"Illya, do you have plans for this Friday after work? I was thinking we could go to dinner and ask Sal to join us." Sal was Agent Salvatore Del Floria, the gatekeeper of the agents' entrance located in Del Floria's Tailor Shop and Cleaners. They had shared a meal with the man the previous month and had found him to be such an interesting and entertaining dinner mate that they thought they should try to make it a standing engagement.

Illya's response was to pick up the phone and call Del Floria's. "Hello Sal, this is Illya. I am fine. Napoleon and I were wondering if you would like to join us for dinner this Friday. I will leave that for you and Napoleon to figure out then. Six – thirty it is. Goodbye, Sal." He placed the handset back in the cradle and said, "We are on for Friday at six – thirty. Sal insists on picking up the check since you paid last time."

Napoleon reached into his bottom desk drawer and extracted his calculator so that he could work on his expense account. "I suppose his pride won't allow him to be treated every time we go out; unlike some people I know."

The Russian sniffed, "If we are going to start going Dutch, you can just type your own reports in future and I will type mine."

"Illyusha, I was just kidding!"

"I thought so."

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Friday evening found the three agents in Chinatown feasting on all kinds of Cantonese and Mandarin delicacies as they drank copious amounts of tea and chatted amiably about books, movies and places they had been. Even the usually quiet Illya was enjoying himself and contributing to the conversation.

None of the men were in any hurry to leave. The simple act of lingering over a meal with good company and nowhere to go was such a rare treat, they just wanted to enjoy it as long as possible. The dinner rush was over and the tables in their immediate vicinity were now empty. Sal looked from one young man to the other and asked conspiratorially, "Did you know that April Dancer was not supposed to be the first female Section II?"

Napoleon was shocked. "What do you mean?" he asked in amazement, "April's the only woman I know of to go to Survival School."

Sal laughed, "She's the only woman to go to Survival School since you joined UNCLE. The woman I am talking about went there six years before you came to UNCLE, Napoleon. Mr. Waverly is a man ahead of his time. He was certain he had found the perfect candidate in 1958."

Illya's eyes widened in surprise. "1958?" he repeated. Who was this woman? Is she still associated with the organization? I would like to know her."

Napoleon nodded in agreement with his partner. "Yes, I would like to meet her if she's still around."

Sal laughed out loud and slapped his knee. "You see her all the time. Lisa Rogers is the woman I'm talking about!"

Napoleon's mouth dropped open. "Lisa Rogers?" He closed his mouth and absorbed what he had just been told. He glanced at Illya who he could tell was equally taken aback. "Lisa went to Survival School! Well, how do you like that! Huh."

Illya signaled for more tea and when it arrived, he poured some in all three cups and said, "Sal, I mean no harm or disrespect, but how do you know this?"

Del Floria sipped his tea. "No offense taken, my friend. Remember, I was already here working and Alexander and I had begun our friendship. One thing he and I have in common is that we rarely discuss work with our wives. It's better they not know certain things. He and I are closer in age than anyone else is to us and sometimes; you want to speak to someone who shares some of your experiences. In my case, when I arrived in New York, I only knew my wife and him. There have been many nights like you saw where he and I sit in his office late at night with drinks and talk. Even the head of UNCLE NY needs a sounding board occasionally."

"Alexander always wanted a female Section II. When Miss Rogers applied for a secretarial position, he was impressed with the parts of her resume that indicated she was an outdoorswoman. She listed fishing, camping and hunting as interests. She was, ahem, obviously physically fit. We talked about the possibility of sending her to Jules to see if she could, as they say, cut the mustard. He presented it to her as an option and she said she welcomed the opportunity to try."

Illya steepled his fingers with his elbows on the table. "So," he stated, "she failed?"

Sal smiled around his teacup. "Absolutely not; she completed training with respectable scores and came back to New York HQ assigned to Section III, but before she could be moved up to Section II, she fell in love with another Section III named Baron Schofield."

Napoleon sat up and started snapping his fingers. "I know that name; why do I know that name?" he muttered. When Illya scowled at him, he fell silent to think and Sal continued his recounting.

"She and Baron wanted to get married and since Section IIs can't marry, she asked Alexander if she could remain a III. He was disappointed, of course, but he gave his permission and his blessing."

"Sadly, before they became officially engaged, there was an assassination attempt on Alexander's life by THRUSH as he was arriving at LaGuardia Airport from the West Coast. Thanks to the quick response of his security team, he was unscathed, but Baron and another agent were wounded. Despite almost immediate medical attention, Baron didn't make it. Alexander told me later that telling Lisa that the man she loved had died saving him was one of the hardest things he had ever done."

Napoleon grimaced. "That's why I know his name: It's on the Wall of Remembrance in HQ. Poor Lisa, she must have been devastated."

"She was, but she also became angry and determined that if Baron had died protecting the Old Man, she would do the same. He was looking for a new secretary and she went to him and proposed that she be given the job so that she could also double as a bodyguard. You two are not here enough to see, but she is still quite deadly with a gun and in the martial arts."

Illya glanced at his watch before replying drily, "Napoleon, we really must stay in HQ more often; look at what we miss going into the field!"

The American rolled his eyes at his partner's sarcasm. "Lisa is also in charge of the entire secretarial staff."

"And it was her idea that all the secretaries become proficient with handgun and qualify on the range every year. Prior to that, only she had a weapon." Sal checked the time and said, "Gentlemen, you two are footloose and fancy free, but I must go home. If I abuse this privilege, my Carmella might not take too kindly to our monthly dinners."

"But, Sal," Illya protested, "How did THRUSH find out about Mr. Waverly's arrival in New York? Was there a mole operating in UNCLE?"

Sal pulled his wallet and took out enough money to cover the bill and the tip. He looked pointedly at Napoleon who knew enough not to say anything. Smiling now, Sal pulled on his coat and responded, "That is a story for another time. Goodnight, Napoleon, Illya" before walking out the door.

As they watched him leave, Napoleon said, "Do you think he knows the story of Scheherazade?"*

"I'm starting to wonder. Napoleon, let us go to the Village and listen to some jazz. Drinks are on me."

"You're treating? Let's go."

*Scheherazade was the wife of the sultan of India, who relates such interesting tales nightly that the sultan spares her life.