Napoleon watched him suspiciously.
'He's ah – Look, how much longer are you going to keep me here? There's no help I can give you – I'm not even worth anything as a hostage. Honest.'
'I believe you,' said Napoleon sincerely. 'But Jay said 'Little Brother' as if he expected you to know what it meant, and although I only spoke with him for a moment on the telephone I feel I can trust his judgment in this. And by the by – he also said to tell you they were pulling out all personnel with tech priority. I forget where he said they were leaving from, but I doubt if they'll miss you in all the Confusion, and they didn't seem likely to wait. Who is 'Little Brother'?'
He glanced at Joan, who shook her head. 'He's new since my time,' she said. 'But Myron looks terribly upset all of a sudden. Take a load off your conscience,' she advised him.
'Yes. Unburden your soul,' directed Napoleon coldly. 'This may be your last chance to save it. Co-operate – and the next time you go to sleep you can expect to wake up.'
The interviewer laughed, unexpectedly. 'Not with Little Brother,' he said. 'We'll never even notice him;' He sat down, and shrugged. 'There are worse ways to go.'
'There may be for you,' said Napoleon. 'I've got better things to do with my time.' He grinned quickly at Joan. 'So they've got a bomb under the house, huh? Where is it?'
'Does it matter? If it'll make you happy to know, it's a fifty kiloton nuclear warhead we hijacked a couple of years ago. There's a lot of research on this island that shouldn't be allowed loose in the world.'
Concussion buffeted them again, and a crack shot up one wall. The table danced and only a quick grab by Napoleon saved the Coleman lantern from toppling. Their shadows leaped high on the walls as he swung it, hissing, by its wire handle.
'We need to know, Myron,' he said flatly. 'Where is Little Brother?'
Outside, beyond the Long Buildings to the south, flames clawed at the star-crusted, smoke-smeared sky, lit red from beneath like the fires of hell. In this infernal glare men ran and fired, and rose to run again or fell and fired no more. Quonsets vibrated like giant steel drums to the slamming penetration of slugs, and the sharp cough of U.N.C.L.E. Specials underscored the short vicious snarl of Thrush automatic rifles.
From half a mile off-shore, through a light-amplifying video pickup to his place on the bridge of the command sub, Alexander Waverly watched his forces moving in along the island, units checking the outer points to their rear while the rest centered attention on isolating the central complex and moving in on it. With full magnification he could see machine guns on the roof above the veranda, protected by reinforced cornices, ready to rain fire on the invaders. Something had to be done about the Big House. And that strange thing behind the Big House, which was shooting something at him – though only the periscope showed above the surface, it seemed to attract the bolts like a lightning rod. Something would have to be done about
'Captain,' he said. 'Surface. We must direct our deck gun against the Big House. Aim first into the yard, there, then ease up on the building. Give their gun crews a chance to evacuate. It's more than they'd give us.'
The deck shifted slightly as the sub rose, and then the top hatch was swung back to pass the three-man gun crew, scampering up a ladder to the dripping deck and a smell of salt and oil.
Illya balanced Joan's Special in his good right hand while she had a long serious talk with their captive Thrush.. Napoleon took the opportunity to scout the basement area in preference to sitting in on the interview – he started by following the phone wires to the foot of a stygian stairwell, where he stopped and tugged experimentally on them. There was no give; probably a door closed on them somewhere. And it wasn't time to go upstairs yet.
. At least not all the way… Silenced automatic ready, he traced the twisted line up the side of the stairs to a landing and around the corner into total darkness. No, not total. Above him a glass double door shone in ruddy rectangles against which shifting shadows ran back and forth. Rifles chattered nearby and Napoleon hugged the wall as he crept upwards towards the dim light.
Sure enough, the wires were wedged tightly under the door, and the door was locked. He could kick it open, but that would attract undue attention, and he had enough to worry about without adding trigger-happy Thrush Guards.
A slug snapped through the top pane of the left-hand door and dust powdered down on him from the stone ceiling. He severed the phone wire with his commando knife and retreated, dragging the end with him.
He looped it around the railing at the foot of the stairs and went on exploring. He spent a few more minutes familiarising himself with the layout of the cellar, and then returned to base.
Joan looked up as he tapped at the door and entered. 'It's in Room 39,' she said. 'He started to soften shortly after you left. I simply pointed out that if he cooperated convincingly he wouldn't have to be hurt a lot before he died, and if he didn't it'd be interesting to see if he would last until the balloon went up.'
'A well-made point,' said Napoleon. 'How well did you know Ward Baldwin? Never mind. Room 39, huh?'
'I'll take you there,' Myron volunteered.
'Don't bother,' said Solo. 'I found it on my walk. I also got a peek upstairs. It's full of Guards, and they're all shooting out windows. Even our private entrance has almost been secured.'
'Almost?'
'They dropped steel shutters behind the door some time after we came in, but the chair I stuck there to hold it closed jammed, them halfway. I think we could squeeze through if we wanted to go out that way.'
A brief glare of orange flashed down the hall just as another blast slapped the back of the building. A piece of plaster detached itself from the ceiling and shattered on the floor.
'Personally,' he added, 'I'd rather wait.'
'But not here,' said Myron anxiously. 'Farther in.'
'My friend doesn't have the choice. I'm going to Room 39 to see if something can be done about Little Brother. Maybe there's some wires I can cut or something.'
'They're going to set it off by radio. It's all sealed, once it's been armed.'
'Not likely, Napoleon,' said Illya. 'There's got to be some way of disarming it. I could probably work it out in a few minutes…'
'Well, I wish I could bring it in here for you to work on.'
'Hey, look,' said Myron. 'We ought to get out of here.'
Without turning around, Napoleon said, 'Joan- put him to sleep.'
'Check.'
'The box they'd dug these field phones out of was stuck here behind the door,' Solo continued as Joan dealt efficiently with the Thrush, 'and there are three more sets. If I go in there and tell you what I see, can you tell me what to do?'
There was silence for a few seconds. Illya's pale face was almost lost in shadow and Napoleon read little on it before he said, 'I suppose I can try. What tools do you have?'
'I've got the commando knife, and a few thermite skeleton keys. And the Special.'
'Nothing smaller?' said Joan. 'Here.' From somewhere she produced a nail file and a hairpin. 'You can't use a commando knife inside a circuit board. Take these.'
'I'll drag the other end of this wire over to Room 39,' he said. 'It ran all the way to the next stairwell and up. I cut it just inside the door when I took a look into the upstairs. It's a beautiful old place.'
'Remind me someday to tell you about the formal banquets there.'
'Tomorrow,' said Napoleon. 'On our way home.'
'Tonight,' said Illya. 'Just because they won't blow up the place until total defeat is inevitable doesn't mean we can afford to stand around. How much faith do you have in our side, anyway? I expect them to come in that back door any moment.'
'I'm gone,' said Napoleon, and was.
He returned a moment later. 'One thing,' he said. 'I'm going to have to take the lantern with me for light to work by.'
'Napoleon -' said Joan, but he was gone again and darkness filled the room. A moment later another shell burst against the back of the house, throwing Joan against the table. She recovered her balance and sneezed.
More plaster crunched under her feet as she groped for the chair, which had been tipped over. From somewhere she could hear the insistent dripping of water.
