James Katt had lost the most important file in the world. The encrypted dossier held the name of every deep-cover UNCLE spy alive. If enemies cracked it, those agents would die. James knew where it had been three days ago. He did not know where it had gone since. Every hour narrowed the gap between his search and their code-breakers. He stood in the elevator, jaw tight, one hand flat against the cold wall. His Beretta pressed under his jacket. The doors opened onto the top floor of UNCLE headquarters. Telari waited by the office door. She was his partner, and the one person he trusted with his life. She had run three field checks while he chased dead ends. Her red hair was pulled back, her mouth a hard line. "I ran every transfer log," she said. "Nothing. The trail just stops." "Then we're already too late," James said. "Not yet." She pushed the door open. Inside, their director sat behind a wide desk. Alexander Waverly was sixty, gray-suited, calm in a way that unsettled younger agents. He gave the missions. He decided who lived and died on paper. He did not look up when they entered. He was turning a small reel of tape between two fingers. "Sit," Waverly said. "You've both been looking in the wrong place." James stayed standing. "The dossier moved. We can't find where." "Because it didn't move the way you think." Waverly set the tape on the desk. "This came in an hour ago. A courier we lost last week. She recorded her last transfer before they took her." He pressed a switch. A woman's voice filled the room, fast and afraid. She named a shipping crate. She named a private airfield. Then the tape cut to static. James leaned over the desk. "An airfield. When did the crate leave?" "Six hours ago," Waverly said. "Bound out of the country. The dossier is on that plane." Telari looked at James. "That's a real lead. First one in three days." Relief hit James, then drained just as fast. Six hours out meant the dossier was crossing into enemy ground. Recovery on foreign soil meant no backup and no rules. Waverly stood. He slid a folder across the desk. "The plane belongs to THRUSH. Their leader arranged the pickup himself." James opened the folder. A photograph showed a man in a black hooded robe, a red-tipped cane in his hand. Thuldark. His oldest enemy. "He has the list," James said quietly. "He has it," Waverly agreed. "And he's flying it home to be decrypted. You have until it lands." James closed the folder. The lost trail was found. But finding it had put the dossier in Thuldark's hands, on a plane James did not control, heading somewhere he was not cleared to go. "We move now," Telari said. James nodded. "We chase the plane."

The chase ended at the airfield fence. James and Telari left the car and crossed the last stretch on foot. Ahead, the THRUSH jet sat on the runway, sleek and silver, its insignia bright under the lights. The dossier was inside that plane. James was almost close enough to reach it. A shout broke the quiet. Muzzle flashes lit the perimeter. Bullets tore the dirt near James's boots. He dropped flat behind a fuel drum. Two THRUSH gunmen had spotted him. They fired in short bursts, pinning him in the open. The plane's engines whined to life. Every second cost him the dossier. "They've got the angle on you," Telari called. She crouched behind a low crate to his left. Her Beretta was already up. Years of working beside her had taught James her signals without words. She tapped two fingers against the crate, then pointed right. She would draw their fire. He would take the shot. "On three," James said. He counted down. Telari rose and fired twice, loud and fast. The gunmen turned toward her. The lead man swung his rifle her way. James recognized his hard face from the mission file. Moe. THRUSH's first gun, the one who never missed. But Moe missed now. Telari's shots forced him to duck, and James pushed up from the drum. He fired three rounds. Moe fell. The second gunman spun toward James and squeezed his trigger. Telari shot him first. He dropped beside Moe and did not move. Silence returned. Smoke drifted over the runway. James stayed low, breathing hard, waiting for more guns. None came. The perimeter was clear. "You good?" Telari asked. She came to his side, reloading as she moved. "Good," James said. He rose and looked at the plane. Then his stomach dropped. The jet was rolling. Its wheels turned faster on the runway. The gunfire had bought Thuldark the warning he needed. The engines roared to full power. James sprinted toward the moving plane. Telari ran beside him. The jet picked up speed. Its nose lifted from the ground. James pushed harder, but the runway ran out. The wheels left the tarmac. The plane climbed into the dark sky and shrank to a point of light. James stopped. He watched it go. His chest heaved. The two dead gunmen lay behind him. He had won the fight and lost the plane. The dossier was gone, higher and faster than any car could chase. Telari stopped beside him. "He didn't take that jet home," she said. "He took off too fast. He knew we were close." James stared at the fading light. "Then he's changing the plan." He turned toward the dead men and knelt beside Moe. In the gunman's jacket he found a folded slip of paper. A set of coordinates. Not the enemy border. Somewhere else. Wherever Thuldark had truly gone.

James held the slip of paper under the runway lights. The numbers meant nothing on their own. They marked a spot, but he could not tell which airstrip Thuldark had chosen. Every minute cost them ground. The jet was already miles away, and the dossier with it. He needed a map, and he needed it now. "We can't chase what we can't find," James said. He turned to Telari. His partner had fought beside him for years. She read his fear before he spoke it. "Then we stop guessing," she said. She dug into her jacket and pulled out a small silver device. It fit in her palm. She had used it on a dozen jobs, and it had never failed her. Her thumb moved fast across the buttons. "Read them to me," she said. James read the numbers aloud. Telari typed each one. The tiny screen glowed against her face. James watched the map load, line by line. He hated waiting. He wanted to be in the air already. "It's pulling flight data," Telari said. "Give it a second." The screen flickered. A point blinked at the center. Then a name appeared beside it. Telari leaned close and read it twice. "There," she said. "A private airstrip. Small. One runway. It matches the coordinates." She tilted the screen toward James. A single dot marked the spot, far to the north. James felt his chest ease. "That's where he's landing." "That's where he thinks he's safe," Telari said. She kept typing. Her mouth tightened. "But look. There's a fuel record. A jet filed a stop there tonight. Same tail markings as the THRUSH plane." "So he has to land there to refuel," James said. "He can't skip it," she said. "His range runs out first. He's fast, but he's grounded the moment he touches down." James stared at the blinking dot. For the first time since the jet lifted off, he knew exactly where Thuldark would be. The dossier was not gone. It had an address now. Then the screen changed. A second line of data crawled across it. Telari read it and went still. "James," she said. "There's a landing time. He touches down in forty minutes." He did the math in his head. No car could cover that distance. No commercial flight left in time. "We can't reach it by road." "No," Telari said. She lowered the device. "And if he refuels and takes off again, we lose him for good. The dossier crosses the border by morning." James looked at the dark sky where the jet had vanished. He had the location. He had the deadline. He did not have a way to get there. He turned toward the empty airfield behind them, where the dead men lay near the hangars, and made his choice. "Then we take a plane of our own," he said.

James turned from the empty hangars. No plane on this field could catch a jet in forty minutes. He had a location and a deadline, but no way to close the gap. Then a low sound cut the night. Rotor blades. A small helicopter dropped onto the runway and settled on its landing gear. A blond man climbed out and jogged toward them. Ilya Kuryakin worked tech for UNCLE, and Waverly had sent him ahead. His accent was thick and quick. "Waverly ordered me to bring you this," Ilya said. He slapped the hull. "Straight from our lab. It seats two." James circled the machine. It was sleek and low, built to move fast. Four missiles sat mounted in pairs along each side. A screen glowed inside the cockpit. "This should get you there in time," Ilya said. He pointed at the glowing screen. "It has a tracker." "A tracker for what?" Telari asked. She leaned into the cockpit and studied the display. Ilya reached past her and tapped the panel. "For his jet. We fed the fuel record into it. The moment his plane nears that airstrip, this screen paints it." A red dot pulsed at the edge of the display. "There. That is Thuldark, still in the air." James felt the ground shift under his plan. He no longer had to guess. He had eyes on his oldest enemy. "How far?" "Twenty minutes to the airstrip," Ilya said. "You are faster. If you leave now, you land before he does." Telari was already in the right seat. She pulled the harness across her chest. "Then we don't waste it." James swung into the pilot's seat. His hands found the controls. He had flown small craft in the service. This one answered lighter than any he knew. "Get clear," he told Ilya. Ilya stepped back and raised a hand. "Bring back the dossier, my friend." The rotors spun up. James pulled the machine off the runway. The airfield dropped away below them. The red dot held steady on the screen, marking the jet ahead. For the first time, James was not chasing a rumor. He was flying straight at Thuldark. Telari watched the tracker. Then her hand tightened on his arm. "James. The dot changed." He glanced at the screen. The red mark had turned and grown brighter. A second reading crawled beside it. "What is that?" "It's not landing," Telari said. Her voice dropped. "His jet just turned toward us. He sees the tracker signal. He's locked on it." James understood. The device that painted Thuldark could paint them back. The hunter had become the target. He pushed the helicopter lower and fast. The jet was no longer running for the airstrip. It was coming for them.

The jet dropped out of the dark and dove straight at them. Red light flashed off its nose. Thuldark's laser fire streaked past the canopy. James threw the helicopter sideways, but the small craft could not outrun the beams for long. He had no shield. He had no cover. He had four missiles. "He's lining up again," Telari said. Her hand gripped the seat. The tracker screen painted the jet as a hard bright line, closing fast. "James, he won't miss twice." James watched the jet fill the glass. His thumb found the fire switch on the stick. "Then I fire first." He held the nose steady and let the enemy come. Every part of him wanted to break away. He waited one more second. The jet flew into the center of the screen. He fired. The missile leapt off the rail with a white flash. It crossed the gap in a heartbeat. James yanked the helicopter hard left. The jet tried to climb clear. Too late. The missile struck the right engine and burst. Fire ripped down the wing. The jet rolled, black smoke pouring behind it. The laser fire stopped. "You hit him!" Telari shouted. She twisted to watch through the side glass. But the jet did not fall from the sky. Thuldark leveled the crippled plane. One engine still burned, yet the other held. The jet turned its damaged nose down and away, sinking toward the ground below. James leveled the helicopter and watched. "He's still flying." "Barely." Telari checked the tracker. The bright line crawled now, slow and low. "He can't stay up. He's going down somewhere close." James followed the trail of smoke. The jet dragged a dark line across the night sky. It was losing height with every second. He had knocked Thuldark out of the fight, but not out of the air. The dossier was still aboard that burning plane. And now Thuldark was heading for the ground on his own terms. "He'll try to land," James said. "Not the airstrip. Anywhere he can put it down." Telari nodded. Her eyes stayed on the screen. "If he crashes, the dossier could burn with him." James pushed the helicopter after the smoke. Below them, the dark land opened up. Somewhere down there Thuldark would set the wreck down, or bury it in a field. Either way, the chase had left the sky. "Then we get to it before the fire does," James said. He dropped the helicopter low and chased the falling jet toward the ground.

The jet lay broken in a dark field. Smoke rose from its torn wing. James set the helicopter down nearby and killed the engine. He drew his Beretta and slid out into the grass. Telari followed, her own pistol ready. Somewhere in that wreck was the dossier. Somewhere near it was Thuldark. "He'll be armed," Telari whispered. "He always is." James nodded. They crept toward the plane in a low crouch. The fire lit the ground orange. Then James saw movement by the wreck. Thuldark stepped from the shadow of the wing. His black hood hid his face. He held a flat case under one arm. In his other hand rested the red-balled cane. The dossier was in that case. James was sure of it. Thuldark did not run. He dropped behind a heavy stone at the edge of the field. The rough gray rock stood as tall as his chest. He rested the cane on top, aimed at the open ground, and waited. "He's got cover," Telari breathed. "He'll drop us the second we move." James studied the field. Thirty feet of flat grass lay between them and the stone. No path across it that the cane could not sweep. A charge would get one of them killed. Maybe both. "We go quiet," James said. "Split wide. I circle left. You hold his eyes." Telari understood at once. She had trained with him for years. She shifted right and let her boot crack a dry stalk. Thuldark's hood snapped toward the sound. A red laser ball burst from the cane and tore the grass where the noise had come from. While Thuldark fired at Telari, James moved. He crawled left through the tall grass, slow and flat. His hand closed on a loose rock the size of his fist. He rose to a knee behind Thuldark's blind side. James threw the rock hard. It struck Thuldark's wrist. The cane spun from his grip and clattered against the stone. Thuldark cursed and lunged for it. "Now!" James shouted. He broke from cover and closed the gap in three long strides. Thuldark twisted, the case still clamped under his arm. James drove his shoulder into him. Both men crashed against the heavy stone. The case popped loose and slid across the grass. Thuldark rolled free and snatched up his cane. He fired wild as he ran for the tree line. Telari's shots chased him into the dark, but he vanished among the trunks. James let him go. He picked up the flat case and opened it. Inside lay the sealed dossier, its casing warm but whole. He held it up so Telari could see. "We got it," she said, breathing hard. James closed the case. "We got it. But he's still out there, and he knows we can't crack it alone." He looked at the dark trees. Thuldark was already gone, and the fight was far from over.

James carried the case back to the helicopter. Telari kept her Beretta trained on the tree line until they were inside. He set the dossier on his knees and reached for the radio. He keyed it and heard nothing. No static. No hum. He tried a second channel. Dead. "The crash killed it," James said. He tapped the panel twice. The tracker screen still glowed, but the radio stayed silent. "Waverly can't hear us. We have no extraction orders." Telari leaned over the seat. "Then we're guessing. Which base? Which route? Thuldark's men could be closing in right now." She glanced back at the dark field. "We can't just sit here holding it." James looked at the case. The dossier was safe, but only for as long as they knew where to take it. Guess wrong, and they'd carry it straight into a THRUSH ambush. "We need Waverly's voice. What now?" Telari pulled a slim silver device from her jacket. It fit in her palm, no bigger than a music player. She thumbed the wheel on its face. "Ilya built me a link. It runs off its own signal, not the helicopter's." "Will it reach him?" "If Ilya's relay is up." She angled the little screen and typed with her thumb. "The radio's a shout. This is a whisper. Harder for THRUSH to catch too." James watched the screen. A line of text crawled across it, then stopped. Telari frowned and moved the device toward the windshield, hunting for a stronger signal. James held his breath. Outside, the fire in the wreck sank lower. The woods stayed still. The device buzzed once in her hand. A reply appeared. Telari read it aloud. "Waverly. He has us. He wants the dossier flown to a safe field. Ilya's sending coordinates now." She turned the screen so James could see the glowing numbers. James let out his breath. "He heard us." "He heard us." Telari's thumb moved again. Then her face changed. "There's more. Waverly says the dossier can't be cracked at the safe field. He needs Ilya's full lab to decrypt it." She looked up. "And Ilya's lab isn't there. It's back at UNCLE Hall." James sat with that. The radio was solved. They had a destination and orders again. But the field Waverly named was only a handoff, not the finish. The dossier still couldn't be read without carrying it further, deeper, past whatever Thuldark sent after them. He started the helicopter. The rotor bit the air. "Then the safe field is just the first stop." Telari buckled in and set the coordinates against the tracker display. "Thuldark knows we can't crack it alone. He'll bet on the second leg." "So will we." James lifted off the dark field. The wreck fell away below them. Ahead lay the safe field, and past it, the long run home with every UNCLE spy's name locked in the case at his side.