"On the level below this one. But what's the difference? We'll never get out of here." "Maybe not. But we can sure try. Are you game?" Burnine stared at him, looked around at the other three. Their thin shoulders had lost some of the sag. A spark had been kindled in their eyes. "What can we lose?" Burnine said. * * * * * They could tell when Engels started down the corridor outside their cell. His feet made a heavy sound. There were several guards with him. "What do you guys want?" Engels shouted through the door. "I've got a message for your boss," Case shouted back. "Go ahead. I can hear you." "It's in writing," Case called. Engels laughed sourly. "This better not be a trick. You're a dead tomato if it is. Back away from the door." He came through, closely followed by four guards. All of them carried guns in their hands, but when they saw Case in the middle of the room with the men behind him, they put up the weapons and moved forward. "Where is it?" Engels asked. "Here." Case put his hand out and Engels reached. Too late, Engels and the guards realized that there were only three men behind Case. From behind the open door, Burnine's frail body hurtled and crashed into the guards, knocking them off balance. Engels was thrown forward, his chin meeting Case's fist on its way upward. There was the crack of a neck breaking. Case had put all his strength into that punch. Burnine kicked at a guard's head, dropped down to one knee and came up with a gun. The other guards didn't have a chance. Burnine peppered them with pellets that ate away flesh wherever they hit. "Let's go," Case snapped. "You take the lead. And don't stop to argue if anyone gets in our way." Then they were racing down the long corridor toward a heavy door at the end. A pair of guards looked up and saw them coming and died before their hands could reach their guns. Case paused to pick up a heavy weapon that leaned against a wall. Another guard stuck his head out of a side room and popped it back in. Within a second, warning whistles pierced the air. But over the whistles Case could still hear a hum. "Not much time," Burnine panted. He was completely winded. A stairway made a dark opening and they plunged downward through it. The sound of motors pounded up toward them. They were in darkness for long minutes. And then the darkness gave way to light and they were racing into a vast chamber filled with scurrying men. Case brought up the heavy gun he was carrying, triggered it and was gratified by the streak of flame that issued from the muzzle. But other guns were popping steadily. Behind Case, a man went down. There was a sharpshooter behind a bank of instruments, and Case took steady aim. The sharpshooter dropped. Meanwhile, Burnine and the other two had not been idle. They had both flanks cleared. "This is it," Burnine gasped. "Good thing Engels liked to brag. That big panel is the converter."