The Kotil Affair
The Istanbul Mission

Author's Note: This fic will take place immediately following the movie. It follows the team's mission in Istanbul and will hopefully set the stage for more chapter fics after this one is complete.


"Yes, but why UNCLE?" It was Gaby who asked the question they were all thinking and it didn't come until they were already on the plane to Istanbul. A private plane, fancy and just right for Solo's taste. He sat with his legs crossed, eyes on Waverly and the others, on the team, and it still felt odd for him to think of them as such. This was supposed to be one mission. But now here they were, on their way to Istanbul, with a new codename.

At least Peril had the decency to look as out of sorts as Solo felt. The tall Russian sat with his arms over his chest, set to his jaw and a thin line along his lips. He wasn't pleased and Solo wondered if it was because of this new arrangement or because even special agents needed some down time once and again. They were all sporting their bruises as badges still.

Waverly seemed to be the only one unperturbed by the whole thing, mastermind and all.

"An acronym, actually," Waverly said, smiling as he sat back. Solo liked the man. Hadn't seen it coming that he was an operative, though looking back now he thought he should have. And the man was just smug enough to win over Solo's respect. "United Network Command for Law and Enforcement." Waverly gave a motion of his hand. "UNCLE."

"Charming," Gaby told him and it was only because it was Gaby that the words weren't taken as sarcasm.

"I thought so," Waverly agreed.

Solo sighed, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "It sounds to me as though you'd been planning this."

"Oh for a while," Waverly assured him and the comment made Solo frown a little. The man seemed very forthcoming. He couldn't tell if it was a breath of fresh air in comparison to CIA handlers or if it unnerved him. A little of both, maybe. "The idea of Allied and Axis didn't stop at the war." Solo glanced over at Illya, who kept his face stoically impassive. "You may not realize, Gents, but - eh, and Lady," he said, tipping his head to Gaby, who just gave him a lift of the brow. "It took a second world war to change the idea of threats altogether. Arms race aside, it's been made very clear that war isn't waged country to country anymore. But organization to organization. And there are indications of a steadily growing one beneath all of our noses."

Gaby leaned forward at that. "Victoria's organization," she observed, more than questioned.

"Quite possibly," Waverly affirmed. "Though, she was just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. And so we believe."

It was logical, to Solo. The amount of resources that could be pooled together. A continuation of the allied forces left over from the war, though how Waverly had ever convinced his superior was a form of charm beyond even Solo's reach. Or perhaps it was because his superiors were concerned about the five years of leverage they still had over him and what became of their deal afterwards. A liability, perhaps?

"So," Solo began. "CIA, KGB, and British intelligence working together." He paused, shaking his head. "UNCLE."

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Waverly, smiled over at him. "All three of you landed, quite literally, in my lap. And it didn't take much to convince your superiors."

"I bet all you had to do was say the words nuclear warhead," Solo told him.

Waverly simply smiled. "More or less."

Illya finally broke his silence, uncrossing his arms and resting his hands on his knees. "What is your mess in Istanbul?"

"Our mess now, Kuryakin," Waverly said, but reached for a folder, laying it out on the table that separated them. Solo leaned forward to see the pictures and papers in the blue folder laid out. The first picture was of a woman, pale and beaten, laying dead on the side of a river. "Beverly Dawson," Waverly said. "British Intelligence. Fished out of the Bosphorous two days ago."

"Unfortunate," Solo gave his condolences.

"Quite," Waverly agreed. "She'd been undercover for three months." He pulled another picture out of the file, placing it atop the first. A man in his late thirties, Dark skin, dark hair with a smile on his face. It could have been just another picture of anyone, but Solo started to memorize his face as best he could. "This was her target. Farouk Kotil. By all accounts of the Turkish public, he's a philanthropist and a billionaire. Family money. Lavish parties, modernization of entire sectors of the city - Prince Charming of Istanbul, really."

"Why investigate him?" Illya asked.

Waverly sighed. "Charming on the outside, sociopath and global threat on the inside. He's an idealist, a rather...violent one. And we had suspected him for a long time of holding a stake in nuclear warfare. Low and behold, his name appeared on a list of potential buyers associated with the plans Victoria Vinciguerra was preening to sell."

"The plans are lost," Gaby said. "Do you think he'll look elsewhere?"

"Yes," Waverly said without hesitation. "But that's not what concerns us now. Turkey is at the tail end of a coup d'etat. It hasn't happened yet, but everyone can see military rule is about to pull out and let Turkey run its own government again. Elections and all. Kotil has a horse in the race, one he's determined to, and most likely, will get elected. Which means that all of Turkey will be in Kotil's pocket."

Illya sighed. "Why not kill him?"

Gaby sucked in a breath. She was an agent, yes, but he was certain she'd never killed a man before. Didn't have the training that he and Illya had. If this team was a permanent thing, that would most likely come later.

"Easy, Peril," Solo spoke up before anyone could call her on it. "I'm betting the other shoe is about to drop."

"How wise you are," Waverly smiled at all of them. "The thing with men like Kotil who like to have entire countries and politicians in their pockets, is that they're often in a pocket themselves."

"Whose?" Gaby asked.

Waverly could only let out a breath. "Now that is the question, isn't it? One we're going to find out." He looked at all three of them in turn. "Gaby. Kotil is lacking a woman at his side for the moment. You'll get close to him, play the part, learn what you can from him and see if he'll bring you in."

Surprisingly, or not, it was Illya who protested the plan. "This man killed his last girlfriend," he reached forward, nimbly pushing aside the picture of Kotil to uncover the one of Beverly's body, fresh out of the Bosphorous.

"Yes, I know," Waverly nodded his head. "That's why you'll be her backup, Kuryakin. Dawson was working alone. Gaby will not be." Illya made a face, but seemed to accept that as a responsibility.

"Solo," Waverly caught his attention. "You'll look into the safe house Dawson was staying. See if you can't find out what got her killed."

"Fairly certain being British Intelligence got her killed," Solo answered, snark ever in his tone, but he nodded afterwards. That would be easy enough, he supposed. He leaned back in his chair, thinking about the mission and this new team. It was a solid plan, though it would put poor Gaby into the thick of things again. He'd grown rather fond of her, thought she had a strong will that could get just about anything done. And Illya - there was no denying he was driven. Not the most tactful of spies, but Solo thought Waverly was well aware of that. Solo had the tact, Illya had the muscle. Formidable each on their own, but as a team? Waverly might just be on to something with this UNCLE business.

"I need a name, Lady and Gents," Waverly wrapped up. "Find out who Kotil works for. Shut down his operation. And just as important - don't get killed."