Napoleon and Illya sat quietly in the funeral home while Valerie O'Shea, the THRUSH defector who had come to them more than a week ago, stood next to her lover's closed casket deep in mourning and thought. Mikhail, my love, my darling, how could you leave me? What do I do now?
Napoleon eyed the young woman; she was dressed chicly in black slacks, blouse, low heels and a gray trench coat. Her makeup and hair were flawless. He shook himself mentally to make his thinking stop heading toward the gutter and checked his watch. "We can't ah, we can't stay much longer, Miss O'Shea."
She nodded agreement and then put her attention back on the casket. I will take care of your grandmother, I promise. I will live the life we wanted to live. She placed her right hand on the softly glowing wood and rubbed gently. She bent down and kissed it. "Ní bheidh mé dearmad ort. (I will never forget you.) Tá grá agam duit (I love you.)" She straightened up, turned around and walked out knowing the two UNCLE agents were behind her.
After they had gotten into the car and driven off, the Russian glanced up at his rear view mirror and said, "Again, on behalf of UNCLE, I apologize for the failure of our security team to protect Mr. Sukharov. We are sorry for your loss."
"Mr. Kuryakin, please, that ambush was inevitable and unavoidable. Your Section III agents were lucky to be able to pull me out. That was no small task. We were attacked by Sidney Toles and Cosmo Lawrence. I saw them; Dragi must have removed them as the heads of THRUSH North America and Europe so they have incentive to kill me. I'm sure by now they have informed her they are half successful with their mission and have given all kinds of assurances that they will be killing me in the near future."
Napoleon shrugged, "These men, they have to be in their fifties, at least?"
O'Shea leaned forward from the back seat so she could look Napoleon in the face. "Mr. Waverly is at least in his seventies, but would you really want to cross him in the field?"
Napoleon shuddered, "Point taken. The Old Man may not be as limber, but he is just as deadly as he ever was."
Illya added, "Sometimes, experience trumps youth. Toles and Lawrence cannot be underestimated."
"That is very true, Gentlemen. Only one thing would be worse than having them after me."
Illya pointed the car into the UNCLE underground garage pulled smoothly into a space. "What would be worse?" he asked curiously.
"Dragi. If Dragi decides to undertake the task of killing me herself, that would be so, so much worse."