"I checked the doors," said Illya. "All locked. Apparently they aren't completely lax on security. Want to check the other side of the stairwell?"

They moved quietly back to the central space, and checked through the facing door. An identical bank of offices, with a large wooden door at the far end, in the same position as the unfinished shaft on the other side. And as they looked, lights faded on behind them. They straightened slowly, and did not turn.

A voice behind them said politely, "Straight ahead, gentlemen, and through the door at the far end." The voice spoke in a tone which indicated it came from behind a gun.

Napoleon was first, and Illya followed him. As their captor came last through the door, Illya spoke. "Good evening, Mr. Rainbow. Sorry to drop in unexpectedly like this, but the storm was getting worse."

A soft chuckle came from behind them. "I am slightly hurt that you spied out my hideaway so quickly. Obviously I erred in attempting to bring Mr. Solo here with inadequate preparation."

"As you see, I made it anyway," said Napoleon. "Nice little place you have here."

"Thank you. It just shows what one can do if one is handy with money. Yes, just push the doorhandle and go in. I'm afraid we haven't got automatic doors yet."

Illya snorted. "Automatic doors? You don't even have an elevator!"

"Illya!" said Napoleon. "That's rude!"

"Help yourselves to chairs, please." The door closed behind them and the room lights faded on. They found soft, form-fitting chairs and sat down. Out from behind them strolled a stocky figure, informally clad, with a pipe in one hand and the other in a pocket.

"I hope you're comfortable," he said. "Would you care for a drink?"

They declined politely. He touched a button on the large desk that dominated the comfortably furnished room. Some thirty seconds later there was a sharp rap at the door, and two armed men came in, both in pajamas.

"Pete, Willy, will you get our guests settled in comfortably? I'll want to talk with them in the morning." He shifted his attention to Napoleon. "It will be a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Solo. I have been warned about you many times."

Napoleon and Illya were helped out of their chairs and hustled out of the room again and down the hail. As they went, Napoleon managed to ask Illya, "He didn't have a gun on us, did he?"

Illya shook his head, and looked sour.

Somewhat to Napoleon's surprise, they did spend rather a comfortable night, although fully aware of the locks on their door. His watch registered nine o'clock when there was a buzz at the door, and a voice announced, "Breakfast."

"Bring it in," said Illya with a shrug to Solo.

Two armed men brought in trays and set them on a table. "Best fresh up a bit," one of them said. "The old man'll be wanting to see you in an hour or so. Just stack the trays by the door, sir." And they popped out, drop ping the latch behind them.

Breakfast taken care of, the U.N.C.L.E. agents found a washstand and other sanitary necessities in an adjoining room. By shortly after ten they were reasonably well-kempt and ready to meet their host again. The escort was announced by another buzz at the door; Illya opened it to find two different men. One of them threw him a casual salute.

"Mr. Rainbow requests your presence," he said. "Come along."

They came, down a corridor, up a flight of stairs, and back into the same master office they had visited the night before. Lights were on now, and the furnishings of the room could be seen. It was almost spartan in its simplicity, with only a few concessions to comfort. The desk was large enough to double as a map-table, and doubtless often did. The chair behind it was upright but comfortable, and capable of some movement. The other chairs of the office were low, form-fitting designs of slick leather. They struck a jarringly sybaritic note in the sturdy practical decor.

Napoleon and Illya sank, side by side, into two of them. "You like to make your guests comfortable, at least," Napoleon commented.

"Quite practical," said Rainbow. "A comfortable man is easier to deal with. They also take quite some time and effort to arise from, giving me an edge should I be forced to defend myself."

He sank into the chair behind the desk and leaned forward to watch them. "At last I have you both where I can ask you. Precisely why is the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement interested in a man who is, essentially, only a very good bank robber?"

Illya looked pointedly at Napoleon and said, "I've been wondering that myself."

Napoleon shook his head. "Only because that bank robber was showing interest in Thrush. Enough of your operations are already known to put you away for quite some time."

"Quite true, Mr. Solo - quite true. But first I will have to be found. This lighthouse represents my stronghold, and a considerable investment as well. Yet here you are, in the midst of it. This could compromise my security." He shook his head.

"The easiest way out is to clump you off the cliffs into the sea, with your heads staved in. You would have been dashed to pieces by the storm. But I dislike murder."

"I'm inexpressibly pleased to hear that," said Napoleon.

Rainbow smiled. "No doubt. Perhaps this would be the time to try one of the last shipments of largess from Thrush. It's a hypnotic which allows selected portions of the subject's memory to be completely blanked out. It's quite safe, and otherwise harmless. This would be a perfect opportunity to try it out."

Illya glanced around from where he lay. "This isn't much of secret hideout," he said. "No TV monitors, no banks of communications gear, no computers humming away... How do you accomplish anything?"

"Our communications gear is up in the light tower. We have a few small computer accessories - we keep punch-card files on every available worker capable of functioning within our discipline for a period. We can find the right man for any job in a matter of seconds. But we don't have electronic calculators. I'd like to have a television monitoring system installed in the next year or so, but it's taken an unconscionable amount of money getting it this far." He gestured around the room.

"The entire volume of this rock was hollowed out by demolitions experts, trained in the military, now renting their talents out to those who can pay. Other members of our ranks did the finishing, installed the necessary machinery in the lowest level, and got everything working. We have a dependable source of electric power, fresh running water - all the comforts of civilization."

He leaned back in his chair. "You will pardon me for being proud of the place," he said. "You may also be interested to know that when I bought this island from the Crown in 1964, I was faced with only one severely competitive bid. I later traced it to Thrush, before they were even certain of my existence. I have always fancied this as rather a coup."

"You've done all this in only three years?"

"In my spare time, and with a great deal of help. There are three levels below the surface of the rock, and the lowest is also below sea level. That is where the generators, air conditioners, water-purifiers and pumps are located. Presently the generators burn diesel fuel; we are working on a system to use the energy of the waves, or the tides. The second level, where we are presently, contains the offices of my specialists and advisors. The immediately subsurface level contains the residential section. The accommodations are not of the finest, but considering the expense I think I may well be proud of it."