"Be seated, gentlemen," said the proper English voice of the Number One of U.N.C.L.E., currently seated himself with the rear of his high-backed swivel chair hiding him from view.
"Yes, sir," said Napoleon Solo, as he seated himself in one of several ultra-modern chairs situated about a large, circular polished metal table.
"Certainly, sir," was Illya Kuryakin's equally polite response, as he, too, took a seat to one side of Napoleon at the large, circular polished metal table.
A moment later, Alexander Waverly spun around in his high-backed chair to face the two U.N.C.L.E. agents, with two folders, emblazoned with the U.N.C.L.E. logo and name, held in his somewhat aged, but not a great deal more than Napoleon's or Illya's, hands.
"Intel has just come out with the latest diabolical plans of T.H.R.U.S.H. to be used against our nation's capitol," pronounced Mr. Waverly in regards to the Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the Subjugation of Humanity, even as he lay down the two identical U.N.C.L.E. folders upon the lazy susan top of the circular metal table.
With a gentle spin, the lazy susan top turned until both folders lay between the two seated, and seasoned, U.N.C.L.E. agents. At which point, both picked up one of the folders in order to open it and flip through the print-outs in regards to the dire straits indicated in voice and facial expression by Alexander Waverly. Number One in the entire New York branch of U.N.C.L.E.
"It has come to our attention," explained Mr. Waverly, even as such was readily understood by the two agents as they read it in the print-out pages, in identical U.N.C.L.E. folders, currently held by their respective hands, "that T.H.R.U.S.H. has obtained a few pounds of radioactive material. Material which they intend upon using in a conventional bomb to be planted somewhere in Washington, D.C. Once planted, and once the T.H.R.U.S.H. personnel are out of the capitol, conventional explosives will be detonated by remote control to subsequently spread the radioactive material upon the air currents and winds of Washington, D.C. What is required of you two is to locate not only the 'dirty bomb', but the T.H.R.U.S.H. agents responsible. Alive, if possible. Dead, if necessary. Understood?"
"Understood, sir," replied Illya and Napoleon, almost in unison, while still purusing the data on the print-outs held in the U.N.C.L.E. folders currently still in their hands.
"Good," said Alexander Waverly, as he leaned back in his chair, relaxing for the first time since the two U.N.C.L.E. agents walked into his office. "The private U.N.C.L.E. jet will be ready and waiting for you two to arrive at LaGuardia Airport. Whereupon you will leave immediately for Dulles International Airport in Washington, D.C., before picking up a car that will be waiting for you in order to attempt to locate, and stop, the planting of the 'dirty bomb' there. Good luck, gentlemen."
Taking the U.N.C.L.E. folders with them, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin left the office of Alexander Waverly, in order to stop by munitions in order to pick up their weapons, and all the additional pieces needed to turn a pistol into a rifle.
Such was Napoleon's favorite stop, just before leaving U.N.C.L.E. headquarters for a mission anywhere in the world. Illya would be just as satisfied, and effective, utilizing the hand-to-hand fighting techniques, of which he was an expert, that even his graying-haired friend and fellow agent could not claim to be as efficiently taught.
Stepping into the munitions area, located just off the corridor leading out of the super-secret U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, both Napoleon and Illya were met with the sweet scent of recently fired pistols and pistols-turned-rifles by the agent-in-charge, Roland Delbert. His upside-down triangle badge brandishing the number forty-seven.
"Ah, good morning, agents," said a smiling Roland upon seeing two such distinguished U.N.C.L.E. operatives stepping into his domain at the start of yet another anti-T.H.R.U.S.H. assignment. "I suppose you two are about to embark on another mission, and need your standard P-38s, as well as accessories, to fill your currently empty shoulder holsters."
"Precisely, Mr. Delbert," responded, a bit more affluently than necessary, Illya Kuryakin.
"You guessed right, Roland," came, a split second after Illya, the much more friendly faced, and voiced, response from Napoleon's equally smiling face. "I suppose we'll be equipped with both lethal and non-lethal ammunition?"
"Exactly so, Napoleon," Roland replied, still smiling in the way one would who loved their work. In fact you'll be getting an equal amount of each in clips that will fit perfectly in your coats' hidden inner pockets. Just as you will carry the three pieces needed to turn pistols into rifles. Here..."
First, Roland handed over the two augmented P-38s, one to Napoleon and one to Illya, with their slotted flash suppressors on substantially shortened barrels. Taking them, both agents slipped them into the soft leather of their hidden by coats' shoulder holsters.
Then, came the attachable accessories: slender metal stocks, to be secured to the butt of the pistols; equally slender barrel, to be equally secured over the flash suppressor shortened barrel of the P-38s; lastly came the high-powered sniper scopes that would be quickly attached to the top side of the P-38 pistols, whereupon it would not interfere with the slide that would recoil back after each and every shot.
Lastly, came the various bullet clips, both short and long, whereas half of them would contain 9 millimeter bullets, and the other half would use 9 millimeter-like knock-out darts.
All of which were securely placed into secret inner pockets on either side of the coats worn by Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin.
"Thank you, Mr. Delbert," was Illya's formal parting remark, as he turned to exit the munitions area and proceed toward the tailor shop secret door.
"Thanks, Roland," came Napoleon's friendly parting remark, as he also turned to exit the munitions area and proceed toward the tailor shop secret door.
As they walked down said corridor, whilst several shoulder holster-wearing U.N.C.L.E. agents with an array of numbers on their upside-down triangle badges passed through to go in and out of the doors on either side, the deep friendship these two held for one another came to the forefront.
"Well, Illya, now that we're about to head out on another 'adventure', how's about you lowering your emotive walls for a bit."
"If I lowered them, Napoleon, I still would seem significantly more professional than you are capable."
"Ouch," enunciated, as if it were a two-syllable word, Napoleon Solo, with a half-smirk on his handsome, even though slightly aged, face. "That barb was almost as deadly as the bullets in our guns, Illya, old man."
Casting a side-glance toward his friend and co-agent, Illya Kuryakin permitted himself the luxury of half-smirking himself, before comically replying, "Though I may be as 'old' as you, my friend, I assure you that I still look more akin to the Sixties than you. Older man."
Napoleon chuckled, as Illya smiled, albeit slightly and swiftly, as the two reached the end of the corridor, and Napoleon twisted the inner control knob that would allow said door-wall to open inward, and permit their departure from the U.N.C.L.E. headquarters situated in New York City.
The two would, after leaving the faux tailor shop, ascend the short stairs, hail a cab, and proceed to LaGuardia Airport to begin their newest mission in a past they had both already lived prior to returning, from forty-plus years into the future, to once again be vital agents for United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.