Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on
our troubles will be out of sight
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yule-tide gay
From now on
our troubles will be miles away
Here were are as in olden days
happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
gather near to us once more
Through the years we all will be together
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now
Chapter 1: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by girlintheglen Chapter by girlintheglen
Napoleon Solo had planned his Christmas Eve activities with a keen sense of romance and opportunity. He would call on his Aunt Amy first, and after a decent amount of time would bid her adieu and continue on with the evening's super nova event: Angelique.
He had never spent a holiday with the THRUSH seductress, but this year she had contacted him about seeing her while she was in New York. The unofficial truce that seemed to always occur at Christmas meant that neither of them would likely be called upon, and it would be disingenuous to deny themselves the rare opportunity.
The other extreme in Christmas observances would be that of the Russian agent, Illya Kuryakin. He had volunteered to be on duty at Headquarters this evening. He had no family to celebrate with him, and the people with whom he worked were a pleasant enough group. There would be a generous buffet in the commissary to commemorate the holiday, insuring a good meal and, if he were fortunate, the company of a few amiable souls.
When Illya walked into the festively decorated room he was met with the aroma of turkey, and the sight of accompanying dishes. There was also lasagna, an ode to the Italian heritage of the chef, as well as some borsch and pirogues. Chef Alex knew Kuryakin would be on duty, and determined to have something special for Waverly's second most important agent. The chef also knew that April Dancer would be visiting the commissary and that she spoke Russian. It never hurt to use his cooking skills to impress a pretty girl.
When April did arrive it was with her own partner in tow. Mark Slate was wearing a red turtleneck atop blue jeans, and a Santa hat. The lean profile was in contrast to the imagery of the modern Santa Claus that filled stories and the windows of stores, all filled with dreams and fantasy. Illya was stoic about the commercialism, unwilling to yield to it completely. It did not stop him from accepting presents, however, most of which came from secretaries and support personnel whose perfumes intentionally permeated cards and wrapping. He was entirely innocent of any act of capitalistic entitlement, but he would not judge those whose own aesthetics differed from his own.
One person who did not gift the Russian was Lisa Rogers. For whatever reason, she found herself unwilling to yield to the hoard of women (perhaps hoard was a bit of an overstatement), who had fallen prey to the charmless, blond egghead. Kuryakin was a know it all, and as Waverly's virtual right hand, it was Lisa's job to know everything, everyone and whatever was in between. Trying to 'inform' Illya Kuryakin of something was similar to informing the Pope about the history of the Church.
Tonight her attention would be on preparing for Mr. Waverly's departure from Headquarters on his trip out of town. Alexander Waverly called Lisa into his office for some last minute correspondence he intended to have delivered the next day. Christmas was a day he relished and held in high esteem, a respite from the business he was in. He would leave the Command in the able hands of Mr. Kuryakin and Lisa Rogers for this one night before the job fell to Mr. Solo on Christmas day, but he had this piece of business to conclude before his time away could begin.
Lisa entered when called, anxious for her boss to get a much deserved break, albeit a short one. Her devotion to him was a tangible thing, her admiration without limits. As she entered the big office she was impressed by a sense of unease, a discernment that would be rewarded for its accuracy.
Lisa spotted Waverly as the gas hit her. She caught the Old Man's eye as each of them succumbed to the effects of the noxious fumes, wondering how it had happened as she fell to the floor.
Downstairs, in the commissary, April and Mark spotted Illya and joined him at his table. They were here tonight to serve as escort for Mr. Waverly as he traveled upstate to his country home. His wife and children were already gathered there, assembled for a big Christmas away from the city and, hopefully, the business of thwarting evil.
As the three agents sat and enjoyed their meals, Del Floria appeared in the doorway. He was slightly flushed and looking around the room in search of Illya.
"Mr. Kuryakin!" It was an abrupt change to the relaxed mood, but instantly Illya was on his feet.
"What is it? What has happened?" Floria was excited about something and looked anxious. April and Mark were beside Illya as the rest of the room observed. The conversation was brief, and the four of them left the room at a rapid pace. Some Section III agents followed them out into the corridor and began checking for signs of trouble, calling security but discovering nothing out of order.
When Illya and the others reached the tailor's shop, the television screen used to monitor the entrance was set on a scene not within UNCLE Headquarters.
"What? Who is that, can you tell?" April was searching the images, finally spotting one figure in the center of what looked like a bedroom. Illya opened his communicator and hailed Napoleon.
"Illya? What's going on?" Solo's voice was calm but showed signs of stress. He was looking through an open door that showed the interior of his Aunt Amy's apartment.
"Napoleon, someone has …' Illya was stunned to suddenly see Amy and another woman on the screen.
"Where are you Napoleon?" Why would someone want to kidnap Napoleon's Aunt Amy? Illya was confused by the image of her as he strained to identify the other woman in the room with her?
"I'm at Amy's apartment, but the door is open and she's not here.
"No, she isn't. We can see her on this monitor, and she's with someone.' Illya was dismayed to see who sat across from the older woman.
"Napoleon, Angelique is with her." Silence on the other end lasted only a moment. April and Mark were glued to the monitor, but Illya moved towards the dressing room intending to use the reception desk controls to sound an alarm. Something like a flash made his movements feel like slow motion, and when he turned to look back the tailor's shop was empty. April, Mark and Del were all gone.
Napoleon entered Amy's apartment cautiously, gun drawn. There was no sign of a struggle, the only sign of someone else having been there was a typed page addressed to him and Illya.
Terry Cook hadn't been in New York since the conclusion of the Gurnius Affair. Her photography career had not benefitted at all from that story; she was sworn to secrecy as her film was confiscated and the brutality of what she had witnessed was seared into her memory. She had loved being with Napoleon Solo, the excitement of the hunt and the thrill of being with him. What they had encountered made her skin crawl, and the images of Gurnius/Kuryakin tormenting Napoleon made her squeamish around the Russian. She knew it was the mission, that he had been playing a part, but she maintained her distance from him just the same.
She was in the city at the offer of an assignment, and was expecting to meet the client in the Times Annex on West 43rd Street. The message she had received said to meet on the fourth floor, so she went directly to the elevator after arriving and punched the button to head up. Almost instantly she sensed a whishing noise and then the smell of something sickly sweet. Before she could identify the treachery, Terry was crumpled on the floor of the elevator, unaware when the doors opened and a trench coat clad figure dragged her out and loaded her onto a cart used for mail delivery.
Napoleon wasted no time getting back to UNCLE Headquarters. He decided to take an alternate route and enter through the Masque Room, hoping to stay out of sight of whoever was orchestrating these strange events. Illya had reported the disappearance of the others; Amy and Angelique, April and Mark, Del. None of this made any sense. Napoleon walked through the Masque entry and made a left turn to enter the passageway that would take him to the elevator connected to Headquarters. He didn't think there should be any problems, very few people knew of this entry.
Illya was waiting for his partner outside of Waverly's office, which was where the elevator would open. Another disturbing development would await the now acting Chief.
The doors opened to reveal Napoleon, his gun drawn once again. When he saw Illya it was obvious that something else had happened.
"Who?' He had a sinking feeling what the answer would be, although it was nearly unbelievable.
"Waverly?" Illya nodded.
"And Lisa Rogers." Both men were stunned by these developments, confused by the entire evening's events and worried about the safety of each victim.
Unbeknownst to the the dark haired man in the horn rimmed glasses, UNCLE Headquarters was in a state of alarm. All of the events taking place there were happening without George Dennel. Instead of eating in the commissary, George had opted to accept an invitation from a young woman he had recently met. She was lovely, quite outside of his normal dating circle. Unlike Napoleon Solo, George Dennel seemed at a loss when it came to attracting glamorous, exciting women.
This one was different though. Blonde and very pretty, she spoke with an interesting accent that both charmed and intrigued the bookish young man. George's career at UNCLE was on a steady path, but it lacked the adventure he witnessed with men like Solo and Kuryakin. He sighed as he once again daydreamed of some great adventure of his own.
He could not have dreamed of something like what he would soon encounter.
Back at Headquarters, Napoleon and Illya were pouring over video of the rooms from which their colleagues and boss had vanished. In all instances the images were suddenly immersed in a cloud of something they assumed was a knockout gas. But how had it been placed inside of this building?
"Illya, did you hear anything in the shop? Why did it not affect you?" It was a good question, but one for which the Russian had no reasonable answer. It had seemed to be more of a time manipulation, as though he were moving in slow motion.
''I cannot explain how it felt exactly, only the sense of moving …''
"Slow?" Napoleon got that part of it, but it wasn't helping. Illya grimaced slightly.
"I am sorry to have so little information. I felt quite helpless at the scene of it."
"I didn't meant to imply anything." Now Napoleon felt helpless. Nine of their own… no, eight of their own and Angelique. He had to assume they would all be in the same place, and the note he had found at Amy's held the only clues to solving this mystery.
"Shall we go over the note once more?" Illya was equally frustrated, especially since it had happened on his watch. Waverly had to be found safe and intact. If he were back in the Soviet Union he would have been shot by now for letting this happen. A slight shudder went through his body as he silently acknowledged his gratitude for being where he was.
Napoleon put up an image on the screen in Waverly's office. The labs had gone over the document and made a copy of it for viewing. The original was encased in a plastic sleeve, the clues on the page leaving no doubt as to the author.
Messieurs Solo and Kuryakin,
You are no doubt in a complete state of disarray at the removal of your friends and associates. This is exactly as I had hoped.
You will find these people at an old hotel in the sad little town of Hyde Sink, New York.
I tell you this because I do not fear you, nor do I expect a direct assault.
You must consider whether or not the place is a trap, whether it might blow up!
Are your friends safe inside or part of the trap?
My goodness, what a conundrum.
They will have plenty of time to think about their lives and relationships to you both.
I hope you are worth it, because you may be the cause of their untimely deaths.
You have until daylight to ensure a happy Christmas for them all.
I suppose this will be a Christmas to remember, or one to bury along with your unfortunate friends.
I imagine you are wondering who I am and why I have done this. Well, here is a clue…
And this… Z
There was no doubt who had written the note: Count Zark. The man was impossible to get rid of, or so it seemed. Illya remembered the bats only too vividly, he had no desire to encounter them again.
Napoleon was strategizing their approach, wondering if the people stolen by Zark were even still alive. The transmission of Amy and Angelique had vanished from the screen, much like the people they now sought to save from the villain known as Count Zark. His lunacy was well documented, as was his ability to create illusions and seemingly magical effects.
"I guess we go to, what is it again?" Napoleon's brain was racing, his usually steady affect somewhat punctured by the events of the evening. All of these people and Zark at the center of it; but to what end? Retribution, revenge…
"Hyde Sink. I have the directions, and we have back up ready to follow us up there." Illya saw the concern on his friend's face, the realization that others were now in danger because of what they had done to Zark when destroying his lair and the bats who inhabited it. The quest for World Domination was such a common malady among these THRUSH types, and one had to wonder that they should take opposition so personally.
Napoleon had his plan in process, but first they must get upstate to the obscure little town and find the hotel where their friends and colleagues were being held. He could only hope to find them unharmed, and that they would not give up on believing in him to rescue them.
What were they thinking about as they were held by the crazed Zork? Would they be able to find their own way out of his grasp? It was nearly midnight, which meant a matter of hours before dawn.
Napoleon could only hope that this Christmas Eve would lead to a happier Christmas come daylight.