Hi everyone. A few notes: mistakes are all mine. Hopefully I've caught them all, but if a few have crept through, please forgive. I've attempted to keep the characters true to the movie as I saw them.

This story is fully written just doing clean up on the next chapters and then I'll post. I hope you like it, its taken more time than I thought it would, but heh I'm hanging out with my favorite spies.

And for any legal types out there, this story is written solely for the enjoyment of fans. The characters are simply on loan for me to play with. There is no intention of making any money from this story.

THE LONDON AFFAIR

By diddlepie 9/2015

CHAPTER ONE

He entered the darkened room cautiously, the only light coming from a small gooseneck lamp on a broken small table. Illya had gone missing two days ago. If anything the Russian was punctual and when he didn't show up at the appointed meeting time, Solo began to expect the worse. He hadn't voiced his concerns to Gaby ...yet which was easy as she wasn't scheduled to join them for another day. He knew she was fond of the big Russian, well maybe a bit more than fond; definitely more than fond and he knew it was a mutual feeling with the Red Peril, a nickname he'd given him on their first mission together. Subtlety was not one of Illya's strong points. If he liked you, he regarded you dispassionately. But if he disliked you, there was a good chance he'd rearrange your anatomy or worse. For Gaby there was a third look, pride maybe with a softening of his features. Not quite a smile, but so far the closest to one Solo had ever seen.

He hadn't come across any sentries when he entered the building. It was an abandoned location in a rundown forgotten part of the city. London was full of them as the city was still rebuilding after the bombing but for now it was the kind of place where the residents take no notice and expect others to do the same of them. The perfect kind of place for criminal setups and tear downs used for one purpose and one purpose only before the operation moved again leaving no trace.

In the center of the room was a single chair, a large chair fastened securely to the floor like you'd find in a dentist office. The back of the chair faced him and he could see a tall figure seated. He scanned the room, gun drawn, looking for any potential threats but his attention was on the chair.

"Peril?" he said quietly. No answer. He continued across the room ready for confrontation but becoming increasingly convinced they were alone. Whoever they were they'd brought the Russian here for a single reason and now moved on to a new location only to move again continuing a never ending pursuit.

He swiveled around, crouched with gun cocked, at the sound of footsteps behind him. "Napoleon?" a soft voice said.
"Get down!" he demanded. "I'm not sure it's safe. Did you see anyone on the way in? And what are you doing here anyway? he asked his voice strongly tinged with shock and concern.

"I got here early and when I couldn't fine either of you two in the hotel, I saw you outside and followed you", she replied quietly as she scanned the room. A sharp intake of breath followed as her eyes focused on the back of the chair. "Illya?"

He stood as it was clear they were alone. "You aren't supposed to be here", he said annoyed, while hiding his own worry as he holstered his gun. "And you shouldn't have followed me. You have a lot to learn about being a spy," he said walking to the front of the chair. Illya sat slumped to the side his head resting on the side of the extended head rest. He hadn't moved or made a sound and he knew you didn't have to have a degree in medicine to know it wasn't a good sign.

Gaby was there in a flash, her questions coming faster than a Browning M 1919 automatic rifle. "Is he alright? What have they done to him? How long has he been missing?" Interrupting her line of rapid fire questions he said urgently,
"See if you can find a pulse," as he reached for the light to get a closer look at the small white metal table that was next to him.

Gaby at first reached for the man's wrist but realized in the dim light it was firmly strapped to the arm of the chair as was his other arm and both ankles. "Napoleon," she stumbled the word out haltingly. He looked over to see that the man's shirt had been rolled up at the cuff and then cut open above the elbow to expose the veins of his arm.

"Does he have a pulse?" he repeated his voice remaining calm but insistent.

Gaby pulled herself together trying to stamp down the panic that was threatening to run her over. She reached up to his neck and felt for the jugular. The seconds stretched on as Solo waited for her to speak while he busied himself with the contents of the table. Her face was squeezed in concentration as she moved her fingers pressing at different spots seeking confirmation for what she hoped was the truth.

"It's very weak and slow but there's a pulse." "See if you can wake him up." He could hear the woman's increasing efforts to wake the man calling his name and patting him on the cheek as he continued to investigate the contents of the white table. No surprise there was a variety of syringes and vials, most open and empty. He sniffed them and the lack of tell tale odor or taste told him his guess was probably right. "Sodium Pentothal. Truth serum", he said collecting the vials and putting them in his pocket. "I'm guessing they decided to give our friend a giant dose to go with his size, and it looks like they kept trying till they just about killed him." He looked at the Russian again who didn't look good at all. His skin had a dull sheen, with a grey tinge. And dispute Gaby's efforts, he hadn't moved or made a sound since they arrived.

"What did they want?" She checked his pulse again, her hands now beginning to cradle his face. "I don't know," was his reply. "Spy stuff I guess, although knowing Peril he probably wouldn't tell them what he had for lunch today. Russian state secret or something."

He suddenly had a cold tingle go up his spine as a new panic began to settle in his brain. "We gotta get him out of here. Get these restraints off." If they couldn't get any information out of him, which he would put money on that they didn't, the Russian still made good bait for a trap that they might have just walked into. They hurriedly unbuckled the thick leather straps that held him to the chair. He could see by the raw marks on his wrist that the he'd put up a good fight.

"Come on, help me move him," Napoleon said. He knew he was going to regret this... well not regret rescuing the man, but carrying him was definitely going to give him a sore back for a long, long time. Gaby grabbed one arm and he the other as they pulled him forward out of the chair while Napoleon crouched down to receive the man on his shoulders in a fireman carry. He'd certainly done it during the war but he always tried to pick the small wounded guys not the ones who were the size of Peril.

He groaned as the dead weight of the man settled on his shoulders. The absence of any sound from the unconscious man was unsettling as it brought back clear memories of carrying the dead and dying from the battlefield. He took some comfort in the fact that at least Peril was still warm. Grimacing he rose from his crouch. He looked at Gaby who stood in front of him. He said calmly, "Reach into my jacket and pull out my gun and be prepared to use it if I tell you." She nodded silently and proceeded cautiously toward the door. He was aware she'd had little experience with guns and his was a bigger one than a woman her size would normally carry, but he knew her well enough that in a pinch, she could handle herself.

They traveled without incident to the same entry he'd come in. As long as his cargo didn't slip off his shoulders, he was ok although he had to remember to turn sideways at doorways to keep from getting caught on the Russian's long legs. At the final broken down back door, he spotted a most uncharacteristic object; a phone sitting on the remnants of a desk." Gaby, see if that phone works by any fortunate chance."
She looked at it, as surprised as him. She picked it up and a pleasant voice answered, "Number please." What kind of outfit would be so stupid to leave a functioning phone, he thought. "I'll call Waverly's hotel," she said without waiting for confirmation from Solo.

Waverly answered directly and listened carefully. "Right," he said with his usual crispness. "Stay right there and I'll be there straight away." "Is he on his way?" Napoleon asked, "because I don't think this position is the best for Peril's health, his lungs crushing in on my shoulders. Now that I say that I don't think it's the best for my health either. How's he doing?" She reached over for his lose arm as it swung from Napoleon's back. In the dim light she could see the abrasions on his wrist as she gently squeezed it for a pulse. His face was at her level and she had to turn away to keep her emotions in check. She spoke to no one as she said, "he's not good." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and looked away.

"Waverly will be here soon," he said quietly hoping he was right. Soon after a white van pulled up, the lights off as it came around the corner. Solo shifted anxiously, "You still have that gun ready?" She replied with a firm nod of her head and they both backed into the shadows. Several well armed darkly clothed figures immediately jumped out of the van and began fanning out, it wasn't until another figure popped out that Solo breathed a sigh of relief. "Is that you Solo and do you have Gaby with you?"

The van transformed into a whirlwind of activity. What seemed like a squad of doctors and nurses appeared with orderlies and the Russian was quickly loaded onto a stretcher and taken back to the van with the doctors and nurses all busy doing something. "Here take these", Solo said as he handed the empty vials and syringes to one of the doctors. "Looks like they stuck him with a lot of that stuff. Sodium pentothal I think." The doctor took it without a word and hurried quickly after the others. Gaby started after them when she was stopped by Waverly waving her down.
"No need to worry, my Dear. I assure they are the best and if Mr Kuryakin can be saved, I'm sure they'll do it." He said it with such a casual confidence that it was hard to think he was actually talking about a man's life.

Solo watched as the assault team of doctors, or so they seemed, loaded the Red Peril onto a gurney and attached all sorts of gizmos onto him before slipping him into the van which they all loaded back into and sped away.

"Yes, yes, I assure you they'll take very good care of our Red friend as we'd have to pay the Soviets a dreadfully large amount of money should anything happen to him on our watch." He was stretching out his back when he heard the last words. "What did you say?" "Oh, just that we'd owe the Soviets a large sum of money if Mr Kuryakin was killed while in the employ of UNCLE."

Solo shock his head as he continued stretching and twisting a very painful back. "So what you're saying is if anything happened to me or Gaby UNCLE would have to pay our governments money like a life insurance policy or something?" Waverly cleared his throat as he motioned for a large car that had just arrived. "Well, no it's not life insurance as you'd call it as I'm quite certain if Mr Kuryakin has any living relatives they would not receive it. Oh, maybe they'd get a medal or something, maybe a good bottle of vodka, but that would be about it. The Soviets can be dreadfully difficult you know...they simply demanded the cost of training, housing, and a variety of other ancillary and to my mind rather foolish charges, they would be due for their investment in Mr Kuryakin." Solo exchanged glances with Gaby and knew this was a conversation to be continued at a later time. He wondered if the US would be so interested in him if he got cooked in UNCLE's employ. He was feeling a little undervalued at that moment.

Once in the car though, Waverly's tone changed to more serious. "Did you find any evidence of what they were looking for?" he asked leaning over from the front seat to face his two agents seated in the rear. They went on to say not only couldn't they find any evidence of why Illya was kidnapped or what was asked, or even "who" they were. They had just arrived in London and had not even been briefed as to what the mission was.

"So Waverly, how did you ever get a medical squad here so fast? And where have they taken Kuryakin?" This whole UNCLE thing was still a mystery to him, just what it was, who it was, and just how far did Waverly's network reach. "Oh yes, I'm sure your curious. Quite an affair aren't they," he quipped. "They are the Prime Minister's private medical team. When I heard how desperate Mr Kuryakin's situation sounded, I thought I'd give the old chap a ring and see if I might borrow them." The puzzled faces on the two agents promoted him to continue. "Harold Wilson. You've heard of the man I'm sure. Jolly good chap. Great story teller. He said by all means borrow them. We don't want our Red friends thinking we can't take care of our visitors." With that and a smile he turned around and spoke to the driver who was Chinese in what Solo thought must be Mandarin.
He looked over at Gaby. She had a firm set to her jaw with her head held higher than is comfortable. She's just holding it together, he thought to himself, but she's doing it. The spy game was a tough one especially if you cared for someone who was in it.

His thoughts were broken by Waverly speaking again in English this time."Once we know more of our friend's condition, I'll fill you in on the mission. We're on our way to the Prime Minister's private hospital."

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What do you think so far? Comments appreciated and it seriously does help to keep the momentum going. Thanks for reading!