"Then suddenly a man walked into the lobby of the hotel where we were sitting. He walked across the room directly to us. He stared straight ahead. It was as if his eyes did not focus, as if he had no idea where he was, or what he was saying. It was as if he were in some mind-numbing trance, following orders, speaking words he'd been programmed to speak.
"He said to my father, 'Are you Professor Samuel Connors?'"
She exhaled, watching them narrowly, knowing they would have trouble believing what she'd say next. "Then he handed my father this summons to death."
Solo whistled slightly. "You'll have to tell me more about that summons."
"Oh, I know you'll find it as hard to believe as I did—harder because at least I saw it, I know it existed."
"What did it look like?" Illya asked.
"A perfectly legal looking document. Like any summons to court, a subpoena. Only it was to no court I ever heard of, and the wording was so strange, accusing my father of a capital crime. I thought it was a joke. But my father didn't. He became very upset. He went up to his room, and later I heard him in there alone, and he was crying."
"Where was the court to be held? What was its name?"
She frowned, remembering. "It didn't make sense. It was called the seating of The Highest Referendary of Unquestioned Supreme Hearings. A jumble of words."
"Not quite," Solo said. "A jumble, all right. T-H-R-U-S-H. It makes that much sense."
"Sure. THRUSH's own Supreme Court, where they dispense their own brand of international law."
"They accused my father of crimes against them, crimes which were to be detailed at his trial, and before his execution. All this was in the summons."
"One thing emerges clearly from all this," Solo said. "Your father may not have found his friend Nesbitt, but he got so close to something or somebody, that THRUSH couldn't afford to permit him to live."
"But he didn't even know what they were accusing him of. I tried to talk him out of it, but he took it with deadly seriousness—and hardly knew I was there. But he kept saying he didn't know what he had done."
"That does make sense," Solo said, "even if it sounds wild to you. Perhaps he came near to some thing, nearer than he realized at that time, or saw something that was without meaning for him at that moment, but which THRUSH was afraid might become clear to him once he gave it some thought."
"Who are you?" the girl said, "that you know so much about this organization that calls itself THRUSH?"
"Well, we're no friends of theirs," Illya said. "We can safely tell you that much." He smiled at her. "Why don't you tell us now who you are?"
"I told you. I'm Professor Connor's daughter, his only child. My mother has been dead for three years. The name that everybody calls me sounds so frivolous here, when my father is missing, and may be dead. But my father started it years ago. He said one day that bikinis were made for me, or that I was made for them." Her face flushed beautifully. "And the nickname, Bikini, has stuck ever since."
"Bikini?" Illya said. He smiled. "Believe me, it fits you—like a bikini."
FOUR
SOLO AND ILLYA sat for a long time outside the car-trailer after the exhausted Bikini had gone into bed.
She had handed out sleeping bags.
"I know you're on some vital mission," she said. "But please stay here tonight. Whatever it is will wait for morning."
Solo and Illya talked in whispers.
Illya said, "A frightened girl."
"On the brink of hysteria," Solo agreed. "She shouldn't be out here alone."
"There remains that lab over there, and the night may be the best time to sneak in there," Illya said. "She's a lovely doll, and she's got a big problem, but we came out here looking for THRUSH and Dr. Nesbitt."
Solo checked his wrist watch.
"Why don't we hit the sack for three or four hours? By that time she'll be deep asleep. We'll clear out then."
Illya nodded, yawning. "I could use the sack time."
"I'm too tired to ache even in the places that hurt," Solo said.
He fell asleep almost at once when he pushed down into the sleeping bag. Night winds riffled the tall pines, and the air was fresh, heavy, making him sleepier than ever. He dreamed he was wrestling an alligator, knowing he had to keep the animal on its back, or die. He struggled, but the saurian was too strong, and he was thrown over and he was being held down, but it was not an alligator holding him helpless, it was a girl.
She was shaking him, whispering his name over and over. "Mr. Solo. Please, Mr. Solo, wake up."
Solo struggled up from the depths of sleep with anguished reluctance.
He sat up, seeing Bikini bending over him in the darkness. She wore pajamas and a robe, and not even this combination could defeat her dream-stirring beauty.
He checked his wrist watch, and almost moaned. He had been asleep for fifteen minutes. A few feet away Illya breathed deeply and regularly, completely exhausted and sound asleep.
"Yes," he whispered. "What is it."
"I couldn't sleep."
He moaned. "Is that what you woke me up to tell me?"
She stayed on her knees, close beside him. "I know you are planning to leave during the night."
Solo winced. "Important business, Bikini."
"I know. But that's why I can't sleep. I'm going with you."
"You can't do that."
"I've got to. It's my only chance of finding my father. I know you're not looking for my father, but you may find him, along with whatever else you find. I want to be there."
"We'll bring him back to you if we can."
"I don't want you to leave me. Before I met you I wasn't scared; maybe I was too numb to be frightened. But now I realize the terrible danger in this place."
"Get in your car. Get out of here. If we find Dr. Connors we'll get word to you."
"I've no place to go without my father."
"Still, we can't take you with us."
"If you don't I'll follow you. I've got to find my father."
"Bikini, I don't know what kind of danger lies over there—"
"I've learned tonight that danger is all around here, in every direction. Please. Take me with you. I won't make any trouble—"
"That's what Eve must have said." Solo sighed heavily under the witchery of Bikini's sudden smile. "Get so sleep. You in on the party.
FIVE
ONCE THEY were in the dry canyon, locating the strange laboratory was no problem. Lights shielded from view by the high rising narrow ledge a thousand feet from the gorge sump, the building illumined the twisting dead riverbed for miles in both directions.
"We can't talk any more," Solo warned Illya and Bikini before they entered the mouth of the canyon. "They may be able to pick up my whispering from here. We know they were monitoring Don Sayres long before he came near them in the jungle."
"Maybe I should come in from the other end," Illya said. "That way one of us would have a surer chance of making it."
"Dark is running out," Solo said. "It'll be a tough trek to the other end of the canyon."
"It's worth a try."
Solo nodded. "Take Bikini with you."
"Illya laughs," Illya said. "If you're smart, you'll send her back. If she's smart, she'll go."