leaving it dangling, they turned to other work.

Into an inflated tub they poured a gallon of murky liquid from a plastic jug. Then, attacking the slab of concrete with short heavy bars, they broke it into fist-sized pieces and tossed them into the tub. There the chunks softened, mushed, and were beaten into a dark gray pulp by the umbrella-like ribs of the device that had pulled the slab from the wall.

While it cured, the men took pressurized tanks from the bottom of the other satchel and sprayed from them a heavy white foam which billowed into the space between the walls, hardening in seconds to surround the electronic block and its supporting member. As it bulged slightly out the opening they packed it back with their hands, leaving the stiff lumpy white surface about six inches inset from the surrounding wall. Simultaneously they worked the protruding rod slightly to assure it free play through the solidified insulating foam and positioned the small square of wire roughly even with the outer wall surface.

Then they slipped on plastic gloves and began to knead the gray mass in their inflated tub. The malleable, still-warm cement was picked up in double handfuls and slapped into the cavity, packed carefully from the bottom up.

In minutes the indentation was filled, flush at the edges and very faintly concave at the center where a barely perceptible inch-and-a-half square was barely visible. The heavy cracking bars doubled as squeegees to plane the face of the fresh cement as smooth as that surrounding. The color where they worked was a close match around the perimeter; slightly darker, but lightening perceptibly as they left it to finish drying and continued their task.

They disconnected the saws and brought out a small vacuum cleaner with a bag attached. Then while one folded the deflated plastic tub around a congealing lump of extra cement and stowed it, the other picked up all the loose dust which had settled to the floor. He was not quite through when the hum of the powerful little fan wavered slightly and began to fall in pitch; before it died a minute later he managed to pick up all but a few stray grains. These he crushed underfoot and scattered.

He stowed the vacuum while his partner brought out two tall cans with spray nozzles. Starting at the center with a few squirts of paint to cover the metal square, he sprayed towards one side as the second can was employed towards the other. Around the edges the dark green was an almost perfect match; in three hours it would dry to an indistinguishable shade. They sprayed lightly along the wall parallel to the floor in random diminishing patterns to blend the edges of the new paint with the old. A horizontal visual cue is less obvious than a vertical one.

Even knowing where they had worked, both men silently agreed as they stood back and looked at their handiwork that the location had been completely concealed and camouflaged. One removed the light from its tripod and carried it back and forth, examining the effect from various angles of incidence; neither of them could be quite sure where the sensor square lay hidden behind a single thin coat of paint.

The other collapsed the tripod and slipped it back into his satchel, while his partner, with the light, scanned the floor carefully one more time.

A crumb of concrete as big as a birdseed caught his eye; he stooped and powdered it between his fingers, blowing the dust into oblivion.

Then he rose, nodded, and picked up his satchel. The light swung around towards a wide, slightly oil-stained ramp which curved upward out of sight, and preceded them along it. Black silhouettes against the bent circle of light framed in the square arch of the doorway, they retreated, crepe-soled feet silent on the hard floor.

Total blackness returned by degrees as their light faded and was gone, leaving silence and darkness behind them, and a faint and fading smell of electricity, hot metal and wet paint.

It was just over two years before they returned.

—TABLE OF CONTENTS-SECTION I: “How Do I Prophesy A Curse…”

Chapter 1 : “I Assume It Is More Complicated Than That.” [7]

2: “Little Sirrocco, How Do You Do?” [11]

3: “Hold My Hand.” [17]

4: “Ready To Do It —” [24]

SECTION II: “Now Let It Work.”

5: “Great Balls of Fire.” [30]

6: “It’s Clobberin’ Time!” [34]

7: “SYNLOC / TESTOK” [39]

8: “Oh, We Had To Carry Harry…” [44]

SECTION III: “Cry ‘Havoc!’ And Let Slip The Dogs Of War.”

9: “Where Have You Been All My Life?” [50]

10: “You’d Better Humor Him.” [56]

11: “Absolute1y Fascinating!” [62]

12: “It’s A Nice Little Plan.” [66]

SECTION IV: “Oh, What A Fall Was There.”

13: “We’ve Just Been Destroyed.” [71]

14: “Who’s Fluent In Dolphin?” [77]

15: “Then Don’t Touch The Other One.” [85]

16: “Sometime Again. Napoleon.” [100]

SECTION I: “Now Do I Prophesy A Curse…”

CHAPTER ONE

“I Assume It Is More Complicated Than That.”

Alexander Waverly motioned his two top agents to chairs at the big round black-leather conference table. “You seem in such excellent spirits — do you want to hear the worst part first?”

“Why not?”

“We’d like you both to go to San Francisco.”

“Not —”

“you will not be expected to contact Ward Baldwin during your stay there. In fact, it is imperative that he remain unaware of your presence.”

Napoleon relaxed perceptibly. “In that case, it would be a positive pleasure.”

“You left rather more than your heart there. as I recall,” Illya said.

“If that’s the worst part of it. Mr. Waverly. the job should be a cream puff.

Why send us? We have good people out there —why not use Baker and Glass?”

“They don’t have your background in heavy weaponry. Besides. they’re tied up in Los Angeles. You. Mr. Kuryakin, should find the subject of your assignment most interesting.

“But before I continue there are a few top secrets you now need to know.

For some time we have had a man deep inside the Thrush satrapy in San Francisco; how their security has been compromised for more than a year is rather a fine piece of work, which will be explained in detail to you by someone more qualified than I. Last month. this man reported to us the existence of a new and terrible weapon —a handgun of fantastic power.”

“Worse than the Particle Accelerator Rifle?”

“More destructive, smaller, and safer. Technologically, this is vastly more sophisticated. I presume you know what a ‘plasmoid’ is?”

“It’s a mass of ionized gas held together by its own electrical charge or something like that,” said Illya.

“Like ball lightning?” Napoleon asked.

“More or less. But since ball lightning was officially declared an unfounded folk tale for several decades, the naturally occurring plasmoid effect is now called Kugelblitz.”

“Which is German for Ball Lightning. Okay. Does this gadget shoot ball lightning?”

“The device is, in fact, called the Kugelblitzgewehr,” said Mr. Waverly.

“Commonly referred to as the KBG.”

“It would sound silly to call it a Ball-Lightning Gun,” said Illya.

“You mean it does?”

“It has been reported to generate and launch plasmoids of varying size.

range and power, depending on the report. We can tell practically nothing from what we have heard so far. You will meet a man in San Francisco named Harry Stevens. Learn from him what you want to know and tell him what you want to find out. His contact will be expecting you.”

Napoleon tapped the manila envelope which lay before him. “Data on the contact in here? What’s his position?”

“She is a dancer in a Greek restaurant on Grant Avenue. Her professional name is Little Sirrocco.”