"Chyort!" exclaimed Illya, as he read the results of a security check.
"Problem," mumbled Napoleon, engrossed in his own work.
"Becky Court's fiancé is tied to Thrush," Illya told him.
Thirty-nine year old Rebecca Court was one of the many support staff, who bustled away in the background, to ensure the enforcement agents were informed and equipped. She worked as a research secretary in the labs, and had recently announced her engagement. It was U.N.C.L.E policy perform deep security checks on whomever a staff member chose to marry. Having spent many hours in the labs, Illya opted to do this particular check, as he had developed quite a nice working relationship with Becky.
Her intended, Chad Williams, turned out to be the nephew of a member of the Thrush council. This, in itself, wasn't incriminating, but it was more than enough for a more thorough investigation. It had then transpired that the nightclub which Chad managed, was one of many legitimate businesses used as fronts for Thrush.
"You know the drill, Tovarisch," Napoleon told his partner. "Need some help?"
"No. I will be fine," Illya answered. "Would you inform Waverly?"
Illya did indeed 'know the drill', as Solo had put it. Becky herself was now under suspicion, whether she was aware of her fiancé's dealings, or not. She was probably being used by Williams without her being aware, but there was every chance she was in league with him.
Interrogating a colleague was never easy, and it was somehow worse when it was a woman; especially this particular woman. Becky was a fairly quiet, mousey sort of person, albeit quite sweet and friendly. Illya had always gotten on well with her and was now going to have to do his 'Rasputin' act. If she turned out to be innocent in all of this, he would no doubt draw the ire of many of the women in the building.
He found Becky sitting alone in the small secretarial office attached to the labs. She was typing up some notes for one of the researchers. He smiled warmly, and asked her if she would accompany him for a chat, but the smile wasn't returned. In fact, she practically sneered at him.
"I guess you found out!" she spat.
In one swift move, Becky stood up from her chair and grabbed for a plastic letter opener lying on the desk. The way she picked it up by the blade, and held it up at shoulder height, told Illya she was au fait with throwing knives. More disconcertingly, however, was the way it seemed to have been sharpened like a dagger. It may only have been plastic, but it would be just as lethal as a steel knife.
"So you are working with him," Illya stated, flatly. "Why?"
"He offered me marriage," she replied with a shrug. "I shall be forty next year, and I will finally get to be the bride I always dreamed of being."
"You are betraying the command just because you want to get married?"
Illya was astounded. He understood that many of the ladies hoped to snag themselves a husband, but he would never have believed any of them would cosy up with Thrush just to achieve their aim.
"He is using you to get to us"
"You don't understand!" Becky screamed. "I have had my wedding planned since I was a child. I will have a long white dress, with a silver brocade bodice, six bridesmaids, and a five tiered cake. Do you know what it feels like to watch your three younger sisters get married while you are left on the shelf?"
"I cannot honestly say that I do," Illya told her. He kept his voice neutral in an attempt to calm the increasingly hysterical woman. "Miss Court, Becky, I need you to tell me what you have told Williams. What does he know about us?"
"Nothing yet," she said, with a strange smile, and an oddly sing-song tone. "I told him there would be no information until I had his ring on my finger."
Illya sighed inwardly. Surely the woman couldn't be that naïve. Anyone could be able to figure out that Thrush would happily let their man marry Becky if it meant getting a ready source of intel. As soon as her usefulness ended, they would simply dispose of her. Holding his hands out in a non-threatening gesture, Illya slowly stepped towards Becky.
"Stay back!" she yelled.
"Becky, surely you realise that it is over."
With an ear-shattering scream, Becky threw the makeshift blade at Illya. In turn, he launched himself at her and she was quickly subdued. He didn't notice that she'd sliced is right upper arm open until security had taken her away.
When Illya returned to his office, following a visit to medical and brief stopover to apprise Waverly, Napoleon was fully aware of what had transpired.
"Want me to go with you next time?" he asked. "Only you could be injured at HQ."
"How do we keep missing these security risks?" lllya queried, pointedly ignoring his partner's barb.
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"Waverly has ordered another security review, complete with psych evaluations, and wants us to conduct it."
Napoleon pulled a sour face. This kind of thing always ate into his leisure time and he'd had quite a busy dating schedule organised.
"Well, Tovarisch. The sooner we start, the sooner I get back to my ladies."