The three guards were having a laughing argument about who was to watch them.
In a moment they would be back.
Illya turned his back toward Solo. Solo turned his back to Illya. The small blond Russian raised his arms away from his body behind him. Solo reached back until their hands touched. Solo's fingers found the thin thread on the foil around Illya's handcuffs and pulled.
One of the other guards was getting up, ready to come and watch the prisoners.
The sudden head of the thermite foil seared Illya's wrists. The Russian gritted his teeth. Two seconds later the thermite had melted the chain and his hands were free. He quickly picked up the pistol Napoleon Solo had taken from beneath the car, and both men resumed their positions against the car.
The guard approached. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. He looked at them. It was clear on his face that he detected something wrong, but he was not sure. His gun ready, he came to them.
"Turn around," the guard commanded.
Illya pretended to try to turn. Impatiently the guard reached down to turn Illya. The small Russian's hand shot up and grasped the man's neck. With a faint gurgle, the guard collapsed.
Solo and Illya were up and running in an instant, straight at where the other two guards relaxed under a dark tree. The guards heard them. One of them got his gun up. Illya shot him between the eyes with a single shot. The third guard tried to stand. Solo hammered him with a single blow of his manacled hands. The man dropped without a sound.
The two agents quickly picked up all weapons. Illya went to the trunk of the car and took out a long length of rope. They bound the two surviving THRUSH men. The one Solo had hit was still unconscious. This done, Illya retrieved another thermite foil from the hub of the wheel. It was a matter of seconds to release Solo. They then took a small picklock from under the rear seat of the U.N.C.L.E. car and removed the cuffs.
Illya looked at his watch. "Over an hour, Napoleon. Danton's been in there too long."
"With no sound of a fight," Solo said.
"Something's wrong," Illya said.
"Well, let's find out."
"Not in these clothes," Illya said. "Strip our friends; their suits might just fit. Lucky they're in civilian clothes."
The two agents changed clothes with the two guards. The suits were good enough. Each took an other pistol from hiding places on the U.N.C.L.E. car—the machine-guns would have been too conspicuous.
"Let's go," Solo said. "We don't have time to hide."
The two agents began to walk across the road and up to the gate of the plant.
THREE
FIVE MINUTES later Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo walked in the front entrance to Rand Electronics. Just inside the double outer doors they stopped and blinked.
The entrance lobby of the electronics plant was bright and busy. Corridors led off three sides, and employees seemed to be walking along the corridors as if nothing at all had happened or could happen. Everything looked like business as usual—yet an hour earlier five armed THRUSH men had entered this plant.
Illya and Solo looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
Directly in front of them a pretty blonde sat behind a reception desk. As they entered she was joking with a young man in the white coat of a laboratory technician. She saw them, and quickly shooed the young man away and gave Illya and Solo a dazzling smile up to her.
"Yes, gentlemen. Can I help you?"
"Jones and Ivanov from the defense department," Solo said, using the same story he had used to get them past the gate.
"Mr. Jones and Mr. Ivanov, of course," the girl said as if she knew their famous names by heart. She was every inch the beautiful receptionist. "May I ask who you wish to see?"
"You work late," Illya said, as he looked around at the activity along all the corridors.
"Two shifts," the girl said brightly. "You gentlemen should know that, defense contracts and all."
"Very good," Solo said.
"We try to keep production going," the receptionist said. "Now who did you say you wanted to see?"
"Mr. Rand," Illya said.
"Do you have an appointment? It's rather late for Mr. Rand."
"No, we have no appointment," Illya said.
"You might say this is a surprise visit," Solo said.
The blonde became frosty. "I see. Well, I'm sure that Mr. Rand has nothing to hide about our work for you. I'll see if he's in his office.
The blonde manipulated some keys on an intercom system and whispered low into a speaker, her eyes still on them and hostile. Both agents smiled at her, and Illya pretended to look around with a critical expression. When the girl looked away to listen more carefully to her intercom, Illya touched Solo.
"Security isn't very tight, Napoleon."
"No. It looks like anyone can just walk in," Solo agreed.
"Could it be a wild goose chase?"
"Maybe. But where is Danton?" Before Illya Kuryakin could answer this, the blonde receptionist turned to them again, all smiles now.
"Mr. Rand will see you. Straight down the center corridor, the last door on the left. You'll see Mr. Rand's name on the door."
They thanked her and began to walk. Their quick eyes noted the activity all around them. It seemed legitimate and normal. No one looked at them unduly and no one ignored them pointedly. They were observed and ignored in the exact combination and degree they would have expected for any visitors at a busy electronics plant.
"Could we be wrong?" Solo said.
"I expect we'll find out enough, Napoleon," Illya "There's the office. Keep you gun ready."
"I haven't taken my hand off it," Solo said.
Illya Kuryakin opened the door of the office marked: Kevin Rand, President. The two agents stepped in. Solo checked the corridor behind them. There were two young men in it who seemed to have no interest in them.
Illya surveyed the office.
It was a large office, as befitted the president of a company. There were four tall windows, shaded now at night. A large polished wood desk stood in front of the windows. There was a comfortable modern-Danish teak-and-upholstery couch, three matching chairs, and a coffee table. The tall swivel chair behind the desk was empty.
"He acts like a company president anyway," Solo said, indicating the empty chair. "Keep them waiting."
Illya said nothing. He was looking at the paneled walls. There was a door in each wall. Illya considered the doors.
"The one on the left probably leads to the next office," the small Russian IJ.N.C.L.E. agent said. "But where does that door on the right go? This is supposed to be the last office. The hall ends just outside."
Napoleon Solo looked at the door. "Maybe it goes into the plant."
"Suppose we take a look, Napoleon?" Illya said.
The small agent turned to walk toward the door on the right. Before he could take two steps the left hand door opened and a man stepped through. He smiled.
"So sorry, gentlemen. My apologies for keeping you waiting. I wanted to have some figures at hand," the man said, and waved a sheaf of papers.
Solo stared. He touched Illya as the two of them turned to face the man. It was the man who had been working the machine in the room above the hot room of the health club. The tanned, slender, grey-haired man his helpers had called Professor and Chief.