There was a light rain falling as he craned his neck, looking up and the structure next to which he was standing. The Eiffel Tower...he'd been up there many times, sometimes for pleasure, and other times not.
Today was one of those 'not' times.
The American agent, Napoleon Solo headed up the elevator in the north pillar...bypassing the first floor as his destination was the second floor.
There was no long queue of visitors, having the weather to thank for that and given it was very early in the morning.
A fog had settled in, obscuring the view of Paris, thankfully there were no hearty tourists there to experience going up in the tower. The place was blessedly free of innocents who might get hurt or killed; he sighed at that thought.
Napoleon was able to ascend the tower without any delays. No one would be taking the elevator ride today, much less this time of the morning. Though his destination, the second floor, did offer the best view of Paris since there was no view to be seen thanks to the ever thickening fog.
It was there on the second floor where Solo was to make his rolled up document in his left hand was be given for the return of April Dancer. Though Alexander Waverly forbid paying ransoms for an agent, Solo managed to convince his boss otherwise. He had a plan...
The exchange was agreed upon in the wee hours of the morning, as well as the location and now Solo was stepping into the thick of it.
.
A group from THRUSH's local nest had snatched April Dancer from a sidewalk cafe in Paris three days prior.
Napoleon and Illya were with her and were there for the simple purpose of celebrating the successful completion of their mission; the three of them managed to steal an important THRUSH document right out from under the birdie's nose.
The UNCLE agents would be leaving on an eight o'clock flight to return to New York, so more alcoholic festivities weren't advisable...they didn't want to miss their plane Doing so would make Alexander Waverly an unhappy man, as accounting would be on his back, and of course he'd be on his agent's case after the fact.
Solo left the table to use the 'facilities', thankfully not one of those Turkish toilets. When you flushed a squatting toilet, as they were commonly called, sometimes the water could come out quite aggressively and spill out of the bowl onto the floor and anything that was on the floor.
It was exactly the reason Dancer had insisted upon this particular cafe for their lunch, as she knew the facilities were more...modern.
As he finished using 'le toilette', Napoleon heard a commotion, followed by screams. That was his cue to run, his gun in hand.
When he made it outside he found the tables in disarray with Illya laying on the ground. April was nowhere to be seen.
After checking on his partner he found the Russian was thankfully just out cold. After slapping Illya back to consciousness, Napoleon grabbed a shell shocked waiter, pulling him nearer by his white apron.
"Où est la femme? La dame aux cheveux roux."
The man responded in English, guessing by Solo's awful accent that he was an American.
"Monsieur, the men they came in a car. They had guns and hit your friend, and took the woman...le cheveux roux, umm the red hair, with them. She put up a brave fight."
"Which way did they go?"
"Je suis désolé monsieur...sorry, I did not pay attention. I am uncertain. There were too many people screaming and trying to get out of the way."
Illya sat up, holding his pounding head. "April?"
"Someone snatched her," Napoleon replied. He offered his hand, helping his partner to his feet. Kuryakin stood, a bit unsteady at first.
"We should head back to headquarters…see if we can get a fix on her communicator.
"No kidding," Napoleon quipped.
"Why would they take her? I am hoping not for the sex trade," Illya whispered.
"Tovarisch, I have funny a feeling it has to do with our most recent mission."
"You think so?"
"Call it gut instinct." Napoleon put his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly for a taxi.
...
The elevator doors opened to Solo's destination. Standing there was Marcel Girard; Napoleon recognized the low level THRUSH agent.
The little bastard retrieving the stolen document and getting it back into his organization's hands would be a major coup, and would most likely lead to some sort of promotion for him.
"Bonjour Monsieur Solo. Hands up, s'il vous plait?
He quickly searched Napoleon for weapons. Satisfied, Girard spoke again." Please step into the next lift."
"First the girl, where is she?"
"This way please, and all will be revealed." Girard pressed the elevator button.
The doors to the lift opened, revealing Dancer who was standing...barely, as she held onto the railing to steady herself. Her beautiful face was swollen and bruised from being beaten.
"Voilà, Monsieur. Now if you will hand over the document and kindly step into the lift. You will please press the button and proceed to the summit without delay. There you will remain for ten minutes before descending. Simple, n'est ce pas? Now the document."
Solo handed it over, and Girard unravelled it to verify the authenticity.
"Très bien."
Napoleon flashed an angry look at Girard, noting the lack of fear in the man's eyes. "You'll pay for this," he growled as he stepped back beside April.
"I think not Monsieur Solo. Au revoir."
The elevator doors closed and the lift began its ascent. Napoleon quickly drew his communicator and after assembling it, he wrapped his other arm around April to support her.
"Channel F- Marcel Girard is on his way down. Don't know which elevator."
The Thrushie was delighted with himself as he rode inside the elevator located in the east pillar of the tower.
As the doors opened at the ground level, his gaze was drawn to a man wearing a black trench coat and a dark chapeau on his bowed head.
"Armand, I told you to wait with the car," Marcel snarled.
A pair of blue eyes revealed themselves from beneath the brim of the hat, and a hand holding a gun was drawn from the coat pocket.
Girard spun, kicking the gun from Kuryakin's hands and the two men latched onto each other. They wrestled to the ground, both men landing punches.
They were of similar height, but Marcel outweighed the Russian by at least 14 kg. The man was getting the better Kuryakin who now had a and a split lip. His blood was splattered across his chin and neck.
They continued to struggle, and Illya slammed his head into Marcel's face, resulting in nothing but a moan.
Kuryakin did it again and again but with little success. Still he was able to grab the document but stepping back, he lost his footing and as he fell. Illya was within reach and grabbed his gun, hitting Girard with three shots to the chest as he rose, lumbering towards the Russian.
The Thrushman toppled backwards into the elevator, hitting the floor before the doors closed after him.
Illya was laying on the ground as the north elevator doors opened. Solo walked to his partner's aid while still hanging onto Dancer.
"Did you get it?"
"Yes," Illya held up the document," And thank you I will be fine. Nothing a stitch or two will not remedy."
Napoleon clicked his tongue as he pulled Illya to his feet.
"Good job tovarisch, now let's get the two of you to UNCLE medical."
April finally spoke," Thanks for coming to get me boys, and Napoleon darling...be nicer to Illya please?"
"Wait, what? I wasn't being... oh never mind." He knew it was pointless trying to argue with April Dancer.
A member of the UNCLE backup team approached, appearing like wraiths out of the fog.
"The rest of the enemy agents have been rounded up Mr. Solo."
"One more," Illya added." Marcel Girard is in the tower.
"We'll get him sir."
"Good, you do that," Napoleon nodded." We'll be at headquarters...debriefing."
"Make sure you cover the stairs as well," Illya called out as he, Solo and Dancer disappeared into the mist covered streets near the Eiffel Tower.