Elliott McGowan stormed down the corridor leading to the office of Harry Beldon in the London headquarters of UNCLE.
Everyone in the hallway stepped back as she flew past...one of them mumbling under his breath.."the Banshee is in a foul mood today!"
The woman had the reputation of being a hot tempered agent and blunt to the point of rudeness...but some dismissed her as being just a bitchy "red head." Most of her fellow agents looked upon her with disdain, feeling she was a woman in a "man's world" and should not be a section two agent.
April Dancer experienced some of the same prejudices...but it was she who broke the ice, and set the precedent for UNCLE to promote women like Elliott McGowan to the position of field operative. Where as April charmed the men, Elliott was just the opposite and tried to compete with them...and more often than not, she beat them at their own game...which did not make for improved "employee relations."
To complicate matters, Elliott was Irish, assigned to a British office while the "troubles" were on-going in Northern Ireland so she experience a whole different set of prejudices that April Dancer did not. UNCLE was not affiliated with any political ideology and was dedicated to it's own open-minded philosophy, but it's employees were only human, and some of them still carried their beliefs and prejudices from their former lives.
She had learned to handle what was dealt her with a tough, no nonsense attitude. What came her way, only made her stronger...enabling her to function successfully in "this man's" world. She found it prudent to avoid people, and people avoided her, with the exception of Mark Slate, April Dancer and her partner Jean-Paul Simone.
Elliott now charged into Beldon's office throwing a file on his desk, demanding loudly... "What the hell is this shite?"
Beldon was on a video conference with Alexander Waverly "Miss McGowan" Harry snapped."I am in private conference with New York!"
She ignored him, pounding her fist on the file..repeating her question more loudly,"What-is-this-shite?"
Beldon turned calmly to the video screen" "Excuse me Alexander, I'll have to get back to you." He flicked a switch and the screen went dark, then looked down at the file strewn across his desk.
"The Mind Control Affair" report has been finalized. There is nothing more to be said" he told her sharply.
"This is not my report" she seethed" this is total fabrication!"
"The report as filed by Mr. Smythe" Beldon replied calmly" stands. And will not be altered. It is not a debate and opposing sides will not be presented...it was your bungling that caused the operation to fail and as well as the death of your partner. You both ruined a solid four month investigation and now Thrush is on to us and we will have to start all over again thanks to your incompetence!"
"No...NO!" she insisted" this is NOT how it went down. Ye are not pinin' Jean-Paul's death on me! We did nothing wrong that night! The back-up team WAS NOT THERE! Smythe is lying and ye know it!
"No, Miss McGowan, that is not the truth of the matter...your mind has jumbled the facts and Smythe is sure that you may have been exposed to the Thrush substance...combined with your head wound and your on-going mistrust of Owen Smythe; these have all lead you to make false conclusions. YOU and your late partner handled this affair like section three rookies."
"Right now you should consider yourself lucky that you still have a position with this organization. You are however, to be disciplined in the matter...I am hereby rescinding your status as a section two agent...you will be re-classified as a member of in-house security."
Elliot stood with her mouth open."Ye are feckin' jokin'!"
"Miss McGowan, please curb your colorful language" warned Beldon" I will not have you disrespecting my position as head of this office. My decision is final..."
Elliott reached for her Walther, holstered behind her back, removed it and slowly, holding it with two fingers placed it on Beldon's desk.
"Here's my answer to that...Fuck you Beldon and the lot of ye...I quit! Vám parchant_you son of a bitch!" she cursed at him in his native Slovak.
She turned and took off out of Beldon's office before he could say another word, continuing past her office, not stopping...there was nothing there that she wanted, then headed straight past security, and threw down her badge "Tell Beldon, I will detrain when I am damn well ready, so lay off or else!"
With that, she was out of the door and gone from UNCLE...She had never been this angry in her life...or frustrated. Elliott hailed a cabbie, heading home to her third floor flat in the East End of London.
She climbed the stairs pounding her feet, taking out some of her anger on the steps, then entered her tiny apartment after disengaging the alarm system. Then stood there staring. She had few possessions, her books on history, criminology, sociology...some in foreign languages...her fiddle lay in it's case leaning against the corner wall by the sofa. There was nothing personal or feminine about the place, no photos, no artwork...the apartment was dull and devoid of color except for a single hot-pink phelenopsis orchid that sat in it's container on a small table by the sitting room window...it had been a birthday gift from her partner Jean-Paul.
Elliott walked into the small kitchen, taking a bottle of Jameson whiskey from the cabinet and a glass from the counter. She poured herself a shot, downed it, then a second and then a third.
"FFFFeck!" she cursed under her breath.
She woke up the next morning, and as soon as she moved she felt the pain in her head, glancing over at the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table and thought for a brief second " a bit of the hair of the dog perhaps?"
"nah!" she said out loud.
The now former section two UNCLE agent...as she realized herself sadly to be, got up and walked across to the bathroom, taking some aspirin tablets from a bottle on a shelf; she dry swallowed them, then turning on the faucet with a squeak, she dowsed her face generously with cold water.
Elliott looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes streaked with the remains of her mascara...she looked tired and there were the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes. She stared at the image letting her thoughts drift back to that night. She leaned forward, supporting herself on the sink, bowing her head as she recalled the events of the affair that she was told went "bad"...costing the life of her partner.
She and her partner, after a lengthy undercover operation, had finally discovered the location of the Thrush lab in Marseilles, where the mind control substance was beginning to be mass produced.
She and Jean-Paul were spear heading a raid to obtain a copy of the formula, destroy the lab and any of the substance that had been manufactured. They were under the gun, as Thrush was getting ready to make it's first shipment of the mind control drug. They planned to to use it to create world chaos, controlling entire populations on a grand scale, inciting violence and panic eventually across the globe. They planned to use it on the world leaders at a conference in Geneva Switzerland...further escalating confrontation between nations...in essence the beginning of World War III. Thrush planned to be there to step in and pick up the pieces...
Elliott and Jean-Paul dressed in black field pants and turtle necks, crept in the darkness along the outer wall of the chateau where the lab was located, their specials drawn and at the ready. Jean had moved by the gate as a single guard walked away past his position. Then he signalled Elliott to join him.
She signalled back, tapping her wristwatch, asking a silent question. He shrugged and waved her to come on.
"Where the hell are they?" she whispered, as she crept up behind him" Smythe was supposed to be her with the backup team forty-five minutes ago?"
"Oui, Je sais_ yes I know" he spoke to her in French. We can't manage this operation without a team."
"I'm going to risk contacting headquarters" she said pulling out her communicator. "Open channel F" she whispered, Duchamp."
"What have you to report answered Rene"
"Shush...excusez-moi if you could please keep your voice down sir..we have a problem...the backup team is M.I.A. and the shipment is nearly loaded."
"Smythe reported to me that the team was in place...you are to proceed as planned...contact him on channel J...out"
"Open channel J "she whispered "...Smythe, where the hell were ye?"
"Smythe here," answered an obviously British voice," we were...delayed, but we are in place now."
"Where are you situated?"
"We are within the wall located at the rear of the chateau approximately twenty yards away from the building."
"Right then.."said Elliott" synchronize your watch for midnight.. in 5-4-3-2-1 mark. At 12:15... half your team will approach the chateau from the rear, send the remainder in front to assist J.P and myself. The lorry is almost loaded and ready to go, so we need to move fast. See you there...be careful, out."
Elliott didn't like Owen Smythe...there was something about the man that she couldn't quite put her finger on, and of the two of them mixed like oil and water. Smythe was Harry Beldon's protegeé, just she had heard that Russian Kuryakin had once been, so she had to mind herself when dealing with him.
Smythe resented the fact that she, a woman was a section two agent and was constantly trying to undermine her. attempting to make her look bad and therefore, she couldn't trust him, but unfortunately she had no choice in the matter of working with him on this assignment as it was Beldon who had added him to the operation, so she was forced to deal with him.
"Mon Dieu" whispered Jean Paul " when was that pompous ass going to let us know he was here?" He knelt down, interlocking his hands together and lifted Elliot up and over the wall with a "hup", seconds later the end of a knotted rope that she had carried with her came back over the wall to him. He caught it, pulling himself up and over the wall to join his partner on the other side.
The two agents ducked behind a hedge until they were sure it was clear, then headed in the darkness across the property until they reached the safely of a cluster of trees directly in the front of the chateau. In a few more seconds it would be 12:15.
The pair moved out their cover exactly on time, moving toward the lorry with silencers on their Walther P-38s.
Suddenly all hell broke loose and they found themselves nearly surrounded by Thrush guards who seemed to appear out of thin air; the pair took cover beside the truck but were pinned down.
The agents continued for a few minuted trading fire with the Thrushmen. "Where the feck is the bloody team?"she screamed...she shot out the tires on the lorry, then put a well-placed bullet in to the radiator."
"J.P...I need a clip!" He tossed one to her then called "Let's get out of here! I'll cover your...GO!"
But then she heard a grunt and saw J.P. go down...he'd been hit!
Elliott scrambled to him screaming his name, trying to drag him up when she felt a sharp pain in the the back of her head...then everything went dark.
She awoke, finding herself alone in a dimly lit cell, she assumed was somewhere beneath the chateau. As she stood, she ran her fingers along the rough stone and mortar wall...then rubbed the back of her pounding head... her hand came away wet with blood from a nasty scalp wound. She then crossed the cell to the bars...there was no guard outside...and only a lit torch on the wall opposite her cell gave her her only light.
She turned looking back across her cell as her eyes adjusted...there was no window and only a small wooden bench against the wall. The only way out was through the cell door. Elliott checked her clothing and found her loc-pick and all other UNCLE accoutrement's were missing. So she returned her attention to the cell door, and running her fingers long the rough metal bars...original, she guessed maybe 17th century; she continued feeling along the bars until she located the hinges, then smiled. They were single ball-pin hinges, and a little leverage could lift them out of place.
Elliott dragged the bench over to the door and turning it over, wedged the end of it through a small gap beneath the door, then she began to push up on the other end of the bench trying to lift the door off it's hinges.
After several attempts there was a groan and the door lifted, popping only one of the hinges, leaving it tilted open just enough for her to crawl through and out of the cell.
She checked in the other cell beside her own looking for J.P. but it was empty; then making her way up a flight of stairs to a landing; she cold see a line of light streaming through a slit in the wall, but there was no sign of a door, or how the wall might open.
Elliott suddenly heard voices coming from the other side, one speaking with authority.
"Get that UNCLE agent ready for transport to control, they'll be very pleased with my find...April Dancer! Elliott smiled..."the amadán_ idiot," she thought.
He continued to brag..."I'll probably get a promotion for this, once she's spilled her guts on some UNCLE secrets!"
"What about her partner" asked another voice.
"The body has been disposed of already" he answered.
Elliott's heart sank, knowing now the fate of Jean-Paul and she bowed her head, fighting back the tears at the loss of her friend and partner.
The voices ceased, then she heard footsteps, listening carefully as one set moved away, the other coming closer to her. As they neared, Elliott pressed herself back against the wall into the shadows, as if she were trying to will herself into invisibility. Suddenly a panel opened letting the light in, and a man walked through and right past her, not seeing her at all.
Elliott stepped out of the shadows launching herself up at the man's back, grabbing his head; she let her momentum help her snap his neck instantly as her body flew past him. She held on and slowed the body as it crumpled down to the floor with a muffled thud, then searched it, seizing the man's hand gun.
She then peered out into the open room carefully...it was a library, empty of any other company, she stepped out, realizing the door was part of the bookcase and she pushed it closed behind her.
She went to one of the window, and looking out from behind the heavy drape, she saw a second lorry parked next to the one she had disabled. She looked at her watch, two hours had passed. And it looked to be almost fully loaded.
There was no time to lose and Elliott knew she had to do this even though she was on her own; she had to find a way to stop that shipment from leaving! The agent headed down a corridor, when she suddenly heard voices coming from a side room...
"Shame we have to dump this place, it was a sweet setup" a new voice now said.
"Yeah," answered another man, boss wasn't too happy that UNCLE got wind of our location."
"Hey not our fault, the boss fucked up on that one, not us"
"Don't let him hear you say that...just get the formula packed up and onto our new location, other wise you're dead meat.
"Hey, not to worry! I got it right here." the man assured.
Upon hearing that, Elliott stepped through the doorway and effortlessly took them down with two quick shots from the pistol. It was silenced, so no one heard a thing. She realized it was the lab and retrieved the file from the dead man's hand. She then spied the UNCLE communicators and the specials and her supply of explosive putty discarded carelessly on a counter. She grabbed it all and headed back to the library, with the file now tucked in the waist of her pants, hidden beneath her turtleneck.
She looked around, spotting three bottles of Cognac, she opened them and tearing pieces from a linen table cloth; she soaked them in the liquor, then stuffed them into the neck of the bottles, making Molotov cocktails. She affixed the explosive putty to the outside of two of them, then grabbed a box of matches she found lying in an ashtray, heading back to the lab where she lit the simple Molotov, tossed it in the room, then closed the door.
Then walking carefully out from the hall and into a grand foyer; a single Thrush guard spotted her instantly and raising his rifle to shoot her...she got off a round first, bringing him down with a single shot to the head. She was out the front door quickly, ducking behind a large column, then lit the Molotov cocktails, lobbing them in the air one after another at the now fully loaded lorry one landing on top of the roof, the other inside...the liquor ignited as it spread, then BOOM, two explosions, shattering the front windows of the chateau and sending flaming debris everywhere.
The woman ducked for cover as she heard shots ring out, then returned fire and hit several of the Thrush guards. Then she heard the distinct muffled sound of an UNCLE special...he head was hurting and she suddenly felt disoriented, wondering what was happening...she stepped out from behind the column with her weapon raised, then felt a sharp pain in her right shoulder, then a stabbing pain to her head.
Elliott McGowan woke in room number 2 bed 1 in the UNCLE medical wing in Paris.
"Hello luv" said a familiar voice.
"Mark" she whispered in acknowledgement.."where's April?"
Knowing that where Mark Slate was, April Dancer wasn't usually far off.
"She's on her way to India..and sends her love" he smiled " be off myself soon. I heard you were here and I thought I'd stop in "
"So what's me prognosis?"
"Shoulder wound. Head wound, but just a graze...you'll live to fight another day" he smiled, then became very serious." look darlin'...sorry about Jean-Paul."
"Ye don't know the half of it Mark...when I get my hands on that bastard Smythe...he'll pay" then she moaned, grabbing her head.
Mark didn't pull any punches " Rumour has it that your and J.P. screwed up ...but I know how you and he operate" he corrected himself," operated. You both bent the rules when it suited you, but you've never screwed up...not like this. Something funny is going on luv, I'd watch yer back if I were you."
Elliott said nothing and Mark said his goodbyes to her then left to join April in India.
Once released from medical, she filed her mission report and was put on light duty, returning to London. As she walked through the corridors heading to her office upon her return, she received open-mouthed stares and dirty looks from agents and staffers alike. She ignored them as usual, but it did strike her as odd, they were being more hostile than usual. Once in her office, she found a file marked "Mind Control Affair" on her desk, and thought it strange it had been placed there...thinking perhaps Beldon wanted her to make an addendum to clarify something in her field report. She thumbed through it scanning the pages...then muttered..."What the feck?" She grabbed the file and stormed down the corridor leading to Harry Beldon's office...
Suddenly a knock at her apartment door startled Elliott out of her thoughts. She drew her .22 backup revolver from her ankle holster and quickly walked from the bathroom to the side of the door.
"Who is it?"she called loudly.
"It's John Sinotti Miss...you know, from the "office" answered a soft British voice.
Elliott looked through the peep hole and verified that it was John, a section three agent.
"I don't work for UNCLE any more John...go away!"
"I have message for you."
"Who from... that git, Harry Beldon?"
"No Miss McGowan...it's a cable from Alexander Waverly" he said.
Elliott opened the door and the agent handed her the sealed envelope, marked "Confidential." "Sorry for being so rude John, thank you." she said to him.
He handed her the envelope, and left without another word, as Elliott closed and secured the door after him then tore open the envelope.
It was a message from Waverly, asking her to come to New York for a meeting, along with a one-way ticket to JFK Airport...it was dated for a flight at 8 o'clock that night departing Heathrow.
She let out a long sigh...wondering what this was about? What to do...? A summons from Alexander Waverly was not a thing to be treated lightly.
She finally let her curiosity win out over her anger with UNCLE and decided to be on that flight.
