As far as prison food went, this wasn't bad at all. Illya Kuryakin nodded to himself as he ate his bowl of soup with a wooden spoon from his wooden bowl.
It was broth, vegetable as far as he could tell and there were bits of celery, carrots in it as well as rice. The quantity was two ladles full, and he estimated that to be roughly around 20 ounces.
On the tray beside his soup were several fried rice balls, and surprisingly they were stuffed with some sort of cheese...goat cheese from the taste of it.
There was even coffee, black and it wasn't watered down.
All in all it was a decent meal, considering it was dinner and in the morning the routine would again be the same.
Breakfast was an oatmeal mush, pleasantly without any signs of maggots or bugs. Again, black coffee.
Lunch was the mush again, but this time with a hunk of bread with a sweet spread on it made from nuts and cacao.
Supper would be more soup, with bread. Sometimes the rice balls, other times a small bowl of boiled vegetables.
The soup would change from day to day. Sometimes it vegetable, or fish and had with noodles in it instead of rice.
On the last weekend of the month there was chicken broth, if you were lucky there were some bits of chicken in it along with a few of the vegetables.
Sunday there was the big treat. Breakfast was the oatmeal again, but this time with bits of apple and there were eggs, honest to goodness scrambled eggs and freshly baked biscuits. Lunch consisted of fresh vegetables, tomato and lettuce as a salad. That was accompanied by more mush.
For Sunday supper it was chicken soup with the meat in it this time. It was served with potatoes, and green squash along with bread and a piece of fruit...usually half an apple for each man.
In general the portions were not enough to suit Kuryakin, given his hearty appetite; still the food was most palatable and not in short supply. For once while imprisoned he actually hadn't lost a serious amount of weight.
He discovered the chief cook was Italian, a former chef no less. The warden let him maintain a vegetable garden just outside the prison wall and the fruits of that garden as well as a nearby apple orchard helped to feed the prisoners.
Surprisingly enough there was also a fair sized barnyard with chickens and goats which supplied milk, cheese, eggs and meat for use in the kitchen.
It was actually cost effective, which was why the warden permitted it.
There were no forced work details, no assignments other than keeping the latrines clean, laundry duty, or kitchen duty. Everyone took a turn at those on a rotating basis. Otherwise, there was nothing for the prisoners to do, which given the heat, that was a good thing from the Russian's point of view.
Most of the men spent their days reading in their cells,or just sitting and talking while smoking their allotment of cigarettes. The older, model prisoners, while under guard of course, helped maintain the garden.
There were a few chess boards in the common room of Illya's cell block and he took advantage of that, all the while watching the changing of the guards, their schedules and procedures. He was going to figure how to get out of here, especially since U.N.C.L.E. had no idea where he was, so help was something Kuryakin wasn't expecting.
The warden, Kuryakin suspected, was no angel and eventually he a discovered the reason why no one ever tried to escape; it would have been quite easy as the Russian saw it.
There were several punishments in place should someone escape or attempt to do so. Firstly the entire prison population would be deprived of all food until the escapee was caught.
Another prisoner would be chosen at random and hung for the offense; the escapee when caught (and they always were) would have to be the one to pull the lever that opened the trapdoor beneath the victim.
The escapee was released back into general population but would now be a pariah among his fellow inmates. He'd most likely end up dead for making everyone suffer because of his actions.
The scaffolding was always there in the prison yard standing there like an elephant in the room as a reminder should anyone break the rule and try to leave this prison paradise..
It was for those reasons that Kuryakin made no attempt to get out. Not that he would be caught; he had confidence enough to get away with it as well as the know how. It was the idea of others suffering for his actions that stopped him.
So he simply waited. His instincts told him to just sit tight. Napoleon and U.N.C.L.E. would somehow find him and get him out without jeopardizing the other prisoners, despite the fact Kuryakin had gone off the grid on this assignment.
The irony of the whole situation was that Illya was accused of theft and arrested. They said he stole a rather valuable diamond necklace from the Countess De La Cerda, at whose palatial estate Illya had tailed a THRUSH agent named Alejandro Rodríguez de la Peña y de Ybarra, an impressive name for a low life.
Somehow Kuryakin suspected he'd been made and set up by Ybarra. It was a moot point how he ended up here, he just had to hope he'd somehow get out well before his ten year sentence was up.
As laid back as the conditions were in the prison, Illya still needed to watch his back. There were those inmates who were in charge, and called the shots. It was actually they who controlled the Red Cross packages, and the warden turned a blind eye to them.
Red Cross packages were not stolen by the warden or his staff. The monthly treats of chocolate, candy, crackers, jam, some sort of potted meats as well as soap and assorted toiletries were under the control of one Juan Molina. He had himself a nice little business going and would trade for the goods whether it was money or sex, he seemed not to care.
Kuryakin being slightly built, not to mention blond and blue eyed among a predominantly hispanic prison population, stood out like a sore thumb.
There were those who wanted to make him their bitch, and that just wouldn't do. For that reason he slept lighter than usual at night.
He fashioned a shiv he'd made from wood and a piece of metal removed from his bunk. After sharpening it and wrapping a piece of cloth around the wooden handle, it became a formidable weapon in the Russian's hands.
His cellmate, a teenager named Rodrigo Sanchez, was locked up for repeated petty theft. Despite his leaning towards thievery, he seemed trustworthy enough and like Illya he had no desire to become a prison wife. They watched out for each other.
The next day there was a flurry of activity, as the prisoners had been instructed to scrub and clean their cells, the common rooms as well as tidying the outside prison yard.
The benches out there were given a fresh coat of paint as were doors and any cell bars that looked chipped or worn.
Someone was coming to visit this prison called Zenada, and two days later he arrived. It was the Inspector General for the prison system, Colonel Hugo Bautista.
He was followed by an entourage of guards and a red-headed woman who Illya recognized instantly as April Dancer. She was playing the part of the Inspector's secretary/mistress no doubt.
Mark was one of the guards, as was an agent Illya recognized as well the Aussie, Kitt Kittridge.
His rescue was imminent, that he knew, but where was Napoleon?
After the inspection of the prison was complete, they all returned to the prison yard where Illya was finally able to study the Inspector General's face. The nose was all wrong, and he sported a moustache and goatee beard.
Yet the eyes, those hazel eyes were ones he knew very well. Napoleon was wearing a disguise, probably in an attempt to resemble the real Inspector General.
Illya actually smiled, knowing how his partner never used disguises as he felt he didn't need them and Napoleon was right. Charm and suavity were his style and his smokescreen.
Napoleon walked up the steps of the scaffold to the platform. There he gave a short speech about how much he'd heard about this place being a model prison with model prisoners. After seeing it for himself he told them to keep up the good work.
He called out a name...Illya's cover name of Solomon
La Madrid and asked him to step forward.
"You sir have been granted a full pardon by the Governor," Napoleon said."Apparently someone else confessed to the crime of which you were accused. Thanks to the efforts of your Uncle, you are now a free man. I will take you to your freedom in my own car, a recompense for your false imprisonment."
After the ceremonies concluded, Napoleon and the others were ushered to his limo, followed by Kuryakin.
As the car drove off April pulled out a bottle of champagne and the glasses appeared as well. After the cork was popped everyone was poured a drink.
"To easy rescues," she said.
They all raised their glasses to the toast.
Illya downed the champagne and refilled his glass for a second.
"So tovarisch you're looking none the worse for wear for having been imprisoned for nearly two months. I would have expected you to have lost a lot of weight," Napoleon said. "It wasn't a maximum security prison, so I'm surprised you weren't able to get out on your own."
Kuryakin explained about the food, and the warden's method for dealing with escapes.
"Tovarisch, rest assured a report will be sent on behalf of the Inspector General regarding the Warden's methods for dealing with escape attempts. Other than that he actually runs the prison quite well. The prisoners aren't abused per se, the guards treat them well enough. The food is decent too from what you tell me so I guess it's a catch 22 situation."
"The warden turns a blind eye to many things, specifically to the prisoner Juan Molina who has control of the Red Cross packages. He sells them to the prisoners for despicable costs."
"Gotcha, we'll make sure everything is taken care of."
"I am glad to be out of there," Illya leaned back and closed his eyes while he spoke."Oh and in your report, mention that a young prisoner named Sanchez, Rodrigo Sanchez. He needs to be gotten out as well. He will not last long there, he is just a kid who needs a little help and guidance to keep himself on the straight and narrow."
A week later after Illya had been fattened up a bit and passed his physical, Napoleon walked into his partner's room in the small Medical wing in the UNCLE field office in São Paulo.
"Good morning. I have a surprise for you tovarisch."
"Hello Solomon," young Rodrigo peeked out from behind Solo.
"Actually my name is Illya Kuryakin," he offered his hand to the boy.
"Thank you Señor for getting me out of there."
"Do not thank me Rodrigo, it was my partner Napoleon here who orchestrated it. It was he who was disguised as the Inspector General."
"Speaking of which," Solo interrupted," the real Inspector General has been arrested for corruption, and the warden in your little prison is under investigation; Molino has been taken care of as well. The prisoners are now receiving their Red Cross packages."
"Now Rodrigo, what do we do with you?" Illya asked, while glancing at his partner.
"Please don't send me back to prison. I'll do whatever you want me to do," the boy pleaded.
"Perhaps a job is in order, that might keep you out of trouble," Napoleon suggested.
"Yes, as long as you promise not to steal anymore," Illya added.
"I do promise!"
"Good," Solo nodded. "Apparently they need a clerk in the store that is the front for this field office. Do you think you can do that? Oh by the way the job comes with a room with a nice soft bed and three meals a day. Technically you'll be working for U.N.C.L.E. and…"
"And you know we are sort of like the police," Illya finished the sentence.
"Yes sir, I understand and I will not disappoint either of you, I promise and swear on the Madonna herself."
"That's a start," Napoleon smiled.