Napoleon Solo entered Alexander Waverly's conference room; heading to his usual spot at the table where the boss was already seated. The chairs however, were different, having been replaced as part of a program to update the look of headquarters. Napoleon squirmed for a moment, trying to get comfortable after seating himself.
"Something wrong Mr. Solo".
"I miss the old chairs."
"As do I...why things have to be fixed when they aren't broken is beyond me," Waverly interjected. "Now if I may draw your attention to this?"
A video screen lowered down from the ceiling, newer and larger than the old one."
The conference room doors opened and another agent quickly joined them, seating himself beside Solo.
"How kind of you to join us,"Waverly harumphed." Mr. Solo I'm sure you're acquainted with Agent Peter Galey."
Napoleon acknowledged the man with a quick nod of his head, but immediately turned his attention back to his boss.
"My apologies for being late," the sandy-haired agent replied. "Excellent image there sir, no doubt due to a higher number of pixels," Galey said.
"Show off," Napoleon leaned over, whispering out of the side of his mouth.
Somehow he found himself missing Illya not being there making the same sort of remark about the video, but his partner was off on assignment. The pair had seen little of each other in the last month and it made Solo acutely aware of how close they'd become.
Their friendship was a bond that strengthened their partnership, though Mr. Waverly thought otherwise. As of late, he'd started giving the two men separate assignments.
"Yes, quite. I suppose some changes are for the better," Waverly agreed, looking back up at the screen.
"What is that?" Solo asked.
The photograph they were looking at showed three men wearing hard hats working on what appeared to be some sort of rocket.
"This gentlemen, is a reconnaissance photograph smuggled out by our agent who was deep undercover at a new THRUSH installation."
"Was, sir?" Galey asked.
"At the moment he is presumed missing and possibly dead as we have not heard from him in well over thirty-seven hours. He was supposed to check in with me every five hours."
"Which agent sir?" Napoleon interrupted.
"I was afraid you'd ask Mr. Solo. It was Mr. Kuryakin."
Napoleon showed no reaction, remaining calm and collected, listening to Waverly as he continued to speak.
"He was to infiltrate the target location in Alaska, as we have no idea what's going on there, and sadly we still don't. His last communication indicated he'd just gained access to a certain restricted area, presumably one where this photo was taken. Our best guess is that it is missile silo, and given its location, a launch could be made against the Soviet Union and start World War three. Our main fear is that there might be a nuclear warhead involved."
"And THRUSH would be waiting in the wings to pick up the pieces. Where exactly is this installation?"Solo asked. His demeanor was all business but his stomach was doing flip flops as he worried about his partner.
"It's on the island of 'Little Diomede' in the Bering Strait."
"That's only 55 miles from Siberia, isn't it?" Peter asked.
Hmm, yes quite. There's two small, sparsely populated islands there, Big Diomede, which geographically sits in Soviet territory. During World War II it became a military base and has remained so for some time. After the war the native population was forced off the island to the mainland in order to avoid contacts across the 'border,' less than 2.4 miles away on the island of LIttle Diomede, which is part of the state of Alaska, and of course the United States. The border separating Big and Little Diomede is known as the Ice Curtain."
"A little too close for comfort. Does the U.S. military have a presence on Little Diomede? Given the island's proximity to the Soviet Union, it would make sense there would be," Napoleon said.
"One would think so, but apparently not, which is why THRUSH has taken up residence there, given the small population, the isolated location and lack of military oversight. Thanks to Mr. Kuryakin we know the man heading the operation there is one Victor Popsuy."
Galey held up a photograph of a dark haired man possibly in his fifties that was included in the briefing folder. There was nothing unusual or distinctive about him at all; he just looked like an ordinary middle-age man.
"Don't let his appearance deceive you. Popsuy is as cold blooded as they come; he rose up through THRUSH ranks by eliminating his competition by most violent means. He's American born but is of Russian descent."
"Now on the western shore of the island is the Inupiat village of Diomede, also known as Inalik. It's inhabited by a small population of native Inuits and approximately forty ethnic Russians. Though they consider themselves American, they still have ties to friends and family living on Big Diomede. It had been deemed wise to send Agent Kuryakin there since he is Russian and would have therefore been more readily accepted. It seems the locals are being employed by THRUSH to complete their installation."
"I know you have a good grasp of the Russian language Mr. Solo, but Mr. Galey here is fluent. His father is from Moscow and his mother was from Belarus, they managed to escape to the American side of Berlin after the war. Again, being able to speak the language might make your presence more acceptable to the locals."
Waverly walked to the oversized globe in the office, spinning it, and bringing it to a stop at Alaska and the Bering Strait. He touched his finger there, and the enlarged image appeared on the video screen...another improvement courtesy of Research and Development.
"Travel between the islands is of course strictly forbidden. The waters of the Bering Strait are patrolled by the U.S. Navy and Coast Guard, as well as ships from the Soviet Navy, there to see that any unauthorized travel doesn't take place. There are several large fishing and crabbing boats that operate out of Dutch Harbor on the island of Amaknak 822 miles away in the Aleutians, and since they do work in the Bering Sea, they're monitored very closely as well."
Waverly's bushy eyebrows arched, giving emphasis to his last statement but smiled. "By the way, I believe Alaskan King Crab is on the menu at the Commissary today."
His agents managed a chuckle at that statement.
"Yes, well...ahem, back to business. Your assignment gentlemen, is to get into that operation and stop whatever it is THRUSH is doing there."
He sent around a packet with the details on their travel arrangements as well as the island.
"Your flight via UNCLE jet leaves tomorrow morning for Anchorage, from there you'll head to Nome and once there, you'll charter a flight to Wales, which is accessible by air and sea only. Charter flights are available from Wales to Diomede, otherwise you'll have come up with your own solution to get to the island since as there are no regular ferry crossings or anything to that effect going to there."
"What about by submarine?" Napoleon asked."Wouldn't that be a more stealthy way to arrive?"
Waverly paused, picking up his pipe and tapping the bowl in his crystal ashtray to clear it. Reaching for his humidor; he packed filled the pipe with fresh tobacco and lit it, taking a deep drag before he answered the question.
"No, that wouldn't be advisable. We want your arrival to be as normal as possible for one coming to the island. Soviet vessels would detect a submarine in the area. No need to spark an international suspiciouns or an incident between them and the U.S. Navy. I know the Americans have helped us before, but in this case...well it would be ill-advised."
"And what about Mr. Kuryakin?"
"He is secondary to the mission. If he's still alive, then by all means bring him back, but not at the expense of your assignment. Am I absolutely clear on this?" Smoke from Waverly's pipe spiralled in the air above his head.
"Crystal clear sir," Solo answered, casting a sideways glance to Peter.
"Yes sir, understood," Galey chimed in.
The two men exited the conference room; first there'd be a trip to wardrobe for the appropriate clothing, given the cold temperatures in Alaska and of course, a stop over in the armory for explosives and detonators among other things.
"Hey, I'm sure Illya is still alive.… we UNCLE agents have a way of surviving,"
"Mmmh, ugh yes," Solo spoke absentmindedly." I'm sure you're right Peter..."
Napoleon gathered his gear; a large dufflebag in which to carry everything. Once he settled on his clothing and armaments, he headed to the garage and stowed everything in the back seat of the car he and Galey would be driving to Kennedy Airport. Their ten hour flight was scheduled to leave at seven a.m. sharp.
On his way out for the night, Solo spoke to his temporary partner, keeping it short, but not so sweet.
"Meet me here tomorrow morning, and don't be late." That being said, he left Peter to stow his gear on his own.
Heather McNabb was working the desk at the employee entrance and as Solo handed her his badge, she hinted at going out for drinks. She batted her eyes as she flirted with him and Napoleon instantly knew what that meant, but he forced himself to decline.
"I hate to say no to you gorgeous, but I've got a very important appointment with a jet early tomorrow morning. Will a rain check do?" He leaned over, giving her a little peck on the cheek.
"For you Napoleon, always." She blew him a kiss as he smiled at her; he pretended catching it in his hand before exiting into the dressing room.
"Good luck on your assignment," she called after him before the door swung closed.
He had an uneasy feeling he was going to need it on this one, maybe more than his usual allotment of Solo luck.