It had started with a game of tennis. Illya Kuryakin was posing, not for the last time, as a tennis pro in search of a willing student. The object of the search was the daughter of a THRUSH chief named Nicholas Williams. The girl was a way into the organization, although at present she was also engaged in a fantasy involving the handsome blond on the other side of the court.
Ian Kemble, the alias being used by Kuryakin, was ready to serve for match point. He saw no advantage in letting the girl, who was a formidable opponent for the UNCLE agent, win for the sake of courting favor. Kuryakin was competitive, and the role he had undertaken did not require him to seduce the young woman, or to lose the game. He was here to find a way inside the satrapy her father controlled.
"Forty love, match point…" Ian tossed the ball and hammered it with a powerful stroke, sending it into the opposing court like a rocket. The girl jumped out of the way as she swung at the ball in a hopeless effort.
"Ian! You're awful to hit it so hard. You could at least pretend that I'm good enough to beat you." The pouting was a pretense. Janice Williams was a good player, just not as good as Ian.
"You did a very fine job today; you've improved quite a lot Miss Williams." Illya's portrayal of the tennis instructor was successful on many levels, not the least of which was Janice's infatuation with the blond her father had hired. It was a small miracle that he allowed someone this attractive on the premises, being a very protective father.
It was hot on Long Island today, and Illya's shirt was soaked with perspiration. His desire to shower and change was circumvented by the arrival of someone he recognized as he and Janice walked back to the main house of the sprawling estate. What he now wanted more than a shower was a way to depart without raising any alarms.
"Miss Williams…' At her reproving expression Illya switched gears slightly. "Janice, I have an appointment in the city for which I am very nearly going to be late. Can you see yourself back to the house while I take my leave of you?" Janice loved to hear Ian speak, he was so elegant, so … European.
"I was hoping you'd stay for lunch, but sure, if you need to go…' She didn't mean it. Janice wanted to keep the sweaty blond for as long as possible, entice him into the pool and then… well, she'd think of something. "Just a minute, though, okay? Hold on, wait right here."
Janice ran up the steps and into the house while Illya waited impatiently, hoping that the person he had seen enter through the same door wouldn't come back out, or see him from inside.
When the door opened again Illya's hopes for a getaway evaporated. It wasn't Janice who headed towards him.
"Nicholas darling, will you look at this. We seem to have a visitor from that meddling uncle; you know, the one who doesn't like birds." The voice grated on Illya's nerves, the crooked smile on her face reminding him of the first time he met Angelique LeChien.
"Hello Angelique." The frostiness of his tone amused the platinum-haired THRUSH agent. She angled up too close, ran a manicured finger down the side of his face. Illya bristled at the touch.
"Oh dear, you don't seem at all pleased to see me, Illya. Must you always be so dour?' Angelique smiled, turning to Williams as she continued. "This, dear Nicholas, is Illya Kuryakin of the U.N.C.L.E. It seems you've been entertaining him while he, no doubt, has been looking for a way to hinder this satrapy. You really should be more careful about the hired help."
Nicholas Williams was a slightly built man with a distinguished silver streak in his hair that made him seem as though he might actually be suited to the elegant home and grounds of the estate. As he looked at the man now identified as the enemy, the man who had been instructing his daughter, he signaled a guard to approach; his ire at the presence of an UNCLE agent in his home was an unwelcome sign of things to come. Illya flinched involuntarily at what he knew was likely to ensue.
"Take him down to the lower level and make sure he isn't comfortable. Don't let Janice see you, either. She mustn't know what's going on here." A big man stepped forward and wrenched Kuryakin's arms behind him, cuffing them in a way that indicated he was going to enjoy the assignment.
"And Jameson, feel free to interrogate Mr. Kuryakin. I think he probably has information from his travels on my estate. Find out what he knows." Jameson nodded before replying. "Yes sir, Mr. Williams."
Angelique watched as Illya was led away by Jameson and another guard. The Russian's back was straight, defiant in an obvious way. Dressed as he was in white shorts and shirt, it seemed a trifle inconsistent with the image of a dangerous UNCLE agent, but she knew that he was just that. Her next thought was of the blond's partner, Napoleon Solo. This was going to be difficult to explain.
The blond THRUSH agent was aware of how angry her host was at the moment. It was never easy to be bamboozled by the enemy, especially when one's child was the avenue of entry. Angelique hoped that Kuryakin wouldn't be too badly damaged, for she did truly want to keep her relationship with Solo intact. Not only was he an excellent lover, but it was her policy to never close a door when it might someday lead to a place she needed to be. Her commitment to THRUSH was only as firm as their treatment of her.
"Nicholas darling, please don't do anything permanent to the dear boy. I really don't see that he could know very much. Just rattle him a bit and send him back to his UNCLE. They'll get the message, I'm sure, that your operation is not to be trifled with. N'est-ce pas?"
Nicholas Williams didn't like Angelique LeChien. She reminded him of his late wife; the woman he had sent to an early grave with the help of his henchman Jameson. Miss LeChien would do well to not interfere with his handling of the UNCLE agent.
"I shall do as I please, Angelique my dear. I understand your relationship with Victor Marton makes you feel as though nothing is outside your reach, however this is my territory. You will do well to remember that. N'est-ce Pas?" Angelique smiled her crooked smile and nodded her head. Kuryakin was on his own, it seemed. There was nothing she could do to help him. Unless…