THE BACK TO THE BEGINNING AFFAIR

Chapter 4

"…time to collect…in blood"

Having learned the location of THRUSH's latest subterranean HQ in America's heartland state of Nebraska, northeast of a city called Keystone…

A privately controlled-by-U.N.C.L.E. Learjet flew Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin, both supposedly past their proverbial prime by a couple of decades, high and fast so they could soon step off at the North Platte Regional Airport. Then drive a secured sedan the 53 miles necessary to reach their intended destination in the approximate middle of the state.

Having already passed the somewhat small municipality called Keystone, Illya, at the wheel readily following a GPS screen-map, not one of Napoleon's skills, said, "Not much further, my friend. According to the moving map, we're exactly 6.7 miles from where we'll make a right turn in order to…"

"Uh, Illya," interrupted a half-grinning gray-haired co-agent and close friend of the Russian-born blonde, "it's not necessary for you to give me a guided tour of this section of Nowhere, Nebraska. Just get us to the front door to this THRUSH headquarters. Okay, old friend?"

Scowling slightly, Illya Kuryakin half-seriously said, "I don't know that there is a 'front door', Napoleon. I suppose such could be the case if it's a fake farmhouse sitting atop…"

"Illya!" loudly said Napoleon with both eye-rolling exasperation and a warm-hearted camaraderie that had lasted so long. "Just…drive."

A half-smile of amusement flashed across the seemingly line-free face of the flaxen-haired man from U.N.C.L.E., as Napoleon pulled the brand-new pen communicator from his inside suit's coat pocket.

"Guess it's about time to check in," said the mostly-gray haired, hazel-eyed secret agent as he thumb-pressed up on the ball-end of the silvery Cross pen's pocket clip. Causing an alteration that instantly turned it from writing implement to satellite communications system. "Open Channel D. Open Channel D."

In the seconds it took to receive a satellite-accessed response from Section Five of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement 1600 miles away, Napoleon Solo realized that the "Open Channel D" call-sign still only applied to these two particular agents, even when using recently-created new pen communicators.

"Channel D open, Mr. Solo, go ahead," said a somewhat sensuous voice clearly belonging to some lovely lady doubling as U.N.C.L.E. Comm Ops.

Smiling a little lecherously, Napoleon promptly reported, "Mr. Kuryakin and I should be arriving at THRUSH's doorstep in a few minutes, so this will be the last contact that can be made until the successful resolution of this mission affair…or else our cry for help. Solo out."

It seemed strange, yet pleasantly so, to watch as his pen communicator swiftly resumed its ink pen configuration with but a firm thumb-press of the top of the pocket clip. After which, this still suave and sexy secret agent slipped the Cross ballpoint pen back into his suit's inside coat pocket.

"Let us hope, Napoleon," Illya Kuryakin jokingly commented, "that the reason for such communication shall be the former and not the latter."

In fun reference to Illya's less-than-side-splitting statement, Napoleon Solo sighed, "With humor like that, Illya, don't give up your 'day job'."

A quiet chuckle came from the Russian-born man from U.N.C.L.E. as the two continued toward their ultimate location, which, at that exact instant, took a literal right-hand turn onto a road identified via GPS screen as East F N…

…which swiftly led to a smallish, seemingly old, though probably brand-new, shack that could've very easily been overlooked had it not already been pre-pinpointed by U.N.C.L.E. computers and constantly transmitted via satellite to GPS screen.

"Doesn't look like much, does it?" said Napoleon as the sedan stopped on the side of said road.

"No," curtly replied Illya in stony seriousness, "but, according to U.N.C.L.E. Intel, this exterior entry point to an underground headquarters for THRUSH is camera-monitored."

"But, being good little U.N.C.L.E. agents," satirically countered a half-smirking Napoleon Solo, "we've got a way around that. Right, Illya?"

A deliberate smile slowly spread across Illya Kuryakin's countenance as something devilish flashed within his eyes of blue.

"But, of course, my dear Napoleon. But, of course."

But what of the THRUSH chieftain with the half-scarred, covered by mask of metal, gems, and ivory who'd taken a trip into a past-time period more than four decades distant?

DINGLE-ding!

No sooner did the supposed proprietor of Del Floria's look in the direction of the ringing bell above the door, reacting with fugacious shock at the sight of the masked stranger and his curious carried-in-single-black-gloved hand suitcase of silvery metal…

"Who the hell—"

Pft! Pft!

Thud!

…two whispered shots from a silencer-equipped pistol straight out of the 21st Century's early years, a Glock 18, sent the supposedly helpless old man face-first to the freshly swept floor. Quite dead.

Holstering his unique-to-1964 partially plastic pistol, the mask-adorned leader of THRUSH 43 years in the future reached over to push the steam presses top down and twice tapping its steam control lever, already understanding that such would allow for easy entry into this New York City U.N.C.L.E. HQ.

Whereby a smiling-under-mask mastermind from a future THRUSH stepped through the curtains of a changing room…

…reached up to twist, to the right, a single specific clothing hook which, in turn, unlocked an otherwise blast-proof dense metal door…

…through which Darien Driscoll could now conclusively kill not just the three he'd risked travel into the past, a physically sickening experience, to permanently remove…

…but any and all others wearing upside-down triangular badges, and loaded and holstered pistols…

…in order to significantly alter his precise "present", including creating a time-line in which he would not end up with a half-scarred countenance that required a mask.

"All right, agents of U.N.C.L.E.," snarled Darien under his breath, even though the mask's mini-speaker still slightly enhanced the overall volume, "time to collect…in blood. Ha, ha, hahahahaha!"

END OF CHAPTER 4