THE MILTON-FREEWATER AFFAIR
by ardavenport and tlneill
= = = Act 1 : "I'd like you to do me a favor..."
"Does this hurt?" Napoleon inquired solicitously, prodding Illya's shoulder.
"Yes. It. Does." Illya informed him through clenched teeth. "Are you finished?"
Napoleon tossed him his shirt. "You'll live."
"Thank you for the insight," Illya responded dryly. "I would never have guessed."
"Agents Solo and Kuryakin report to Mr. Jorgenson's office at once, please," the intercom commanded politely.
Napoleon triggered the door, then stood waiting for his partner to shrug into his shirt. Illya followed, strapping his shoulder holster on as they walked down the hall of U.N.C.L.E. Portland, mindful of his wounded shoulder.
U.N.C.L.E. Portland was a newer installation than the New York facility. Chillier too, as the refrigeration units for a local ice rink were housed in the ceiling. The standard U.N.C.L.E. uniform was embellished by sweaters and jackets here. Napoleon was feeling the lack of one, but Illya seemed to be doing just fine. It must be his heritage, Napoleon thought to himself.
Jorgenson's office was the same as head U.N.C.L.E. offices all over the world.
" . . . thank you, Alex. Yes, I'll tell them." Jorgenson said into the microphone as the two agents walked into his office. "Jorgenson out. Sit down gentlemen," he offered, clipping the mike back in its stand. "That was your Mr. Waverly," he informed them. "He's given me permission to have you do me a little favor. I trust you're up to it?"
"I think we can handle anything that isn't too strenuous," Napoleon answered a little reluctantly. He was slightly dismayed that he and Illya were being loaned out on something, however minor, so soon after their last rather grueling assignment. Napoleon made a mental note to cancel his date with Sonja in New York that night. Illya sighed and hoped that they wouldn't have to drive all the way back across the country in the U.N.C.L.E. car. Once was enough.
"Good. Now that six of my agents are hospitalized, and several more are on curtailed duty, we're a bit short-handed. Alex has given his okay to have you give us a hand on your way out." he continued, spinning the table so that a file came to rest in front of Napoleon, "You're to check out some of our smaller operations around the state between here and Boise."
"Check them out, how?" inquired Illya reading over his partner's shoulder.
"Once a year we give the smaller Oregon operations a once-over. It's mostly a formality, any agent class three or higher can OK the report. What you'll need to do is check out operations procedures with the head agent, in the larger operations, and go over the yearly write-up. It takes a few hours in most cases. Less time for the single agent towns. I'd like you to start in The Dalles, then go on to Moro then Wasco and...well, it's all laid out in the file there."
Napoleon scanned the file. The assignment consisted of simple yearly reviews, the kind of thing he hadn't had to do in years. He might have pointed out to Jorgenson that he ought to assign some junior agents to the task, but then all of Portland's junior agents were in the hospital. He and Illya were really performing a good will gesture from the New York office to Portland.
"Alex wants you to leave the car in Boise. You can turn in your reports there too. You'll take a flight from Boise to New York. It should take you about two days." Jorgenson smiled. "Alex calls it a rest after this last arduous affair."
Napoleon and Illya glanced at each other. They'd encountered Mr. Waverly's idea of 'rest' before.
= = = END Act 1
