Napoleon Solo and his partner sat at Alexander Waverly's conference table...the Russian looking a little pained as Waverly was puffing away on his pipe; making him a little nauseous from the odor of the tobacco.
Illya generally controlled his expressions and would often sit at these meetings with a dead-pan expression, but Solo knowing him all too well was aware of is partner's discomfort as he shifted in seat his several times.
"Mr. Kuryakin?" asked their boss, then repeated his name again..."have you heard anything I said?"
"Yes sir." Illya's eyes refocused." You were discussing the arrangements requested for a defection at the symposium at N.Y.U."
At first Napoleon thought Illya was distracted and was amazed as the man offered back the details on the main speaker and the expected KGB involvement.
A photograph appeared on the video screen on the wall behind Waverly.
"Dr. Vladimir Zakarov" Illya identified the man, "a high ranking Soviet physicist, purported to be involved in the development of directed energy weapons. He has indicated a desire to defect to the west along with his younger brother Mikhail, a scientist of lesser status than Vladimir but apparently involved in his brother's research.
"Normally Mr. Kuryakin, you would be the ideal candidate for this assignment but given the expected presence of the KGB you would no doubt be easily recognized...I am going to have Mr. Solo take the lead on this one; masquerading as a delegate to the conference. You will be on the scene Mr. Kuryakin in disguise however and there as a backup to assist should problems arise.
"Mr. Solo as a delegate to a Scientific symposium sir?" Illya questioned. "No offence intended but he does not have a scientific background. He will most likely have to navigate through some difficult situations and conversations doing so without arousing suspicions will be highly difficult for him."
"That is why you will be coaching Mr. Solo...helping him to bluff his way through as it were, until we can facilitate the defection of Drs. Zakarov...now I believe you have some tutoring to begin. Dismissed."
Napoleon walked out of the the office looking annoyed at his partner.
"You know just because you have a doctorate in quantum mechanics doesn't mean you should look down your nose at me? And what was wrong with you at the briefing...it was more than just the smoke from he old man's pipe bothering you?"
"Look down my nose...honestly Napoleon, there are times I simply do not understand these endless American colloquialisms that you use. Just what does my looking down my nose have to do with my degree...and doing so; would I not become rather cross-eyed if I looked down my nose?"
"You know if you're going to become an American citizen; I think I should be the one giving you some tutoring?"
"Napoleon I have agreed to become an American citizen; I have not expressed a desire to become Americanized."
"Well excuse me? To answer your question...looking down one's nose means to take a superior attitude."
"I did no such thing...I simply pointed out the fact that you do not have a scientific background and therefore might have some difficulties..."
"Keeping up?"
The Russian clicked his tongue. "Come to the office; I have several scientific journals and articles that you can at least read...they should help you with a bit of the jargon you will most likely encounter."
"Gee thanks Professor...homework." Solo made a face at his partner.
Kuryakin handed Solo a stack of about two dozen journals and periodicals.
"If you have any questions feel free to ask," Illya said with a smile, "there is a particularly interesting article on laser development and light refraction in the...
"Please spare me...and you never answered my question...what had you preoccupied at the briefing?"
"Demya has been sick...running a low-grade fever and they pediatrician is not sure what is wrong...it is very frustrating. We have not been able to sleep well as he is up half the night.'
"Sorry to hear that...I'm sure it's nothing; kids are pretty resilient aren't they? And after all look who he's got for a father...the king of quick recoveries?" Napoleon said as he snatched the magazines from him; making a hasty exit from the office.
Two hours later and quite a few cups of coffee Napoleon threw down a copy of the third journal he had attempted to read while sitting in the commissary. He finally tossed it aside in disgust as he realized his partner had been correct; this was going to be impossible for him to bluff his way though, even with coaching on this one.
He looked at his wristwatch suddenly realizing the time; dashing out of headquarters for a dinner date at Umberto's in the heart of little Italy. He would have time just to pick up flowers.
Napoleon walked up Mulberry Street to the door of the famed Italian eatery; being greeting there by the white-bearded Jimmy Baldanza, the manager.
"Ah Signor Solo," he whispered you are a little late; the beautiful Signorina has already been seated. I took the liberty of selecting a wine for you...a 1950 Barolo Marchesi di Barolo."
"Grazie Jimmy," he smiled at the man as he spotted his date waiting for him at his usual table. Napoleon had been coming to Umberto's for years...being well aware of it's connections to organized crime. Those un-named patrons knew his face and who he was and he knew theirs identities as well; but a laissez-faire attitude existed between them.
"Hey, everyone had to eat...and besides the mafia was not within purvue of U.N.C.L.E." he reasoned," at least not yet...until that time an unofficial truce existed.
"Sei bella come sempre_ you are as beautiful as always." he said kissing her on the cheek as he walked up behind her.
"I bet you say that to all your girlfriends Napoleon!"
"What girlfriends?" He said; handing her a bouquet of colorful flowers he had hidden behind his back...
"You are too good a liar...but you are spoiling me?"
"He paraphrased Christopher Marlowe in response..."but I would make thee a bed of roses and a thousand fragrant posies."
"And how is it that no woman has scooped you up yet Napoleon Solo?"she said flashing her smile at him." I find it hard to believe?"
"Until now there have only been three women that I have truly adored in my life, not counting my mother of course as that's a different kind of adoration...the first woman in my life left me because of my line of work, the other woman was never meant to be and then there's you...with your mesmerizing violet eyes..."
He took her hand kissing it gently. "Sei molto speciale per me...lo sai_ you are very special to me...you know that Josephina Isabella Maria Gabriella? Mia Bella_my beauty."
"Napoleon...why do I have the feeling you say that to all the girls? We've only known each other for what... barely a month?"
"So you're saying you don't have any feelings for me...have I made mistake?"
"Oh God...no no! I do have feelings for you, very much. I just was thinking of how fast this has all happened, that's all. What do we really know about each other. I'm a nurse you're a ...well I know I can't say it out loud."
"Bella...in my line of work; I don't have the luxury of time that other men do...I'm not even sure if I have the right to care this much about someone. I could be dead tomorrow; that's the way of things in my business... so things kind of get fast-tracked sometimes. How does that make you feel?"
"A little frightened not about the fast-track, but about the getting killed part... but then it makes me think of a particular quote, 'no thing is worth more than this day'...it kind of gives me a live for today feeling I guess?"
"Wow, not only beautiful but she quotes Goethe as well? So what do you want to know about me...keep in mind though I can't tell you about my job as that's classified and if I tell you then I'd have to kill you." he joked.
"Napoleon! That is not funny." she said punching him in the arm.
"Ow...Sorry, that's a kind of a joke in the trade."
Well I'm not in that business, remember? So tell me...where did you grow up...what about your family?"
"I grew up in East Hampton on Long Island; my maternal grandfather was an Admiral, dad's father was an Ambassador. We did a lot of sailing when I was young...in fact I have a 30 ft. sail boat that I keep anchored at the family compound. Dad is a retired military man...mom is retired instructor at Barnard College. I have three sisters, Stella is a year older than me; then there's Theresa and Millicent and a younger brother named Hannibal.
"Hannibal...that's as bad as Nap...that's as exotic as Napoleon." Bella corrected.
His eyes twinkled as she caught herself..."Dad being ever the military man had an affinity for great military strategists, hence mine and my brother's names. Though my brother and I both went in different directions; after my stint in Korea I ended up where I am now, so to speak. My brother is an attaché to the embassy in Rome.
I guess I take after dad since I became a man of action I suppose... where as Hannibal is a man of words following in graddad's footsteps. Unfortunately my brother and I don't always see eye to eye on a lot of things."
"But your sisters have such..."
"Normal names?" he laughed," Mom got to name the girls...she wasn't as pretentious in her choice of names as dad was. Two of my sisters are married but no kids yet. Millie the youngest is divorced with a daughter, my seven year old niece Amelia is quite a handful..."he leaned over whispering to Bella," she wants to be just like her favorite Uncle," he winked at her. Hannibal is single...like me."
"Then of course, there's my extended family so to speak...my partner and his wife; they have a two year old son. In fact you met my partner's wife...Miss Mc Gowan...well actually she's Mrs. Kuryakin.
"Oh the red head? Now...she's a feisty one."
"You can say that again...perfect counter point to my partner who is the very brooding Russian type."
"Russian like he is from Brighton Beach or Russian as in he's from the Soviet Union?"
"Your second guess was the correct one."
"Wow, now there's a combination a red-headed Irishwoman with a bit of a temper and a moody Russian..."
"You can say that again," he laughed," but you never can tell...they are very happy together."
"I didn't think people in your line of business would get married?"
"Well until very recently we were not allowed to...they ah, Kuryakins were a special case."
"Now I know I don't have to tell you about my family," she said, "...knowing what you do for a living; you probably have the skinny what side of the bed I sleep on?"
"Well... not quite. But I did have to do a little background check on you before we started seeing each other. It's kind of precaution we have to take now. That is one of our new policies...we had some bad experiences recently. One never knows...especially when one is dating someone outside of the company?"
"I understand...it never hurts to be careful.
"So that doesn't bother you either?"
"Nope." she answered. "So you're encouraged to date co-workers...that's different? Most companies frown upon relationships from within."
"We're not exactly your ordinary, everyday kind of company...essentially, they figured someone from within the organization would be more understanding to the lifestyle. But there have been some policy changes recently so things are easing up a bit."
"O.K. Signor et la Signorina!" Baldanza announced himself; arriving with the antipasto bruschetta, pancetta and freshly baked grissino bread."
"Ah grissino...you can't get this in too many places," she smiled as she tasted a piece.
"They bake it special for me...did you know that it was the favorite bread of Napoleon Bonaparte? He called it 'le petite batôn de Turin...Je troue cela délicieux_I find it delicious."
"Vous parlez Français Napoléon...wait that's silly of me...you're named Napoleon; why wouldn't you speak French?" she laughed softly.
"Oui Je ne...que mon partnaire insist sur le fait que mon accent iet terrible_ Yes I do...though my partner insists my accent is terrible."
"Well I like it...I think it's very sexy." she said pouting her lips.
"Oh boy..." he thought to himself; trying to behave.
"Maybe Bella one of these days I'll take you to home to meet the family, I don't get to see them myself except on some holidays."
"Really? You must be serious...where I come from it's a big deal when the boy brings the girl home to meet his family?"
"Guess I am?" he said leaning over and kissing her.
"I don't think you're quite ready to meet my family yet?" she giggled, "they can be a handful...a big Italian family from Brooklyn that is. I have twenty cousins just on my mom's side of the family and forget how many on pop's! And then there's Grandma Graziani..."
"Hmm...maybe you're right. I think that could wait for a bit to meet Grandma?"
"Oh my God...you're scared."
"Ugh...yeah? Grandma Graziani...don't tell me, black dress hair pulled back in a grey bun and a look that could kill?"
"Yup that's Grandma."
Baldanza arrived with their second course of porcini risotto, followed by the main course of Sardinian stuffed eggplant and bucatini carbonara, then for dessert esspresso and freshly made cannoli.
After dinner they took a little stroll through the neighborhood then Napoleon drove Bella home to her apartment in Park Slope, on the western section of Brooklyn only about a fifteen minute ride, but he stretched it out to a half hour; driving slow with the top down as it was a nice night and traffic was light.
He saw her to the front door. She finally got up the nerve to ask him to come up to her apartment.
Napoleon surprised himself when he declined; kissing her goodnight as they stood together on her front stoop...then he waited until there until he saw the light in her apartment window turned on. Napoleon walked back to his car with a smile on his face. Telling himself this had to be serious...after he turned down this beautiful woman's invitation to go upstairs with her.
Solo arrived at headquarters in the morning; turning the hook in the dressing room to open the entrance to reception where he was greeting by Heather.
"Hey handsome...so what gives? All the girls are getting lonesome. No one has seen hide nor hair of you for weeks now?"
"Sorry Heather...I've been a little pre-occupied," he smiled as she pinned his badge to his lapel. He noticed his partner's badge was not there. "Can you tell me where Illya is?"
"Sure, Napoleon...he's in research. Did I hear right...he's going to become a citizen?"
"Last I heard... thanks Heather."
The woman waved at him with a hopeful look in her eyes as he walked through the rear entrance.
Napoleon finally caught up with Illya; pulling his partner aside to discuss the dilemma of the science symposium...
"And how long did you look at the journals that I gave you before you went out last night?"
"I know you don't want to believe it but I tried reading those things for a few hours...that was when I realized how futile it was. You were right; there's no way I'm going to be able to remember enough of this to sound barely credible."
"So you gave up and went out? I have been having to listen to complaints from all the girls that you have been neglecting them as of late...as if complaining to me is going to help? I cannot believe that you have sworn off women; so who is she; if she is not from headquarters...another airline stewardess or two perhaps?"
"My aren't we being the nosy Russian...I recall when you used to complain when I'd fill you in on my dates?"
"I guess I became so accustomed to it; that I have missed it I suppose. So spill your stomach contents..."
"Illya that's spill your guts...and no not this getting back to the assignment... suppose I wear a remote transmitter and receiver, with you listening in and just giving me the right things to say through an earpiece. Kind of like what we did when you were forced into playing that game of high stakes Omaha high-low poker in New Orleans...remember I coached you through the game; you won enough hands to buy our passage to South America to chase after Emory Partridge?"
Illya finally looked up from his books as he was studying the fundamental of United States history and government for his citizenship.
"Yes I recall that worked quite well...I think this solution would do the same for this assignment. I will be able to remain out of sight while doing this; thereby reducing the odds of my being recognized...this is a very good plan Napoleon."
The day of the symposium arrived; Napoleon Solo found himself lost in a sea of white lab coats as he headed towards the forum for the the first lecture of the morning. At the moment he was fairly safe at not being engaged in any sort of conversation...it was after the lecture that the discussions would begin.
Napoleon dressed in his own lab coat, a bow tie and a pair of black-rimmed eyeglasses, heard his partner mumble as he bumped into him..."clever disguise."
The Russian was barely recognizable as he had colored to a dark dark brown, wearing a false moustache as well as his own wire-rim spectacles and was dressed as a janitor, with a broom and dustpan in his hands.
"The difference between you and me," whispered Solo, "Is that I make this look good." He straightened his white coat; not even looking in the direction of the Russian. "Have you spotted them yet?"
"Not yet...but I have found out which room they are in number 324; no doubt there will be at least one guard. Vladimir is scheduled to speak in a half hour...you will need to try to approach him when he has concluded his talk to let him know we are here. There will be only a small window available to meet with colleagues, then he will be returned to his room. That is probably where his brother is being kept. He is to give you his itinerary... once we have it then we can decide when and where to make the move."
Once Zakarov's lecture concluded, Illya would disappear into a nearby janitor's closet, offering him safe coverage to prompt any conversations that his partner could not avoid.
Napoleon found himself zoning as Vladimir Zakarov continued with his lecture...recognizing a few of the terms from reading Illya's journals but the bulk of it was lost on him.
"Another problem with laser development is that evaporated material from the the target surface begins to shade. There are several views to this problem...induction of a standing shock wave in the removal of material from the the surface of an object by vaporization or other erosive processes as the shock wave continues to create damage. Secondly scanning the target faster than the shock wave propagates..."
Finally the lecture concluded "Here we go,"Solo whispered into his microphone as he headed toward the crowd that was gathering around the Russian scientist.
He heard the Illya's voice in his earpiece."Understood."
As Napoleon approached Zakarov another man pulled at his sleeve; asking him a question...
"So what do you have to say about beam absorption?"he spoke with a German accent.
Napoleon hesitated for a moment...then repeated word for word what his partner told him to say.
"Well a laser passing through air can be absorbed or scattered by precipitation...fog, dust or similar obstructions that a bullet could easily penetrate..."
"Oh yes." said the German," the wasted energy could disrupt cloud development...and impact wave would create a tunneling effect."
"Just agree Napoleon," Illya told him.
"Absolutely...I agree completely. Now if you would excuse me I need to have a moment with Vladimir...he's an old friend of the family."
Solo greeted Zakarov in Russian then giving him the code phrase in English. "I hear the rains on the steppes are heavy this year?"
Zakarov's eyes widened a bit, then he answered with the proper response."It will be difficult for the Cossacks to race their horses."
Vladimir suddenly dropped his notes in front of Napoleon; the agent instantly reaching down retrieving them for the man...but palming one sheet of paper that the man pushed towards him.
"I am sorry," said Zakarov with nervousness in his voice," I do not have enough time for questions at the moment; perhaps after my lecture at one o'clock?"
"Vozmoshno, spacibo Vrachu_perhaps, thank you Doctor." Napoleon begged off.
"You know your Russian accent is almost as bad as your French," he heard in his earpiece.
"Snob." he muttered; swearing that he heard Kuryakin laughing in the background.
"O.K. round one...meet me in my room. I have the itierary."
Napoleon headed up to the second floor; a few minutes later there was a coded knock at the door and he let his partner in.
"Damn! We have a problem, " Napoleon said looking at the paper," it's blank...he must have given me the wrong document!"
