"You got Rand's pickle? He got to have a pickle."
"I got it."
The other one nodded, and they brushed past Illya and Solo without looking at them. Solo nodded to Illya; the two men were bringing food and drink to Rand and Danton inside the large ware house room.
As they passed, Illya and Solo wheeled, struck each man on the back of the neck with single karate chops and caught the trays before they could fall, all in a single deft motion.
They placed the trays down and dragged the two men along the silent corridor until at last they found a closet. They bound and gagged these two also, in their own clothes, and ran back to the trays. Trays in hand, they approached the door to the warehouse room.
They tried the door. It was open. They went in, carrying their trays.
TWO
AT A DESK in front of the Mind-Sweeper machine, Kevin Rand and Emil Danton sat and talked. Only three armed men were still in the room with them. The warehouse was very quiet, and the banks of lights had been turned off until the only light was where Danton and Rand were conferring.
"I've told you my offer," Danton said. "Ten million dollars, in American dollars and all cash, for the machine, the factory and Heimat. You can throw in Solo and Kuryakin, too. You don't need them."
Rand smoked a cigar and considered. The slender grey-haired business man's eyes were bright and wary as he watched Danton. He waved his cigar, smoke eddying around his head.
"It is attractive. But far too little. Consider how much I could get by leasing the equipment once I have enough units, which will be soon. Why, I'd get ten million a year per machine."
Danton shook his head. "Nowhere near. After all, the machine is only a help, a convenience. I admit it could be a big help, but there are other ways of getting the data."
"Not so safely—and not without anyone ever knowing," Rand said. "That is my major selling point, Danton: the machine takes the information without essentially harming the subject, and without him being aware of a thing. You know yourself that one of the major problems of espionage is that information ceases to be of great value the instant someone knows you have stolen it."
"Granted, of course," Danton said, and frowned. "All right, I think we'll go fifty million for the whole shooting match. Cash."
"Hardly a scratch, Mr. Danton. What do you say to, say, five billion? American dollars, cash."
"Ridiculous!"
Rand shrugged. "I'm sure I could net that in a few years by a lease arrangement."
Danton bit his lip and glanced at the silent machine that stood like some malignant god in the room. "Think of the overhead, Rand. You might gross a billion over a number of years, but you won't come near netting it. You'd have to have a large, very strong, organization. You'd be a marked group. U.N.C.L.E., Interpol, half the police of the world would be after you. You'd need not only an enormous sales and contact staff, but heavy security as well. Then think of the risk? They'd be out to smash you from the start. Now we already have the organization, and the manpower, and we know how to handle the risks."
"I don't know," Rand said with a smile. "Ten million a year per machine will pay for a lot of protection."
"And cost most of the ten million per machine. Besides, you don't have the know-how to be sure everyone will pay. THRUSH has the know-how. They fear us, and fear is all that keeps governments in line, believe me. All right, one billion cold cash—tomorrow."
Rand made a tent of his fingers, contemplated. "One billion, eh? That's quite a jump. I wonder how high you fellows at THRUSH will really go?"
"One billion. That's it," Danton snapped.
Before Rand could answer through his smile, the two men stopped talking as two waiters in white smocks entered. The three guards still in the room stepped to the waiters and took the trays. Rand and Danton did not even glance at the waiters. They were too intent on watching each other in their strange and deadly game with the malignant machine hovering over the whole vast and shadowed warehouse room.
The two guards carried the trays to the desk. Rand glanced at the trays.
"Ah, here is our food and drink. Sandwich?"
"I'm not hungry," Danton snapped. "What about it, Rand? One billion. A fair offer."
"A drink, then?" Rand said.
"Scotch, no ice," Danton said. "I want an answer."
Rand busied himself making the two drinks. The guards went away at a small wave of his hand. The two waiters seemed to have left. Rand handed a drink to Danton, leaned back and began to munch on a sandwich.
"I'm sure you want an answer," Rand said. "But there is much I have to consider. I have other offers, you know."
"None to match ours. I know that, too."
"Perhaps, but there is still the idea of going into the spy business ourselves," Rand said. "You know, the interest you and U.N.C.L.E. and Interpol have shown is most illuminating. I am beginning to think that the greatest rewards of money and power lie in using the machine ourselves."
"We'd break you!" Danton said angrily.
"Would you now?" Rand said. "I suppose you would."
"Don't even think about it, believe me," Danton. said. "Now I've made a firm offer. One billion for it all. Take it or leave it."
Suddenly Rand began to laugh. The slender, grey-haired man shook with laughter, and tears streamed down his cheeks. He reached up and mopped at his eyes. He looked straight at Danton. The THRUSH chief watched Rand with a confused expression on his face.
"No deal," Rand laughed. "You don't really think I would trust THRUSH, do you? My dear Danton, you are no better than U.N.C.L.E. You are also playing for time. You have no intention of making a deal. Once I agreed, you would bring your army and take my Mind-Sweeper. I am not a fool!"
Danton protested. "I assure you—"
"Stop it, Danton! I know THRUSH. You would never honor such a deal. But I wanted to see how high you would suggest. It gives me a good estimate of the real power of my little beauty. No, I will not deal with you. I will operate myself. I have the first really big piece of data to sell already, the outer-space defense system of the United States. I believe I know where I can sell that for ten million alone."
"Why, you stupid—" Danton exploded.
Rand waved a peremptory hand toward the three guards. They came running, guns at ready.
"Take Mr. Danton away," Rand snapped.
Danton paled. "You'll regret this, Rand!"
Rand looked at him coldly. "Not as much as you will. Take him to a cell with his friends. We will shoot them later! Perhaps THRUSH will pay for him."
Protesting, Danton was led toward the door. The guards handled him roughly. Two of them took him out. The third guard remained in the room. Rand sat at his desk, lost in thought. His eyes wandered toward the Mind- Sweeper machine, and he began to smile.
In the corridor outside the warehouse there was sudden noise. Men were running. The door burst open and three guards came in. Rand turned abruptly to face them.
"They escaped!" one of the guards cried.
Rand snapped, "Who escaped, you fool? Danton?"
"No, the two U.N.C.L.E. men. They're gone. We went to relieve the guards and we found them, the guards, locked in the room! The U.N.C.L.E. men overpowered them!"