Illya gently rose from the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping form sharing it with him. Stepping away, he quickly pulled on pants and a black T-shirt. He looked back at the blond woman sprawled across the satin sheets, long hair spread out on the pillow like a halo, slender body naked and covered with a thin sheen of perspiration from the vigorous round of recent lovemaking.
She was what most men would describe as the perfect woman, but not to him, Aimeelee Blaize was like a Black Widow spider, just as likely to kill as to make love.
She, or rather her club was Kuryakin's assignment. The lively night time establishment was a front to something THRUSH was up to. He had been sent to find out what.
"THRUSH are using Miss Blaize's nightclub 'The Pink Flamingo'. You, Mr. Kuryakin, are to strike up a relationship with her, get as close as you can in order to find out what is going on there."
Illya looked up at his boss, with disbelief, "But sir, Napo… Mr. Solo would surely be better at seducing Miss Blaize than me?"
The Old Man looked at him through his bushy eyebrows as he puffed on his pipe.
"Hmph, I know Mr. Solo's expertise in these matters, Mr. Kuryakin, but reliable intelligence informs us she prefers… well…. hmm…." He coughed slightly, trying to disguise his brief moment of amusement, "… Blonds. You will be replacing the current pianist at her club, he has, unfortunately, been called to a family emergency. I am sure you will, erm, perform to the best of your abilities Mr. Kuryakin."
The Russian avoided looking at his partner, knowing full well the smirk that would be plastered across Napoleon's face.
"You will leave tomorrow and Mr. Solo will be your contact."
"Yes sir," both agents replied together.
Gathering up the files for the assignment, they made their leave.
Silence ensued all during the walk to their shared office, Illya could sense the amusement in Napoleon and scowled. The door slid back to admit them and as soon as it closed again Kuryakin spun to face Solo, "do not say a word."
The American held up his hands, "Me?" He asked innocently, "wasn't going to say a thing tovarisch."
"You expect me to believe that?"
Napoleon just smirked, "I heard Romeo and Juliet is on at the theatre, fancy an evening out before you go?"
"I just knew you wouldn't be able to resist," Illya groused.
"Seriously though, are you going to let Rebecca know about this one?"
"Nyet"
"Still not talking huh?"
Illya and Rebecca had had a huge argument several days ago. She'd had an assignment where she'd ended up having to seduce and bed a THRUSH agent.
Even though she'd had no choice and the mission was a success, Illya felt betrayed that she'd slept with someone else. He knew it was unreasonable; that sometimes sex had to be used as a weapon, but it still hurt.
Being a deeply passionate and loyal person, he found it difficult to accept and because of that he was angry at himself for being so unforgiving and they hadn't spoken since, though Becca had tried to, often trying to communicate through Napoleon. Now he had to do the very thing Becca had and he felt a hypocrite.
Aimeelee was still fast asleep when Illya left the bedroom, he'd plied her with drink to help ensure he wouldn't be missed for a while, Waverly had been proved correct when he said she liked blonds.
He stepped through the bright entrance of The Pink Flamingo into the dimmed lighting of the room. Looking around he saw the blonde proprietor chatting to a woman tending the bar, he went over and introduced himself.
"Good afternoon, Miss Blaize, I am here to cover for Dominic,"
"Ah, yes, he's been called away due to a family emergency, I hope you can play the piano as well as he does."
"Yes, I believe I do.."
"Good, what's your name?" She cut him off.
"Mark, Mark Crompton, pleased to meet you Miss Blaize."
"Thank you, now, let me hear you play."
Illya sat at the piano and started playing, long fingers flying across the keys, Aimeelee leaned against the instrument, drinking in the music, her whole demeanour towards the Russian changed, she studied him intently, seeming to really notice him for the first time.
Throughout the first evening the blonde nightclub owner became increasingly attracted to her new piano player, taking every opportunity she could find to show it. Her fingers would brush against his arm, or trail across his shoulders and when she brought him a drink, she would stoop low enough that Kuryakin would have an extremely good view of her ample breasts, by the third night, she had invited him to her bed.
He quietly shut the bedroom door and made his way through the deserted corridor to Aimee's office. He'd noticed a likely location for a hidden safe when he was in there with her earlier, now Illya was going to see if his hunch was correct.
He passed the bar area where he played every night. Playing the piano would usually bring some enjoyment to the Russian, he enjoyed all forms of music, particularly Jazz, but on this occasion it brought nothing but pain as he remembered his thoughts earlier that evening as he played.
He felt wasted and wounded as his fingers danced over the keys, his heart torn, he knew it belonged to Rebecca. As he played and accepted the ministrations of Miss Blaize, he felt deep regret in the hurt he'd caused his Becca; shunning her because she'd had do this exact same thing in her own assignment. He'd come to realise just because she'd had sex with another man, it didn't mean that she'd enjoyed it. He now swore he'd make it up to Rebecca when this mission was completed.
He located the wooden floorboard he'd spotted earlier poking out from under the heavy Persian rug; it was well worn along the edges, like it had been removed many times.
Illya checked the room for hidden bugs, disabling the ones he found before he rolled the carpet back. His assumption was correct, there were two more loose floorboards and when all three were removed it revealed the safe.
Using a safe-cracking gadget he'd brought with him, he opened it easily. Inside were files stamped with a little black bird emblem, confirming THRUSH had something to do with The Pink Flamingo and Aimeelee Blaize.
Drawing his miniature camera out he photographed the contents, the papers detailed the movements of THRUSH funds, plus other interesting information. Speed reading as he copied them, he gathered money and orders were being distributed to THRUSH personnel when they went for 'private recreation' in the rooms located below the bar room.
Kuryakin glanced at his watch, he'd been gone forty minutes, time he got back before he was missed. Putting everything away, he closed the safe and replaced the rug, careful to leave everything exactly how he found it.
Five minutes later he was back in bed and thankful Aimee was still sleeping.
He awoke the next morning and found he was on his own, so took the opportunity to contact Napoleon after checking the room was safe to do so.
"Open channel D."
"Channel D open, Napoleon here, good to hear your voice tovarisch. How goes it?"
"I have the information and will make my leave shortly."
"So what are they up to?"
"It seems the Pink Flamingo is the treasury for the local satrapy."
"Ah, we'll definitely have to close it down then."
"I have some explosives with me, I will make sure they cease trading when I leave. Kuryakin out."
Illya quickly dressed and made his way to the bar. Seeing a payphone on the way, he made the decision to call Rebecca, he wanted to apologize and let her know she was all he needed. He'd give a king's ransom in dimes to be able to see through the phone, but disappointingly, it went unanswered, causing him a little concern, but assumed she may be on another assignment and not at home, the main reason why he hadn't used the communicator; it could be dangerous if it went off at a critical time.
The bartender winked at him as he passed by her, he grinned as he noticed her wig was crooked and took a sip of the dry whisky left by his piano, he prefered Vodka, but had started drinking the dark liquid as a way of endearing himself to Aimeelee.
He was in her spotlight again, playing the tunes that had been requested throughout the evening. Though he wasn't alone, he was lonely without Becca, he'd do anything to try and make amends.
As he finished the last song, Amiee tapped him on the shoulder, he smiled at her as she sat next to him on the bench, leaning over she whispered in his ear.
"I have a small problem, will you help me to sort it, please?"
"Of course, you know I will do anything for you my darling," he managed to choke out.
Kuryakin followed her down to the basement where the 'private entertainment' took place. He'd already explored the area on one of his nocturnal wanders and hidden explosives in strategic places, as he had throughout the building.
Amieelee opened a door and inside were two burly men holding someone up between them. It took him a few moments to realise it was Rebecca. She'd taken quite a beating and was semi-conscious but still managed to acknowledge Illya.
"One of our patrons brought this woman to us, we've established she doesn't know anything of importance and she needs to be eliminated. Since we are an item, my love, I thought it about time I introduced you to the other side of our business."
Miss Blaize handed him a pistol, "do you know how to use one of these?"
Kuryakin had to stifle a laugh at that question, "yes, I do."
"Then I want you to dispose of our problem."
He looked at the gun in his hand, testing its weight, then with a steady hand, pointed it at Becca's chest and slowly squeezed the trigger….
BANG, BANG, BANG
The sound of bodies hitting the floor followed the blasts of the gun. Just as the trigger had reached the firing point, Illya had quickly aimed at one guard, then the other and finally at Aimeelee herself.
He stooped down and lifted Rebecca up, helping her through the door and down the corridor to the fire escape, luckily, due to the nature of the rooms, no one heard the shots so the coast was clear.
"Can you walk?" Illya asked, concern filling his voice as they made their way out the door and into the car park.
"I think so, for a bit anyway."
"I have a car around the corner, we just need to make it there. I know it seems far away, but each step we take is on our way home."
They painfully made it to the vehicle, Rebecca collapsing onto the back seat and passing out.
"Open Channel D."
"Channel D open, how you doing Illya?" Napoleons reassuring voice replied.
"I am just about to put an end to Miss Blaize's business."
"Ah, very good, I'll dispatch clean up to your location immediately. They'll be there in about ten minutes."
"Thank you, we will be returning back to HQ soon."
"We? Who else is with you?"
"Rebecca, they had her, she has been beaten quite badly."
"I'll alert Medical to your imminent arrival."
"Thank you Napoleon. Kuryakin out."
Illya waited for a few minutes, keeping an eye out for trouble, but as yet he hadn't been missed. He pulled out his little black box of tricks and pressed the button. Several seconds later he heard the satisfying sound of a loud boom.
Driving past the Pink Flamingo, he was glad to see thick black smoke spewing out the building. Staff and members were piling out the premises, coughing and spluttering, straight into UNCLE agents; smiling he drove on to HQ.
Once he'd seen Becca safely to Medical, he made his report to the Old Man. The information he'd retrieved was valuable, it detailed the members of the local THRUSH satrapy, their payment level and what plans they were currently involved in.
Rebecca spent a few days in UNCLE HQ's hospital wing, she had several deep lacerations, some of which had become infected, and a couple of bruised ribs, but they were all healing well.
The day soon came when they released her, not because she had made a complete recovery, but because the staff just about feared for their lives, she had almost as bad a reputation as her Russian.
Illya took her back home that evening and helped her to the bedroom. Becca stopped suddenly at the sight that greeted her; their bed was covered in red rose petals.
She turned enquiringly to him; he blushed slightly before explaining. "I am sorry for what I put you through before I went on my assignment. I came to realize bedding someone on a mission was just sex, when it is you and I it is love. There is a big difference between the two."
He indicated the bed, "I wanted to lay you down in a bed of roses, because every night I was with Aimeelee Blaize I slept on a bed of nails, remembering how I treated you. You have got nothing to prove for I know you would die to defend me, and know that I would die to defend you."
"Oh Illya, I will always love you, our love means so much more than anything that could ever happen on an assignment."
The Russian swept her up into his arms and gently laid her down on the bed amongst the rose petals, he climbed on next to her and held her in his arms until they both fell asleep surrounded by the heavenly scent of the flowers surrounding them.