hard edge of each hammering down karate style He felt a satisfying shock shoot up each arm as his hands connected solidly with the back of each guard's neck. They dropped without a sound.
The elevator panel stood wide open, revealing the long, empty hallway. Solo, bending quickly now that the first part of his gamble had worked, took the automatic strapped to one of the guard's waist and shoved it into the belt of his trousers, ignoring the machine guns because of their bulk. Then he grabbed each of the guards by the back of the shirt and dragged them out of the elevator, depositing them in the hallway. He stepped back inside.
He had noticed that there had been two small buttons, barely visible, on one of the walls of the elevator when he had been taken up to the laboratory. It was with those buttons that his chance for escape lay.
They had undoubtedly been put there so that whoever was riding inside would be able to change the elevator's direction if needed, since its original course was electronically controlled from outside. Solo pressed the lower of the two buttons, keeping his finger on it, and listened to the pounding of his heart.
The panel closed. The elevator began to drop. Solo took the automatic from his trousers and held it ready in his right hand. He wanted to get the lowest floor of the THRUSH fortress. He did not know what he would find there; for all he realized it would be the living quarters of the THRUSH guards.
But there was one thing he did know, and that was the fact that there had to be an outside entrance somewhere on that initial floor. He remembered the road that had been carved from the mountainside. And since there was a road, THRUSH would have vehicles—jeeps, most likely—and the logical place for them to be kept would be on that first floor.
The elevator stopped. Solo took his finger off the button on the wall as the panel began to slide back, holding his breath, squeezing gentle pressure of the trigger of the automatic.
Warehouse.
Solo let his breath out slowly, eyes darting rapidly from side to side. To the left he could see several jeeps, parked in twin rows on the concrete floor. Six, altogether. On his right, he saw a large helicopter, cargo-type, of a manufacture he suspected was THRUSH's. There were crates, skids of glass jars, and other goods stacked near him. Directly ahead was a partitioned area, behind which he could see what looked to be a large control panel. A single man stood before the panel, his back to Solo. There was no one else in sight.
Solo stepped out of the elevator, walking softly. If he could reach the man at the control board knock him out before he could raise an alarm, he would have enough time to get safely away. He knew how to operate a helicopter, and there had to be a platform somewhere at one end of the warehouse that would serve as a launching area. The control board should be able to give him the answer. He moved swiftly, silently, across the concrete.