An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,-
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn, mud from a muddy spring,-
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,-
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,-
An army which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,-
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless, a book sealed,-
A Senate—Time's worst statute unrepealed,-
Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst to illumine our tempestuous day.
~ English In 1819~Percy Bysshe Shelley
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"The Congo Affair"
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Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin hurried along the streets of Leopoldville in the Belgian Congo, only stopping quickly at a small general store that typically carried anything from household needs, dry goods to freeze-dried foods, guns and supplies for safaris.
Though at this point, due to the panic in the city, the shelves were nearly empty. The agents grabbed two backpacks, stuffing them with what rations they could find, binoculars, a compass, matches, knives...anything basic that would suit their purposes. The last thing Illya grabbed was a map, indicating the roads and trails they would need to get them through Kasaï province to Kantanga and across the border to safety.
The city was in an uproar with fires erupting everywhere the populace running in near terror to escape, as rebel forces had portions of it cut off, with the way to the airport was gone.
To the two agents, making the dangerous journey through the rainforest was now their only choice. The anti-government forces were taking prisoners of any white people, herding them to the center of the city where rumors of arbitrary executions taking place.
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It was one o'clock in the morning when Alexander Waverly decided to call it a day, though leaving headquarters at this time was actually early for him.
He was lucky that his darling wife Estelle managed to keep nearly the same hours as he after all these years, run a well-organized household and raise their two children without so much as one word of complaint.
Their fourth grandchild was due to arrive soon, and that had her mind quite occupied at the moment. She'd be leaving for Boston to tend to their daughter Florence until she was settled in with the new baby.
Thanks to the advances in ultrasound, the parents were aware what gender the child was to be, but the grandparents were old-fashioned and wanted to be surprised. Their son Edmund had already presented them with three grandsons, and Alexander suspected that Estelle was hoping for a little girl, so she would be able to do all the frilly female things with the child as she had with Florence, bless her heart.
The Old Man walked to the narrow windows of his office, looking out at the New York skyline now being blanketed in a light snowfall. This cold weather was beginning to become tiresome, and he was looking forward to Spring.
He sighed, wishing he could go to Boston to be there for the birth of the child, but it was simply impossible. His was a position that required constant attention. Alexander suddenly chuckled, remembering that his agents thought he never slept, and was here twenty-four-seven. Though it wasn't true, sometimes he too felt like it was.
He became annoyed with himself, as he'd missed not only the birth of his children, but those of the grandsons as well.
"Dash it all," Waverly said, deciding he'd take that trip to Boston with his wife after all. "A child is born only once."
A light on his console flashed as soon as he uttered those words, and flicking a toggle switch, he picked up the hand held microphone and spoke into it.
"Yes, go ahead."
"Reynolds here, Section IV sir, we've just received word that Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin have been cut off in the Belgian Congo. They were unable to get out before the coup."
"What's their current status?"
"They're going to try to make it through to the province of Katanga and over the border to Northern Rhodesia."
"We can't get a helicopter in to retrieve them?"
"No sir the situation is too volatile, the revolution has triggered all sorts of ethnic rivalries. The killing is out of control by government troops and the rebels, as well as with a number of the indigenous tribes."
"Can you give me more specifics Mr. Reynolds?"
"Yes sir. The rebels have been taking members of the local white population hostage in areas under their control, several hundred prisoners have been brought to Stanleyville and placed under guard in the Victoria Hotel. The government forces there in the city fled, leaving behind their munitions, including mortars and armored vehicles, free for the taking by rebels. They're heavily armed now and thirsty for...well you understand sir." He paused, the gravity of the situation telling in his voice.
"Go on Mr. Reynolds."
"The rebel movement is spreading in an uncontrolled manner and acts of violence are increasing exponentially. Thousands of Congolese have been executed, many of them government officials, political leaders of the opposition parties, police, school teachers, basically anyone, regardless of their skin color, who's been as Westernized. Word is there have been extremely brutal executions carried out in Stanleyville in front of a monument to the ousted PM Patrice Lumumba."
There was silence. "Mr. Waverly sir?"
"Hmmm, yes. Get me a line to the Belgian Ambassador...no strike that, make that the U.N. Security Council."
"Mr. Waverly sir, it's one-fifteen in the morning, the council isn't in session at the moment, I already checked in anticipation of your request."
"Hmmm yes, quite, good thinking. Very well then, get me the line to the Belgian Ambassador, and I don't care if you have to wake him, but first connect me to my home. I need to speak to Mrs. Waverly."
"Yes sir, right away."
There was a series of clicks, a dial-tone and then ringing."
"Yes Alexander?"
"Estelle I'm sorry but..."
"I know, the world needs saving. Do what you have to do. My trip to Boston is delayed somewhat by the snow, so I'll be here waiting for you." Her soft voice was full of tenderness and understanding as she was long accustomed to her husbands long work days.
At least she knew he was safe, not like back in the days when he was with British Intelligence. She kept late nights then as well, but they were fraught with worry. Now she simply stayed up late due habit, and to greet her husband as he walked in the door with a nice cup of chamomile tea to soothe him from his day's worries.
"Estelle my darling,.."
"Yes Alexander?"
"When was the last time I told you how much I loved you dear girl?"
"Why not that so long ago Alex, but you can tell me again..."