After taking a serious fall at home, Alexander Waverly needed to be confined to hospital for an indeterminate period of time; though hale, given the man's age it was a necessary precaution. He'd suffered several minor fractures, a mild concussion, and was having difficulty speaking at the moment. He was being bombarded with test after test to find why that was happening.
Given the man was accustomed to frequently speaking his mind, it was a frustrating experience for him, much less being cut off from his role of functioning as Continental Chief for his beloved UNCLE.
Estelle, his wife, along with their son and daughter were at his bedside, but he was being gruff at times, as he was not accustomed to being fussed over by them, in addition to the nursing staff at Mount Sinai hospital.
Section I stepped up to the plate, and it was presumed by all at UNCLE headquarters in New York, that Napoleon Solo would assume the reins in Waverly's absence, given the fact that he was CEA and officially the heir apparent to the position.
Everyone, including Solo was taken completely by surprise when a decision was made that Sir Richard Pennyfeather, a peer of the realm in Great Britain and a member of Section I would assume what was considered a temporary position in place of Alexander Waverly. Though not known for anything extraordinary, Pennyfeather seemed more a paper pusher than a decision maker, and into things being efficient for the sake of efficiency and nothing more.
It was a relief for Napoleon not to have to step into the Old Man's shoes just yet, although he was feeling uncomfortable regarding the qualifications of Sir Richard to fill those very large shoes of Alexander Waverly's, even if on a temporary basis.
He did a little digging into the man's background and found he had been involved with British military intelligence, so that at least was a redeeming quality. Other than that, the man seemed just...'ordinary,' hardly the type of person to control UNCLE Northwest.
It was not Napoleon's place to question Section I and their decisions in the matter, besides this meant he wouldn't be pulled out of the field.
.
The two days later Napoleon and his team, outfitted for a night raid on yet another satrap, began taking on heavy fire. They hadn't triggered an alarm, and Napoleon suddenly felt as if they'd been expected.
Of his six-man team, which did not include his partner, half had been hit. Solo pulled his communicator, while trying to stop the bleeding of a grievously wounded agent named Adam Tanner.
"Channel D-Emergency."
"Yes Mr. Solo your report," Pennyfeather answered.
"Sir we're taking on heavy fire, agents Corley, Fix are wounded but mobile. Tanner is down and bleeding badly, I'm trying to stop..."
"Nevermind Tanner, and complete the mission."
"But.."
"Do your job Mr. Solo.
"Yes sir," Napoleon snapped. "Out." He grimaced, waving Agent Corley to take over keeping pressure on Tanner's wound while he and the other men pressed forward into the satrap, taking on more fire. They managed to break through, taking down their opponents with some mightily thrown gas grenades.
Other than taking a few Thrush lackeys prisoner, the operation ended up being a complete bust, and at what price? Tanner didn't make it, Corley and Fix would be out of the field for weeks. There had been no valuable files at the satrap as intelligence had indicated. Trusting his instincts, Napoleon thought this smelled of a setup, but there was no way he could prove it.
The team returned to headquarters empty-handed, after suffering losses, with the rest of the team battered and bruised from the bad op.
The CEA, at the moment, was walking down the corridor, having been called into the conference room after barely having time to shower and change in to fresh clothing. As he approached the office, he noticed Lisa's desk was empty... very empty as it had been cleared off, and he found that rather odd.
"Vacation?" He asked himself, though that wouldn't make sense, as she'd be needed for the transition. Especially given the fact Pennyfeather had no experience running a division of UNCLE.
Napoleon made his usual hair and clothing adjustment, finally stepping closer to the pneumatic door for it's sensors to pick up his movement. He was, after all, expected and for once exactly on time. This was his first meeting with the temporary Continental Chief.
The door shushed open and Solo, when stepping inside, felt strange not seeing Waverly there surrounded by ringlets of tobacco smoke circling around his head like little halos.
That's something he knew Illya wouldn't mind doing without, as the brand of pipe tobacco the Old Man used tended to make him sneeze.
"Ah, good morning Mr. Solo," Sir Richard said with a very upper-crust British accent, looking straight at him. "Be seated, and in the future I will expect you to arrive five minutes before a debrief is scheduled, to settle in and discuss any pre-meeting issues."
Napoleon acknowledged that with a nod of his head and seated himself in his usual chair, glancing over at the empty seat usually occupied by his partner.
"Excuse me Mr. Solo," Pennyfeathers bushy eyebrows shot up." I will expect a verbal response to my proposals if you please. You Americans are at times lacking in good manners. So we'll have none of that here."
Napoleon stiffened at the man's tone and his little insult, but remained placid, taking a cue from Illya's usual behavior when spoken to in such a manner.
"Sir?"
"A verbal reply if you will, and not a nod, is proper, if I do say so myself."
Napoleon hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Beg pardon sir, but no insult was intended. I will, in the future, endeavor to arrive the requisite five minutes prior to briefings."
"Not endeavor Mr. Solo...you 'will' arrive within the designated time frame."
Solo's nostrils flared as the rebuke, but he contained himself. "Yes sir."
Sir Richard Pennyfeather was perhaps in his early sixties, white hair, medium build...his appearance nondescript, though if he sported a white beard, he could have passed for Santa Claus type though not as rotund and in appearance only, not by his personality. His eyes were the only feature that stood out on his pasty face. They were dark, and rather piercing.
"There's going to be a few changes made around here Mr. Solo and as my CEA I expect you to follow my orders and carry out these changes to the letter."
"And what might those changes be sir? "Napoleon cocked his head, unclasping his hands, not letting his body language give a sign of anything other than openness."
"Headquarters here is a model of inefficiency and full of redundancies. I have begun implementing staff cutbacks. No more personal secretaries and assistants, with the exception of mine of course. This is a serious job with much work for me to do and I'll require one, however, it's about time each Section got back to doing their own paperwork." Pennyfeather flicked a switch on the intercom. "That applies most definitely to you, from what I hear. There will be no passing off of paper work for others to do for you. As my Chief Enforcement Officer, I expect you to handle your reports and submit them in a timely manner."
"Mr. White, if you please?" He spoke into the intercom.
The door to Waverly's...Pennyfeathers conference room opened and in walked a young man, unrecognizable to Solo. He was carrying a pile of files with him and handed one to Napoleon as he passed.
"The file Mr. White, my assistant, just handed you contains a list of my recommendations for changes within the Command. I'd like you to go over it, and make your own personal comments as to why certain individuals should be retained or not. Those on the list will either be transferred to another UNCLE facility or deprogrammed and let go."
Napoleon's eyes went wide as at the top of the list was the name of Kuryakin.
"Illya? He's my partner sir, and the number two agent. Why would you have his name here?" Solo was aghast.
"I am doing away with partnerships as there's many an occasion where a single agent could complete the task as easily as two. The elimination also cuts back travel and accommodation expenses, and that will keep accounting blissfully happy."
"But...
"No buts regarding Mr. Kuryakin. He is at the moment winging his way to his new assignment in Greenland, and was ordered not to contact you. This 'friendship' thing that you and he have developed is a most dangerous habit, potentially compromising your missions as you no doubt in the past have worried about saving each other first. Going forward, the mission is pre-eminent Mr. Solo. Am I clear on this?"
Napoleon's face flushed."Crystal."
"Very well, look over the list and get back to me with your comments by tomorrow. Now, I'm rather annoyed at this field report of yours. You disobeyed my direct order and you had Agent Corely see to Tanner. It was a waste of time as he did die after all..."
Napoleon was dumbfounded at the man's callous attitude as well as the changes being implemented by him. He knew it better to bite his tongue at the moment, and simply absorb what was going on.
"Mr. Solo, I will be making note in your permanent file that you disobeyed a direct order from me. In the future, don't let it happen again." With that warning Napoleon was summarily dismissed with a sharp wave of Pennyfeathers hand.
He couldn't believe it, Illya gone without a word? For a moment Napoleons whole world had been rocked, and he stared at the list while slowly walking down the surprisingly empty corridor. It seemed the transfers and dismissals had already begun.
April was being assigned to Los Angeles, and Mark sent back to London. All the teams were not only being broken up, they were being physically separated.
"What the hell is this man thinking?" Napoleon wondered. He wandered into the Commissary, finding only a few of the secretaries and communications specialists there, and most of them looked as though they'd been crying.
"Oh Napoleon," Mandy called out to him, "Isn't this just awful. I never thought I see layoffs like this at UNCLE. People are being moved all over the place without being able to say a decent goodbye," she dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "Why even Wanda lost her desk duty at the agents entrance and...and she was replaced with a male Section III agent who just arrived from Germany."
"Really? She was there when I arrived this morning," he looked quizzically at her.
"Two men from Security escorted her to be deprogammed, and Lisa Rogers too. This is just awful. What is this man doing, cleaning house? It's almost as if he's trying to sabotage us in my estimation."
He sat down beside her, offering his handkerchief to replace her very damp tissue. Mandy's statement hit him like a ton of bricks, though he kept that to himself. "Hey, even I'm being affected...Illya's been transferred to Greenland, and I have no idea why. Our new leader is breaking up all the partnerships and severely cutting back on staff."
"Oh my goodness, Illya is gone?" Mandy whimpered, "you must be really upset at that."
"You know Mandy, I am and I think I'm going to go back and have a little chat with our CCO about these changes." He rose from his chair, not even bothering to get the cup of coffee he had intended for himself; instead he stopped by his office and taking a bottle of scotch kept in the file cabinet along with a bottle of vodka, mind you for medicinal purposes, and Napoleon poured himself a stiff one, downing it before he headed back to confront Pennyfeather.
Not that he needed liquid courage by any means, if anything it helped calm him down...
Napoleon returned to the conference room, only to be confronted by the Assistant, Mr. White.
"I'm sorry Mr. Solo, but Sir Richard is quite busy. You need to make an appointment."
"You have got to be kidding me?"
"No sir."
Napoleon tried heading through the doors, and slammed into them face first, having wrongly assumed they'd open at his approach. He stood for a moment, rubbing his nose.
"What the hell is going on here?" He demanded.
"CCO's orders sir. His doors are to be secured at all times and everyone needs to make an appointment to see him. Would you like to schedule one Mr. Solo...say, is that alcohol I smell on your breath. Have you been drinking while on duty?"
Napoleon flashed the man his best 'Illya look' and left, not answering either question.
.
A week later, Solo and his team, outfitted for a night raid on yet another satrap at a large estate in Rhode Island, but this time they were met with no resistance. The place was empty, and again Napoleon suddenly felt they had been expected. He sat down on the front steps of the palatial home, pulling his communicator.
"Open channel D."
"Yes Mr. Solo," Pennyfeather calmly answered, though he knew Solo was on a mission in the field, he seemed to lack any concern.
"Sir the location has been abandoned, it's as if they knew we were coming as the place seems to have been emptied rather hastily."
"Really? That is odd," Pennyfeather said calmly. "Still I want the location gone over with a fine tooth comb."
"I'll call in a cleanup team sir..."
"No Mr. Solo you and your men are to do the job. You are already there, why waste manpower and time sending another team in."
"Yes sir," Napoleon answered sharply. "Out." Field agents to do a cleanup job? What is this man thinking?"
After returning to headquarters two days later, basically empty-handed, Solo sat alone in his office, staring at the desk once occupied by his former partner. He'd tried contacting Illya but was told he was on a mission that required a communications blackout. Napoleon had to admit, his former partner was sorely missed as he realized how much of a friend the Russian had become to him. He needed to talk to someone above Pennyfeather's head, and at least try to get the Russian reassigned back to New York.
He pulled his communicator from his jacket pocket. "Napoleon Solo to Section I please, and scramble," he told the Communications tech.
"I'm sorry sir," an unfamiliar male voice answered, "but there's no direct communications permitted to any member of Section I as per Number 1's instructions. All concerns must pass through him."
"Who is this?
"Communications Specialist Agent 99, Number 11."
"99? What is this "Get Smart' ...I want your name?"
"Sorry sir, no names permitted. We go by code numbers now, and in your case, agent designations. It's part of a security plan enacted by Number 1."
"You mean Pennyfeather."
"His designation is Number 1. I apologize sir, as it sounds as though you haven't been briefed on the policy change. You're now Agent 11."
That sent Napoleon's temper over the edge and he closed the communicator without his usual pleasantries and sign off. He stormed out into the corridor, heading to the elevator, passing even fewer people. Their faces were filled with a look of apprehension, as if they were waiting for that idiot Pennyfeathers axe to fall on them as well.
The CEA approached White's desk, not even trying to hide his ire. The man looked up at him, opening his mouth to say something...
"I know I don't have an appointment, and I don't care. I'm going in there," Solo cut him off.
White cleared his throat. "I was going to say, Number 1 had just sent for you, so you're expected. Go ahead in Number 11.
"Oh no, I'm Napoleon Solo, CEA of UNCLE Northwest and not a number," he snarled.
Napoleon didn't bother with his usual ritual of straightening his tie and checking his hair, and walked into the office like a man on fire.
"Look Pennyfeather," he barked, seeing the man seated at the table, reading a mission report.
"Excuse me," Sir Richard raised his voice, not looking up. "Going forward you will address me as Number 1 and you will do it with a respectful tone, Agent 11. Now to business...I'm looking over your mission report, what I can read of it, that is. Your handwriting is atrocious. Perhaps I need to have you take a remedial course in penmanship?"
Before he could respond, Napoleon was ordered to sit.
"I'd rather stand."
"Suit yourself, " Sir Richard didn't even look up at him.
Napoleon didn't hesitate as he proceeded to bark at the man for his callousness as well as the changes being made at headquarters, he questioned Pennyfeather's competency and loyalty to the Command.
The CCO pressed a red button on his console. "How dare you make such accusations against me Agent 11!"
"My name is Napoleon Solo and I'll question and accuse where I see fit when someone is attempting to undermine UNCLE." His voice seethed, yet he kept his anger in check.
The doors to the conference room opened and two burly Section V agents appeared.
"Escort Agent 11 to a holding cell until he cools down and sees the error of his ways," Pennyfeather calmly ordered.
"Your weapon if you please Mister...I mean Agent 11," one of the two Security agents politely asked Napoleon.
Solo raised his hand slowly, removing his Special from its holster with two fingers, dangling it in the air until it was taken from him.
The men moved to either side of him, trying to take him by the arms, but Napoleon yanked himself away.
"I can walk on my own," he proudly announced. The three of them headed quietly out into the corridor.
"Sorry Napoleon, bosses order," one whispered out of the side of his mouth.
"What no Agent 11?" Solo sniped at the man.
"Ah that crap is ridiculous," the other Security agent mumbled. "These changes are destroying us little by little. Where'd Section I get this guy and what were they thinking?"
"Good question," Napoleon said." I have a feeling we're of like minds on this dilemma, and something needs to be done before it's too late. I need to get a message to Mr. Kuryakin...you fellows think you can help me?"
"With pleasure Mr. Solo. There's a lot of us who are fed up with the way things are being run here. Our Section Chief, Mr. Lopaka, tried to get in to see Mr. Waverly and get his take on all this, but it seems the Old Man was sent to a private rehab facility somewhere in Pennsylvania."
"Really? UNCLE doesn't have a rehab facility there."
"No sir, Mr. Lopaka found the place and couldn't get in, and was told Mr. Waverly was under guard and was well protected. But what guards...no one from here? Seems Mrs. Waverly is being kept there as well."
"There's definitely something rotten in the state of Denmark," Napoleon concluded. He drew one of his cards from his wallet, writing the message to be delivered to Illya on the back of it. It simply stated, 'Lee 6 pm.'
He handed it to one of the agents. "Do whatever you have to do to get this message to Mr. Kuryakin as soon as I'm sprung from here." Napoleon knew there were security cameras but not audio in the particular spot they were standing, outside the holding cell.
"I need a discreet headcount of anyone still here at headquarters is, shall we say, of a like mind as the three of us. And I need the number and identities on any new personnel transferred here by Pennyfeather and is backing him."
"You got it Mr. Solo, " they happily took his card."Sorry, we still have to lock you up."
"That's okay boys, do what you have to do to stay under this idiot's radar."
Napoleon's shoulders sagged just a little as he heard the door close, and locked behind him. He removed his suit jacket, hanging it up over a chair and climbed onto the bunk, leaning his head back on his hands clasped behind it, and resigning himself to just sit and wait.
The next morning he was unceremoniously released and told he was on suspension until further notice. Napoleon headed home without another word, and once arriving, he showered and changed into more casual clothing.
Just before 6 pm he went down to the street, hailed a cab to take him to Chang's Chinese restaurant not far away. It was he and his partner's favorite place to eat and order their takeaway.
Upon his arrival, he was greeted by the owner Chang Lee who wondering where Mr. K had been. Napoleon's only answer was that Illya was simply out of town for an extended time.
"Too bad," Chang smiled," no wonder my takeout business has been down." He escorted Napoleon to his usual booth. Solo placed a dinner order and waited.
A few minutes later Chang approached the table carrying a telephone and wire in his hands.
"Excuse me Mr. Solo, there is a call for you." Chang plugged the phone into the wall socket and left, giving his favorite customer some privacy."
"Hello?" Napoleon spoke into the receiver.
"Napoleon," Illya hissed, foregoing any pleasantries. "What the hell is going on?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out tovarisch. Good to hear your voice."
Kuryakin's tone softened, "Yes good to hear you as well my friend."
Napoleon filled his former partner in on the goings on at headquarters, leaving the Russian astonished.
"Everything seems to be fine here in Greenland, I was in London a few days ago and saw Mark and he told me of his transfer and about April so that much I was aware of. There have not been any such drastic changes at either of these places as far as I can see and I am still called by my name as is Mark."
"Interesting," Napoleon spoke softly," I wonder if what's going on is contained only within New York at the moment. Hmm, could Pennyfeather is acting on his own and UNCLE is unaware of what he's been up to?"
"Do you think THRUSH has infiltrated your ranks? You said Pennyfeather has brought in agents from other offices...moles perhaps? Given your last two missions seemed to have been suspiciously compromised, a mole would be a logical answer."
Napoleon swallowed a mouthful of green tea, "I don't know chum, but what Pennyfeather's been up to would make it seem that way. I'm wondering if he's the mole?"
"What do you need me to do Napoleon?"
"Get back to New York as soon as you can."
"Hmm, I am set to go on a mission to take out a bomb-making factory outside of Helsinki. Once I have verified and destroyed it...perhaps I can do a disappearing act of sorts."
"Just do what you need to do get here as soon as soon as you can. Uvidimsya, kogda uvidimsya_I'll see you, when I see you," Napoleon spoke in Russian.
"Bud'te bezopasny moy drug_be safe my friend."
The phone went to a dial-tone and Napoleon hung it up with a sigh. He would have to wait to make any sort of move until Illya arrived and he crossed his fingers on that.
Solo went on with his little scheme, organizing those who were loyal to the old ways of the Command set forth by Alexander Waverly. He schedules a meeting in the Section II conference room, checking first for bugs and temporarily disabling the security cameras. The remaining field agents, Section III agents and a few of the technicians, including Heather McNabb were present. There were only a few Section V members that could apparently be trusted.
"Well, a fine motley crew we make,"Solo remarked, looking at the familiar faces surrounding him."
"So what's the game plan Napoleon. We know you like to fly by the seat of your pants, but wouldn't a little advance planning be advised," Agent Corley said. He and Fix had just been returned to active duty status, though Fix was away at the moment, off on a milk run.
"Trust me ladies and gentlemen, I have something in the works as we speak and am just waiting for outside help to arrive...any day now."
"So it's a mutiny your mounting Napoleon," Ranny Kovač spoke out. "Don't you think that's a little dangerous, given out paltry numbers?"
"And that's why I'm waiting for reinforcements." Napoleon smiled. "It seems no such changes as have taken place here have happened in other UNCLE headquarters. It's my fear we have a mole a the helm here."
The doors to the conference room opened and in walked five armed Security men.
"All right, hands up everyone. No sudden moves for your guns." One of them went about the room, relieving the agents of their weapons.
As soon as that was completed, Pennyfeather walked through the door.
"Tsk tsk. Did you think you'd really get away with this little game of yours Number 11."
Napoleon's expression hardened. "Yes I did as a matter of fact. Pennyfeathe, you're slowly destroying us and I want to know why? Are you a traitor?"
"Destroying? Hardly my good man. I am making this headquarters streamlined and efficient. A model for the other UNCLE branches, and as soon as it's seen how well this stream lines operation will run, our other locations will no doubt follow suit. I am no traitor to UNCLE, I am in fact fiercely loyal, but there is a need to the organization to wake up and work more efficiently."
"If you're not working for THRUSH, then you're weakening us and allowing them to step in and take over," Napoleon snarled.
"THRUSH?" Pennyfeather simply laughed out loud. "Take them all away and lock them up until I decide what's to become of them, all except Agent 11, bring him to my conference room." He turned away, leaving without uttering another word.
.
Sir Richard was sitting casually at his console, when Security arrived with Solo in tow.
"Ah yes, the orchestrator of the little rebellion that barely got off the ground. Did you really think I wouldn't find out?
Napoleon remained poised, standing between the two guards, saying nothing.
"Now what to do with you?" Pennyfeather grinned. "Hmmm, Tartarus perhaps. Quite appropriate, you being banished there for life among the criminally insane." He tossed a pencil in the air, catching it in place, each time he did it, not even looking at what he was doing.
"Oh by the way Mr...no, Agent 11. Your former partner, Mr. Kuryakin whom I call by name now, is dead. He was on assignment, attempting to blow up a satrap outside of Helsinki but his explosives detonated prematurely. The blast was so powerful that it apparently blew him to smithereens. Pity, he was a passable agent in spite of him being a Russian and a Communist.
Napoleon showed no reaction to the news.
"Come now, I thought you two were fast friends. No mourning for your Russian?"
Suddenly the klaxons began to blare, with the emergency lights flashing brightly from red to green.
Pennyfeather hit the switch on his intercom. "Number 1 here, what the devil is going on?" There was only silence." Hello? Someone answer me immediately!"
Napoleon acted quickly, using the alarm as a distraction, grabbing one guard's gun and slamming it into the stomach of the other. After a few blows with the rifle butt, both men were down for the count.
"Hands up Pennyfeather. Your misguided tenure is coming to an end."
The conference room doors opened again, and this time Mark Slate and April dancer waltzed in, armed to the teeth.
Behind them appeared a very familiar blond. "It is all clear sir," Illya announced.
Following Illya Kuryakin, still dressed in a robe and pajamas, the slippered feet of Alexander Waverly, though using a cane as support, stepped through the doors to reclaim his rightful place. Beside him was his beloved wife Estelle.
"Well Dick, you've been caught red-handed I see," he harumphed.
"Alex...please don't call me that,"Pennyfeather's face flushed red.
Waverly ignored him. "Did you think you were really going to get away with your little power play and keep me permanently out of the way?"
Sir Richard's nostrils flared as he stood, looking his fellow Englishman straight in the eye.
"Get away with what my dear fellow? This organization was in dire need of straightening out, and it wasn't going to happen under your leadership. UNCLE was caught up in it's own bureaucracy, and red tape and was going to implode from within due to it's inefficiencies and redundancies," Pennyfeather babbled on. "What I've done was for the sake of the Command, and made it a well-oiled machine. The rest of the headquarters only had to follow suit, once they realized what I'd done worked well. You Alex have done nothing but coddle these agents and bring dangerous people into our midst to threaten our security."
He looked directly at Illya when saying that.
"Balderdash," Waverly growled, "You knew what you were doing was wrong, when you tried locking me and my wife away like prisoners, as you were well aware I would try to stop you. What you've done goes against the edicts of this organization, that was running quite well before you meddled with it. Now it has to all be straightened out. I am here to resume my leadership of UNCLE Northwest and do hereby relieve you. No more playing with fire for you, Dick."
"No, I won't be undone. You're nothing but a doddering, senile old man and you'll destroy us!"
Estelle Waverly took two steps forward and before anyone could stop her, she raised her hand and slapped Pennyfeather across the face.
"How dare you speak to my husband like that! He is a founding member of UNCLE and don't you forget it you pompous little man. You were always jealous of him!"
"Jealous Mrs. Waverly?" Illya asked. "So he is not THRUSH?"
"No, just a man who has always thought too highly of himself and his ideas. He always had a knack of convincing people to see how wonderful he was. Oh you're unaware this man attended school with my husband. He'd always be dogging Alexander's heels, trying to one-up him all the time." She turned to Sir Richard, raising her hand again, to give him another good slap. "I swear, you are the devil incarnate Richard Pennyfeather."
"Okay, Mrs. Waverly, " Napoleon stopped her before she could hit the man again. "I think you've gotten your point across." He took her by the arm, escorting her to a safe distance to the far side of the conference table and pulled out a chair for her. She gracefully seated herself, but still sending daggers with her eyes at Pennyfeather.
"What would you like us to do with him sir?"April asked.
"Take him upstairs to guest quarters and keep him under guard until I've spoken with the other heads of Section I. I'm sure they've been unaware of the nonsense that's been going on here in my absence. And oh yes, gather up any personnel he's brought in. We'll need to investigate their loyalties and deprogram them if necessary.'
"You can't do this to me!" Pennyfeather wailed," You're not competent...I'm the one in charge here!"
"Yes I can...Dick." Waverly cocked his bushy eyebrows, ordering Dancer and Slate with a wave of his hand to remove Pennyfeather from the room. The rightful CCO sat at his chair beside his control console, running his finger along it, caressing it like a long lost lover.
"Thank you all for coming to the rescue of my wife and myself and staying loyal to the Command. Now will someone get me some proper clothing so I can get back to work and straighten out this damnable mess. We'll need to ferret out any possible moles, as surely THRUSH may have taken advantage of the chaos going on here."
Napoleon and Illya looked each other in the eye, smiling at hearing the Old Man sounding like himself and relieved he was back at the helm.
"And yes...Number 11 could you locate my pipe and humidor for me," Waverly added, a mischievous smile on his lips.
"Number 11 sir? Napoleon cringed. "Please don't tell me you are going to keep using..." Napoleon started to ask, his brow furrowed with concern.
Alexander Waverly laughed softly, staring as the incredulous looks being given him by his CEA and his Russian partner. The twinkle in his eye told his agents he was having a go at them, and merely joking.
It was back to business as usual, and that made Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin quite happy... their beloved leader and UNCLE were on their way to becoming whole again.
.