pressed buttons, opening the channel for each screen in turn, the walled yard, smaller labs, shipping areas, the hothouses, the corridors.
A hothouse camera swung across the long arena of tropical growth. Catching his breath, Nesbitt pressed a button, holding the camera in its position.
It was fixed on Solo, Kuryakin and a crushed body crumpled on the hothouse floor. The body the doctor ignored as if it did not exist for him, had never existed.
For a few moments, almost as if entranced by what he saw, Nesbitt watched Solo slashing at the huge arm of the writhing plant.
But as Napoleon Solo hacked the limb loose, the bloody sap spurting and oozing everywhere, Nesbitt's face darkened.
He pressed a button, spoke into a microphone at his side. Intercoms throughout the laboratory carried his voice. "There are two intruders in Hothouse One. Bring them to me."
Nesbitt's voice rattled through the humid greenhouse as Solo pulled Illya Kuryakin from the grasping tentacles of the plant.
For one moment Illya stared down in horror at Sam Connor's crushed body, and thought, "But for the grace of God and Solo using pruning shears, that could be me—"
All doors of the hothouse were thrust open and armed guards appeared in each of them.
Illya and Solo stepped in close to the doors as they were thrust open near them. With all their strength they slammed the doors shut behind the guards.
As the robot-men turned, both Illya and Solo lunged at them, thrusting them stumbling over Connor's body.
The men threw their arms up as they went sprawling into the tangled green plants.
Obviously following all this on his closed-circuit TV, Nesbitt shouted, his voice crackling over the intercom: "Door Six, Hot house One. Stop those men."
But Illya and Solo were already going out of the door. Solo glanced back, watching the two guards trying to fight free of the grasping limbs, the rustling growing to a keening pitch.
For that instant the incredibly long corridor was empty. It was brightly lighted with what seemed half a hundred doors along it.
Solo waved his arm in the direction of the distant white-doored exit.
They ran together.
Nesbitt's laughter sounded chilled and sardonic from the intercom speakers around them. It was nightmarish, as if laughter battered them from everywhere.
"He's watching us on TV," Illya gasped.
"Run," Solo said. He stayed close to the wall, sprinting toward that white-doored exit which seemed to recede the way it might in a bad dream.
"Run faster, gentlemen." Nesbitt's voice mocked them. "A little exercise, and then I shall stop you as I wish."
"Stay close to the wall," Solo warned Illya.
Illya nodded and sidestepped, but he was already too late.
They both heard the rising hiss. It was as if Illya had run into an invisible wall. The beam struck him and he stopped running, slowing, taking long steps and then halting as if paralyzed.
Solo leaped into the inset door nearest him as the hiss rose, approaching like an angry wasp.
The beam lashed at him and Solo put all his weight against the door, thrusting his way into it.
He toppled into a brightly lighted room and the door swung shut behind him.
He landed hard on his knees, and lifted his head slowly at the old chattering sound that over whelmed him.
His eyes widened at the sight of the set faces, the empty eyes, the meaningless chatter. The people sat at long tables suspended from the ceiling. They didn't look at each other, or at anything. They chattered, but it was less meaningful than squealing monkey noises in a tree.
Solo got to his feet, repelled and shaken by the sight of these mindless creatures.
He shook his head, retreated toward the door.
Faces turned his way, but not one pair of eyes actually focused on him. The eyes were like milky marbles and light reflected from them.
Solo wheeled around and grabbed at the door. Again there was no inside handle, and the door was locked securely.
Solo stared around helplessly. There was no other exit from
A hothouse camera swung across the long arena of tropical growth. Catching his breath, Nesbitt pressed a button, holding the camera in its position.
It was fixed on Solo, Kuryakin and a crushed body crumpled on the hothouse floor. The body the doctor ignored as if it did not exist for him, had never existed.
For a few moments, almost as if entranced by what he saw, Nesbitt watched Solo slashing at the huge arm of the writhing plant.
But as Napoleon Solo hacked the limb loose, the bloody sap spurting and oozing everywhere, Nesbitt's face darkened.
He pressed a button, spoke into a microphone at his side. Intercoms throughout the laboratory carried his voice. "There are two intruders in Hothouse One. Bring them to me."
Nesbitt's voice rattled through the humid greenhouse as Solo pulled Illya Kuryakin from the grasping tentacles of the plant.
For one moment Illya stared down in horror at Sam Connor's crushed body, and thought, "But for the grace of God and Solo using pruning shears, that could be me—"
All doors of the hothouse were thrust open and armed guards appeared in each of them.
Illya and Solo stepped in close to the doors as they were thrust open near them. With all their strength they slammed the doors shut behind the guards.
As the robot-men turned, both Illya and Solo lunged at them, thrusting them stumbling over Connor's body.
The men threw their arms up as they went sprawling into the tangled green plants.
Obviously following all this on his closed-circuit TV, Nesbitt shouted, his voice crackling over the intercom: "Door Six, Hot house One. Stop those men."
But Illya and Solo were already going out of the door. Solo glanced back, watching the two guards trying to fight free of the grasping limbs, the rustling growing to a keening pitch.
For that instant the incredibly long corridor was empty. It was brightly lighted with what seemed half a hundred doors along it.
Solo waved his arm in the direction of the distant white-doored exit.
They ran together.
Nesbitt's laughter sounded chilled and sardonic from the intercom speakers around them. It was nightmarish, as if laughter battered them from everywhere.
"He's watching us on TV," Illya gasped.
"Run," Solo said. He stayed close to the wall, sprinting toward that white-doored exit which seemed to recede the way it might in a bad dream.
"Run faster, gentlemen." Nesbitt's voice mocked them. "A little exercise, and then I shall stop you as I wish."
"Stay close to the wall," Solo warned Illya.
Illya nodded and sidestepped, but he was already too late.
They both heard the rising hiss. It was as if Illya had run into an invisible wall. The beam struck him and he stopped running, slowing, taking long steps and then halting as if paralyzed.
Solo leaped into the inset door nearest him as the hiss rose, approaching like an angry wasp.
The beam lashed at him and Solo put all his weight against the door, thrusting his way into it.
He toppled into a brightly lighted room and the door swung shut behind him.
He landed hard on his knees, and lifted his head slowly at the old chattering sound that over whelmed him.
His eyes widened at the sight of the set faces, the empty eyes, the meaningless chatter. The people sat at long tables suspended from the ceiling. They didn't look at each other, or at anything. They chattered, but it was less meaningful than squealing monkey noises in a tree.
Solo got to his feet, repelled and shaken by the sight of these mindless creatures.
He shook his head, retreated toward the door.
Faces turned his way, but not one pair of eyes actually focused on him. The eyes were like milky marbles and light reflected from them.
Solo wheeled around and grabbed at the door. Again there was no inside handle, and the door was locked securely.
Solo stared around helplessly. There was no other exit from
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