"This looks ridiculously easy," he said. "There's a helicopter out there—with huge blades, no doubt so it can fly silently—and only about a dozen men around it. We have carried the day."

"It looks to me," said Zoltan doubtfully, "as though we may have some work still to do."

Illya shook his head, and pulled his transceiver out of the recesses of his helmet. He extended the aerial and spoke softly. "Channel L, please....Hello, there. We are ready—make your drop in the courtyard of the castle. We'll be waiting." The little metal tube whispered an answer, and Illya folded the antenna.

"That's all there is to it," he said. "As soon as I found out Thrush was involved—this morning, while you were lying slugabed, Napoleon—I sent off to Bucharest for a small assault force. When you were captured I radioed and found them just at Pokol, awaiting only specific directions on where to attack. They should be here in fifteen minutes. Thrush does not have an exclusive copyright on the use of helicopters."

Chapter 16: "He's Lying, Of Course."

After a few minutes there were voices out in the courtyard, shouting back and forth to each other:

"No sign of them below—have you seen anything up here?"

"Nothing. How's the power coming?"

"Be restored in another minute. Make sure no lights are where they can be seen—we tried a lot of switches, and some of them might have been left on."

"All lights are covered—go ahead."

There was a few seconds' pause, and then suddenly the conveyor belt began to shake, and lights sprang on ahead of them. And then the belt was moving.

Napoleon had just time to draw his automatic before he was carried out into the icy night air and dumped unceremoniously on top of Illya, who was already sprawled on snow-dusted stones at the end of the belt. They managed to scramble out of the way before Hilda was catapulted, kicking, to the floor, closely followed by Zoltan, who managed to land on his feet.

Before he landed, however, there was a shout from a guard and a bullet screamed off into space from the stone near them. Napoleon and Illya each grabbed an arm and carried Hilda backwards between them to a place of cover behind the conveyor belt, which had just ground to a stop again. Zoltan leaped to join them a moment later, slugs yapping at his heels.

"They're only being foolish," said Napoleon. "After all, we have them at our mercy."

"Perhaps we should tell them so," said Illya. "Why don't you just stand up and order them to surrender?"

Napoleon declined to answer.

Soon the gunshots stopped from the courtyard except for an occasional slug which spattered off the wall above them. One showered them with particles of metal and stone, but none came close enough to cause any damage.

"They're trying to hold us down," said Illya. "They're probably working their way around us at this moment. I think we had better relocate before they move in, and the property values suddenly go down."

The nearest cover was a pile of crates a good twenty feet away. Napoleon looked at his partner "Feel like being a running target?"

"Not especially, but I prefer it to being a sitting one. Can you give me cover?"

"No trouble." Napoleon stuck his gun hand and sighting eye around the end of the conveyor and fired in the general direction of their sniper. An instant later Illya was off and running, his figure crouched low in the dimness. There was a shout from across the yard, and a spotlight swung towards them. Napoleon smiled and shook his head as he leaned out once again and let off three quick slugs at the light. There was a shattering of glass and the spot was gone. He ducked back and fished out his transceiver.

"Illya? You okay?"

"Just fine. Come on the over when you get a chance—there's a regular warren behind these crates. We can hide out here for hours."

"Sounds like a nice place to wait for our reinforcements. Give us about thirty seconds to get ready, and then put up some covering fire." He closed the transceiver, and crawled over to where Hilda lay up against Zoltan, his arms around her protectively.

"I hate to disturb you when you've just gotten comfortable," he said, "but there's a much nicer place just next door, and this place may be flooded out any moment now."

"What do you mean?" Hilda started to ask as she sat up, but she was interrupted by the scraping of a footstep on the other side of the conveyor. Napoleon sprang to his feet, forgetting the cover, and fired almost point-blank at an unprepared Thrush soldier no more than five feet away. He had three more slugs in three more men before their weapons were ready, his U.N.C.L.E. Special leaping in his fist as fast as he could swing it and pull the trigger.

He ducked down again as a hail of lead shattered the stonework behind where he had been standing. "Don't look now," he said, "but we're being invaded. Get out there and run as if a real vampire were after you. I'll be right behind you, and if you don't move fast you'll be stepped on. Now move!"

They moved. Bullets sang around them, but none struck home, and after a few seconds which seemed like five minutes they dropped into a crouch behind the first pile of packing crates.

Hilda looked around nervously. "How safe are we here?"

"Not very," said Napoleon casually. "The boxes are only thin wood and cardboard. All they do is give us more hiding places. If they really wanted to get rid of us enough to use a machine gun, they could stitch the whole area full of holes in a matter of a few seconds, ruining a lot of perfectly good boxes in the process. If they start that, all we can do is lie very close to the ground and cross our fingers. But for the time being..."

A few shots sounded hesitantly from across the courtyard, and slapped through the boxes several feet from them.

Hilda started, but Napoleon shrugged. "Just shooting in the dark," he said. "Trying to keep us nervous. They don't dare come in here after us—we could pick them off from ambush." He dropped the empty clip from his automatic into a pocket and replaced it with a full one. He worked the slide once, and then let the hammer down gently with his thumb.

Out in the courtyard a starter motor whined briefly, and then the roar of an internal-combustion engine filled the night. It coughed, roared again, and then the sound softened to a whisper. Something went whuffa-whuffa-whuffa-whuffa, and Illya said, "They've started the helicopter. I was right—it is quiet." He snapped his fingers. "There's our vampire—a flying harness slung from the copter. There was always fog, and..."

"Of course," said Napoleon suddenly. "There was always that wind when he showed up—you mentioned it the time you saw him in Hilda's room. I should have recognized it in the forest. Nothing makes a wind like that except a helicopter."

"I think you can be forgiven," said Illya, "under the circumstances."

The sound of the blades speeded up and the soft note of the engine deepened. "They're taking off," said Illya suddenly.

Then they could hear, coming closer, the familiar sound of an unmuffled helicopter. Their transceivers twittered in unison, and Napoleon answered.

"Solo—Kuryakin," cracked the voice. "We are coming in. Are you all right?"

"We are all right," said Napoleon. "But watch out for another copter coming up to meet you. It's probably armed, and dangerous."