Some twenty minutes later the taxi pulled off the road and bumped to a stop near a cluster of huts surrounded by angular terraced hills. Shadowy figures hurried out of one of the huts as the taxi flashed its lights. They opened the doors from the outside, and regarded the three sleepers in the back seat for a moment. Then a quiet command in Chinese, and the three were picked up and borne back into the building.
The fresh air began to revive them, and Napoleon gradually became aware of being supported by his knees and armpits. Then a door slammed, somewhere beyond his head, and he was put down on his back on a rough floor. A voice in accented English said, "They are coming around. You didn't use enough gas after all."
Napoleon thought. As long as they know, there's not much use in pretending. He groaned a little and tried to sit up. Then he groaned realistically. Whatever they had used on him had left quite a headache. He forced open an eye and tried to bring the room into focus. It almost worked.
By the light of the single swinging lightbulb, five armed men were directing their attention towards the three figures on the floor. Archie was already sitting up, breathing deeply and looking around. Suzie was just beginning to move.
One of the men spoke. "Before you stand up, Mr. Solo, please to empty out your pockets completely. You, also, Mr. Gunderson."
Napoleon slowly went through his various pockets, laying out an assortment of things. One of the five came forward and took them. He nodded at the "fountain pen" and the cigarette case-lighter, and set them aside. The other objects he dropped into a small plastic bag of the type morgues use to contain the effects of the deceased. Napoleon noted the similarity, and carefully refrained from thinking about it.
The last item to be brought out was the Gyrojet pistol, which had been resting lightly in a deep-cut inside pocket of his coat. Its few ounces did not bag the jacket, and it was conveniently located. The Chinese lifted his gun warningly as Napoleon brought it out, and held out his other hand.
He took the little pistol, hefted it, and looked at it carefully. Then he held it up contemptuously for the others to see. "The American carries another gun! A toy one to frighten us with!"
The tall thin one who seemed to be the leader came forward and examined it closely. "Why do you carry a toy gun, Mr. Solo?"
Napoleon looked a little embarrassed. "Well," he said, "I just picked it up this afternoon for my nephew. He likes magic tricks."
"This is a trick gun? It does not just go click-click?"
"Well, not exactly. It's really sort of remarkable. A tribute to the ingenuity of your toymakers, and a whole lot of fun, too."
"What does it do?" The Chinese was beginning to be interested. Obviously this little contraption of stamped tin could not be a danger against five armed men, but he was still uncertain as to what it really was. "In my experience agents of the U.N.C.L.E. do not carry toy guns without reason."
Napoleon shrugged. "I would have left it at my hotel if we'd been there since I bought it."
The tall man suddenly pointed the pistol at Napoleon and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. And Napoleon, who knew better than to carry a gun cocked with a round in the chamber, didn't even flinch. Instead he laughed easily. "Not like that," he said condescendingly. "Here, let me show you." He held out his hand casually.
The other stepped back quickly. "No—you tell me how it works," he said, but his tone was doubtful. It felt so much like a harmless toy, and perhaps it would be amusing....
Napoleon looked patient. "It's very difficult to explain without showing you on the gun what I am talking about. It took the clerk at the toy store fifteen minutes to teach me how to work it properly."
The Chinese thought, and looked around a moment at the other two prisoners for clues. Suzie was staring in complete puzzlement, and Archie was watching impatiently, tapping his fingers on the floor where he sat. It seemed an insane waste of time to be playing with a toy gun when their lives were at stake.
At last he reached a decision. He handed the gun to Napoleon, saying, "All right. But remember you are covered by several armed men, and there are more outside. And do not try anything foolish like a cyanide spray; I will stay well away from you." And he backed to the opposite wall.
Napoleon observed that only two men had their machine pistols at a ready position, and only one of them had the bolt cocked. He smiled inanely as he held up the pistol like a conjurer. "Now you see," he said foolishly, "I have here what appears to be an ordinary gun. Watch closely—I have nothing up my sleeves—and observe that during this entire performance my fingers will never leave my hands." He wiggled his fingers, and saw five pairs of eyes fixed fascinated on them.
He took the pistol in firing position in his right hand, and blew down the barrel. "Observe," he continued, "the barrel is completely empty."
"So's your head," muttered Gunderson, from the floor.
"Quiet, there," said Napoleon, aiming a mock kick at the sailor, and continuing his pitch. He had to have every bit of their attention on him and none on their machine guns if this magic trick was to succeed. Archie had just cost him some of it.
Improvising desperately, he continued. "This pistol was sold to me by a wise old gunsmith who had studied the ancient arts of the inscrutable East. Its operation is a secret known only to the adepts of a mysterious society and learned by me at the risk of my life. Now you will be among the privileged few who have seen with their own eyes the wonderful secret guarded for generations by devoted servants of ancient wisdom." That did it—only one muzzle still pointed at them, and the man behind it was completely fascinated by Napoleon's spiel.
"Watch closely, now...." He brought up the Gyrojet. "I push forward this small lever on the side, made of silver from the deepest mines of Afghanistan...." He pulled the cocking lever forward and down and put off the safely. He looked up at them, and his face wore a broad inane smile.
The smile remained fixed on his face as he centered the pistol on the first guard and pulled the trigger. He swung the gun slightly and fired again. Five shots tore across the room in four seconds. A slug ripped into the chest of the third man before the first hit the ground, and the last barely had his machine pistol up and cocked before it was too late for him to pull the trigger. Without a wisp of recoil to compensate for, only the slightest movement of the wrist was necessary to correct the aim, and the little missiles were accurate enough over twenty feet to kill dependably. Especially since the propellant continued to burn for a fraction of a second after they penetrated the body.
Napoleon Solo was still grinning foolishly as he slowly lowered the gun. There was a smell of burning, and a small amount of smoke in the little room, yet there had been comparatively little noise. But now there were five crumpled bodies against the far wall, and four fully loaded machine guns they would need no longer.
Suzie stared, her mouth open, her eyes tracking slowly from the "toy pistol" to the five bodies, and back again. Napoleon looked down at her, spread his arms slightly, and bowed from the waist.
"Hey, presto," he said softly.