He smiled at the astonished crew. “Nasty stuff, canned beer. Better stick to the bottled stuff next time—it’s safer. Good night!” He waved cheerily and caught the cab door as the truck went by. On impulse he used the momentum to swing him around, up and over into the back alongside Illya.

“That wasn’t such a good idea either,” he frowned. “If those two had been feeling nasty I’d have been in a spot. I couldn’t very well shoot them.”

“That’s right. We have to assume they’re innocent parties. We might not be so fortunate with the last one.’”

“Third time unlucky. It’s a small miracle that truck didn’t turn over, anyway. We’ll have to cancel the blowout stunt.”

“We’ll just have to choose a suitably wide stretch of road, pull alongside and keep pace, and get them that way.”

Solo nodded. “All right. That’s worth a try.” And then he grabbed for a handhold as the little truck lurched wildly across the road, straightened by a miracle and roared on again.

“I’m a fool!” he cried. “We have a crazy woman at the wheel. She’s been gulping the stuff down all this time! I’d better get back down there while we’re still right side up!” He plunged for the roof, but Kuryakin tapped him on the shoulder and pointed ahead.

“Too late,” he said. “There’s our last pigeon now!”

“This road’s wide enough, anyway. I’ll give her a shout, tell her what to do. Let’s hope she has sense enough to obey!” He clung and craned over at a perilous angle to peer into the cab and yell at her.

“Pull up alongside! Alongside! Keep even with him. Keep up the same speed-all right?”

“Yahoo!” she screamed back, her eyes afire. “Down with the heathen blackguards! Erin go bragh!”

“And the best of luck to all of us,” he sighed, hauling himself back to stand beside his companion. “Who was it who said, ‘Defend me from my friends; I can take care of my enemies myself.’?”

“That was Voltaire. I agree with him. I would rather fight a dozen fools than have one on my side. Still—we will just have to bear with it.”

Illya hoisted himself up onto the cab roof, to squat and haul the ultrasonic unit around to a broadside position. The little truck lurched and bucked as Sarah drove it madly on, rapidly overtaking the booming giant ahead. “Pull out!” Solo prayed, biting his lip. “For God’s sake, Sarah, pull out!”

And at the very last moment the little truck lurched violently sideways across the road, bumped into the ditch, swung back and came up alongside its prey. Now Solo stared in awe as the cartons began to blow and burst in wild confusion, all over the place, top bottom and sides as Kuryakin struggled to keep aim against the crazy sways and surges of the little truck. The chaos in the beer-truck was beyond description as cartons and cans alike danced and bubbled on spouting-up streams of escaping beer, bobbing and leaping over a seething sea of froth and squirtings like so many crazy ping-pong balls on a rifle range. They pulled up to hold level with the giant’s cab. Solo waved to the driver.

“Lovely night for a drive, isn’t it?”

The pleasantry got him a dark glare of suspicion. They fell back as Sarah trod a little too heavily on the brake. The beer-barrage went on. Solo could see, now, how the fine beam of sound carved its way through froth and spray like an invisible knife. The poppings and splurtings died away.

Kuryakin made one last weary traverse, and said, “I think that’s all, Napoleon. Tell that madwoman we would like to go home now, would you?”

Solo craned himself over the edge of the cab once more to peer at her. “Head for home, darling. It’s all over. If you know another route, better take it. We won’t be too popular where we’ve come from.”

She gave him a broad and dazzling smile. “Do you know where we are right now? We’re almost to Tipperary!”

“I’ve heard of it,” he admitted. “It’s a long way!”

“Not at all. Only a few more miles. Would ye like to go there?”

“Some other time. Let’s go home, eh?”

“Home!” He saw the smile wash away from her face, leaving it crumpled and forlorn. “I’ve no home left now. None at all.”

He realized instantly that what she said was absolutely true. More than that, he knew she was feeling the deadly letdown of the aftermath of the drug. He twisted his head around to see that the last ruined beer truck was now halted and falling behind.

“Pull in to the side and stop,” he ordered her, and swung himself down as she obeyed. It took only a few strenuous minutes for the two men to drag the ultrasonic unit down from the cab roof and stow it in the back of the truck. Then Solo took the wheel. Sarah sat between them, tears showing in her eyes as she reflected on her situation. Solo didn’t feel too wonderful either as he put his foot down on the gas. Fast action was a fine thing for occupying the mind, but once it was over the mind inexorably went back to the main problems and worried at them.

“You realize,” he said to Illya, “that we’ve only postponed this thing for a while?”

“Yes, that’s true. We still have to deal with King Mike and Trilli and his boys. And so long as they have the sense to stay put in Cooraclare Castle it will take an army to get them out.”

“We’ll just have to scream for help.”

“But we won’t get it, Napoleon. You’re forgetting one thing. This is Eire. The Irish Free State. A republic!”

Solo gripped the wheel and stared grimly ahead, that simple reminder stirring his mind and making a lot of things suddenly fall into place. This little country, so peaceful on the surface, had a long and bitter history of fight and feud with England; Eire was independent and fiercely proud of it. There would be still many of the older generation with no love at all for Britain—and that would be why King Mike had directed his first murderous scheme against that nation. Sarah began to weep silently, and he sympathized with her. All three of them were weary and hungry, but Sarah now had no home, no possessions and only the clothes on her back—plus the depressing aftereffects of the drug to make her feel like death.

“Where are we?” he asked, to give her something positive to think about. “I’m just going at random here.” She knuckled her eyes, and Kuryakin unfastened his handkerchief and gave it to her. She thanked him, dabbed, and peered as Solo slowed for a roadside signpost. A finger-post pointed back to Kilteely, another on to Herbertstown. She sniffed and thought.

“We should strike a trunk road in a minute or two,” she said. “If you turn right there, it will get us back to Limerick. It’s the T 57.”

“That’s for us, then. Perhaps the Limerick office will be able to come up with something. We’ll see you safe, anyway.”

“If everything else fails,” Kuryakin observed, “I have a very kind landlady in Ennis. I’m sure she can find you a room.” Silence fell over the trio for a moment as each retreated into his or her own thoughts. Kuryakin was frowning slightly, as though something were nagging at the back of his mind. Finally he said, “Tell me, does your uncle dabble in electronics too? Radio gadgetry and that kind of thing?

She gave one last dab with the handkerchief, handed it back to him and frowned in blue-eyed bewilderment. “Not him. Whatever gave you that idea? I do, quite a bit. I like to mess about with gadgets and equipment. Why?’

“Just something I came across.” He fished out the enigmatic little notebook he had extracted from the safe and flipped the pages until he came to the curious circuit diagram. “This. It seems to be a short-wave transmitter with a critically selective wave-length output.”

“That’s mine!” She moved close to peer over his shoulder and point. “Uncle Mike asked me to work this out, a long time ago. He didn’t say what it was to be for, only that it had to put out a fine-tuned frequency, and to be adjustable—here, see?”

Solo shot a side-glance at the two heads close together and grinned wryly. In his serious and quietly intense way, Illya was something of a lady-killer himself. He certainly had Sarah’s interest at this moment. Two technical minds together. Ah well, it was keeping her happy, if only for a little while. He paid attention to the road ahead. The total quietness and peace of this land caught at him. No wonder the children of Erin had been world famous for philosophy and letters. This was a land in which a man could think, and take his time at it.