Gaby walked into a quiet hotel suite. That was not particularly unusual, but the fact there was no room service cart or large Russian in the main room. She shrugged it off, maybe he was out on recon.
When she walked into bedroom though, she knew something was horribly wrong. The closet door was still open and hangers were jarringly empty. The bed had been made by the maids, but there was no sign of Illya anywhere. She walked back out into the main room and picked up the phone.
"Agent Kuryakin has been called back to Russia," Waverly said before she could even ask the question. Her brain sputter, a million more questions passed through her mind, but she couldn't even grasp one.
"I see," she finally said.
"The Russian's are sending in a replacement, but Gaby be careful. I don't know much about this new agent, but what I know isn't good. As soon as you get any intel that we can use against him, let me know. Until then, stay close to Solo."
"I can take care of myself," Gaby snapped, offended by the idea that she would need Napoleon's protection.
"Gaby, I'm serious. Kalashnikov is not someone to turn your back on," Waverly warned.
Gaby thought about the day she and Illya had gotten engaged, well fake engaged. She had been so scared of him when he walked into that boutique. She would never have admitted it, but her body language sold her secrets. She had immediately stepped closer to Napoleon.
Now the idea of hiding behind the American was almost unthinkable. Oh what a difference a few months makes. Still, she would heed Waverly's warning. Just because Illya had turned out to be okay, didn't mean this new agent would.
"I'll be carefully," she promised.
"Maintain your cover as long as you can, we still need that information from the Ambassador."
The line went dead and she slumped onto the couch. Her eyes reassessed the room. Not one thing was out of place, but it felt wrong without Illya's chessboard on the coffee table, his book on the night stand, and his duffle bag of supplies under the desk.
She wondered if it was her. Had he asked to be reassigned? Had she read too much into their relationship? Maybe to him it was a cover, a way to keep her close. Maybe they shouldn't have crossed that line. Or maybe Her leaving without a word had hurt him. She always pushed people away. Should she have left a note? Would it have mattered?
Her chest hurt, but she wouldn't allow herself to cry. Crying was a weakness she couldn't afford. Crying left evidence. Instead she stood up and mixed herself a drink, or rather poured herself three fingers of bourbon and downed it in a gulp.
"Rough day at the office?" Solo asked as he strolled into the room.
"I broke a nail," she said flatly.
"And Russian friend isn't here to kiss it and make it better?" he teased looking around.
"He left…" she said without a trace of emotion.
Solo looked confused.
"The country. He left the country, apparently UNCLE wasn't for him anymore. We are
expecting his replacement anytime, Agent Kalashnikov."
Solo froze. "Kalashnikov? They are sending Kalashnikov? Waverly is letting them?"
"So you've heard of him?" she asked slipping another 3 fingered glass and handing him one of his own.
"He is a legend, makes our Peril look like a teddy bear. They call him the Red Flood, because he leaves behind in a river of blood."
Gaby felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Maybe she had been too quick to brush off Waverly's warnings. As she took another sip of her drink, there was a knock at the door. Napoleon stepped in front of her.
"Come in," he said firmly.
The door opened and an average sized, average looking Russian soldier stepped in. Gaby wasn't fooled though, Illya had taught her how to notice hidden weapons. This man was packing more than a mule. She stayed behind Napoleon as he exchanged the briefest greeting with Kalashnikov in his native tongue. A few more exchanges and the man left the room. Her Russian was good enough that she could have joined them, but she didn't.
"I hope you didn't mind me taking the lead with him, and changing the set up of the mission," Napoleon said once the door was shut.
"I think people would have noticed if my 'husband' shrunk eight inches and changed his hair color," she replied, instead of saying she was glad he had taking the lead. The minute Kalashnikov had stepped into the room, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Waverly was right, something was very wrong.
