"The men who were on the spot say there was no lake in sight. As soon as they have been picked up and treated for exposure they will be sent back. Look for the road."
"I can't see any road, I tell you! Everything is either trees or water or rock. There's just a few cottages and a lodge or two—and I can see the Appalachian Trail..."
"I don't want a travelogue. Find the car, why don't you?"
"I've got the beacon locked in...There's something...Yeah, I think that's the car down by the lake. I think the beacon is right near it."
"You've got the wrong car. You're at least ten miles west of where they called from last night. Fredericton and Bangor triangulated them."
Several seconds silence, then the same voice returned. "And there wasn't any lake in sight."
"Well, that's our beacon down there, boss. I don't know how it got there, but I'm going to set down on the lake and check out that car."
"Don't waste my time!"
"Field Autonomy, Paragraph Twelve. Baldwin couldn't get out of here without being spotted, so we're not in action at the present time. I'll take the responsibility."
Irene's voice spoke from behind him. "They certainly work well," she said. "Do you suppose they triangulate all communications as a matter of routine?"
"It would seem to be experimental in this area," Baldwin said. "A considered risk."
"Who are you considering risking?" asked Napoleon from the kitchen door.
"You're up early. Did you hear the radio?"
"Huh?"
"Last night's transmissions were triangulated," Baldwin said. "King is ordering a search plane into our immediate vicinity, and we will probably be spotted shortly."
"Will you have time for breakfast?" asked Irene.
"Oh, certainly. King is probably on his way to East Pomfret at the moment, and it will take him some time to get here and set up an attack. He certainly wouldn't want to miss again. In fact, he will probably insist upon dismissing all his support to face us alone."
"I certainly hope so," said Illya following his partner in. "Bacon crisp, eggs scrambled."
"Over easy," said Napoleon, joining Baldwin in the breakfast nook. "Have you considered evacuating?"
"Never seriously. The Lincoln is borrowed, and not remotely bulletproof; the Mercedes is nearly as visible from the air as this lodge, and is not so nearly well defended."
"Or as comfortable."
Breakfast ended before ten-thirty, and Baldwin re-checked all the silent channels of his pocket communicator. "I'm afraid Mr. King has realized we might be able to overhear him," he said, and restored it to his pocket. "Now we have nothing to do but watch the road and wait."
* * *
At precisely eleven forty-three both Napoleon and Illya twitched an instant before a dull explosion at the front door shook the lodge. Seconds later Baldwin's communicator chimed. He picked it out and extended the stem. "Good morning, Mr. King," he said. "You knocked?"
"Just to let you know I was here, Baldwin. Do you want to give yourself up for trial by the Council, or will I have to come in there and get you?"
"I refuse to dignify your insane railery with legal recognition. You will be given adequate opportunity to earn the position you desire, undeserved though it may be."
"I'll deserve it for killing a traitor named Baldwin. And you may tell your Mr. Kuryakin that my power source is now multiply protected against another lucky shot."
"A traitor thrice accused is better than a traitor once proven, Mr. King," said Baldwin, and the front door thundered again.
Illya said, "Did you hear something just before it hit?"
"That's part of his oscillator circuitry," said Irene. "I believe it's a 50-millisecond burst at 14 kiloHz, which is beyond my range. By what I've been told, it can nearly be heard over a quarter of a mile away. It can also be nearly heard from just beside the gun."
"Very interesting," said Baldwin, closing his pocket watch. "What else do we know about the Particle Accelerator Rifle?"
"It's likely to come in the front door at any moment," Solo said. "You can ask its inventor."
"Come, Mr. Solo—we may indeed be unable to defeat it, but it would surely be the height of folly to concede the game without conclusively proving this. Mr. Kuryakin?"
"Were the sound detectors and all left on overnight?"
"Of course," said Irene.
"How did he sneak in here? Carrying that Scrooch Gun on his back?"
The sound detectors went off and the speakers came on. An engine was starting. "Sounds like a jeep," said Irene. The sound was coming from the middle channel. The motor revved down as the clutch was let in, and then faded, moving off. It didn't pick up on either side channel.
"Among many other possible methods, Mr. Kuryakin, he could have landed a large glider on Lake Milinocket and avoided the road entirely. Now about the PAR..."
* * *
It was not quite five minutes before Napoleon and Illya nearly heard something, and a window on the east end of the lodge was heard by all to blow in. Irene cocked an eyebrow. "The windows are made of the same glass as the windows in the Mercedes," she commented.
"He's going to keep that up indefinitely, isn't he?" said Illya.
"Unless we stop him," said Baldwin. "Mr. Kuryakin, you were just saying that the apparent cause of failure in the 1965 test was stray RF?"
"Right. It triggered what they called an avalanche oscillation and he was caught in it. Supposedly."
"Something started it going," said Napoleon. "A resonant frequency, right?"
"Uh, right..."
"Like the resonant sonic Thrush used on us when they attacked New York headquarters. If that had kept up we would have gone to pieces. You suppose we could..."
"... induce a resonant RF from here?" said Irene. "It's not impossible. We have a reasonably powerful transmitter here—and he is close by."
"All you have to do is find the right frequency, hoping he hasn't cured the Scrooch Gun of its need for extensive shielding, and lean on it till he blows up!"
"An adequate oversimplification of our intended procedure, Mr. Solo," said Baldwin, as the ceiling shook and their ears stung under the impact. "We had best get to work on it directly. Irene?"
"It may be a long job, dear—I'll have to make some modifications before we can start."
"How can we help?" asked Illya.
"By staying out of the way," said Baldwin.
Napoleon and Illya looked at each other until another round slammed into the rear wall. "When I was in old-style wars," said the Russian, "the part I hated the worst was the shelling. I think it was the feeling of helplessness when all you could do was hang on and wait for it to stop. Do you know what I mean?"
"Perfectly," said the American. "Do you think we might be able to do something else this time?"
"If there's only one of him, maybe we could get to him. And Baldwin says there's only one."
"But he's got an awfully accurate Scrooch Gun all around the house. Now you tell me he can't get both of us between the door and the trees, and I'll let you go first."