Napoleon Solo sat on his leather sofa watching the evening news on his new color television set, beside him was his partner, the Russian Illya Kuryakin who was sipping a cup of tea and munching on his second chocolate cannoli.
They'd had a working dinner at the Solo residence, finishing up a detailed report that absolutely had to be ready for Alexander Waverly to present at an important video conference of the five heads of Section I.
The agents had a pizza pie for dinner, making it easier to finish hashing out the details of the report without having to stop to eat. The next Summit 5 would be taking place within a few months, and it was Solo and Kuryakin who were charged with the analysis of the Security arrangements and to make recommendations, offering their pros and cons on the plan.
This year's Summit was to be held in San Francisco, and the location offered unique challenges, some of which the agents didn't like.
A sudden alert flashed on the news drawing both their attention from their announcer, spoke of a heinous act.
"This is a special news bulletin: Today in the the upper-middle class community of Forest Hills Gardens, a young girl was kidnapped in broad daylight; taken from the sidewalk where she had been playing double-dutch with her friends. Two individuals exited a white Volkswagen van and forced her inside it, taking off in the van at high speed. The only witnesses, her playmates, were not able to get the licence plate. Anyone with information please contact your local police precinct immediately.
A black and white photograph of a pretty little girl was shown on the screen.
"Maria Rosencrantz is seven years old, blonde blue-eyed, four feet tall and weighing approximately fifty pounds. She was last seen wearing a red plaid pleated skirt, and a red knit sweater. The reason for the kidnapping is yet unknown as no demand for ransom has been made to the family. Anyone with any information regarding this incident, please contact your local police precinct."
The announcer paused, shuffling some papers in front of him before he continued to speak...
"Some may recall her father, Professor Otto Rosencrantz, was a nuclear physicist best known for his involvement in the development of the first nuclear bomb for the Manhattan project during World War II. The Rosencrantz family residence is in the southern part of Forest Hills, a neighborhood with a diverse mixture of upscale housing, ranging from single-family houses, attached townhouses, and both low-rise and high-rise apartment buildings. South of the Long Island Rail Road, the Forest Hills Gardens area is a private community that features some of the most expensive residential properties in Queens County and is subject to restrictive covenants."
"And now to the world news..."
.
Napoleon rose from the sofa, turning off the television with an annoyed flick of his hand on the switch, shaking his head; he was disgusted at hearing that news and looked to his partner, voicing his sudden desire to get involved.
"That is not our purview," Illya said, with a mouthful of cannoli. "It is the New York Police department and most likely your FBI's job to handle such things."
"I don't care. I can't sit by and see this happen to an innocent child. The fact that her father was connected to the Manhattan project makes me more suspicious that it's not just a kidnapping for ransom."
"True, I thought that myself," Illya said. "Professor Rosencrantz was involved in the building the most intense atom smasher in the world, using a beam of protons to create an intense beam of pi meson particles. His machine was many times more powerful than any previously existing particle accelerator, and was used to study the interaction of pions with other nuclear materials. The Professor said his device was, " A dearly needed connection between subnuclear and nuclear physics.' So what do you want to do...off the books of course, as I am not sure Mr. Waverly will sanction such an endeavor?"
"I think he will. I suspect whoever took that child want's something Rosencrantz might be working on."
"Absolutely," the Russian agreed without hesitation.
Napoleon took his communicator from the coffee table.
"Open Channel D-Waverly please."
"Hi Napoleon," Bernice said. "So when are we going out again?"
He smiled to himself, thinking of their last encounter. "Soon. Scouts honor."
"I'll hold you to that Napoleon Solo, now hold please."
"Yes Mr. Solo what can I do for you?" Alexander Waverly sounded rather chipper.
"Sir did you see the news about the kidnapping of the little girl, Maria Rosencrantz?"
"Yes indeed, I did. Are you suspicious of this incident?"
"Yes sir, given the identity of her father."
There was a brief pause,"Hmm, very well then, you and Mr. Kuryakin look into the matter. I will notify the police department and other agencies of your involvement. And Mr. Solo, please endeavor to get that report to me on time for tomorrow's briefing."
Yes sir, Solo out."
There was little traffic given it was late in the evening and the taxi ride took them just under ten minutes. Napoleon paid the fare, tipping the driver; as usual he noted Illya made no attempt to take out his wallet.
They climbed the short steps to the well maintained brownstone, using the brass door knocker to alert those within.
The door opened slightly, with an white bearded gentleman peeking out at them.
"Please, no reporters. Go away!" He tried closing the door, but Illya's foot prevented that.
"Professor Rosencrantz, my name is Napoleon Solo and my associate here is Illya Kuryakin. We're with the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement and we'd like to discuss your daughter's kidnapping with you please." He held out his gold ID for the man to see.
"No, no police, no FBI...I sent them all away. Their presence and yours will endanger my daughters life. Now go away!"
Illya strong armed the door open, allowing him and Napoleon to enter the house.
"No, you must leave!" The Professor shouted.
"Why did you send law enforcement away?" Illya asked.
"Because they...the ones who took my Maria told me to do so. If the police were involved, they threatened to kill her."
"What do they want from you, I presume in exchange for your daughter?" Napoleon asked.
Rosencrantz looked at him with fear in his eyes, hesitating to speak.
"Professor, we're here to save your daughter, but we need to know what's going on," Napoleon spoke persuasively.
"They want the plans for my new particle accelerator. It is the fastest ever..."
"Who is 'they'," Illya asked.
"They called themselves T.H.R.U.S.H. some sort of organization I assume, though I've never heard of them."
"Their name stands for Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesireables and the Subjugation of Humanity, and it a most dangerous group whose sole purpose is to take over the world, by any means," Napoleon answered.
"Have they made arrangements for a drop off, or an exchange site for your daughter?" Illya asked.
"Yes, they told me to bring the plans at seven in the morning to the Glen Span Arch in Central Park and said once they had the plans, they'd tell me where she they were keeping her.
"Yes I know the spot, it is one of the lesser known locations in the park and would make for a secluded location for such a transaction," Illya noted. The Russian looked to his partner, sensing there was a plan already formulating in the Amercian's head.
"Professor we'll need to make a copy of your plans, but you need to alter it substantially, as we won't want to risk giving T.H.R.U.S.H. your real specifications."
"Why yes, but it will take me some time."
"I can assist you professor," Illya said, following the man to his study to begin the task.
.
Seven o'clock the next morning the Professor, wearing a tan trench coat and fedora, approached the designated spot at the Glen Span Arch. The area was a bucolic spot and a pleasant alternative to the "Ramble," a more popular walk within Central Park.
There was a note taped on the wall, and removing it; he read the instructions written in a neat handwriting.
"Proceed on to the ravine."
He passed through the archway; the stone walls on either side covered by overhanging branches and grasping the rolled-up plans in his hand, he stepped through to the other side. The view of the ravine and the cascading waterfalls were breathtaking.
There was no one in sight, but a moment later he felt something jab him in the back.
"Okay Professor, hand it over," a voice spoke from behind him, aiming a handgun at him.
"Please, tell me where you have my daughter, is she alive?"
"Your voice sounds sort of funny."
"Ahem," the Professor cleared his throat," I have a cold."
"Well don't give me your germs," the voice said, pulling away from the scientist and grabbing hold of the plans."
"My daughter please?" Rosenkrantz pleaded.
"Don't worry, she's fine. You'll find her in the basement of a building in the Bronx. He gave the Professor the address located in the Longwood section in the southwest Bronx.
"Now stay here for ten minutes, Professor, or else I'll use this gun on you," the voice said, disappearing back through the arch.
When he was out of view, he lifted the lapel on his coat and spoke into it.
"Tell me you got that Napoleon?" The Professor reached up with his right hand, pulling off his hat, followed by a white wig, latex mask and beard; revealing the blond haired Russian.
Illya pulled his communicator from the trench coat pocket, placing it on his suit jacket and tossing the remnants of his disguise aside; he quickly walked through the archway. There he spotted the Thrush agent not far ahead, and continued to follow him; seemingly just a man dressed in a black turtleneck and suit, out for an early morning stroll in the park.
"Yes I got it tovarisch, I'm on my way there now...be careful my friend." Solo responded. "I'm not there to cover your back you know."
"Always, and may I remind you of the same," the Russian answered.
Napoleon arrived in record time at the address, finding an old boarded up tenement building there, and located the rickety stairs to the basement. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket, descending in the the darkness with care; the steps creaking eerily beneath his weight.
He scanned the room, not seeing the girl, but called out to her.
"Maria Rosencrantz? Come on baby, I need a sign? I'm here to help you." At first there was nothing, but then he heard it, several muffled thumps coming from one of the walls.
The bastards had boarded up the child, and Solo hurriedly searched for something to use. He found an old crowbar and rammed it into the space between the brick wall and the heavy sheet of plywood, pulling back hard on it and ripping it free after several tries.
He shined the flashlight in the cubby, seeing the dirty tear-stained face of the young girl. There was a gag tied around her mouth and her little hands and feet had been bound with rope.
"It's okay sweetheart, you're safe now, "he whispered, freeing her and scooping the child into his arms. She began to cry, burying her face into his shoulder and Napoleon held onto her, stroking her hair as he tried to shush her, patting her gently on the back.
"Shuuuush...don't cry baby. My name is Napoleon and I'm taking you home to your daddy."
She lifted her head and looked at him with wide, reddened tear-filled eyes, rubbing them with her little fists. "Napoleon, that's a funny name," she sniffled.
Napoleon softly laughed and kissed her on the head and spoke into his open communicator tucked in his jacket pocket.
"Got her tovarisch, now do your thing."
"With pleasure,"Illya answered, just exiting the park and following the Thrushman to a car where his two associates sat waiting for him.
The agent held the plans aloft, smiling to his friends at his perceived success, and just as he opened the car door Illya reached in with his Special aimed at them.
"May I get a lift gentlemen?" He smiled wickedly.
"What the... who the devil are you?"
"Your worst nightmare, " Illya smiled to himself as he'd always wanted to say that to someone. "Prepare yourselves for your trip to hell. Drive where I tell you to go." He motioned with his weapon.
Illya sat in the rear seat behind the driver, and after relieving them all of the weapons he instructed the man behind the wheel to start the car. He directed them to the Henry Hudson Parkway and the Palisades, eventually having them pull over the car to one of the scenic overlooks.
"I cannot abide anyone who would do harm to a little child," he said with a feral grin."This is for the child you kidnapped." Illya darted each of them, and while the engine was still running, he jammed the drivers foot against the accelerator, and put the car into gear.
It took off right through the guardrail and careened over the steep embankment, smashing into the rocks below before it sank into the Hudson river.
The blond agent pulled his communicator, calling his partner on Channel F.
"It is done, but I will need a lift," he said, leaning on the broken rail and looking out at the spectacular view of the river. "There is no need to rush, the scenery here is quite beautiful, and I have only seen it before from a moving vehicle."
"Good job pal, you go ahead and enjoy communing with nature and I'll be up to get you shortly.
Napoleon returned Maria to a joyous reunion with her father, and as the Professor held his child in his arms he thanked the agent for rescuing her.
"My pleasure Professor. Keep her safe, as she's a pearl beyond price," he winked at Maria and left to find his partner.
.
Solo and Kuryakin arrived at headquarters with their report with only twenty minutes to spare, finding Alexander Waverly still unflurried by their eleventh hour arrival. Twenty minutes would be more than enough time for him to take a quick glance their report.
"How goes it with that kidnapping business, any luck gentlemen?" He looked up from the file.
"I'm happy to report the girl was rescued safe and sound and returned to her father," Napoleon grinned. "THRUSH was after his plans for a new particle accelerator."
"But.." Illya interjected.
"Yes Mr. Kuryakin?"
"There will be three THRUSH agents eventually surfacing in the Hudson River, quite dead I am afraid." The look on his face was surprisingly mischievous.
"You didn't?" Napoleon stared at the Russian, not quite sure if his partner was part angel or devil, but mused that could hold true for himself as well. He supposed it was better to think of the two of them as guardian angels, perhaps with tarnished wings.
"You told me to 'do my thing' did you not?" Illya leaned over, whispering to Napoleon.
"True...but I forget sometimes how bloodthirsty you can be."
"When it comes to the harming of children, I can and will be most bloodthirsty, you may count on that," Illya's eyes turned an icy shade of blue.
"Now if you hadn't dispatched them, what exactly were the plans you and the Professor gave them?"
"It was a blueprint for making a rather large neon sign. If they actually managed to build it, it would have read UNCLE in cursive form of course."
"Napoleon grinned at that answer.
Alexander Waverly interrupted their whisperings. "A job well done, and getting rid of a few pesky birds now and them, I suppose, isn't a bad idea. Though bringing them in for questioning might have been useful, "He winked at Illya as he lit his pipe, and looked down at this wrist watch, not seeing the look of dismay on the Russians face.
In the long run it didn't matter to Kuryakin as he would do it again in a heartbeat. He agreed with Napoleon, he was indeed a bit bloodthirsty. His past had made him that way, though he strived to control it nowadays. Yet when it was called for, he would not hesitate...as there were situations that required a quick and more decisive action.
"Be seated gentlemen, the meeting is about to begin, you both may as well stay to answer any questions, given my reading of your report was only cursory,"Waverly said.
They were tired, but there'd be time to sleep later as the partners pulled up their chairs at the conference table; getting back to business as usual...