There were rich oriental rugs on the floor and hanging lamps as well which shed a mellow amber radiance over their intricate designs.
"Napoleon Solo, look at me," the voice that was all music pleaded. "At me—not at this room, which pleases my father but gives me no pleasure."
She was kneeling at his side, and since he was on his side, staring straight across the room toward the opposite wall it was not strange that he had failed to be aware of her presence until her voice came to his ears.
Napoleon rolled over on his back and then sideway again until he was staring directly into her eyes. His head whirled for an instant, from weakness or dizziness perhaps, and he had to blink furiously to bring her features into sharp relief.
For an instant the tall gray buildings seemed to come sweeping back, but he knew now that they were solely an illusion and that he was not within walking distance of the United Nations. If he remained calm only the room and the woman at his side would remain.
"You have been out of your mind for hours, Napoleon Solo," she said. "You woke up once, but you did not recognize me. But you must have seen my face in your dreams, for you talked wildly about our meeting in New York.
"It was a tragic meeting and one that I now regret. I threatened you, warned you what would happen to U.N.C.L.E when your every move became known to us in advance."
"But why––"
"Wait," she said, laying two fingers on his lips, and bending so slow above him that her breath fanned his face. "Let me finish and then you can talk. I have much to tell you."
She paused an instant, her eyes almost feverishly bright. "My father you saw on New York," she went on quickly. "He is Lee Cheng. But he is not a THRUSH agent."
The name was unfamiliar to Solo but it brought an instant question to his lips. "Lee Chang—your father? You mean that frail little man who turned and fled back toward the car when I was forced to make sure that you were not carrying a concealed weapon? The other two were not old enough—"
"He is neither frail nor little in his mind. He invented what you have come to the Gobi to investigate and, if possible, destroy. It is a machine that can move about in the desert and pick up what is said and done by an isolated human target thousands of miles away. It can penetrate all wails, listen and record what has been said and send televisual images just as far."
Lhasa's voice took on a more vibrant intensity. "It is—yes, a kind of Frankenstein monster. Soulless, lifeless, except for the terrible kind of artificial life that my father has endowed it with. Nothing remotely like it has ever been developed before. It is a machine of a thousand eyes, a thousand ears. And my father would use it to dominate and enslave the world and restore the ancient glories of our race. There should be no need for me to remind you how great was the glory of China thousands of years before Western civilizations rose and fell."
"But if your father—"
"Wait," she insisted, her voice suddenly almost pleading. "I have more to tell you. There is little about you that I do not know, Napoleon Solo. I watched you often through the all-seeing eyes of that machine, both before we met in New York and afterwards. Sometimes I could not see you at all, because it goes blind at times, completely blind, and records nothing that my father and THRUSH would like it to see and hear. Deaf and blind. It happens often. But my father is working night and day to perfect it."
"Your father and THRUSH. But you just said that he was not a THRUSH agent."
"I asked you to be patient, to hear me out. If you will listen, you will understand. Your battle so far has been entirely with THRUSH. And your suspicions have not been wide of the mark. THRUSH is making use of my father's invention in an attempt to destroy U.N.C.L.E and increase its criminal power a hundredfold. But THRUSH does not know what my father's secret plans are. When the right time comes he will supplant THRUSH. He will be the all-powerful one. But now he must pretend that it is quite otherwise. He has always been a poor man and without the support which THRUSH gave him—"
"He has agreed to work with THRUSH to destroy U.N.C.L.E., is that it?" Solo asked.
"Yes, and I have helped him. It is I who have been a THRUSH agent. I am a unit commander, I have been entrusted with important secrets. But all of that is of no consequence when it is balanced against what is happening now."
Solo waited for her to continue, feeling suddenly confident that no further questions would be needed. She was clearly going to tell him everything he had to know. The intensity of her gaze confirmed it and the almost pleading look in her eyes.
"Three things," she went on quickly, "have made it necessary for me to take drastic measures to oppose both THRUSH and my father's secret plans. First, THRUSH no longer trusts me. My failure in New York and my inability to keep you from reaching the Gobi has made them turn against me. The penalty for that kind of failure could be death."
"I see," Solo said, nodding. "And the other two reasons?"
"Do not misjudge me," she said. "I would race death gladly if it would help to save my father. But even if I succeeded in getting THRUSH to go on trusting me, my father's life would still hang in the balance. And the scales are tipping dangerously against him. He had become reckless, headstrong, blind to all caution. He is moving much too fast. If his mask of pretence drops, and it could at any moment, THRUSH will destroy him. Instantly—because to them he is nothing but a pawn. When once his invention is perfected—"
Her hand tightened on Solo's wrist. "His ambition to become the dominant one has made him lose contact with reality. I can no longer advise or control him. My pleadings fall on deaf ears. He is not only working to perfect the electronic monster that U.N.C.L.E. must find a way to destroy—but he has invented another, smaller but just as destructive Frankenstein-like giant. It is solely an instrument of death, for it can send a lethal ray half as far as the televisual pickups that make the larger mechanical giant a civilization-destroying threat. It would be less destructive on a global scale, but it is frightful enough, and he is planning to use it against THRUSH."
"Good God," Solo breathed. "How—how close is he to perfecting it?"
"I do not know," the woman at his side said. "He has kept that a secret, even from me. But I'm convinced that THRUSH may destroy him at any moment. I'm sure they suspect more than he knows, or will allow himself to believe. As I've said, he is deaf and blind to all caution. He has no way of finding out just how much THRUSH suspects when the machine's eavesdropping mechanism breaks down, and that has occurred often."
"Where is this new invention now?" Solo asked. "Is he working on it here?"
The woman at his side nodded. "Yes, right here in the ruins."
"The ruins?"
"We are in the ruins of an ancient Gobi temple," she said. "With money supplied by THRUSH my father has converted it into a series or connecting laboratories and workshops. It was once a holy place. But it is not so holy now, for THRUSH has seen to that. We have had five THRUSH visitors just in the past month. They fear that what happened in New York may be repeated here. You and your friend Illya Kuryakin outwitted them at every turn. They never thought you would get so far. Your arrival has greatly alarmed them."
The mention of Illya's name made Solo forget everything else for a moment. His concern for the safety of Kuryakin had been continuously on his mind from the first. But he had forced himself to remain silent about it, considering it wiser to wait until the woman at his side had told him enough to convince him that a display of concern would be of more benefit than harm to Illya. A premature question would have been an act of folly and what he had to guard against most of all was changing a talkative woman into a suspiciously silent one.