Napoleon headed back to his office. He needed to go over every detail of his and Illya's actions; where the courier had been intercepted and where Illya had gone afterwards. Napoleon had been prepared to meet him and continue on with the microfilm. They had decided a hand off would complicate the chase for the opposition, and so he had been at the appointed location at just the moment his partner should have appeared. Instead he was ambushed by some Thrush goons who had managed, with some difficulty, to knock him out and get him into a waiting car. He had come around groggily in that cell while Illya watched him. Sometime later the same guys had come and collected the Russian, taking him to the appointment from which he was now recovering.
In all of that, there had been no discussion concerning the microfilm, nor any hints as to it's whereabouts. He hadn't been able to talk with his partner in order to ascertain what his movements had been prior to being picked up by the Thrush, so...he knew nothing. No clues, no trail...nothing to help him recover the microfilm.
He decided to call in Mark Slate; possibly there was some other intel out there about the events surrounding this mishap. The microfilm had information on it concerning a new Thrush Satrapy in New York City. The location was a well kept secret and the film was purportedly a blueprint for the building. UNCLE knew that the criminal organization owned several successful businesses in the city, including one very prominent construction company. They had gotten the word about transferring those files via courier, and so Illya had been assigned to intercept him at the airport before he boarded a plan for France. Apparently nothing was done without Central's approval, including building a new headquarters for North America.
Illya had easily overtaken the courier, obtaining the microfilm and stashing the tranquilized man in a janitor's storeroom. He had then left the terminal, caught a bus to Radio City Music Hall; they would appear to be buying tickets for a performance. But Illya had never shown up, and Napoleon had been taken while he waited. None of this made it easier to try and figure out where the microfilm was now. Illya couldn't remember, and for some reason he thought calling in the flippant debt was in order, as though he had something that needed covering up. That was a concern, especially since there was no clear memory forthcoming.
"Hey Napoleon. You have need of my services, mate?" Mark grinned until he saw the worry lines in his superior's face. Something was not right, it seemed.
"Yes, Mark...we've still no sign of the microfilm. Illya has no memory of where he left it, and Thrush doesn't have it...obviously. They wouldn't have left Illya like that if they'd found it on him. Was there any indication, when you arrived, that they had what they wanted from him? Anything come up from your interrogation?" Napoleon hoped that something useful had been gained in questioning the Thrush prisoners.
"No, nothing was said that would indicate they have it. Sorry Napoleon. Our clean up crew searched the entire building and found nothing. We're at a dead end as well." His expression conveyed similar disappointment and concern at the state of information...or lack of it.
"Ok, Mark. Thanks. I'll let you know if I think of anything else." Nothing. Napoleon put his elbow on the desk and fit his chin into an open palm. "Where is it Illya?" He put the question into the air, not really expecting an answer.
Napoleon headed back to medical. He needed to think, and somehow observing his partner, even in his sleep, might help illuminate the mystery he had going. What had Illya said...?
"Not collect...he said recall." That was puzzling. What was it he needed to recall?
When he entered Illya's room, the lights were turned down low and the sleeping man had regained some of his color. As he peered more closely at his friend, he noticed a bruise on his forehead, nearly in the same spot as the one he himself had acquired after his encounter with that beam. "Where did you get that, my friend?" He hadn't noticed it earlier, but now he wondered if that was a clue of some sort. Maybe that's what Illya had referred to, not collecting the debt but the similarity...still, what good did that do?
Illya stirred from his sleep, opening the eye that wasn't swollen shut and looking out from under blond eyelashes.
"Did you get it?" The question seemed abrupt to Napoleon, since last he inquired, Illya didn't know where IT was.
"No, you haven't told me where it is. Do you remember now?" He studied the features of his friend, noting the deep set eyes and equally deep circles. The bruises over his right eye were hideous looking, as though it hurt. "I thought I...no, I didn't did I." Obtuse, to be sure.
"Illya, where is the film?" Frustration evident in his voice, Napoloen knew there was probably a time limit on this information. They needed to get to it before some Thrush backtracked enough to figure it out.
Illya was groggy, but he began to give a report on his activities after collecting the microfilm.
"I was on the bus when I spotted a Thrush. When it stopped to let some people off, I exited as well, heading for a building that was still under construction. It wasn't a wise move, looking back at it now. As they got closer, I ducked under a protrusion of beams that I thought would provide cover. Instead I knocked my head against one that was out of sight, and nearly lost consciousness. I slipped the microfilm inside of that beam and moved out, and that's when they caught me. I was still a little groggy, so they took me easily enough."
Napoleon was relieved that Illya remembered that much, but would he be able to retrace his steps and locate the film? Of course, Illya being Illya, he did remember eventually. After he got completely free of the sedatives and the Thrush drugs, he gave specific directions to the site, even tracing off the steps necessary to arrive at the hiding place for the microfilm.
"Is the film safely tucked away and ready for UNCLE to thwart the new plans?" Illya was relieved at the outcome so far. He still ached a little from the bump on his head and the bruises that were just beginning to fade. All in a day's work, but it hurt anyway.
"We have it and the powers that be are going over it with a fine tooth comb. They'll come up with something to upset the process of building a new Thrush site. Plus, it is another bit of evidence against Cook's Construction. They're going to have a little trouble getting new permits to build anything in this city."
Napoleon cocked his ahead a little and produced a smile aimed at his friend as he sipped a cup of tea, his features a little less strained than a few days earlier.
"Umm...are we done with the payback on bumps and beams...all of that business?" With Illya, one never knew for sure that one was out of danger of payback. Certainly, considering the past few days and his own bruised forehead, this game was due to be over.
"Napoleon, what payback? It was ever only a little joke. You have nothing to fear...honestly". Something in that last word made Napoleon shiver just a little. Illya could exact a price with absurd enjoyment. He did not believe it was over.
"What, exactly, do you want? I know it's not just a joke, and unfortunately for me, your bump was of the heroic type, even if it was rather clumsy. Mine, on the other hand, is still clumsy without benefit of heroic overtones. So, what is it that will get me off the hook?" Two pair of eyes met; cunning blue ones and slightly annoyed brown each holding forth as the answer awaited.
"Napoleon, I want nothing. It's true, I am satisfied that we are completely even, as it were. I bumped into a beam trying to escape Thrush, and you...bumped into one trying to escape a vacuous blonde. The dangers are equal, in my estimation."
That was it? The relief was palpable, considering how devious his friend could be when driven to it by any number of variables.
"Thank you. I am relieved and happy to know we have found a resolution. I know how you like to exact your debts out of my hide." Illya smiled; that slightly lopsided grin that he reserved for times of self-congratulation and...what else was there?
"What? What else are you thinking?" Napoleon knew, he just knew it had to be something else. "Well, if you must know...Elsie, the girl you were trying to avoid that day'... Napoleon expelled a frustrated gust of air… "She really wants to go out with you, and...well, she asked me to intervene. Sort of play matchmaker. She's bold, that one. I'd watch out if I were you".
"And why should I do this?" Napoleon felt trapped, but knew there must be something else that the Russian hadn't mentioned.
"If you must know, a security camera caught you in the act of getting brained by by that big pipe. Elsie has seen the tape. She mentioned it to me...casually. I think you ought to take her out and treat her nice. She said she will broadcast it otherwise". He felt a twinge of sympathy for his partner, knowing how much he dreaded a tarnished image, especially at the hands of a spiteful woman. "I warned you it wasn't worth the little white lie you told."
"Alright, I guess I can stand one evening with her. She is attractive, at least. Who delivers the good news, you or me?" Illya raised an eyebrow before answering. He really did hate doing this to his friend.
"You can carry on from here on out. I was merely the messenger. And, Napoleon, I am sorry. It was not my intention to hold you to anything'...He meant that. A woman who would stoop to this behavior wouldn't last long in his partner's estimation. Nor would she get a repeat offer.
"Oh well, 'ours is not to reason why?'" The unruffled CEA would treat this as he would any other foray into enemy territory; grace and charm were always on tap.
"Yes, merely not to bat an eye". He winked at the mangled reference, but knew his friend would survive to date again.
Later that day Illya was released from medical in the same breath as being told to report to work the following morning. Afterwards he took his healing body home and opened a chilled bottle of vodka, opened up one of his not so boring science journals, and later drifted off to sleep on the couch before stumbling to his bed in the early morning hours.
When he got to headquarters the next day, he was informed that several security tapes were missing from a certain day, of a certain lower level computer room. Add to that, one of the secretaries had been fired; it seemed she had been pilfering through files and tapes and been caught red handed trying to blackmail several section two agents. Thankfully, it didn't appear anything important was on the missing tape, but the woman's ousting was history and her replacement already at her desk.
"Napoleon, were you aware...?" He didn't need to finish the question. The look on his friend's face confirmed his suspicions. He had the missing tape, and had ratted out the girl in question. She had done this before, he discovered that after quizzing some other agents.
"She isn't UNCLE material, Illya. It's one thing for us to engage in our little games, but from her or anyone else...it shouldn't be tolerated." And with that, the subject was closed and never again discussed.
Both men soon had their foreheads back as clear and unblemished as before; blond hair falling loosely over one, brown hair immaculately coiffed and combed back from the other. UNCLE had it's microfilm and valuable information, and, as many would soon learn, The Enquirer had a new reporter named Elsie.