Dr. Dargon's hands fluttered near his waist. "No, no, I assure you -"

"Please spare me your assurances," Illya cut in. "Where is the hangar?"

Dargon indicated blue steel doors in the distance. "Just through there."

They moved ahead. Mei walked close to Illya on his left side. Her pretty face showed the ravages of fatigue and pain.

"Mr. Kuryakin, do you think you can fly the airplane the doctor told you about?" she said.

Illya shrugged. "He described it as a Nova Class IV two-jet fighter-bomber. I have had some training with that type of aircraft. Enough to give it a try, anyway. While I'm at the controls you will have to watch our guide."

The girl paled. With some weariness, Illya said, "For heaven's sake why are you trembling?"

"I - I have never been in an airplane before."

He didn't bother to tell Mei that he had been boasting about his flying ability. He could pilot smaller planes under reasonably normal circumstances. He had not taken over the Air Pan-Asia jet because of the weather, and his lack of formal training on huge commercial aircraft. He quite possibly might crack them all up on one of the Himalayas, provided they got that far.

"We'll come out of this all right," he reassured the girl. "I'll use the plane's radio to call Hong Kong and warn those at the conference to evacuate the Hotel International. There are many people depending on us, Mei. We have to come through."

Kuryakin, he thought to himself, you are a shameless liar.

Dr. Dargon had reached the blue steel doors. He turned around. Ceiling lights flared off the lenses of his spectacles.

"I can offer no guarantee that the aircraft will be in the hangar, Mr. Kuryakin."

"For your longevity's sake," Illya said, "I hope it is. Please go ahead."

With a bob of his head Dr. Dargon extended his hands in front of him, as if to use his palms to push the door open. His gesture brought instant pandemonium.

Sirens and bells went off. Illya was getting rather used to the racket by now. Sections of cinder block wall pivoted back and the impersonal lenses of television cameras began scanning the corridor. Illya gave Dargon a smack in the back of the head with the captured pistol.

"You filthy double-crosser! I didn't see you touch anything -"

Dr. Dargon giggled. "The detectors concealed in the frame of these steel doors are extremely sensitive. They detect even heat emitted by human bodies. Thus the slightest change in corridor temperature activates the alarms. No physical contact is necessary for -

down here! Save me!" Dargon squealed, glancing past Illya.

THRUSH had appeared at the corridor's far end. Illya dragged Dargon around in front of him to serve as a shield. He squeezed off a shot at the officer in the lead of the pack. It was Major Otako.

Illya's bullet missed. The major flattened against the wall. His S-scar shone with pallid ugliness. Illya said over his shoulder, "Try the door, Mei."

After a moment he heard her say, "It is locked." Panic edged into her voice.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot! It's I, Dargon!" the scientist cried, struggling in Illya's grip.

Major Otako seemed unconcerned that the THRUSH intellectual was currently serving as Illya's shield. Otako wigwagged with his swagger stick. "What are you waiting for, men? Fill the old gas-bag with bullets if necessary. His work is done. I want the U.N.C.L.E. agents."

Savagely Illya tightened the crook of his left arm around Dargon's neck. "Well, Doctor," he snarled, "they have as few scruples as you. So we'll all die together, unless you know how to open this door."

Dargon thought it over only for a second. "The - the middle hinge. It contains a removable section. Inside you will find a small button."

Mei bent over the hinge. Illya squeezed off two more shots. They tore holes in the cinderblocks but missed Otako. The THRUSH soldiers had formed two ranks. The ones in the first were kneeling, aiming their rifles. Illya felt a tug on his robe. He turned and leaped through the door, pulling Dr. Dargon with him as a volley of shots ripped into the wall around the opened door.

Illya and Dargon sprawled on oil-stained concrete. Illya jumped up. He dragged Dargon by the collar. Their shadows sprang out before them in the huge hangar. Behind, Otako screamed frenzied orders.

The fuselage door of the Nova IV fighter-bomber stood open. A mechanic poked his head out. He yelled as the party of three escapees came pelting toward him.

The mechanic tore a pistol from his coverall pocket. Illya shot. The mechanic dropped out of the fuselage door and thudded on the cement.

"Inside, and don't stand on ceremony," Illya said. He shoved the flailing Dargon up to the fuselage door and gave him a kick aft to help him along. Then he spun around and fired a shot which felled a THRUST soldier.

Major Otako was urging his men forward. He had found a submachine gun which he was leveling at Illya as the latter boosted Mei into the plane and scrambled after her.

A second after Illya closed the hatch, bullets began to ping their way along the skin of the aircraft. No holes appeared. Evidently THRUSH had built well, using some armored alloy.

Illya tossed the gun to Mei and indicated Dargon. "As the major put it so eloquently - if he moves, fill the old gas-bag with bullets."

He raced for the cockpit. Bullets spanged and thudded against the cockpit windows as Illya dropped into the bucket, ran his eye down the controls. He hit two of the labeled switches. The wide corrugated steel door of the hangar immediately began to grind aside on a motorized track.

The cockpit windows now displayed several star-marks from the impact of bullets. By peering through these, Illya could make out the THRUSH soldiers ringing the plane, pumping shots at it relentlessly. Major Otako looked irate. He actually trembled. Illya threw switches with desperate haste.

Outside, Otako tossed aside the gun in disgust. Signaling several others to follow him, he disappeared.

The Nova IV fighter-bomber was a huge, sleek craft with an immense V-swept wing. The plane's two powerful jet engines were located at the tail. Illya found the controls for switching these on. He did not do so immediately. Instead he followed the pre-flight check list, a small card hanging above the instrument panel.

Never before, Illya supposed, had the check been done so fast. Slap, slap, snap, snap. He threw switches practically without looking at them. He hoped he was hitting all the right ones. At last he ignited the jet engines and felt the Nova IV strain forward.

He took the controls, swallowing hard. The Nova IV began to roll toward the black field. At last the hangar doors passed out of sight behind.

Illya increased taxiing speed. Mei had come up behind him. Dr. Dargon slumped limply against the cockpit wall. His expression indicated that he had abandoned nearly all hope. Illya sent the plane racing toward the sharp turn onto the main runway, where parallel lines of blue beacon lights along the runway's edge led oil into the darkness and the point of no return.

Abruptly the cockpit was splashed with light. Powerful searchlights from the headquarters buildings crisscrossed the field. Mei shrieked low and pointed behind her.

Out the starboard window Illya saw an open military vehicle rolling alongside the plane, careening and veering to keep pace. The THRUSH driver looked petrified. Legs braced wide apart, Major Otako stood in the vehicle's rear. His fingers were locked on the handgrips of a peculiar weapon on a swivel mount. The weapon resembled a conventional machine gun except for the bright metal coils twisted around the barrel.