Night found the mountain valley filled with fog. Hidden lights gave it a dim, eerie, blue-green glow. There was a sudden flash, and tongues of flame began to lick the sides of a wooden outbuilding.

"Le feu! Le feu!" called distant voices. Mors watched through shielded, light-enhancing binoculars as the guards of the Force Publique were mustered out of sleep to fight the fire. He kept his gaze focused on the perimeter guards, who had begun to take a close interest in the proceedings.

"Get ready," Mors warned his men. "Remember to keep your eyes closed – protect your night vision." He put on polarizing goggles and picked up a tubular device. "Close your eyes!" he called one last time as he aimed and hit the contact. His own goggles went dark, protecting his eyes from the bright white flare that slowly spun through the foggy night sky. He could hear the guards shout and was sure they had just lost their night vision. His goggles slowly cleared, and he could tell the flare had landed exactly where he'd aimed it. The roof of the guard barracks was now beginning to burn.

"Let's go." Mors rose. Several shots rang out, echoing oddly in the valley.

"They aren't shooting at us, are they?" Bemberger asked.

"No, those are too far off. Possibly the guards are firing into the dark, but I suspect an officer just shot some his men." He grimaced in the dark but led his men onward. They found the nearest sentry point deserted.

"If my guess is correct," he told Bemberger in a low voice, "The conscripts probably went to rescue what few personal belongings they own. And the officers tried to hold them back. They'll all be quite distracted for a little while." Mors carefully guided his men closer to the large steel doors leading into the mountainside. "Very good. Any closer and we'll stand out if we walk. Now – run!"

Mors' men ran for the entrance. Aside from one man who called at them in French to 'return to their posts' they were ignored, and even the one voice that called after them did not pursue them further.

The entrance could be blocked, Bemberger noted in passing, by a pair of large steel doors on rails, but the doors were open as the party ran in. Within the mountain the bay was lit with high powered arc lamps and Mors pulled off his goggles, wincing. A man in the dark gray Robur used for his ground crews was in the process of hanging up a handset when the rescue party entered.

"You should get back – who are you?" he called in English, looking up in surprise. Captain Mors grabbed the man firmly and hauled him into the air. Thrusting the man against the wall, he held him up, apparently effortlessly, with one forearm across the man's throat.

"Where are the prisoners?" Mors demanded harshly.

"The ones… we keep here… are on level four," the dangling man replied hoarsely. Robur's man pointed down a corridor with his left arm.

"Here? There are others?" Mors pressed.

"Is the actress here?" Bemberger interjected. "Star Kelly?" The guard's eyes flickered from Mors to Bemberger and back.

"Robur keeps… others. On his ship." Mors changed his hold so the man could speak easier. "I've never seen the ones he keeps on his ship," the man continued. "But there are no women here. And Henri told me Robur had some new woman in his quarters."

"She's not here," Bemberger muttered.

"That was always a risk. But there are others to rescue." Mors turned his attention back to his captive. He carefully set the man on the ground. "Thank you for your assistance," he told the man politely. Then with a sudden move he rapped the man on the head. The guard crumbled, and Mors caught him and carefully placed him on the ground.

"Thank you?" Bemberger asked.

"There is no need to be rude, Karl." Mors directed his party to follow him down the corridor. Perhaps fifty feet from the entrance the corridor ended in a bank of elevators.

"Lifts," Mors said. "I'd rather not be caught in one if they shut them down." He paused for thought. "Robur wouldn't trust his own life entirely to a lift system." He began to check the walls. He ran his fingers across the wall on one side. "There's a groove here." Mors pulled a knife off his belt and began to slide it. "A door frame, definitely. But… there must be an access panel, surely?" He crossed to the bank of elevators, where there was a panel with a simple recessed "down" button. Mors used his knife to lever off the panel and expose the wiring beneath. "I see. If I cut… this. And cross wire here…" There was a click and the hidden door was suddenly slightly more visible than before. Mors looked up. "Good." He crossed and used his knife again, this time grunting with effort as he forced the door to open outward, revealing a low spiral iron stairwell leading down into the dark. Mors put the knife back on his belt.

"Come, men. Adventure awaits!" he called, heading down the stairs.