"Good enough," Napoleon said. "Now we had better get back downtown if we're going to get any sleep at all tonight. He glanced at his watch and groaned. "One-thirty already. Let's get back to the car."

Brattner looked up quizzically as Napoleon and Illya climbed into the car. "She took it by mistake while she was half asleep." Napoleon explained. "Keep the detectors on; we'll run a check of transmitter life. It varies according to whose stomach it's in, you know."

As the car pulled out into the street, the detector beeped again. "Oh, shut up!" Illya muttered irritably, then stopped abruptly as he looked at his wrist detector. "What does yours show?" he asked Brattner.

"Not much," he replied, then slowed the car to take a more careful look. "Hey, it's moved—I think."

Illya was checking his wrist detector. "Hard to tell, it hasn't moved far yet. Wait for another signal."

Brattner stopped the car completely and all three agents watched the screen of the larger detector. The next beep came on schedule and showed that the transmitter had definitely moved. "At a guess, they're headed for the south side on Lake Drive," Brattner said, and gunned the car forward.

"Don't make too good time," Napoleon said. "We want to trail them, not head them off." He smiled in rueful admiration. "That was a slick operation. Thrush must have had someone watching the house, and they slipped in while we were having our little conference with the local agents. Very efficient."

Illya nodded. "But a trap is a trap, no matter how efficiently one walks into it. Old Russian proverb."

"I thought you were too sleepy for that sort of thing," Napoleon complained. "Incidentally, Don, where are the other two agents, the ones on the day shift?"

"Home in bed, I hope," Brattner replied. "They're due back on duty at seven. Why?"

"I was thinking that the agents back at the house should be notified that their quarry is gone, so they can get some sleep themselves. We'll need everybody on the job tomorrow—today, rather. And since they don't have their communicators, you can't reach them directly."

"You're right. I'll call George and have him drive over. He's up with a sick kid half the time anyway. Or maybe you'd better call, since I'm driving. It's channel J."

Napoleon made the call; instructing George to notify all agents to assemble at headquarters with full equipment at six A.M. Brattner muttered something about "undermanned" but continued driving. They came to a swooping downhill curve that went past a set of darkened tennis courts. He pulled off to one side of the street and turned off the lights. "That's the Drive down there at the flasher," he explained. "We'll wait here until we get another transmission. We might even be able to spot the car, if we're lucky. If it hasn't gone by already. If it's really on the Drive."

The beep came a minute later. Brattner looked at the screen. "South, but not far. They must have passed just before we got here." He flipped on the lights and drove on down the hill and past the flasher onto the Drive.

Ten minutes later, they were off the Drive and parked on a back street in an industrial section, waiting for another signal. On the left and ahead, something belched flame into the night, and on the right, a tremendous, brightly lighted clock tower was visible a half mile away. Napoleon noted with distaste that it was almost two o'clock.

The next signal was still from the south and farther away. "They could be heading for the south expressway and Chicago," Brattner commented.

"Let's hope not," said Napoleon. "We've had enough problems with Chicago recently."

The next beep showed their quarry pulling to the east, paralleling the lake shore. Brattner looked puzzled as he pulled out and drove southeast on Kinnickinnic. "A suburb?" he asked of no one in particular. "No wonder we couldn't find their new headquarters. If Thrush can afford to move into the suburbs, why can't we?" he muttered resentfully.

Two beeps later, they were sitting in the middle of the suburb of Cudahy. "Looks like this is the place," Illya noted. "They didn't move between the last two signals."

Brattner nodded. "Back northeast," he said. "We should be able to get within range of the wrist detector by the next signal."

It took them fifty minutes and four more beeps to narrow the search down to a twelve-unit apartment house two blocks from the suburb's main business section.

"Now what?" Brattner inquired. "We don't have enough men to raid a place that size. For that matter, two months ago Thrush didn't have enough men to defend it. They must have been bringing in agents while we were sending ours to San Sebastian."

"Maybe they've just taken part of the building," Napoleon suggested. "How many men are there in the local satrapy?"

"It varies. The last time we had an accurate count, they had six. That was right before Forbes and McNulty arrived. I know one of those is in jail at the moment; he was trying to get away from George the other night and had the misfortune to run into a police car. But I don't know how many they may have added recently."

"Okay," Napoleon said. "We'll have to do the best we can. Tell your men to get down here first thing in the morning. We'll stay here and keep an eye on the place. I'd like to observe the comings and goings for a while before we charge in blindly; perhaps we can get some idea of Thrush's strength by the time your men arrive."

Napoleon turned to Illya. "We'll take turns watching," he said. "You dozed at the local headquarters. It's my turn now." Without waiting for Illya's protest, he slouched down in the seat and closed his eyes.

Brattner sighed, took out his communicator and began making calls.

Chapter 5

"You Never Know When a Dirigible Will Come in Handy"

Kerry stood in the doorway for a second, watching Illya and Napoleon cross the porch and start down the front steps. Reluctantly, she closed the door and turned back toward her bedroom. The two agents had been very patient and understanding, but she still felt embarrassed about the incident. She wasn't used to making such silly mistakes, and she wouldn't blame Illya if he thought her an utter fool. And he was really rather sweet, the thought, as well as intelligent enough to understand a government proposal at first glance.

Embarrassment and the effects of the sudden awakening made her feel anything but sleepy. She hesitated a moment at the bedroom door, then continued down the hallway toward the kitchen. Something to eat would settle her nerves, she thought as she pushed open the kitchen door. A glass of milk, perhaps, and a piece of cold chicken would make a good snack.

As she reached for the light switch, something that felt like a steel band clamped itself around her waist and an enormous hand covered her mouth and most of her face. A voice came from the semi-darkness in front of her.

"Now then, Miss Griffin, we don't want to be unmannerly about this, but on the other hand we can't allow you to scream for help or turn on any more lights. There are at least two U.N.C.L.E. agents with fairly sharp ears and eyes just outside. We have gun, of course—one pointed directly at you, by the way—but we don't want to cause any more disturbance than necessary. So if you will promise to behave quietly, we can avoid such unpleasantnesses as tying and gagging you. If you agree, nod your head."