CHAPTER TWO

Napoleon – All About What Happened Next

The wedding ceremony was everything we had planned. It went off very well. I had the impression from my partner's face, that he half expected his bride to do a runner at the last minute instead of showing up. He looked so relieved when Claire turned up, I almost laughed. Almost.

There was a moment I think when Illya's nerves did get the better of him when he was asked; "Will you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?", instead of the expected response "I do" he said "Da!". That caused a few chuckles. The registrar felt obliged to remind him to reply in a language everybody could understand; Illya blushed and apologized and said "I do!" in English. So then when the bride was asked the same question, with an impish grin, she too said "Da!" then smiled, and followed it up with "I do with knobs on!" The registrar became quite put out and reminded the bride and groom that embellishments are not required or desired thank you very much.

Illya had bought a ring for Claire, but he had only just been able to remove from his finger the ring that he had worn for his first wife, Elinor, and I think he felt that he could not bear to wear it again for another woman, or any ring. I did feel for him. He wasn't even sure completely why he felt wrong about wearing a ring for Claire when he had been fine about it with Elinor, but I never told him. I knew Claire would help him work it out. She was a clever girl, that one; and although I hated to admit it, she would be good for Illya.

None of us dreamed that anything could go wrong on this day. We had planned everything so well…or I thought we had. Even UNCLE agents in the area patrolling as protection pretending to be ordinary passersby. Everything had been thought of. I thought. That was until Illya and Claire led our wedding party down the steps of the registry building. We were only supposed to walk the couple of blocks to the hotel and enjoy a lovely meal prepared for us by the hotel staff.

The first I knew was when someone opened fire with a machine gun, or that was how it sounded, and Claire dropped to the ground immediately, a huge hole through her stomach, gushing blood. The rest of us were still inside or standing in the doorway, and we all hit the floor, screams erupting from all directions. After a second I realized that Illya was still down there, looking dazed, until a second volley dropped him too with a nasty looking head wound.

I closed my eyes and gulped. A bride and groom shot dead on their wedding day. My best friend, a man who has saved my life on countless occasions, and I had just lain here and watched him be gunned down.

For several heartbeats, all I could do was lay there and mourn the loss of my friend and partner, and his new wife. Then common sense kicked in. Our agents outside were sending out fire of their own in the direction that they guessed the machine-gun fire had come from. They knew what they were about. For now, my job was to take care of these civilians. Once the last sound of the guns had died away, so did the screaming, and Mister Waverly got painfully to his feet.

"Come along up, my dear." He said to his wife, and he turned to the office staff, peeping fearfully from their various offices at the thoroughly disheveled wedding party.

"Do you have a medical room? Or a lounge of some kind where all these good people can sit down and try to stop shaking?"

Mark and April were nowhere in sight, so I knew they must have been outside, dealing with the carnage out there. I know it was cowardly of me, but right then I let them deal with it. I didn't want to have to look upon the broken figure of my partner…to know for sure that he had been murdered right in front of me, on his wedding day. I wrapped my arm around Claire's mother, who was crying and shaking. I knew Mister Waverly as the chief would have taken it upon himself to call into headquarters for backup and medical assistance, and for ambulances to attend the scene. I conferred with him anyway, but typical of the old man, all of that was already well in hand. He had dealt with as much and more during the two world wars, and despite his rapidly advancing age, he was well up to the task. I was soon joined by other agents, section 2 and 3 as we comforted and helped the wedding party the best way we could until the UNCLE medical staff arrived at about the same time as a number of civilian ambulances.

I had spoken to everyone, assuring them that we would get them all to hospital to be checked and if nothing else, treated for shock. I gave them all the assurances I could with regard to such things as hotel and medical bills, and I made certain to impress upon Claire's family that Mister Waverly would remain in close contact with them regarding their daughter and son-in-law.

Suddenly, I was at a loose end. I wanted desperately to go outside and check on Claire and Illya, but dreaded what I might find. I found myself walking, or staggering might be closer, to the top of the steps, where the two young lovers had been laying, side by side. All that was left now was one ambulance, and a trolley with a figure covered with a sheet that was being loaded into the back of it.

Who was under that sheet? Did I want to know? A horrible feeling erupted suddenly from the pit of my stomach, and to my horror, disgust and chagrin, I dropped to my knees and began retching dryly. After a few seconds of empty retching however, I coughed and began to vomit violently. Someone crouched beside me with their arm about my shoulders until the spasm finally ended. I sat on the step, trying not to look at the enormous blood stain on the path at the bottom, and I could not stop the tears from falling.

"I failed them. I failed them!"

A comforting voice reassured me, the one whose arm had been around my shoulders. To my surprise it was Alexander Waverly.

"You have done no such thing, Napoleon." He said in a husky voice. "Nothing could have foreseen this, and…"

"I should have been out here taking care of Illya and…"

"Stop this Mister Solo!" he snapped sharply at me. "You had other guests to care for, not just…" he stopped himself, and continued more calmly. "Not just the bride and groom. Everything that can be done will be done. You're in shock. Now let the doctor give you something, and then…"

I shook my head.

"No, I have to go…" I started to get to my feet, but Waverly pulled me back down.

"Napoleon, Agents Slate and Dancer are with them. Illya and Claire are both still alive…for the time being at least. I've just had a call from Mister Slate to tell me that we had only one casualty; one of the section three agents patrolling outside. Claire is in surgery for serious gunshot wounds to her abdomen, but she is still alive at the moment. Illya is still unconscious. He was shot in the head, but the bullet merely grazed his skull, caused a nasty wound which bled a lot, but otherwise he will be fine. Now you've had a nasty shock just like everyone else here. You are no use to me going off half-cocked! Let the medical staff do what they can for you, and presently you and I will go to the hospital together."

I would like to say that I was all suave and clever as I usually try to be, but I have to admit, Mister Waverly was right, as always. I was badly in shock. The fact that I threw up proves it I guess. My hands were shaking. I was angry at myself for reacting like this. I was a section two agent after all! I dealt with guns and death as part of my job! What business did I have going to pieces now, when I was needed most?

I tried to say all this, but I guess I didn't get very far. Mister Waverly gave me a smile that somehow made me feel very young, and he squeezed my shoulder as he got to his feet.

"It's harder for all of us Mister Solo when something like this strikes so close to us. Especially when we are not expecting it."

He led me inside and put me into the care of one of our UNCLE nurses, Nurse Cora, who wrapped a blanket around me, pressed a small glass of water in my hands and made me sit down and lean back. Around the room, all the guests were being treated for shock, the female guests; Claire's mother and grandmother, and her maid of honour were all crying, out of mixed fear and shock…

Sorry, I'd rather not dwell on this part any longer. I still have a lingering feeling of anger at myself for being so helpless as well as the gunman for opening fire on a group of harmless civilians attending a wedding. Suffice it to say, we all ended up going to the hospital; either to be treated for shock or minor injuries, or to be there for Claire who by now was in intensive care, and for Illya, still unconscious in recovery.

Waverly and I made sure that the Buchanan family were all taken care of. Mrs. Waverly herself took care of Claire's grandparents and her elderly uncle Jim, and volunteered to take them back to the Waverly home herself, where she would be able to make them comfortable whilst they waited for news. The other guests, Max and Gloria Buchanan and their two sons, plus Claire's school friend maid of honour Elaine Schlepp came with Waverly and I in two ambulances, whilst several section three agents followed in a convoy of UNCLE cars.

We were separated when we arrived, and we were all assessed for injuries. It wasn't until then that I learned that I had suffered a minor shrapnel wound to my face, chips of stone from the wall flying about from the gunfire had been going in all directions, and it bled quite badly when it was removed. I thanked the staff as patiently as I could and insisted that they allowed me to leave. As I joined Mister Waverly in the doctor's office, I was absurdly aware of the dressing on my cheek, moving as I talked. I could see it out of the corner of my eye. It's funny how your mind sometimes in the midst of the worst horror can latch on to something minor and insignificant. I remember wondering at the time whether the shrapnel wound would leave me with a permanent scar, and if so, what effect would it have upon the ladies? I knew what Illya's response would have been. One of his infamous eye-rolls. I had to see my partner. I had to, right now.

Even now someone was trying to stop me from reaching my partner. A doctor someone or other, and then it was a nurse. I had to fight to control my anger. Could this day get any worse? It might if Illya woke up and found that I was not there beside him. Then a thought struck me.

Would he wake up and expect to see me as always? Or would he be expecting to see his new wife?

As I reached the final barrier, our own section three agents on guard outside his room, Mister Waverly stepped in. If he hadn't, I might have finished up knocking someone down. But finally I was in Illya's room. A disapproving nurse glared at me from across the room, but said nothing. I pulled up a chair and took his hand in mine. Would he be pleased to see me or disappointed that I was not Claire? I swallowed a huge lump as I realized that I did not have an answer to my question. Still Illya slept on.