"I do not understand why Mr. Waverly wanted us to pick up Sukharov's grandmother instead of a Section III detail." As usual, Illya was behind the wheel of the UNCLE car as they headed upstate New York. Instead of a sedan, however, they were tooling around in a Chevy station wagon.
For once, Napoleon was glad not to be seen driving such a suburban style car. "Tovarisch, ours is not to reason why. The Old Man told me that our little THRUSH defector will cooperate with us completely if we insure the safety of his babushka. She helped raise him and he wants to make sure THRUSH doesn't try to use her as a bargaining chip to get him back."
After an almost three hour drive, they arrived finally in Rotterdam, a town just outside of Albany. Following the written directions, they pulled in front of a house on a dead end street. Illya turned off the engine. "This is it."
The agents got out of the car and with Napoleon leading the way, opened the gate to walk the path to the front door. The house had stone steps going up to the porch and on the bottom step, sat a rather large, yellow – eyed black cat who stared unblinkingly as the men approached. "Hello, kitty," Napoleon said as he bent down to pet it. "Ow!" he squawked as the cat swiped at his hand and snarled. Yanking his hand back he said, "Little nasty beast must be a male!"
Illya had stood behind his partner and watched with amusement Napoleon's failure to charm the savage kitty. Acting on a hunch, he gently pushed the American aside, bent down and said, "Privyet Kitti. Ya oovyeryen, vashi mama govorit vam na roosskom yazikye. Vi boodyetye khoroshim Kitti dlya myenya? (Hello, Kitty. I bet your mama speaks to you in Russian. Will you be a good kitty to me?)"
Immediately, the cat meowed and rubbed its head against the blond's outstretched hand. Illya picked it up and continued to softly speak to it in Russian while Napoleon shook his head and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a short, stout Russian woman who looked to be around eighty years old. "Vi dolʐni bitʲ mooʐchini, moy vnook, Ivan skazal shli vzyatʲ myenya k nyemoo! Moy kot lyobit vas, vi ponimayetye, chto Mika idyet so mnoy, da? (You must be the men my grandson Ivan said were coming to take me to him! My cat likes you; you understand Mika is coming with me, yes?)"
Illya smiled and answered, "Da. Do you speak English, Madame? My partner's Russian is very poor."
She motioned for them to enter her house and said, "Yes, I understand English. Mika does not, though. I am Victoria Sukharov. My things are packed. We just need to put Mika in his carrier." She handed it to Napoleon to who promptly put it down in front of Illya.
"He's taken to you, Partner Mine. You're on Cat Duty."
The packing and trip back to New York City were uneventful. Madame Sukharov was quite content to chat with Mika and would only occasionally include the other humans in the conversation. As planned, they brought grandmother and cat directly to UNCLE HQ so that Mikhail Sukharov could see for himself that Mr. Waverly had kept his word.
After hugging and kissing his babushka, he picked up the cat carrier from the floor and handed it to Illya. "The microdot containing the financial records of THRUSH Central is in a capsule embedded just below the skin of my grandmother's cat. Please be careful when you remove it."
Illya lifted the cat out of the box and cradled it in his arms. For Mika's part, he was very content and purred quite loudly and happily at being let out of his carrier. "I will see to it personally," Illya said, "The cat will remain unharmed."
Napoleon, Illya and Mika left the defector and his grandmother in Mr. Waverly's office and headed back down to their office and the lab, respectively. While they were in the elevator, Illya said, "Somehow, Mr. Waverly knew I would be able to handle this cat. I am never questioning his judgment again."
Napoleon just shook his head, "Me neither, Partner. Me neither."