Solo went to one knee, took careful aim, and dropped the rear man in his tracks. He swung the pistol around and felled one of the forward men in mid-stride. They plopped without a scream because of the darts and the sight panicked the skinny actor more than whizzing bullets would have. He was a frenzy of motion, tugging at the men beside him and running madly for the first station wagon. The men trailed him, craning about for something to shoot, confused by the farflung configuration of the attack.

Solo fired into the group and toppled another man, sending the others on faster. "Leave the wagon!" Solo screamed under his breath, squeezing the gun hard in hope. But they took both wagons and bounced among the stones and boulders to get away. The lone man left on his feet gave up his fire-fighting. He leaped over the burning circle and raced headlong for the next field.

With the wagons stirring dust in his face, Solo broke cover and sprinted to Illya. He grabbed up Gloryanna's shirt on the way by and thrust it at her. Illya smiled with the weakest smile Solo bad ever seen even from the sober, Slavic face.

Solo maneuvered Illya gently, freeing him and liftinf him bodily from the post. He took off the soaked jacket, then knelt and started rubbing circulation back into Illya's numb legs. Gloryanna helped and all the while Illya mumbled information.

"Dundee is coming, Napoleon. They're shipping something out tonight. We don't have time to waste."

"We have time for this. Besides, your gleanings and mine put together tell us a lot. I checked the mansion and the other barns as I passed by and no one has been near them to even disturb the cobwebs. All of the activity has been at that one old barn. And I found the jackpot there - the lab. Now you say they're making a shipment. It all means they produced the chemical right here, so our search for the lab is ended. Half done, Illya. We only need to get our sample and we can go home."

Illya moved his legs weakly and licked his cracked lips. He struggled, rising up on shaky legs that would barely hold him. "The smoke, Napoleon. It will draw them like flies."

"There are plenty to be drawn, too. Look, Illya, can you make it under your own power? Any chance?"

Illya staggered three steps, made his back a painful ramrod and stumbled three more. "Just barely," he admitted, game to try.

"Then you go that way." Solo pointed to the side of the field. "That's toward Gloryanna's farm. Keep inside the trees. I'll lead them off to the rear. I'll have a good chance once I make the woods."

"And me?" Gloryanna asked. "I'll help Illya?"

"You'll come with me," Solo said. "We have to give Illya time to get free and clear. I'll take you home, Miss Piper." He winked at her to still her fear and she smiled. Then she threw herself against him, tall and strong, and kissed him a big smack on the lips.

"That's for saving me from becoming an old crow."

"Thank you. But I'll be horsewhipped if your father finds out." Solo put a hand on Illya's shoulder. "Move, Illya. I'll cover you as far as I can."

Illya limped away, forcing each step out of his exhausted body. Solo suddenly dashed sideways to the burning area of grass and caught up a Thrush rifle. He pounded ahead and gave it to Illya. "Wrong make, but it fires," he told the blond agent. "Chin up, Illya. You're halfway there."

Illya continued his painful progress and Solo took Gloryanna by the hand and pulled her panting and galloping to the back of the field. He turned his head every few steps to judge Illya's escape. Illya had to be out of sight before he let himself take cover. But Solo still reached his goal before Illya did. Solo stopped, ordered Gloryanna into the trees and waited, gun ready. At last Illya limped out of sight, the trees closing over him. Solo took his own plunge for shelter and came up to the girl. There were voices calling behind him. He had cut it just right.

"Now what?" Gloryanna clasped his arm."

"We run like hell, honey."

The woods were cool, at least, but not as deep as Solo had hoped. He was forced to run a course in the middle. The Thrush men would have to come inside to flush him out, giving him a chance to pick them off. As he ran, dodging trucks, he switched his gun clip back to bullets.

There were crashes in the forest with them now. Crashes in front that meant men coming, and crashes behind. Solo stopped, gasping in unison with Gloryanna. Shouts came to his ears. The shouts of hunters looking for human game. He made out seven or eight separate voices, sounding off in a search pattern. He took quick shelter behind a tree trunk and drew Gloryanna close.

"Listen, from now on you're on your own. Okay? I want you to run to the back of the woods, go outside it, and tear for home as fast as you can. Don't stop until you get to your father."

"But what about -?"

"I gave you an order, Gloryanna. Now, do it! I don't want one single argument."

"But I hear those men! There are so many."

"Oh, and take off those red slacks. Roll them into a bundle and carry them. You can be seen for two miles in those things."

She took off her slacks without question but showed no inclination to obey anything else. She rolled the slacks into a tight ball and tucked them under her arm.

"Move, Gloryanna!"

Her blue eyes met his with a dreadful hesitation. She was unable to leave him to fight this alone. He had to force her. "I can handle them better without you. Look, Gloryanna, if you stay you'll undoubtedly get me killed. I have a better chance alone. So - go!" He slapped her on the rear, startling her as she realized she was half naked, and she took off with surprising speed, her tanned legs disappearing into the woods.

Solo fled against the direction he had told her to follow, drawing the men away. He had two little pheasants running through the woods on his orders now and he had to try the broken-wing bit to lead the hunters off.

He sprinted, skittering from tree to tree, hearing the Thrush men close in. But he had a good chance and knew it. He crashed deliberately through a clump of dead underbrush, making as much noise as possible to call the hunters, and came up short with a biting pain in his ankle.

It was a fire that toppled him onto his face. He rolled over, sat up, and examined his foot. Caught in a nasty trap. An actual steel animal trap that surrounded his foot and bit into his ankle. He fought it frantically as the steps crackled closer. He should have expected something like this but he hadn't.

He couldn't open the teeth. There was a special knack to it and he didn't know that knack. All he managed to do was bite the jaws deeper into his flesh.

Then it was too late anyway. The first Thrush hunter came out of the trees, rifle pointed. He was quickly joined by more, finally making ten altogether.

"Your gun, Solo," one of them said.

Solo tossed it over. There was no chance to fight this time. Better to stall it out and see if a chance developed later. He raised his hands uselessly.

"What's the matter, Solo? Didn't they give you a course on removing animal traps at U.N.C.L.E.?"

"I suppose they don't consider us animals," Solo answered.

With a flick of his hand the Thrush in command ordered the steel jaws removed from Solo's ankle. When it was done, the man said, "On your feet, Mr. Solo. You're coming back to the barn. You have some explaining to do."

---

The interior of the barn was dim and cool. Solo entered with what he called his "entourage" and was plunked down on a bale of hay. It was comfortable, so he relaxed. There was nothing else to do with fifteen Thrush musclemen at hand, their rifles pointing his direction.