"Use your head as though you had one," Dundee said. "You saw that little demonstration with the blonde, didn't you? That hurt, didn't it? We've got plenty of the demonstration chemical, so we can spare a bottle or two on Solo."

Gloryanna leaped to her feet and ran across the barn. She took a defiant stand in front of Solo as though to protect him. A big Thrush moved in and butted her to the floor with his gun. She sprawled, but scrambled back. "You're not going to touch him. I don't know what kind of men you are, but you're not going to touch him!"

A rifle was aimed at her head and Solo intervened again. "Go back to your place, Gloryanna, and stay there."

"No!" She fought him now, her eyes blazing hellishly. "I'm not going to sit by and watch this happen. I know how it feels!"

"You're going to sit by, all right," Solo told her. "But you're not going to watch. Turn your back and be quiet. This isn't the business of a girl who grows daffodils."

She was pushed out of position roughly and she submitted, making it clear she was surrendering to Solo and not the hoodlums.

Solo kept his eyes and his mind on her as she returned to the hay bales, needing something to divert himself from the panic that threatened him. The panic itself might break him and he couldn't allow that to happen.

He hung there and deliberately tested his bonds, forcing himself to feel to his marrow that he was helpless, to acknowledge it, fighting the panic waves down as they rose. It was a test of Solo against Solo, as Adams had promised it would be, and he'd either win or break into pieces.

He warred against himself, the helplessness, the hanging suspended - and he came out whole. He hoped he came out whole. He wouldn't be sure until the questions were asked and he refused them.

While he waited, Galaxy swayed up to him. He'd wondered where she was. She smiled up into his face and ran one finger along his chest, outlining the muscles. "Why did you have to get yourself caught?" she whispered. "Poor Napoleon. Strong, honest, and stupid. Now I suppose you'll let them kill you before you give up any secrets."

"Rules are rules," he told her.

"That's just the point, love. Thrush doesn't have such foolish rules. You're on the wrong side."

He ignored that remark, asking pointedly, "Are you Dundee's property? Is that why you're here?"

She nodded, her long black hair brushing her shoulders. "And we won't mention that you trespassed this afternoon, will we?"

"It's no business of mine. But you should know, Galaxy, that you're up for the Thrush form of urban renewal. Down you come and a younger blonde rises in your place."

He enjoyed the sharpness that came into her face and her swing to stare at Gloryanna, huddled with her back to them on the hay.

"Planning something between you?" Dundee asked. His hand came out automatically to stroke Galaxy's hair and she glared at Solo in triumph. "You'll crush our friend Saturn if you escape, Solo. I've promised him the chance to do the honors for you. I have no stomach for it, myself."

Saturn said, reassuming his role of actor, "I'm going to play the villain of villains! Nothing written. All improvised!" He brandished a bottle marked RED INK, eager to use it.

"Just drips and drops, mind you, Saturn," Dundee warned him.

"I know! I know! Now, what questions am I supposed to ask him?"

Dundee didn't hesitate. "Start with the secret entrance to U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters in New York - Waverly's entrance."

Solo smiled to himself. That was the best possible question since it was the one he couldn't answer. They could hammer at him for days and he couldn't tell them because he didn't know.

"Fine." Saturn took his place before Solo, still taller than the young agent even though Solo was suspended three inches from the floor. He opened the bottle, set it down, drew on some plastic gloves, and picked the liquid up again. "Mr. Solo," he said grandly, you will please tell me the location of the secret entrance to your head quarters in New York." Then he whispered, "And if you dare tell without giving me the chance to reinstate my self in front of Dundee, I'll personally strangle you where you hang."

"I wouldn't dream of ruining your opportunity," Solo said, keeping his eyes away from the bottle.

Saturn pushed a glass straw into the neck of the bottle to let liquid fill it, then clapped a finger over the end and drew the straw out, gleaming with yellow. His hand came up and he faltered, not sure where to begin. "The chest area, I think," he muttered.

He stretched his thin arm out, held the straw over Solo's shoulder and let the liquid flow. It was chilly running down from his shoulder onto his chest and Solo shivered. Saturn caught the excess by forming a cup with his gloved hand on Solo's stomach.

It was done and nothing happened. Saturn looked to Dundee impatiently.

"You have to give it time to take effect, idiot," Dundee said. "A few minutes."

"It's ruined, then," Saturn cried. "You can't do this properly without instantaneous results."

"You'll get results - and more," Dundee promised. "Once the pain starts for him, it doesn't ever quit, and you can just add to it at will - until he gives in."

Solo wasn't shivering anymore. He was waiting. Soon the same pain that had sent Gloryanna writhing on the floor would begin for him, but it was clear in his mind that he could stand up to it. The emotional battle he'd been fighting since Adams had been engaged and won. He let relief and pride dominate him now because he had earned it. Saturn and his little glass tube of fire could go hang.

Chapter 14

"If Solo Comes, Can Kuryakin Be Far Behind?"

ILLYA SNEAKED UP the barn hill, glad for the late afternoon clouds that had gathered blackly in the southwest to dim the sun. It would be an early, unreal dark. He traveled cautiously. The Thrush men must be about somewhere, though he had seen no evidence of them. Just the trailers and the cars parked by the barn.

He edged up to the door and peered inside. The scene was dim and crowded. There were twelve men scattered about and too many rifles for happy counting. He spotted Gloryanna sitting on a bale of hay, her back to the rest. As Mr. Saturn stepped aside, he saw Napoleon strung up like a side of beef. They were going to do something to him, that was certain, but there was no indication of what. Everyone seemed innocent enough.

Saturn held a bottle and a glass straw, but no one else carried tools associated with interrogation. Still, just Napoleon's stance was enough to tell the story.

Illya crouched back against the wall. He had to do something fast. In his present state of mind Napoleon might break, and Illya was sure that no matter how inconsequential the information given, Solo would never forgive himself.

Illya reared up to survey the inside of the barn once more, looking for possibilities. At the far end he saw a hatchet. That could help. There were rolls of barbed wire and they might do. What else? And how to get the men out? He couldn't attack twelve men at once with the single Thrush rifle Solo had given him.

He ran bent over away from the barn, going in among the cars, letting thoughts run rampant to bring up a workable plan. First order - disperse the men. Even at his best he couldn't beat all of them together, and he had no trouble remembering that he wasn't at his best. Every time he moved, his body registered aches and pains. He hid behind a station wagon, dusty and spotted from some recent rain, and his gaze came to rest on a trailer hitch.