The ominous grey sky perfectly reflected the pale eyes of the man observing it. Waiting in the car, with Napoleon Solo beside him, Illya Kuryakin could help but think of the dark, rolling clouds as an omen. Not that he believed in such things, but it seemed that that the fates had decided to provide the back drop for the day's event. Solo could feel the tension radiating from his partner, and was more than a little concerned by the assignment he'd been given.
"I'm more than willing to do this for you, Tovarisch."
"No!" Illya replied, without looking at Napoleon. "You were at the briefing. The task was specifically given to me."
The two men fell into silence again.
"Since when did Waverly take orders from Moscow?" asked Illya after a few minutes.
"You know as well as I do that Alexander Waverly takes orders from no-one," Napoleon stated. "Unfortunately for you, your presence at U.N.C.L.E. is dependent on certain factors."
Back when terms were being discussed about a possible Soviet agent, one thing was insisted upon above all, by the Kremlin officials. It was finally agreed that, should Moscow have need of the agent's services, he would be obliged to accept the orders. Waverly had complied with the wishes, but only on the understanding that it didn't impact, impinge or go against, the needs of U.N.C.L.E.
In the five years since the agreement was made, Moscow hadn't once called upon Kuryakin; until now. At Waverly's instruction, Napoleon had thoroughly investigated the man whom the Kremlin were after, and had concluded he was a probable threat to world-wide security; not just that of the Soviet Union. He had found definite links to several known gangsters, and also, more importantly, to THRUSH. So it was decided, Illya Kuryakin would neutralise Fyodor Petrovich Lyutov.
"I am no longer in the pay of any branch of my government," Illya said pointedly. "I do not like being an assassin at their whim."
"I understand perfectly, chum," Napoleon tried to console him. "But, it's part of your contract. You're a man with two masters. Also, I doubt that this is your first assassination."
This was true. As an expert marksman, Kuryakin had often been called upon to remove a 'problem'. At least this time, he knew a little about the target. The others were anonymous, save for their names and physical descriptions.
Napoleon and Illya had been given a location where it was known Lyutov was going to be. To Kuryakin's relief, it was a disused parking lot, with plenty of concealment. He suspected that his government had engineered for the target to be there. Illya didn't know how, but there wasn't really any point in dwelling on it. Exactly when they'd been told Lyutov would arrive, a large black car pulled into the lot.
After converting his special to its carbine form, Illya fitted the silencer, and waited. A few minutes later, three men climbed from the black vehicle; one of whom was Lyutov. Kuryakin carefully took aim, and brought the other Russian down with a single shot to the back of the head.
"Go!" he barked at Solo.
The American started the car and screeched away from the scene, before Lyutov's comrades could react.
"You didn't shoot them all," Solo stated.
"I was ordered to kill Lyutov," Illya replied, with an eerie calm. "Nobody else was mentioned."
Napoleon understood. Illya was a man who could kill in a heartbeat, but always tried to avoid killing unnecessarily; and when it came to orders he didn't like, he would follow them to the absolute letter. It was his way of trying to keep some semblance of control over his own actions.
Upon arrival at HQ, Illya marched straight to Waverly's office, with Napoleon hard on his heels. The Old Man was on the telephone when the agents entered, but quickly entered the call when he noted the look on the blond's face.
"You can tell Moscow I have completed their task. With your permission, I shall be taking the rest of the day off."
Without waiting for an answer, Illya stormed back out.
"I apologise for my partner, Sir," Napoleon started, but was silenced by a wave of his boss's hand.
"There's no need, Mr Solo," Waverly told him. "Whilst I wouldn't ordinarily tolerate such behaviour, I can forgive it this time. Mr Kuryakin is in a difficult position at the best of times, so this order from Moscow was bound to cause him strain. I have no doubt that Lyutov would have become a problem for us, which is why I agreed to this course of action, but I am just as unhappy as Mr Kuryakin at the manner in which it was brought about. Unfortunately, if we wish to keep him as part of this agency, we must occasionally make concessions. Thank you for accompanying him, Mr Solo."
"I wouldn't have had it any other way, Sir."
Once Napoleon had taken his leave, Mr Waverly poured himself a large drink. There were times when he wished he could throw diplomacy to the winds.