Illya Kuryakin walked down the ramp from Aeroflot jet stepping down to the tarmac of the British airport. He was already familiar with it from his time spent in the country studying at Cambridge, and functioning as a spy for the Soviet Union.
He carried only a small suitcase as most of the few things he owed, clothing, books, record, and an old guitar; he had left in storage before his his return to Moskva...he had hoped that he was going to come back from the U.S.S.R. and would not end up in a prison or one of the gulags. So the disposition of his meager belongings was not high on his list of concerns while worrying about the possibility of internment in the Soviet prison system.
But now his return to England had given him an unexpected boon as he was now an agent in training for a foreign agency that he felt he had been offered up to as a "sacrificial lamb" by his superiors at GRU. The man, Alexander Waverly had told him to prove it otherwise to them and that did give him some sense of hope in this total upheaval of his life. He was no longer a Soviet agent...and he no longer had a home. Russia was a thing of his past...
His possessions had been moved from storage to a small flat that had been arranged for him. That matter having been settled with no effort on his part left him now only to consider the remaining after effects of his hangover from the night before. With the help of some aspirin tablets and copious amounts of water; the symptoms had all but disappeared and he swore that he would not let his feelings or vodka get the better of him again!
He thought about the flat that he would live in; having discovered that certain agents, specifically sections two to be precise, were given such accommodations as they were in the field frequently enough that keeping up with rent and so forth became problematic. UNCLE solved that issue by becoming both employer and landlord.
U.N.C.L.E, apparently was also in the real-estate business, owning their own apartment buildings to house their select agents. But given his experience with Soviet intelligence; he wondered if they bugged their agent's abodes, keeping them under surveillance as had his previous employer.
He walked into the airport terminal, stopping at a news stand to purchase a copy of the London Times. And then waited for his contact to arrive.
People came and went buying their magazines, papers and other sundries, but still no one approached him with the password.
Illya began to get a little nervous but he showed no outward sign of it. He saw a well dressed man across the terminal watching him from time to time.
Finally a half hour later a man, handsomely attired in a suit wearing a hat, approached the counter purchasing a packet of cigarettes." Mumbling..."I remembered when these cost one rupee."
Illya recognizing the code and responded. " But tomorrow they could cost a two francs."
"Welcome back to England Mr. Kuryakin" the man smiled at him," I am Harry Beldon" he said, tipping his impressive hat to reveal a completely shaved head.
Illya nodded in acknowledgement to him; taking mental note that he had an accent," perhaps Slavic he guessed."
"I have a car waiting, if you will please follow me?" said Beldon.
He lead Kuryakin to a black sedan, parked with a driver a the curb side in front of the terminal. The chauffeur tried to take his suitcase, but Illya refused to release it.
"Roit, suit yerself mate;" the driver mumbled, giving him the "stink-eye."
Illya joined his escort in the back of the car. The Russian was reserved and remaining quiet, sitting next to Beldon as the vehicle pulled away into the heavy airport traffic.
"Would you prefer to go to your flat to freshen up or to go directly to headquarters?" Beldon asked him.
"Headquarters please?" he answered." I wish to begin my training immediately, sir"
Beldon laughed..."None of this "sir" stuff if you please... call me Harry."
He reached to the side door and opened a mini- bar, offering Illya a vodka."Uhod z napitok_ care for a drink?" Beldon asked him in Russian.
Illya felt his stomach tighten at the thought and declined the offer with a wave of his hand. "Spacibo...nyet_thank you... no."
"Ah! To work already? All work and no play can make Illya a dull boy! Beldon smiled at him with a wink."You will find young man, if you just let yourself consider the possibilities that life here in the west can be most comfortable...certainly more so than your life in Russian had ever been; you will be quite happy here.
"Happiness is not a consideration" he thought as he was coming to UNCLE to do a job and was not in search of something so ethereal. Illya ignored Beldon's words then asked him a question instead.
" Why did you wait before contacting me at the terminal? I saw you standing watching me for some time."
"Very good Mr. Kuryakin. Observant...patient. Perhaps I was just standing back to watch you and nothing more?"
Illya suddenly asked, " You are Slavic are you not, yet Harry Beldon is not a Slavic name."
Beldon hesitated..."Most people cannot pick that up from my accent, also very good Mr. Kuryakin." he nodded."My full name is Henryk Beldonski... I was raised in Krakow and emigrated here with my parents as a young man."
Illya made note...too much personal information being offered."And the man does not even know me? Are all these U.N.C.L.E. people this careless?" he thought. He wondered what he would truly be able to learn from this man?
Illya was taken to London headquarters and walking through it's simple grey halls; he was impressed by the sleek orderly appearance, not having a trace of the bourgeois trappings that he had expected... that was until he was escorted into Harry Beldon's office, which seemed him to be the epitome of decadence!
The room was filled with antiques, Grecian statues, paintings and well as many over-sized plants. Beldon had a personal steam room adjoining his office where Illya was later sure where one of the many women that seemed to grace the man's arms no doubt met him for their assignations.
The Russian was simply amazed that the man was able to function in the espionage arena as successfully as he had heard the man did. Illya had done some research of his own on Harry Beldon and found he had a surprisingly successful reputation, but at the same time was also known for his "eccentricities."
And so, in spite of the outrageous personality and tastes of Harry Beldon; Illya Kuryakin began to settle in to learning the ways of his new employer. He had been told by Alexander Waverly that he would not at present attend their field training session at a place called "Survival Island." That was to come later. And he was just to follow Beldon's lead...
Illya learned to distinguish what was important and glean from the teachings of Beldon that was useful. It became obvious to the Russian that Harry had his own agenda, and he did not appreciate being caught up in it. Eventually he felt that the man was simply using him as a means to an end.
That was three years ago and now he was being transferred to the New York headquarters. Once he completed the session at Survival School, the last leg of his training; Illya Kuryakin would begin the latest chapter in the new book of his life that began the moment he became an agent of The United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. What that new chapter held in store for him still remained to be seen...
