Ed Walton held his breath as the ball bounced around the spinning roulette wheel. Ordinarily he would be hoping for the ball to settle on his chosen number but, this time, he didn't want the wheel to stop spinning at all. He'd known from the outset that the gambling club would be bad for his finances but, with this final spin of the roulette wheel, it was likely to be bad for his health. Crossing the fingers on both hands, Ed prayed for number 12.
Time seemed to slow down as the ball settled in 35; the one right next to 12. Ed froze as he felt a hand land heavily on his shoulder.
"Miss Abernathy would like a word," the owner of the voice whispered, in an extremely menacing tone. "Come with me, and don't make a scene."
Ed was taken through an unobtrusive door at one side of the bar and led to an ornate and opulent office. Sitting behind a large mahogany desk, Felicity Abernathy smiled as Ed was guided in by the hulking security guard. She stood and invited her guest to sit down in one of the two leather armchairs on the opposite side of the desk.
"May I offer you a drink, Mr Walton?" Miss Abernathy asked genially, as she poured herself a scotch.
At any other time, Ed would have enjoyed the vision of the thirty-something redhead in the tight black dress, but for now his thoughts were on his own body. He could only hope that it would end the evening intact.
"N...n…no, thank you," Ed stuttered. "Look, I just need some time, and I'll repay what I owe."
"And just where were you planning on finding $45,000?" the club owner replied, her genial tone remaining. "You are a mere insurance clerk."
"W…why did you advance me so much credit if you knew I couldn't afford it."
Miss Abernathy's smile grew wider, and he began to laugh. The sound was one of sheer amusement, but it caused ice to form in Ed's heart. The woman sounded far too happy for someone who was owed a large amount of money.
"I could clear the debt very easily," Miss Abernathy told him. "All I would need from you is a little favour."
"It wouldn't be illegal, would it?"
"Please, don't fret, Mr Walton. Ed," she purred, as she came round the desk and stroked his hair. "Of course it's illegal."
Sitting in a Chrysler Imperial, next to a small leafy park a little way down the street from the Felicity Fortune Casino, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin watched the comings and goings of the gambling den. They were keeping an eye out for any known Thrush operatives, or even any members of Central Command. After five hours, they had seen no-one they knew, and they were becoming bored. Worse still, there was a hotdog vendor across the street from them, and the scent of fried onions was causing Illya's stomach to make its needs known.
"You should go across and get yourself something," Napoleon commented, in response to the rumbling sound.
"Or, as you are closer, you could repay me one of the many meals I have paid for."
Napoleon happily agreed, deciding to use the opportunity to stretch his legs. Besides, he was feeling a little hungry himself, and it would be another three hours before anyone would be relieving them on the watch.
Clutching the small package given to him by Miss Abernathy, Ed left the casino by the rear door. His instructions were to make his way around to the front, where he would see a silver car. He was to walk past the car and throw the package inside. Miss Abernathy had told Ed that he would have ten seconds to get as far from the car as possible, before it exploded. It didn't cross his mind to think she might be lying.
As he turned the corner, Ed spotted the vehicle immediately. Seeing the blond man in the driver's seat, he suddenly lost his nerve. He was about to murder someone, all for the sake of $45,000. However, his legs kept going forward. The Casino boss had told him that a hidden gunman was watching to make sure he fulfilled his task. It briefly crossed his mind to wonder why the gunman didn't simply shoot the blond man, but it was too late to worry about that now.
The closer Ed got to the silver car, the slower his pace became and then, with a heart-stopping realisation, he noticed that the blond man watching him. He had a strangely mixed expression which seemed to be a combination of puzzlement and wariness. Reality thudded into Ed's mind. He couldn't kill anyone; let alone a man who was now staring straight into his soul.
Inside the vehicle, Illya watched with perplexed interest as a man slowly walked towards him. He was unknown to the agent, but his demeanour was that of someone who was about to do something that he very much didn't want to do. As the man got closer, Illya could see that he was trying to mouth something to him while subtly indicating the package he was carrying.
"BOMB!" Ed silently yelled. "Get out of the car and run!"
He had to say it three times before the driver of the vehicle finally understood what he was saying and got out of the car.
"What are you doing?" Kuryakin asked, as he walked towards Ed.
"Sorry, but I have no choice," Ed replied, with evident regret. "I have to throw this into your car."
From across the street, Napoleon's attention was suddenly shifted from the figure of a beautiful woman walking past him, to the sound of his and Illya's car door opening. Looking over, he was surprised to see his partner walking towards a stranger. Illya's hand was tucked into his jacket, ready to bring out his special if needed. Before Napoleon could fully work out what was happening, Illya suddenly reached out and grabbed the package which was being carried by the other man. He then looked around, as if assessing the surroundings, and then threw the package into the empty park; where it promptly exploded.
The blast was bigger than the small package had indicated, and both Illya and Ed were thrown across the street. All hell immediately broke loose as everyone on the street began to scream and run. As he squatted down to check on an unconscious Illya, Napoleon pulled out his communicator. Within the space of a few minutes, the police had arrived, along with several U.N.C.L.E. agents, and an ambulance.
"This is not medical," Illya murmured, as he opened his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar hospital room.
"Your observation skills are still intact then," Napoleon replied. "How to you feel?"
"Like I was caught in an explosion. Who was the man with the bomb?"
"A fall guy," Solo told him. "Just a poor sap who got himself into a situation he couldn't get out of."
Napoleon explained about Ed Walton's gambling debts, and the offer Felicity Abernathy had made to him. Illya shrugged dismissively in response, Walton wasn't the first person Thrush had used as a mere tool, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.
"He warned me about what he was doing," said Illya. "I hope Waverly and the police take that into consideration."
"Mr Walton has been questioned by us, and we're satisfied that he had no real choice in anything. Waverly squared it with the police."
Illya nodded, satisfied. The man had done what he could not to go through with it, risking his own life in the process. Illya then asked how Ed had known which car to aim for, assuming that they had been spotted.
"We didn't see anyone we recognised, but someone obviously recognised us," Napoleon stated. "Agents were sent to the casino, but everyone had cleared out by the time they got there."
Tiredness washed over Illya and he drifted back to sleep. Napoleon picked up the newspaper he had been reading. There would be time to look for Felicity Abernathy another time. For now, it was enough to know another Thrush attack had failed.