"How about the antidote," Solo queried.
"None of the scientists in the Pardee group professed to know how the antidote was regulated," Waverly said. "Our agents are awaiting instructions."
As Waverly remained on stand-by, Solo questioned the man who had been designated as having knowledge of Dr. Sagine's chemical. The THRUSH man at first refused to tell Solo anything. But when one of the U.N.C.L.E. agents found what appeared to be the formula for the chemical processes in Dr. Sagine's private lab, and when Solo told the man that if they were too late to prevent floods, because of the time it would take for U.N.C.L.E. chemists to learn the proper usage, then the man could be held directly responsible for whatever carnage was wreaked. The THRUSH scientist finally acquiesced, telling Solo everything he knew.
Solo hurriedly relayed the information to Mr. Waverly, just as the scientist had told it to him. Waverly listened carefully, making sure that he had the exact dosage of the antidote to be placed in the water to prevent flooding, and then had Solo wait while he spoke with the agents in Pardee. The antidote would be administered immediately, in the proper amounts, by an U.N.C.L.E. chemist that Waverly had sent to Pardee in anticipation of that very reason the night before.
When Waverly came back on Channel D, Solo said, "What about Dr. Sagine, sir?"
"We don't know where he is at present," Waverly said, "though I have my suspicions. I expect he is checking on the results his chemical has had on the Colorado River. By helicopter, I should think, since that appears to be the method of transportation THRUSH used to reach the camp at Pardee."
"Then he could be anywhere along the Colorado," Napoleon Solo said.
"Yes," Waverly said. "As I told you last night, I have sent Mr. Kuryakin to Hoover Dam. Sagine would logically wish to inspect that most important site. But if he had not gone there, then we have U.N.C.L.E. jets in the air over the entire area along the Colorado north from the Dam. We shall have Dr. Sagine before too long."
Solo allowed himself a small, tired smile.
"It's almost over," he said. "There were times when I wasn't so sure of the outcome."
"Quite so, Mr. Solo," Waverly said laconically. "Quite so."
Solo said, "What do you want me to do now, sir?"
"From the sound of your voice," Waverly said, "I think a hospital bed is in order."
"I'm fine," Solo said wearily.
"Hmm," Waverly said. It was a skeptical sound.
"I'd like to join in the search for Dr. Sagine," Solo said. "There's a small airstrip outside Granite River where one of the jets could land and pick me up."
Waverly seemed to be pondering the request. He said finally, "Very well, Mr. Solo. If you are quite sure you are all right."
"Yes, sir," Solo said. "I'm sure."
He wasn't really sure at all.
FOUR
Illya Kuryakin, piloting the quicker, more durable U.N.C.L.E. helicopter, had drawn to within five hundred feet of the fleeing THRUSH craft when they began firing on him.
Twin bursts of flame erupted from tail guns mounted beneath the cockpit. Illya, reacting instantly, pushed hard left on the throttle, banking. He saw a long white scratch appear in the glass dome above him as one of the bullets slashed past, and felt a rocking jar as another thunked into the landing gear.
He manipulated the throttle, dipping, cutting the speed momentarily, and then opening up again. The tail guns on the THRUSH helicopter spit more flame, but the hail of bullets passed harmlessly above him.
The U.N.C.L.E. helicopter was likewise equipped with artillery, and Illya wrapped his hand around the firing mechanism, thumb touching the button. But he didn't fire. He could see that there were two men in the machine he was pursuing, the pilot and a squat figure seated beside him. He could not identify the second figure from this distance, but he caught fleeting glimpses of a yellowish mane of hair through the glass dome.
From the picture of Dr. Mordecai Sagine that he had seen on the visi-screen in Waverly's office the day before, he had an idea that the perpetrator of the salt chemical was that second man If this were the case, he knew that U.N.C.L.E. would prefer to have Dr. Sagine alive than dead.
He remembered then that he had not had time to contact Mr. Waverly with this latest development. He caught up the microphone to the radio band there, flicking the send button, and yelled rapidly into it, making himself heard above the whir of the rotor blades overhead.
The wave length was cleared for direct communication with U.N.C.L.E. headquarters in New York. Illya cut his speed, hanging back now, out of range of the tail guns on the THRUSH helicopter, but still keeping it in plain sight. Waverly's voice came through the microphone, asking the nature of the urgent call.
Rapidly, Illya Kuryakin explained what had happened.
"Are you able to identify the occupants of the THRUSH helicopter?" Waverly's voice asked him.
"Negative," Illya said. "But I could venture a guess."
"Dr. Sagine?"
"Dr. Sagine."
"What is your position, Mr. Kuryakin?"
Illya glanced below him. He could see the flat, white surface of Lake Mead directly beneath, frozen white in the this morning sunlight. His compass heading was due west. He reported this to Waverly.
"Your instructions are to keep the THRUSH helicopter under surveillance," Waverly said. "Remain at a safe distance. Do you understand, Mr. Kuryakin?"
"Yes, sir."
"There are U.N.C.L.E. jets in the area. I will radio for them to converge on Lake Mead immediately."
"Yes, sir," Illya said again. He asked then how the attack on the THRUSH fortress had gone.
"Satisfactorily," Waverly told him. "It is now in our hands, along with the salt chemical and the antidote
"Napoleon?"
Waverly said that Solo was as well as could be expected under the circumstances, and that one of the U.N.C.L.E. jets had picked him up in Granite River more than an hour ago to join in the search for Dr. Sagine. Then he said, "I will keep this wave length open. Report any changes in direction if they occur.
"All right," Illya said. "I'll..." He broke off, staring out through the glass at the THRUSH helicopter ahead of him. A slight chill nudged his spine.
"Mr. Kuryakin?" Waverly's voice said over the radio. "Is something wrong?"
"I don't know," Illya said. "They've stopped moving forward. Just hovering, now."
But as he said that, the THRUSH machine, hovering, turned in midair, reversing itself to face him. It sat there like that for an instant, and then the pilot leaned forward on the throttle and it began to move at full speed, right at him.
Illya Kuryakin recognized what they were going to attempt to do. They had realized that trying to outrun the faster U.N.C.L.E. helicopter was useless. The only recourse left open to them, if they hoped to escape, was to eliminate the single obstacle that stood in the way of their freedom.
They were attacking.
It was too late to run, even if he wanted to The swiftness of their action had allowed them enough time to narrow the distance between the two helicopters, putting Illya within range of the THRUSH guns. By the time he turned around, they would be on top of him. There was only one thing he could do.
Stand and fight.
"Mr. Kuryakin?" Waverly's voice crackled over the radio. "Come in, please."