Act I
"It Must be a Spring Day if April is Here"

Dov Kapiloff had been practicing this maneuver for weeks. But he had to admit he didn't have the butterflies in his stomach then as he did now.

John F. Kennedy International Airport was typically busy for a weekday. As the primary international departure and arrival point for the New York City area, people of all nationalities passed by one another at JFK. The bald, thin man in the three-piece gray suit could have been mistaken for a diamond merchant from Antwerp, a entrepreneur from London or an executive from the United States.

He wasn't any of those, of course. He was a courier for the criminal organization known as Thrush.

Kapiloff had been studying the man's movements the past few weeks. It had taken some doing, but the Israeli agent of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement had established a rough approximation of his routine. The skinny man -- his name was believed to be Rollins -- varied his travels somewhat. But Kaplioff had correctly deduced Rollins would be coming through JFK on this Wednesday.

Kapliloff, standing at the counter, took the lid off his fresh coffee and began walking in Rollins' direction. Rollins didn't see him coming until Kapiloff had spilled the steaming coffee all over the courier. Rollins let out a scream.

"Oh sir, I am so sorry--" Kapiloff said, taking the handkerchief from his dark blue suit jacket.

"You clumsy idiot," Rollins said. "You could have burned me. Just get out of my --"

Rollins had raised his voice so much he didn't hear the gas hissing from Kapiloff's watch. The Israeli was wearing special nose filters and wasn't affected.

"Sir, you must let me assist. You must."

"I, uh..."

"You must let me help you," Kapiloff said.

"I must let you. Of course." Rollins' eyes were now blank.

"Quickly, come with me. I know a place you can clean up in a hurry. Even clean your clothes. You must."

"I must."

The two men began walking side by side, with Kapiloff tugging at Rollins' left arm, but in a way that a casual observer wouldn't notice it. They made good time into the main terminal. A taxi pulled up quickly to the two men and Kapiloff nudged Rollins into the back seat. The taxi pulled into traffic.

The next morning, Napoleon Solo walked through the automatic sliding door into Alexander Waverly's office at U.N.C.L.E.'s New York headquarters. He had a message waiting for him to see Waverly the moment he arrived for work.

Waverly was by himself at the round conference table in the office. "Thank you for being so prompt, Mr. Solo," Waverly said, looking up at Solo. "Please sit down."

"The message indicated I shouldn't wait," Solo said.

A large projection screen came down from the ceiling. An image of a documents came on; a different image came on the screen roughly every five seconds.

"These are papers we seized from a Thrush courier yesterday. A new man of ours had established a pattern of travel for the courier in question and, eh, persuaded him to drop by Mr. Del Floria's yesterday afternoon."

"Would that be Mr. Kapiloff?" Solo said.

"You've had a chance to meet?"

"Not yet," Solo said. "I knew he was newly assigned to New York. Hasn't been an agent that long. I understand he's considered quite promising."

"Yes, quite," Waverly said. "As far as we knew, this was a relatively routine run of information. Thought it would be good for Mr. Kapiloff to have a baptism of fire, so to speak. However, we received a bit of a jolt."

The images stopped with a diagram of some kind of space satellite, looking like almost any communication satellite. There was one exception. The diagram indicated that weaponry was to be placed at various points of the satellite.

"We've only been able to do preliminary decoding," Waverly said. "But this diagram is unmistakably a drawing of a space weapon, more specifically a laser weapon. Do you recall the affair a few months ago at Paris and the Sorbonne, Mr. Solo?"

"Of course, sir," Solo said. "Thrush attempted to kidnap two physicists to aid development of a space weapon. I presume this is it."

"Absolutely," Waverly said sternly. "Not only that, but the early decoding indicates that Thrush is ahead of schedule on the project. Until now, it was thought Thrush was still three years away from developing a practical model. Now, according to the early decoding, it's more like a year to eighteen months. Although you, Mr. Kuryakin and members of our French station were successful in preventing the two physicists from falling into Thrush hands, it appears Thrush still has made progress. We cannot permit this to continue."

"Is there anything in the papers seized from the courier concerning where Thrush is developing the weapon?"

"We believe the work is taking place in Japan," Waverly said. "However, with the seizure of these documents, it's going to be difficult to determine where. Thrush personnel involved with the project will almost certainly take an even lower profile than before. We have to assume they know all about the capture of their courier."

Solo pondered for a moment. "Well, there is something that might alter their plans," he said.

"Which is?"

Solo rose and walked toward the screen. "Presumably, if Thrush were to gain the services of either physicist it sought in Paris, they could make even faster progress. As I recall, both of the individuals had talents considered unique."

"Indeed," Waverly said.

"If we could get one of those individuals to stake themselves out, play Judas goat as it were, Thrush may still be tempted to obtain their services -- even knowing U.N.C.L.E. has possession of these documents."

"Eh, I was hoping you might say something like that, Mr. Solo."

Solo grinned slightly. The old fox was probably going to suggest it if I stayed quiet, he thought. "As I recall, there was a Frenchman," Solo said.

"Professor Guy LeGuerre," Waverly said. "Unfortunately, he's not available. He just underwent a relatively routine prostate surgery. He'll be all right but not terribly mobile for the immediate future. I don't think we can reasonably expect to use him as bait."

"Which means our other candidate is Katarina Delgato, current resident of London, I believe. She works at a think tank there, if I recall," Solo said. "Of course, she also has a personal connection to Mr. Kuryakin. They both studied at the Sorbonne and, eh, renewed their acquaintance at a reunion of honored Sobonne students."

"Bravo, Mr. Solo," Waverly said. "A succinct summary."

Solo clapped his hands and held them in place. "The answer seems relatively simple. We get Mr. Kuryakin to persuade Miss Delgato to accompany us to Japan."

"Not quite, Mr. Solo," Waverly said.

Solo frowned. Waverly threw the occasional changeup. Most of the time Solo saw it coming but had to admit that this time he had been caught totally by surprise. "I don't understand, sir. Mr. Kuryakin knows Miss Delgato, uh, fairly well. He would have the best chance of anyone in U.N.C.L.E. to gain Miss Delgato's confidence."

"True enough," Waverly said, rising from the table and putting his pipe into his mouth. "Probably knows Miss Delgato too well to maintain an objective outlook on this affair. I think you will have to go down another path."

"But sir," Solo said, "Mr. Kuryakin and I work very well together. On a mission of this importance ---"

"I am quite familiar with Mr. Kuryakin's talents as well as your own," Waverly said abruptly. "On the Sorbonne matter, I perhaps underestimated Mr. Kuryakin's relationship with Miss Delgato." Waverly leaned over and flipped an intercom switch. "Send in Miss Dancer."

A few seconds later, the sliding door opened once more. April Dancer, another one of U.N.C.L.E.'s top enforcement agents, entered, wearing a white turtleneck sweater and blue skirt cut at the knees. The brunette glanced in Solo's direction. Her face didn't betray a reaction, but her eyes scanned Solo intently. Solo concluded she, too, was surprised.

April paused a moment and then spoke. "I'm sorry, sir, I thought --"

"Oh, come in, Miss Dancer. Yes, I sent for you," Waverly said. He turned to Solo. "Miss Dancer has worked a number of successful assignments in the Far East over the past eighteen months. She has probably been to that region a bit more often than yourself. Therefore, I've concluded that Miss Dancer would be a more appropriate colleague for this assignment. I suggest we all sit down."

For April's benefit, Waverly went through a brief recap of the conversation he had just had with Solo. "I want you two to organize a trip to London as quickly as possible to see Miss Delgato. As it turns out, there is a scientific conference scheduled in one week's time at Kyoto. If we can get Miss Delgato's cooperation, I believe we can get her into that conference. That would be as good an opportunity as any, I would think."

"Where might Mr. Kuryakin be?" Solo asked.

"As it turns out, he left for the European continent last night on a mission that came up suddenly," Waverly said. "If that affair should resolve itself quickly, I'm sure our station chiefs in Paris or Rome could make use of his services, not to mention the Berlin regional headquarters. However, I suspect his path won't veer toward London for the interim."

Well, Mr. Waverly usually thinks of everything, Solo thought. Still, he would give it one more try.

"What if we are unable to persuade Miss Delgato?" Solo said.

"Just see that you do. Is that all, Mr. Solo, Miss Dancer?" Waverly said.

"Yes, sir," Solo said.

"Good, then. Best of hunting. Once you've gained Miss Delgato's cooperation, you'll work through the Tokyo regional headquarters."

A few minutes later, April entered Solo's office and found U.N.C.L.E.'s number one enforcement agent leaning back in the chair at his desk.

"Excuse me, Napoleon, but do you have a few minutes?" she said.

Solo stared off for a moment, as if he hadn't heard April. He then focused on April and responded. "By all means, April. Sit down," he said, motioning to a chair.

"Napoleon, I realize that Illya is your primary partner on most assignments. But I sensed in there some resentment. I don't want to get this affair off on the wrong foot."

"Sorry," Solo said. "I didn't intend it and none of it was directed toward you. It's just the lady in question is a rather strong personality. To be honest, I don't know her very well at all. I only met her briefly on assignment. Getting her to cooperate without Illya's help may be a bigger chore than Mr. Waverly realizes."

"I gather Illya knows her very well," April said.

"They were, eh, an item when they studied at the Sorbonne. I, uh, saw evidence of this the first time she greeted him upon his arrival in Paris for a gathering of distinguished alumni. You wouldn't have guessed they had spent years apart."

"Illya, a romantic?" April said. "I always thought his attraction was that of the mystery man."

"Speaking from personal experience?" Solo said.

"You know what I mean," April responded, with a hint of sternness in her voice. She knew Solo was ribbing her, but she intended to keep the conversation on a businesslike level.

"Well, Miss Delgato was one of the mysteries. She's quite a woman. Here," Solo said, as he handed her a file. April began to glance through it while Solo continued. "She was born into a gypsy tribe in eastern Europe. She was discovered to be an incredible prodigy by an academic who happened to be traveling in the region. Against the wishes of the tribe, her father agreed that she should be schooled in the west. That's how she ended up at the Sorbonne. While the file won't spell it out in detail, she happened to meet a rather serious-minded Russian student there. Their relationship helped develop in her a sense of discipline she might have lacked previously. In any case, she went on to be an honored student not only of the Sorbonne but other institutions of higher learning and today she is considered one of the world's foremost physicists."

"Hmmm," April said. "That was quite the affair -- I mean this recent assignment in Paris. Was Illya a part of the assignment from the beginning?"

"Only Mr. Waverly knows for sure," Solo said. "In any event, he was in the middle of it. We could have used his persuasive powers. Well, no sense crying about it. How quickly can you be ready to go to London? I just sent an e-mail message before you came in. If I can squeeze us in Friday morning -- tomorrow morning -- I'd like to."

"I can be ready by tonight," April said.

"Good," Solo said. "The sooner we get started, the better. Hmmm." Solo's last remark came as he looked at his personal computer screen.

"What is it?" April said.

"Looks like a response already," Solo said as he called up the pending e-mail. "Pleased to renew acquaintance with uncle," Solo said, reading the response out loud. "When can you be by? Will I-K be with you?"

"Most international flights ought to get us there by midmorning," April said.

Solo, clicked on the "reply" icon and read his response as he typed it in. "Expect us by eleven a.m. your time Friday," he said.

"Uh, Napoleon don't you think that reply implies that Illya will be there?"

"Let's get in the door first," Solo said. "I don't want to draw a rebuke via e-mail."

Through his travel agent, Solo was able to squeeze them into a couple of first-class seats on TransGlobal Flight Ninety-Seven to London that evening.

"I must say, I don't usually fly first-class," April said. She had changed into a tan pantsuit that would be more comfortable for the long flight.

"I have a travel agent who's both adept and persistent," Solo said, who wore a light gray suit for the trip. "Having a lot of frequent flyer miles doesn't hurt, either."

"You know, this flight is bringing back some memories," she said.

"Mother Muffin?" Solo said.

"It still seems very surreal."

Solo recalled the Shakespearean costume April wore during that affair. There was very little that was surreal about that. But he chose not to bring it up. Instead, he said, "It was a rather odd assignment. Eventually, however, it was a little too real for the old girl. The authorities caught up with her after our escape. She's still in prison, by the way. And, yes, I checked before leaving the office today to be sure."

April laughed. "You know, you never did replace that sweater of mine you unraveled to get us out of one of Mother's death traps."

"I didn't?" Solo said, thinking for a moment. "I remember the sweater. It looked very nice on you. I'll see what I can do."

Solo and April arrived on time around nine a.m. Their trip into the city took place without incident and they checked into separate rooms at the same hotel. They changed clothes, Solo into a light blue suit and April into a dark blue dress with black stockings. Each agent also removed their U.N.C.L.E. specials from hidden compartments in their luggage that hid the weapons from airport scanners. Solo put on his shoulder holster and gun under his suit coat. April actually brought two weapons. She put her U.N.C.L.E. Special into a large handbag that matched the dress and placed a second, smaller-caliber automatic pistol into a hidden holster in her stockings.

The two agents met downstairs in the lobby and hailed a taxi. The trip to the Boothroyd Institute took nearly fifty minutes, the first thirty just to get out of the crowded central London traffic. The Boothroyd Institute was located north of the city, inside an old mansion. The signs identifying the institute were minimal but the grounds were bordered by a black iron fence.

The taxi had to stop at a security booth. A guard looked over the driver and then leaned to look at the taxi's passengers. Solo brought out an official U.N.C.L.E. identification card. "Napoleon Solo and April Dancer of the U-N-C-L-E to see Katarina Delgato. She's expecting a couple of U.N.C.L.E. agents," he said.

The guard went back to the booth and picked up a telephone receiver. After a few moments, he motioned the taxi to go ahead. The mansion was set back at least a quarter-mile from the road, and the taxi traveled a long, tree-lined drive.

By the time Solo and April arrived it was nearly eleven. They entered a large, well-decorated room with a high ceiling. A sole receptionist, a woman approximately in her late twenties, Solo estimated, was sitting at a desk.

Solo and April approached the receptionist but before he could produce the U.N.C.L.E. identification again, the receptionist spoke. "Miss Delgato is expecting you. Go to the east wing, through those doors," she gestured to the right.

Solo glanced in the direction of the twin black doors. A security guard stared ahead, no hint of emotion on his face.

"Thank you," Solo said.

April glanced around the room as she and Solo approached the door. The security guard made no move so Solo went ahead and turned the knob to one of the doors himself. They entered a sparse corridor, not unlike the metal-lined hallways of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters in New York. The corridor ran for perhaps fifty feet long before ending at another set of doors. Solo opened one and let April through first. They were now at the edge of a large scientific lab, with white walls that almost seemed to glow. Another woman receptionist awaited, standing beside her desk. The laboratory area was quiet and few people seemed to be working today.

"Miss Delgato is down that way," the receptionist said, pointing behind her to the left.

April and Solo passed by rows of computer terminals and other electronic devices. At the end of the room was a sole, dark-complected woman with raven hair, wearing a white lab coat over a red dress. She was working at a computer terminal, staring at the screen intently.

Solo and April stood perhaps three feet away, seeing if the woman would notice them. When she did not, Solo spoke up. "Good morning, Miss Delgato. Or would it be more proper to call you Dr. Delgato?"

"Miss is fine, titles don't mean much to me--," Katarina Delgato said as she turned from the screen. She stopped in mid-sentence, as if surprised. After a pause, she said, "Mr. Solo, where is Illya? I thought your e-mail said you and he were coming?"

"Actually, my note said only 'we' as in she and I. Miss Delgato, meet April Dancer, another associate of mine," Solo said.

April held out her right hand to shake Katarina's. The gypsy shook April's hand only briefly. "But your message, I thought Illya was going to be with you. I specifically asked..."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that," Solo said. "Mr. Kuryakin was called away on another assignment. To be honest, I thought you might not wish to see us if he were not here. So I didn't mention it."

"I do not understand, Mr. Solo," Katarina said. "There was no need for such deception."

"Again, I apologize. But what we're here to discuss is vitally important. I didn't want to disappoint you from the start and perhaps not be able to see you. Obviously, the wrong thing to do on my part."

"Never mind, Mr. Solo," Katarina said warily. "Please sit down, pull up some chairs. Many of my colleagues have gotten an early start to the weekend. I doubt we'll be disturbed here."

Solo looked around and spotted two wheeled chairs and brought them over by Katarina.

"Now, Mr. Solo," Katarina said, "what is so important that the U-N-C-L-E needs to approach a humble gypsy?"

"Actually, it's the same matter that resulted in the incident at the Sorbonne a few months ago," Solo said. "You were captured for a brief time by an organization known as Thrush."

"I remember quite well, Mr. Solo," Katarina said. "I recall you helped free myself and Il--, uh, Mr. Kuryakin. But that business is over. Why do you need to see me in person?"

"The reason Thrush sought your services was a space-laser weapon they were developing. They felt your knowledge would greatly enhance their efforts. We now have new information regarding that project. It evidently is much further along than previously believed. As a result, we've been instructed to attempt to stop it."

"Then, stop it," Katarina said. "How does this concern me?"

"We need to force Thrush out into the open. The only way we could be sure of was to ..."

"Stake me out like a Judas goat?" Katarina said.

Solo was caught off guard by the remark, remembering how he had used the same term when discussing the matter with Waverly. "I'm not sure I would put it that way," Solo said with a tone of discomfort.

"I just did," Katarina replied harshly. "Why does U.N.C.L.E. expect me to, how do you say it, stick my neck out? And why do they send you and this woman instead of the one operative of your agency I can trust?"

"Miss Delgato, I am obviously familiar with what happened at the Sorbonne and Miss Dancer is an extremely capable agent," Solo said. "Plus, this is an extremely important matter. Again, I apologize if I was less than forthcoming about Mr. Kuryakin's status in this matter. My superior -- Illya's superior -- felt he did not want an agent with a personal interest to be involved in this affair. Nevertheless, this is quite important. You've had a taste of what Thrush is like. Are you comfortable with that organization in possession of a space-laser weapon? Because, Miss Delgato, if nothing is done about it, Thrush will indeed be in possession within twelve to eighteen months. "

There was an air of tension in the room. April spoke up, hoping to defuse it. "Miss Delgato, there were two people who might cause Thrush to act rashly. One of them, I believe his name was Professor LeGuerre, just had an operation and will be hobbling around for a while. Even if the professor wanted, as you said, to be the Judas goat, it would impractical and too dangerous to him. You're the only person available who could cause Thrush to act rashly, to expose its position."

Katarina ran her hand through her hair to release nervous energy. "I don't know. Illya, I could trust. But I don't know you very well, Mr. Solo, and I don't know Miss Dancer at all. I just don't know."

"Miss Delgato, I've worked with Illya for years and we make a good team," Solo said. "But I'm also confident of Miss Dancer's abilities, confident enough to bet my life on them if I have to. I realize this is a highly unusual request. But you are the only way we know we could get to the location where Thrush is developing the weapon."

Katarina sighed. "Do you have any ideas or do you drag me around the world on a hook?"

"We believe it's Japan," April said.

Katarina took another deep breath. "What you say is true, of course," she said with resignation in her voice. "I suppose if Illya had come along he would be asking me the same thing."

Solo and April didn't answer, but each glanced in the other's direction.

Katarina broke the silence. "Very well, Mr. Solo, Miss Dancer. You have your Judas goat."

Act II
"Thoughts on a Bullet Train"

The train ride from Tokyo to Kyoto was smooth, almost like floating. If Solo didn't know better, he'd have never guessed the train was traveling at more than one hundred miles an hour.

The train was passing Mount Fuji. Solo, sitting on the right hand side of the passenger compartment, strained to see if he could catch a glimpse of the peak but, as usual, it was covered in clouds and difficult to see. Solo and Katarina were not all that far from Tokyo but already the countryside was green and the train was zooming by scarce Japanese farmland.

"How long will this take, Mr. Solo?" Katarina said, breaking Solo's thoughts.

"By bullet train, only a couple of hours," Solo said.

Katarina was wearing a light blue pantsuit with a white blouse. Her eyes were obscured by the sunglasses she chose to wore on this bright day. "You are sure everything is in order? We're going to the conference on rather short notice."

"I doublechecked yesterday," Solo said. "Everything is in order."

"I suppose so," Katarina said warily.

"Is anything the matter?"

"No, Mr. Solo, not really. Tell me, do you know what it is like to be alone -- really alone?"

"We all have moments of loneliness," Solo said. "My profession, for example, tends to block the door to some relationships."

"Yes, but even in your profession you can develop friendships. In your case, Illya is a good friend is he not?"

"Of course."

"In my case, I have a gift, abilities beyond the ordinary. Yet, I did not want to leave my people. I only did so because Papa insisted. Once that happened, I could never go back to my people. Somehow, I always feel compelled to some larger goal. Papa said it was fate I should pursue academic studies in the West. But it can be a lonely way to live, Mr. Solo."

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure what I can say."

"There really is nothing to say, Mr. Solo," Katarina said. "Papa was right. It is fate." She sighed and fell silent.

Solo sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. Two rows away, and on the opposite side of the train, sat April Dancer, wearing a white turtleneck sweater, blue skirt and black stockings and shoes. Her seat was turned back in the direction of Solo and Katarina. She had a good line of sight to Katarina and Solo, dressed in a light gray suit and red necktie. April's mind began to wander, recalling the scene the previous day at U.N.C.L.E.'s regional headquarters in Tokyo.

The trip from London to Tokyo had been long and tedious, like most flights from the west. This journey was particularly grueling because Solo and April had already made the Trans-Atlantic flight from New York to London. They went ahead and booked the flight to Tokyo, anyway, to maximize the adjustment period to the dash across time zones. Thus, they left Heathrow Airport in London on Saturday but arrived at Narita Airport outside Tokyo on Sunday afternoon. Then, it was a very long trip -- and a couple of traffic jams -- to get to Tokyo itself. The three of them checked into separate rooms at the Tokyo Prince Hotel, near Tokyo Tower, which had been modeled after the Eiffel Tower. The hotel also was a short cab ride from U.N.C.L.E.'s Tokyo regional headquarters. Instead of a hidden entrance, like the Del Floria's tailor shop in New York, U.N.C.L.E.-Tokyo was in a plain office tower, a bit off the main business center of Tokyo. However, people going in the building's elevators wouldn't have guessed there were actually two floors between the building's seventh and eighth floors. The only way to get to the unlisted two floors was a special elevator accessible to those with a special key.

After spending most of Monday resting, Solo and April took Katarina to the U.N.C.L.E. offices on Tuesday morning. As they exited the elevator, a Japanese receptionist greeted them in flawless English.

"Mr. Solo, it is very good to see you again, it has been much too long," the woman said as she attached Solo's badge to the lapel of his blue suit coat. "Miss Dancer, I hope all is well," the receptionist continued, handing April her badge. "And this must be Miss Delgato. Please have one of these green --"

"I am familiar with the procedure, thank you," Katarina said.

"Of course," the receptionist said, providing no outward reaction to Katarina's interruption. "Mr. Fujimoto will see you now."

As in New York -- as well as the Paris station Katarina had seen previously -- U.N.C.L.E.-Tokyo had automatic sliding doors and metal hallways. They entered a hallway behind the receptionist and walked all the way to the end. There, another sliding door opened and they entered an office that could have been the twin of Alexander Waverly's in New York.

Tamon Fujimoto, the head of the regional office, stood at the round conference table. He wore a black business suit, white shirt and black tie. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and wore a pair of wire-rimmed eye glasses. He walked around the table to the three guests. He bowed slightly to Solo, who returned the gesture. Fujimoto bowed again to April and Katarina.

"It is very good of you to come so promptly. Even with a day's rest, I imagine you must be feeling a bit weary," Fujimoto said. "Please sit down."

They sat while Fujimoto paused before taking his seat again. He continued: "Miss Delgato's credentials to attend the conference in Kyoto will be ready when you arrive there. Her attendance at the gathering is not yet public knowledge."

"But it will be shortly?" Solo said.

"Word should be out before the train arrives in Kyoto," Fujimoto said. "Assuming that's what you want, Mr. Solo."

"It is."

"I understand the strategy. Still, do you think it wise?"

"One reason we're here, Mr. Fujimoto, is to take advantage of as many safeguards as we can," Solo replied.

"Of course," Fujimoto said. "Still, I would like to be reassured that Miss Delgato is aware of the potential hazards."

Katarina paused, a look of uncertainty on her face. "I was once the target of a kidnapping attempt by this Thrush," she said. "One does not relish being a target but I understand the necessity, yes."

"Forgive me, Miss Delgato," Fujimoto said. "It is just I do not enjoy dangling such a distinguished scientist as yourself as bait."

"Are you saying you disapprove of the plan?" April said.

Fujimoto frowned. Typical of the Japanese manner, particularly in dealing with westerners, he had been addressing his worries in a roundabout way. April's question had cut through that veil of politeness. Moreover, having the question come from a woman was a bit unsettling in Japan, still a male-dominated society.

Solo sensed Fujimoto fidgeting. "I think we all understand your concerns, Mr. Fujimoto," Solo interjected, trying to ease the tension.

"It is quite all right," Fujimoto said. "Your colleague is quite right, Mr. Solo. Yes, Miss Dancer, I expressed disagreement. I was overruled by Mr. Waverly. I understand Mr. Solo has enjoyed success over the years by periodically recruiting non-professionals. His record speaks for itself. I simply do not like exposing non-professionals to danger."

"I apologize, Mr. Fujimoto," April said. "I did not mean to highlight any disagreement between yourself and Mr. Waverly."

"No, it is I who should apologize, Miss Dancer," Fujimoto said. "I should have remembered how westerners deal with issues more directly than we Japanese."

"Nonsense," Solo said. "We will still have need of your assistance in this matter. For example, I understand some of the decoded Thrush information has been forwarded to you. Have your people been able to develop any additional leads from that information?"

Fujimoto seized upon the opportunity to move the conversation from the cultural divide. "Yes, Mr. Solo," he said. "While the decoding is not yet complete, it appears the material pinpoints the space-weapon project somewhere in the Kansai."

"Kansai?" Katarina asked.

"Yes," Fujimoto said. "It is the west-central portion of Japan -- it has cities such as Nagoya, Kobe and Osaka. Decades ago, it was the country's industrial and business heart while Tokyo was strictly a governmental center. After World War II, in the rebuilding process, both industrial and government power was centralized in Tokyo. The Kansai still retained much industry but the business center had moved east to Tokyo. That is one reason why the Tokyo region is such a megalopolis today. The government is seeking more development in the Kansai, in part to relieve congestion in Tokyo."

"Isn't Kyoto near those Kansai cities?" Solo said.

"Yes, Mr. Solo, Kyoto is part of the Kansai. As a result, the timing of the conference Miss Delgato will be attending -- from your standpoint -- is quite fortunate."

Solo chose to let the remark pass. "May we go to the armory and special equipment section? I think we can find it by ourselves."

"Of course."

A few minutes later, Solo, April and Katarina were walking toward the armory.

"What was all that about, Mr. Solo?" Katarina said, breaking the silence.

"Well, our Mr. Fujimoto probably more than just disagreed with Mr. Waverly," Solo replied. "However, as you may have concluded, Japanese prefer to avoid direct confrontation. Miss Dancer has brought all of this to the surface. It seemed as if he felt a loss of face."

"From just one question?" April said skeptically.

"Face means a lot in Japan," Solo replied. "And remember, whatever you think of chauvinism in America, it's even more prevalent here."

"You mean I didn't 'stay in my place' or something like that," April said with a hint of anger in her voice.

"I'm not endorsing the view," Solo said. "Merely trying to explain it."

"Well, you're awfully understanding considering how condescending he was toward you," April said.

"Death by politeness," Solo said. "Anyway, we're just about there. Let's see what toys we can pick up."

An hour later, the three westerners left the U.N.C.L.E. Tokyo offices. "Is this really necessary, Mr. Solo?" Katarina said. "I like my jewelry just fine, thank you. These earrings are a bit painful."

"But they're lovely and they highlight your eyes," he said.

"Now you are being as condescending as Mr. Fujimoto was," Katarina replied. "I like neither this watch nor locket. And what is that?"

Solo looked at the small clear container he held in his left hand. "Oh, this is extra insurance."

"Perhaps Fujimoto was correct," Katarina sighed. "I do not like being kept in the dark. If I am to be your Judas goat, you could at least provide me information. Illya certainly would."

"Perhaps," Solo said. "Very well. The locket, earrings and watch all are tracking devices. The earrings are particularly new."

"And the box?" Katarina said.

"As I said, extra insurance."

"Bah. All right, play your games. Miss Dancer, I hope you can be more straightforward."

"I'm sorry, Miss Delgato," April said. "I was checking out some other equipment. I'm not even familiar with that device."

Katarina sighed. Solo, not wanting to alienate her entirely, spoke up. "Listen, everyone is on edge. I suggest we take it easy this evening. I'll buy dinner for the three of us. I need to make some arrangements for our trip to Kyoto. I know a good restaurant. April, I'll give you directions and I'll meet you and Miss Delgato around eight. Fair enough?"

Around seven-forty-five, Solo eased open the door to Katarina's hotel room. It was dark -- in Japan the sun sets early -- and Solo didn't turn on the light. He took out a pen flashlight from his pocket and quickly found the closet. Opening the closet he found a few dresses and outfits. Katarina evidently packed light and Solo felt relieved. He withdrew a glove from the breast pocket of his suit coat. Then, he reached into the right side pocket of the coat and withdrew the clear container. Inside was a ball of fuzz. He took a piece of the fuzz with his gloved hand and placed it deep into a rear pocket of a pair of trousers. He repeated the steps, putting a piece of fuzz in virtually every outfit Katarina had brought. Five minutes later, Solo put the box and the glove back in his pockets.

Solo was in a hurry as he left the hotel for the dinner with April and Katarina. Had he glanced behind him he might have noticed a man reading the International Herald-Tribune. The man lowered his newspaper as Solo went out the hotel entrance. Then, he frowned.

The dinner, at a restaurant near the hotel, had been non-eventful and Katarina hardly spoke. Solo and April made some small talk about Tokyo but Katarina seemed preoccupied. After forty-five minutes, they returned to the Tokyo Prince and the U.N.C.L.E. agents saw Katarina back to her room.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't good company tonight," Katarina told Solo and April.

"Nonsense. We're the ones imposing on you," April said.

"That's right," Solo said. "Just get some rest. We're off to Kyoto tomorrow. We've got tickets on the bullet train west."

"Very well," Katarina said.

"Katarina," Solo said. "Thanks again for doing this."

"It's fate, Mr. Solo," she responded. "One does not resist fate. Good night."

The door closed and Solo and April started to walk away from Katarina's room. "Do you have a minute?" April asked Solo in a soft, almost whispered voice. "I'd like to talk about the trip to Kyoto."

"Certainly," Solo said.

"My room's right here," April said.

April opened the door. The room was relatively modest -- a single double bed, a very small desk and a couple of chairs. The space was tight, as was typical for hotel rooms in Tokyo, where land was expensive and at a premium. Solo pulled up one of the chairs and April took the other.

"Napoleon, I'm concerned," April said. "I didn't like the tone of our talk with Mr. Fujimoto. One has to wonder just how much support he'll provide for a venture of which he disapproves."

"Well, while I'd like to assume Mr. Fujimoto will act professionally, I don't think we should count on his assistance," Solo said. "Even if he were behind this operation one hundred percent, we can't tip our hand too much for Thrush. A lot of U.N.C.L.E. agents prowling about might scare them off. No, I think we're going to have to rely on ourselves first and foremost."

"There's something else, Napoleon," April said.

"Oh? What's that?"

"Why were you late for dinner? You're acting a little mysterious, and I'd like to be let in on it, if you don't mind. If I'm going to risk my neck, I think it's the least you could do."

Solo took out the small and now empty case from his pocket. "I think you may recall a briefing paper about this little number that went out last month to enforcement agents. It really is a little extra insurance."

April eyes opened a little wider than normal. "You mean you planted....You were in Katarina's room, weren't you? That's why you wanted to take us out to dinner."

"Absolutely," Solo said. "As I said, we're going to have to count on ourselves." He gestured with the clear container. "This is a little insurance. A slightly irradiated fuzzball. The radiation levels are low enough that as long as she doesn't wear the same outfit for two weeks in a row, there should be no danger. And I obtained two of the gizmos that go with this stuff. I'll slip you one in the morning."

"I was under the impression that particular...thing wasn't yet authorized for field testing," April said.

"Technically it isn't," Solo said.

"So how did you get it, and the receiving units that go with it?"

"I took it while the clerk was busy helping you," Solo said.

"I heard of your reputation for being sneaky," April said.

"I'd better be up to that reputation if we -- and I mean all three of us -- get out of this in one piece," Solo said as he got up and left April's room.

The bullet train arrived in Kyoto at precisely one-thirty p.m. the next day. Solo and Katarina walked together while April stayed behind, covering them. They maintained that pattern going to the hotel that was the site of the scientific conference -- Solo and Katarina took one cab while April followed in another.

Everything seemed routine until the lead cab got a little more than a quarter-mile in front of April's cab. They went down a side street to avoid the traffic of Kyoto's main thoroughfares. Out of the corner of her eye, April thought she saw a black BMW approaching at an odd angle from the left of the her cab. But before she could react, the German-made car had rammed her cab. She had her small pistol out from her stocking holster just as a couple of bullets struck her driver in the head.

Act III
"Kyoto is Spelled D-E-A-T-H"

There was a Plexiglass barrier between the front and back seats and that had prevented April from being spattered with blood from the driver's fatal wound. She tried to put the sight out of her mind. Bullets hadn't yet struck the rear compartment of the cab but would in seconds. As best as she could tell, the BMW contained two Japanese men, with the one on the passenger side firing a machine pistol. April opened the passenger door on the opposite side from the BMW. She hunkered down until the firing paused. Then, just poking her head above the cab's trunk she took quick, but careful, aim and fired two shots. At least one struck the shooter in the throat as he was trying to put a new clip in his weapon. He quickly went down but more shots were now coming from the driver, who had gotten out of the car.

The quick burst of shots caused April to hunker behind the cab once more. She reached into her handbag and extracted her U.N.C.L.E. special, which had better range and firepower than the small pistol she had just fired. She raised her hand just over the trunk and fired two shots in the driver's direction. Immediately another burst of shots came. How long will it take before the authorities get here? April thought. It's the middle of the afternoon, for God's sake.

Just then, April heard -- but could not see -- another car screeching to a halt. She peered ever so slightly over the trunk of the car. The attacker had turned around to his side to confront the new threat. But the unmarked car didn't appear to be a police vehicle. The gunman started to get off a burst, but April heard a familiar sound -- two shots from an U.N.C.L.E. Special. It was unmistakable.

April could only see the gunman clutching at his chest and staring skyward. Then he fell to the ground. The car obscured her view but she could hear him strike the ground with a thud. She still held her U.N.C.L.E. Special in a two-handed grip, still unsure whether this new person was friend or foe. Then, April saw her benefactor. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "What's going on?"

"That can wait," said Illya Kuryakin, dressed in an all-black outfit of sport jacket, slacks and, of course, turtleneck sweater. A think trail of smoke was still coming from his U.N.C.L.E. Special. "I suggest you come with me now before the police arrive. It could be quite a delay and I suspect we are needed elsewhere."

Napoleon Solo felt a twinge. It wasn't really physical but a strong sense of unease. Glancing back, he saw no sign of another cab. Something was wrong.

Katarina glanced in Solo's direction, sensing his distress. She started to speak but Solo held up a finger, indicating she should keep her silence. He reached into his shoulder holster and slowly brought out the U.N.C.L.E. Special. Just as he had the gun out, the Japanese driver flipped a switch on the dashboard.

"I really would not bother, Mr. Solo," he said. "In case you are wondering, your associate, Miss Dancer, was in an ordinary cab that by now should have met a reception of our agents. This cab, however, is a special one. The Plexiglas between us is quite bullet resistant."

Solo and Katarina heard a hiss.

"Oh, not this old trick," Solo said.

"Please do not attempt to hold your breath, Mr. Solo," the driver replied. "If you accept sleep you will likely wake up. If not, you will be dead on the spot."

Katarina was coughing and already being overcome. Solo had one other option. He could shoot her dead now, to ensure her knowledge wouldn't get to Thrush. Solo sighed. That wasn't part of his makeup. He breathed in the gas and everything turned dark quickly.

Kuryakin drove April to a park several miles away from the ambush. He parked the Toyota Camry in a relatively secluded spot.

"Illya, what is going on?" April said. "First, I'm assigned to this affair because I'm told you have a personal interest. Then, you show up in the middle of a gun battle..."

"You looked as if you could use a bit of assistance," Illya said.

"Yes, I did. But I'd like some straight answers. Napoleon's sneaky enough but this bit of subterfuge is just too much. I'm on your side, remember?"

"Of course," Kuryakin said. "Originally, it was not intended to be subterfuge but it has turned out that way. Mr. Waverly assigned me to find a double agent within Section One. Some early leads indicated the trail went into Europe. But I discovered the leads were really a smokescreen and that the traitor was in U.N.C.L.E. Japan. I headed here before I could report to Mr. Waverly. That is when Mr. Waverly -- rather reluctantly, I might add -- told me that you and Napoleon were escorting Katarina, er, Miss Delgato to a scientific conference in Kyoto as bait. It turns out the two missions are really quite related."

"How is that?"

"The traitor is Mr. Fujimoto, the head of the U.N.C.L.E. regional office in Tokyo."

"What?" April said. "I was under the impression that Mr. Fujimoto was highly trusted and the Tokyo operation was considered quite efficient."

"A number of years ago, Napoleon and I encountered another trusted member of Section One who turned out to be a double agent for Thrush," Kuryakin replied. "Rank is not necessarily an indicator of loyalty."

"How sure are you of this information?" April said.

"I and other U.N.C.L.E. agents captured a higher-ranking Thrush chieftain who got a little too careless," Kuryakin said. "We were able to conduct the interrogation in a way to determine whether the answers were real or the result of programming. The best indication was the information was genuine."

"But Mr. Fujimoto told us how much he opposed our operation, how he was skeptical of the notion of using non-professionals as bait and the like."

"Of course," Kuryakin said. "He establishes his opposition. Later when, he hopes, Thrush has captured Miss Delgato, he looks like the loyal subordinate who rightfully stood against a plan by Mr. Waverly. Mr. Fujimoto can then, ever so subtly, begin suggesting that Mr. Waverly's judgment is in question. In a sense, it could be a double triumph -- Thrush gets a boost for its space-weapon project while Fujimoto gains a victory over Waverly in the U.N.C.L.E. hierarchy. If the affair turned out badly enough, it is conceivable that Mr. Waverly could even be forced to resign. At the very least, his reputation within U.N.C.L.E. could be severely compromised."

"If you're right, then Napoleon and Katarina have probably been kidnapped," she said, reaching into her handbag and taking out one of the small units Solo had given her.

"What are you doing?" Kuryakin said.

"Use your pen communicator to see if you can pick up any of the standard U.N.C.L.E. tracking devices. Katarina has a few on her. She also has a new one -- it looks like clothing fuzz or lint. But it's slightly radioactive and can be picked up by one of these devices. Napoleon put the fuzz in her clothing while we were waiting for him at a restaurant last night."

"Was this around eight last night, by any chance?"

"Yes, why?"

"I was keeping the three of you under observation last night in case Mr. Fujimoto tried anything. As you said, Napoleon can be sneaky." Kuryakin then took the pen communicator from his pocket and checked several frequencies. "It's not picking up anything," Illya said.

"That means they've already identified the usual tracking devices," April said as she adjusted the tracking unit. "I'm getting a readout on this. It indicates she's southwest of us, perhaps twenty-five kilometers away and still moving."

Kuryakin started up the Toyota and pulled out quickly.

Even before he opened his eyes, Solo noticed he could not move his arms. He raised his head but his neck ached. He knew what awaited him when he opened his eyes but he was still curious of his precise position. So he opened his eyes anyway. He found himself sitting upright in a chair. His hands and feet were tied to the chair, of course. Solo concluded his head was resting at an awkward angle, straining his neck muscles.

The room was black. The only thing Solo could see was himself, highlighted by a strong spotlight. He felt quite warm and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Although he couldn't reach to be sure, it seemed as if his pockets were empty. That was to be expected, of course. If April fought her way out, I might still have a chance, Solo thought. But I'd better not count on it.

"You have quite a constitution, Mr. Solo," a voice said from the darkness. "You should have been out for three hours. It is barely ninety minutes."

Solo sat up with a start. He had last heard the voice a few hundred miles east of here.

The light expanded slightly and Mr. Fujimoto stepped into it. "It was quite nice of you to deliver Miss Delgato to me, Mr. Solo. The status of my project had gotten a bit precarious with the capture of the courier in New York. However, I should have realized you would recruit just the right 'innocent' person to dangle in front of me. But then, you didn't realize it was I who was directing this project, did you?"

"I must admit I did not," Solo said glumly. "So was it money or something else that caused you to betray U.N.C.L.E.?"

"Actually, my allegiance has always been to Thrush," Fujimoto said. "Do you recall Harry Beldon, Mr. Solo? He held a position similar to mine at U.N.C.L.E.-Berlin. I was one of his recruits. When Beldon failed, I laid low while anyone associated with him was purged from the organization. I guess you call it de-trained. In any event, I persevered until I became head of the Tokyo regional office."

"Let me guess. You also took over the space-laser project after the failed attempt to kidnap Miss Delgato at the Sorbonne?"

"Very good, Mr. Solo," Fujimoto said. "Yes and work went splendidly. We even had some breakthroughs until this courier business. I was afraid we would have to flee and set up operations elsewhere. Then, Napoleon Solo plays one of his favorite gambits of using the innocent. I'm afraid you may have played that card once too often, Mr. Solo. We, of course, confiscated the hidden transmitters in the jewelry."

Solo grunted to himself. He had, indeed, used the strategy of recruiting an "innocent" several times over the years. Many more times, however, "ordinary" people had become entangled in missions through coincidence or happenstance and often against Solo's wishes. Regardless, Solo had developed a reputation of manipulating innocents. At the U.N.C.L.E. training school, a slang term had developed concerning the gambit: "O Solo Mio."

"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Fujimoto," Solo said in a lame comeback.

"I doubt you will have much of a chance," the Thrush mole said. "Shortly, we will begin the mind-altering techniques on Miss Delgato. I would prefer she were enthusiastically laboring for us. But even brainwashed, she should be of some assistance. I've not totally decided on your fate yet. Oh, you will die. But there may be a way where your death can be used to discredit Mr. Waverly."

Fujimoto disappeared back into the darkness and Solo could hear a door being shut.

Fujimoto paused outside the doorway to the holding room. He walked briskly up a hallway to a small office with a telephone. He hit a speed-dialer button.

"Security here," a guard said in Japanese.

"Fujimoto. Have our men returned yet, the ones assigned to liquidate the woman?"

"No sir," the guard replied.

Fujimoto paused. "Be alert. I can't imagine the woman finding us even if she did escape. But we may need to move out sooner than anticipated."

Kuryakin parked the car in a secluded spot off the side of a narrow country road. April was in the passenger seat looking at the readout. "I'd say it's about an eighth of a mile, probably just over that hill there," she said, pointing forward.

"So now the question is who goes ahead and who stays behind," Kuryakin said.

"The answer is obvious, Illya," April said. "I go in. Fujimoto hopefully still doesn't know you're on his trail and is unaware you're in Japan."

"I don't like it," Kuryakin said.

"Just think of it as an extension of Napoleon's strategy," she replied. "Miss Delgato was willing to be a Judas goat for us. I'll draw their fire and be the second. You'll follow up according to our plan."

"I still don't like it."

"But it makes sense."

"Napoleon thought he made sense and look where it got him."

"You're not turning chauvinist on me, are you, Illya?" April said.

"I'm just thinking of poor Mr. Waverly having to pay higher insurance rates if we manage to lose two agents on this affair," Kuryakin said. "But you are right, of course. I've arranged for help to come later but it will be up to us for now."

"I just wish I had my luggage so I could wear something more appropriate for prowling about," April said.

Kuryakin felt to the side and activated the switch that opened the car's trunk. He opened up the right-side driver's door and walked back to the trunk. He came back in a moment with a pair of dark trousers, a sweater and jacket as well as a pair of boots.

He opened up the left-hand passenger door and handed the items to April. "These aren't precisely your size but I brought a couple of such outfits for such an occasion. The trousers, in fact, are adjustable."

"The boots are a little big but I'm wearing flats today," April said. "I had the feeling wearing heels was going to be a bit impractical."

"You change in the car," Kuryakin said. "I've got some gear in the trunk to attend to." Without waiting for a response, Kuryakin closed the door and attended to the open trunk. As best as April could tell, his eyes never peered around the trunk lid as she changed clothes. She didn't think he would but her eyes glanced backward every so often.

Act IV
"Things That Go Boom in the Night"

A strap across Katarina's head was attached to the back of her chair. It was not unlike a barber's chair, except the back was higher. Her arms were also strapped tight to the arms of the chair. She was turning around and around. She felt like she was burning inside, and indeed had felt the sensation ever since the hypodermic needle was stuck in her arm. The only thing she could really see was the plain white ceiling, the same tiles appearing over and over again. Once every few seconds she also saw the same, impassive Japanese face, a man with black-rimmed glasses.

Ten feet away, Tamon Fujimoto watched the scene with his arms folded. He then motioned to the Japanese man who was administering the brainwashing.

"What is your progress?" Fujimoto asked the man in Japanese.

"Very slow," the man said. "Behavior modification varies according to the individual. She is resisting quite fiercely. It may even take days."

"Very well but if you can accelerate the process, do so," Fujimoto said. "She is a potential coup for the project."

"I understand, Fujimoto-san."

"Indeed, if the fates are with us, it is conceivable the project can be realized within a few months," Fujimoto said.

Just then, Katarina screamed, the sound piercing through the air. Neither Thrushman reacted noticeably, although Fujimoto glanced in her direction for a moment.

"It appears to be going well," Fujimoto said.

It was now around five-thirty and the sun was setting. April had her now-fully assembled U.N.C.L.E. special as well as a backpack. She had circled the grounds of what appeared to be an estate. The house itself was not especially large but the amount of land -- it was housed on perhaps three-quarters of an acre -- indicated this was an expensive place. While there was a fence around the property, there was nothing out of the ordinary, like the fence being electrified.

She took the backpack off for a moment, opened it up and withdrew a pair of wire cutters. April cut a hole just large enough to crawl through. She walked slowly, keeping to the edge of the property to get her bearings. It was only a short distance before she saw the rear of the house, which seemed a hybrid between Japanese and Western architecture. As best as she could make out, there were four guards, though there were undoubtedly others. The property was wooded and April kept to the trees as she edged closer. The trees ended about fifty feet from the house, which would be difficult to cross without being seen. It would be all the more difficult because of a relatively small but extremely powerful light that shined from the house.

April crouched behind one of the last trees before the clearing. She aimed the U.N.C.L.E. Special at a guard, then double checked the weapon. She wanted to make sure it had been loaded with sleep darts instead of bullets. After double checking, she re-aimed and fired. The guard collapsed, and two of the others went to him while the third, about fifteen feet away from his comrades, drew his weapon. She fired another sleep dart at him, and he doubled over, hitting the ground face first.

April now switched the clip in her gun. She took quick aim at the light and pulled the trigger. This time, the U.N.C.L.E. Special fired a bullet, which shattered the powerful bulb. The agent then fired a quick burst of shots, which forced the remaining two guards to scatter. She then ran toward the house.

Kuryakin put down the night-vision goggles. April had done well, drawing the attention of the outer security people. He began to work his way to the edge of the clearing from a different angle. He had waited at the car for approximately thirty minutes so April could get into position. In that time, he had assembled a special weapon that while it didn't look much different from a basic rifle had special ammunition. Under the plan, he would give April additional time. It was going to be a hard wait.

Solo grimaced. His hands were tied behind him in the heavy wooden chair. He had worked his bonds a bit looser but he couldn't move them much. He was deeply skeptical of the trick he was about to attempt. Though Fujimoto was no longer in the room, Solo couldn't be sure someone else wasn't watching him in the darkness. But he had no other choice.

Solo had enough mobility to twist his watch. So he moved it around his left wrist until the crystal was at the inside of the wrist. The back support of the chair was immediately above his bound hands. Solo tried to get as much leverage as he could, trying to smash the watch crystal into the back support. He heard a small thud, nothing more. He tried again, this time jerking his upper torso to try and bring enough force. Once, twice; finally the third time he heard a tinkle. He felt fragments of the crystal fall into his cupped left hand. His fingers felt around. There appeared to be one sizable fragment. He felt his index finger being pricked by a point of the fragment. Solo manipulated the fragment between his index finger and thumb, then twisted his wrists to work on his bonds. It was slow going. Five minutes passed, then ten. Finally, he felt the chord separating. It took several more minutes of pain -- Solo's hands felt quite tired by this time -- but he finally was able to work his wrists free. Solo actually felt surprised he hadn't been approached by now.

He wouldn't have been nearly so surprised if he were aware of the growing ruckus outside.

One of the guards tried to surprise April by rushing her. But her reaction was too quick. She spun to her left -- the direction the guard was coming from -- and fired the U.N.C.L.E. Special twice. The guard had a running start but he was struck by April's shots, he fell to the ground as he had been slammed down in mid air. April, meantime, could hear more footsteps approaching. She obviously had been detected. Spotting some bushes away from the house, she ran toward them. As she reached the brush, she could hear weapons being cocked.

Kuryakin looked at the watch. April's twenty minutes were not yet up but he could tell something was going on inside the house. He raised the special rifle and looked through the sight toward the left side of the house to line up his first shot. He pulled the trigger and felt the recoil of the rifle. There was a brief pause before the explosion rocked the night air. He quickly fired a second shot toward the house's center for a second explosion. Kuryakin then raised the night vision glasses. He saw there were perhaps ten guards on the grounds. He held the rifle, ready to shoot again. But he paused, hoping this would give April the chance to enter the house.

April had been caught off guard by the first explosion and was glad she had made for the brush. After the second, she got to her feet. There was one guard standing perhaps ten feet away. She rushed out of the brush. The guard spotted her but was disoriented and late in raising his rifle. April got off two shots, dropping the guard on the spot. She ran toward the front of the house and spotted an entryway where the additional guards must have come from. As she reached the doorway, she could hear another explosion, which sounded as if it it were coming more from the rear grounds, rather than the house itself.

A few minutes earlier, Fujimoto had closed a briefcase in a small private office and prepared to leave. He used an intercom to buzz his lead assistant, a thin, bespectacled man named Okuda who entered the office quickly.

"I must get back to Tokyo tonight," Fujimoto said in Japanese. "We have still not heard from the men assigned the liquidate Miss Dancer. Inform our behavioral modification expert that if he can not succeed with Miss Delgato tonight to prepare her for transfer. I suspect we should go ahead and use evacuation plan 'B' and be ready to leave within twenty-four hours. Also, kill Mr. Solo tonight. Normally, I would like his death to be effected in such a way I could incorporate it into my plans to discredit Waverly. However, if Miss Dancer is indeed at large, that could be trouble. So we will not bother with anything fancy for Mr. Solo."

"I will do it myself," Okuda said.

"Excellent. I--"

Fujimoto was cut off by the explosion, which rocked the room.

"It sounded as if it came--"

The second explosion cut off Okuda's comment. The room again rocked and Fujimoto stumbled and fell onto the floor.

"Okuda, you tend to our scientists and the Delgato woman," Fujimoto said. "I will tend to Mr. Solo right now."

Fujimoto picked himself up and walked quickly down the hallway. He glanced up for a moment when he heard a third explosion. The fools do not know the installation is below the house, Fujimoto thought. We can still be away before they do anything.

Fujimoto stopped at the holding room where Solo was. Before he unlocked the door, he withdrew his U.N.C.L.E. Special from a shoulder holster. He opened the door and raised the gun as he began to enter.

Solo had been waiting several minutes. It had been a tedious process getting himself untied and then he had to stumble around in the darkness. The room was much smaller than it had appeared while he was sitting in the spotlight. Once he heard the explosions, Solo figured April or somebody had to be attacking the place. He waited by the door, hoping somebody would come for him.

When he saw the barrel of the U.N.C.L.E. Special, Solo's hopes soared. He suspected only one Thrushman -- Fujimoto -- would be carrying such a weapon. Solo held his breath, not wanting to give away his position. As soon as the back of Fujimoto's head appeared, Solo struck a karate blow, sending Fujimoto stumbling to the floor. Solo couldn't see whether he still held the gun or not. He rushed Fujimoto, but the Thrush mole kicked at Solo, blunting his momentum. As he fell to the floor into the darkness, Solo caught a glimpse of Fujimoto's right hand; it didn't have the gun. Solo rolled as he landed and got up, prepared to continue the fight. Fujimoto, too, was prepared for hand-to-hand combat.

"Why don't you give it up, Fujimoto?"

"Our position is quite fortified. We are in an extended bunker underneath the estate above us and there is an escape tunnel. I don't know if all of this is Miss Dancer's doing. Nor do I care. We can still get away with the Delgato woman."

Fujimoto rushed Solo. He faked a blow to Solo's head and instead kneed the American in the stomach. Solo had the breath knocked out of him and fell backwards. As he hit the floor, however, he had the presence of mind to make a sweeping motion with his leg, tripping up Fujimoto who also stumbled. Solo lunged at Fujimoto and struck him in the chest with a karate blow but with less momentum than he would have liked. Fujimoto retaliated by using the heel of his palm to strike a blow at Solo's head. Solo lay dazed as Fujimoto picked himself up.

Solo was laying mostly in the light but his left arm was in the darkness. Just then, still laying on the floor, Solo felt something with the fingertip of his left hand -- Fujimoto's U.N.C.L.E. Special.

Fujimoto gathered himself for one last death blow.

"Goodbye, Mr. Solo," Fujimoto said as he raised his right hand for a karate blow.

Solo grabbed desperately for the gun and in one motion fired in Fujimoto's direction. The shots weren't well aimed but surprize was on his side. Fujimoto froze for just a moment. That was enough; the fourth and fifth shots struck him in the chest. Fujimoto fell forward onto his knees and stared at Solo for a moment, the only noise a gurgling sound from the wounded man's throat. Then, Fujimoto fell forward.

Solo, still breathing heavily, picked himself up and checked Fujimoto for a pulse. As it turned out, he needn't have bothered; the man was quite dead.

The house above the bunker was smoky thanks to an U.N.C.L.E. tear-gas bomb. April Dancer, now wearing a gas mask, moved through the house quickly, trying to find her way. She just made out the shape of a guard through the gas, giving her enough time to strike a karate blow to the side of his head. She was in what appeared to be a living room. Hearing a humming sound coming from a wall, April moved to the side and saw the wall open. A Caucasian man in a white lab coat stepped out. He didn't see April until it was too late. She clipped him on the side of head and he fell to the ground. She saw enough of his face to register a name from the U.N.C.L.E. dossiers. He was a German scientist, Gregor Heinrich , believed to be in the employ of Thrush. She dragged him off to the side. Then, April took the backpack off, went through it and found the hypodermic kit. She quickly found the sleep serum, rolled up the sleeve of his lab coat and jammed the needle home.

"Sweet dreams, Herr Doctor," April said softly.

It took a few more seconds for April to find the secret elevator. After probing around, she found a hidden switch and the door opened.

Okuda walked into the room where the behavior modification work was still underway. Much to his horror, the technician had continued working on the Delgato woman, who was still strapped in her chair.

"Idiot!" Okuda said in Japanese. "We are under attack. We have to transport this woman to another installation."

"It is you who are the idiot. My work cannot be disturbed now. I am approaching a key phase."

As they were arguing, Katarina's eyes opened slightly then closed again. The technician began to undo the straps, first the head, then the arms and finally the legs. As he began to lift her, Katarina shoved him aside with what strength she had left. The technician, more surprised than hurt, fell to the side. But Okuda now rushed her and grabbed her arms. She kicked at his legs but Okuda was strong and she was exhausted from the hours of "treatment." Okuda held her by her arms and the technician was coming at her with a hypodermic needle.

Suddenly the technician fell back, grabbing his shoulder and dropping the hypodermic. Okuda looked back at the source of the shot.

"Anyone ever tell you that you were no gentleman?" Napoleon Solo said. He then hit Okuda with the gun butt, sending him to the floor as well.

Katarina's eyes widened but she stumbled as she tried to step forward. Solo caught her and lowered her to the floor where he helped her to sit up.

"I hope you have a plan for getting us out of here," Katarina said in a weak voice.

"Unfortunately, that was my last shot. And I'm not quite sure of our situation."

Suddenly, there was a noise from behind. It was a guard in a Thrush jumpsuit, his rifle drawn. He was ten feet away and was starting to aim the rifle. There was no time for Solo to rush him, especially since he had to support Katarina. Then, there was the sound of two shots and the guard fell to the side as if he had been struck by an invisible fist. Solo tensed until he saw what appeared to be a woman wearing a gas mask. A moment later, she pulled the mask off.

"I think it may be time to go home," April Dancer said. "I think this party got a little out of hand."

April came up and assisted Solo with Katarina.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Solo said.

"The reinforcements are coming now, led by someone neither of you is quite expecting," she said.

Katarina put an arm over Solo and April and they walked her slowly out of the room. April pointed the way to go and they found the elevator leading upstairs. When they exited it moments later, they could see a group of several U.N.C.L.E. agents in the living room of the house. As they stepped out of the eleavator, Solo could feel the energy returning to Katarina. She bolted from Solo and April and headed straight to Illya Kuryakin, who was conferring with three of the other men. Katarina hugged the Russian, ignoring the others. Solo, quite surprised, still was aware enough to glance around to see that the U.N.C.L.E. agents were in the process of a mopping up operation.

Solo looked back and saw Katarina was kissing Kuryakin. He then turned to April. "I don't suppose you could tell me what's going on?"

"It's a long story," April said. "Illya was assigned to smoke out a traitor in U.N.C.L.E. He brought some U.N.C.L.E. agents from Europe in case the Tokyo office was completely infiltrated by Thrush. By the way, where is Fujimoto?"

"Well, Illya was a little late on that score," Solo said. "Mr. Fujimoto has gone to join his ancestors. I'm afraid he may have lost a little more than face."

As Katarina continued to hold Illya tight, the other men came forward and Solo began to brief them about what they'd find in the bunker below.

Two days later, in New York, Napoleon Solo and April Dancer, both wearing normal workday clothes, entered Alexander Waverly's office.

Waverly, sitting at the round conference table, looked up with a puzzled look on his face. Before Waverly could speak, Solo was handing him a file.

"I believe you will find this a complete report on this affair," Solo said as he sat down.

"I appreciate that, but--" Waverly said.

"Also, sir, it appears that the personnel of U.N.C.L.E.-Tokyo are, for the most part, quite loyal to the organization," April said. "Mr. Fujimoto had an aide who committed suicide shortly after the Kyoto operation was shut down. We made a fairly quick, but thorough, check of the rest of the personnel. We'll need to make follow-up checks as well, but it seems Fujimoto hadn't filled the office with Thrush people. The idea was more subtle, guiding U.N.C.L.E. away from major Thrush operations."

"And," Solo said, "as best we can tell we have all relevant documents concerning the space-laser weapon."

"See here, Mr. Solo, Miss Dancer," Waverly said testily. "I appreciate all this, but you're avoiding the obvious question. Where is Mr. Kuryakin? He was supposed to be with you for this briefing. Now where is he?"

"Oh, Illya?" Solo said. "Well, sir, he was bumped from our flight. It was overbooked. It was either one of our party stay behind or a grandmother from Dubuque would be forced to miss her flight home."

"Grandmother?"

"Oh, yes sir," April said. "The airline asked for volunteers and Mr. Kuryakin agreed to stay so the grandmother could go home. It was her first trip to Japan and we didn't want to spoil her return."

Waverly grimaced. "I see," he said. "And what of the whereabouts of Miss Delgato?"

"After that experience with the attempted brainwashing -- she resisted all the way through, she was quite brave -- Miss Delgato felt that she should rest for a few days before flying back to London," Solo said.

Waverly rubbed his eyes. "When might Mr. Kuryakin be coming back?"

"Well, sir, it was quite amazing," April said. "The flights were booked quite heavily. It looks like he might not get out for three or four days."

Waverly sighed. "I see," he said. "I don't suppose he might just be enjoying Miss Delgato's company for a few days and you two are covering for him?"

"Us, sir?" Solo said.

"Never mind, Mr. Solo, Miss Dancer. Actually, I will probably have to go to Tokyo for a couple of days myself to help sort out this Fujimoto mess. We never got along that well but I didn't imagine until recently he could be a Thrush mole. I'll give Mr. Kuryakin your regards. For the most part, this affair turned out satisfactorily. I'll read your report and perhaps we can have a more detailed debriefing when I return. Good day."

Solo and April got up without comment and walked out of the office through the automatic sliding door. They walked down the hallway and paused outside Solo's office.

"Do you suppose, we should call Illya and let him know Mr. Waverly is coming?" April said.

"Oh, I suspect Illya will be prepared to greet Mr. Waverly when the time comes," Solo said. "Oh, wait here. I have something for you."

Solo turned and went through the sliding door into his office. April stood outside, arms crossed, wondering what Solo was doing. He emerged moments later with a clothing box.

"For me? What is it?" April said.

"Open it," Solo said.

April did so and took out a blue turtleneck sweater.

"Well, I did owe you a replacement for the one I took apart during that Mother Muffin assignment," Solo said. "After the job you did at Kyoto, I decided I wasn't going to put it off any longer."

April kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Napoleon. By the way, I suspect Katarina would thank you, too."

"I hope so," Solo replied. "Although she looked at me rather funny after we told her about the irradiated fuzzball we used as a tracking device."

"Do you think Mr. Waverly really believes that story about the grandmother?" April asked.

"Of course not. Still, it was the least I could do," Solo said. "Katarina's a big believer in fate. Sometimes fate requires concocting a story or two for the boss."

THE END

The End.

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