THE SAN RICO AFFAIR

ACT 7 "ARE THINGS OK NOW?"

Illya had an unpleasant awakening. He sat up sharply, breathing hard, the images from a bad dream still on the edge of his mind. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. It felt greasy and he felt sure it wasn't a pretty sight.

Focusing on more important matters, Illya was horrified that it was now dark. The sound of crickets filled the night air and Illya could see stars through the gaps in the branches of the trees above them. He turned his attention to his fellow agent. Napoleon was still fast asleep, sprawled out on the ground as if he thought he was in a very comfortable king-sized bed. Illya grabbed his shoulder and shook it.

'Come on, Napoleon, wake up, now…' It took a few attempts but eventually Illya managed to wake his friend. 'We've overslept.'

When memory returned to him, Napoleon groaned. 'It feels like I've slept for a few minutes.'

'More like hours. I should have stayed awake. We really have to get moving.'

'As happy as I'll be to get away from San Rico, Illya, I don't think there's any great rush. Thrush obviously don't want to go to the trouble of finding us and poor Terry is probably half-way to Thrush Central by now.'

'No, we really have to go,' Illya protested. 'Earlier, I saw a fleet of Thrush vans heading for where the observatory used to stand. I think we need to see what's happening. Mr Waverly will be sending a clean-up team in a few hours and they won't be prepared for so many Thrushies.'

Napoleon took in the information and then nodded solemnly. 'That changes things, then. We'd better get going.'

'Right,' replied Illya. He got to his feet and then felt Napoleon grab his arm. He looked back down at his partner, who still looked very weary despite the rest. 'What is it?'

'It's fine,' Napoleon replied, quietly. He pulled himself to his feet, relying on Illya's arm for support as he did so. They were face to face and Napoleon smiled. 'Hey, I know some things are…difficult to talk about. But I'm glad we had it out earlier, about what happened.'

Illya dropped his eyes to his shoes. 'Yes. We needed to.'

'So…are things ok now?' Napoleon asked, a little hesitantly.

Illya looked up again. 'Everything will be ok, Napoleon, I will make sure of that.' He paused and a wry smile creased his lips. 'I meant what I said before. I'm going to ask for a transfer when we get back.'

Napoleon's dark eyes widened in a mixture of hurt and dismay. He tightened his grip on Illya's arm almost painfully. 'What?! Illya!'

'We're running out of time,' Illya replied, firmly. He pulled himself out of Napoleon's grip. 'We need to focus on the task at hand. I'm not going to discuss it any further, yet. Understand?'

There was little point arguing with Illya when he sounded this stubborn. Napoleon had tried it many times before and always unsuccessfully. With a frustrated sigh, Napoleon gritted his teeth and nodded. He followed behind his partner a few paces and they stepped out of their safe little area and into the night.

* * * *

Terry Cook winced against the bellowing voice.

'We're behind schedule!! I wanted the foundations of the place to be laid by now. Instead I get back to find you all lazing around…'

'Sir, please…'

'No excuses! Get everyone working through the night. I want that building up by sunrise. Now get on with it!'

The weary supervisor nodded and left his superior.

Mr Cole was clearly in no mood to argue. He looked around the large tent he had had put up for him and stormed around it. He almost kicked Terry, who was lying in a corner tied up. Terry looked up into the dark eyes of Cole.

'You know, whatever you manage to do, it doesn't change the fact that your organisation's little scheme failed miserably.'

'Miss Cook, please remember that if it weren't for an unfortunate accident you would be well on your way to Thrush Central. As it is, you're still in our hands. If you want to be spared then please watch your tongue.'

Terry fell silent. For all of a few seconds. 'What did you do with Napoleon and Illya?'

'They're dead, young lady.'

'I…I don't believe you!'

'It was for the best. They were out of control.' He scowled as he tentatively touched the still painful spot on his waist where he had been attacked with his own electrical devise of torture. 'Although, if I'd had more time with them, I had hoped to convince at least one of them to re-consider their future as U.N.C.L.E agents. They could have been useful.'

'They wouldn't have joined you,' replied Terry, quietly.

Cole checked the ropes that kept Terry tied up. 'I'm tired of you making a nuisance of yourself.' When he was sure she was not able to escape, Cole walked to the entrance of the tent. 'Stay quiet. Or you'll soon be joining your agent friends in death.'

Terry was left alone in the tent with nothing to do except watch the flickering of a lantern in the corner. She bowed her head and let herself softly cry out of despair and grief.

* * * *

The moon was shining over the wild landscape and there was an orange glow from the lights around the Thrush site. Below the hill where the observatory once stood, the foliage was disturbed by two figures who were making their way towards it.

Illya jumped onto a rock and looked up at the site they were still a safe distance from. 'Not far now,' he whispered.

Napoleon leaned against the rock and nodded. 'Good. Although what we're going to do when we get there is anyone's guess.' He rubbed his dark eyes and looked around. Then he noticed something large sticking out of a ditch and lit by the moonlight. He tugged Illya's shirt sleeve. 'Look there! Is that a car?'

Illya followed his partner's gaze. 'Yes…a rather broken car.'

'Let's take a look,' Napoleon replied.

The U.N.C.L.E agents hurried over to the crashed vehicle and examined it. There was no one in it.

'I'm sure this is the car that Terry was taken away in,' Napoleon said. 'Either the driver was very careless or she managed to get him to crash it.'

Illya jumped down from the side of the car which was upturned. 'Perhaps it's too much to hope for that she managed to escape. We have to assume she's still with Thrush.'

'Trust you to assume the worst,' Napoleon replied, raising an eyebrow.

Illya shrugged. 'It's always the safest thing to assume.' They exchanged a look and then continued their journey to the site.

Under the cover of trees and bushes, Napoleon and Illya got as close as they dared to the site. They dropped onto their stomachs and wriggled forward to peer out over what was now a building site. Both agents watched the Thrush workers run around like busy ants. They both noticed Mr Cole, stood outside a large tent and watching the building work very carefully.

'No sign of Terry,' whispered Napoleon. 'Though if they have got her, I expect she'll be in Cole's little make-shift headquarters there.'

'So, what now?' asked Illya, also in a whisper.

Napoleon watched the Thrush workers grimly. 'We could run down there cause a little mayhem. Depends on how you feel about taking on a very large gang of Thrushies.'

Illya frowned and dropped his chin onto his arms. 'Very funny. I was hoping for a little more of plan than to simply go in all guns blazing.'

'Guns? If only,' sighed Napoleon, looking down at his torn shirt where his holster would normally sit. His eyes them flickered across to his partner. Lying on his stomach, his head still resting on his arms and staring straight ahead, Illya didn't notice. Napoleon felt inspiration strike. 'You know, you look a mess.'

Illya lifted his head and turned to give Napoleon a piercing glare. 'You're no oil painting yourself.'

'This could work to our advantage.' Napoleon smiled. 'I have an idea.'

Illya brightened. 'You do?' He immediately felt a sinking feeling when he noticed the mischievous look Napoleon was giving him. 'I'm not going to like this, am I.'

* * * * *

Cole had his supervisors gathered in a huddle over the plans for the new satrap. 'You'll notice I also want a memorial made to go here, to honour Brown. Thrush Central will approve.'

One of his men looked puzzled. 'You want Gurnius named on it too?'

Cole glared at him. 'No. I've been informed that we were betrayed by our German ally. He deserves no special honour.'

As they were discussing other parts of the construction, a shout went up from one of the guards around the site. Cole and his men watched in amazement as a young man ran into view. He looked almost crazed. He was running and looking back over his shoulder with wide blue eyes, then stumbling. Most of the surprised workers stopped and watched the terrified man.

'Help!! Help me, please!! I need help, quickly!!' The man got back on his feet after stumbling and looked around frantically. He noticed Cole and then shouted again. 'You! I know you! Please, help me!!'

'Do you want us to shoot him?' asked one of the supervisors, pulling a gun from his holster.

'No wait,' Cole said. Cole waited and watched the blonde young man drop to his knees in front of him. He was a pitiful sight; his shirt was almost torn to shreds, dirt and blood-stains on his body and in his hair. He was breathing hard and his eyes were full of fear. He grabbed at one of Cole's trouser legs.

'I…I know you, Mr Cole…will you help me? He…he's trying to kill me!!'

'Who's trying to kill you, young man?'

'M…my partner…he started beating me…after we ran away….I've been running from him all day. He won't stop until he finds me and kills me…he won't forgive me for what I did to him!!'

Mr Cole smiled down at the desperate young man. 'Please, Mr Kuryakin, you've been out in the sun for too long.'

'No…no, it's true,' Illya replied, in a broken voice. 'I'm begging you to help me…protect me…please…' He slumped forward and Cole moved his leg so that the blonde agent hit the ground unconscious.

'How the mighty have fallen,' beamed Cole, looking at his men who also sniggered. 'I tried to break U.N.C.L.E's greatest partnership but it appears to have self-destructed without much help from me. I shouldn't have gone to so much trouble.' He gave Illya a brief kick, but he didn't move. 'Throw him in the tent. He must have heat-stroke. He'll either die on his own of dehydration or we'll deal with him in the morning.'

Two of Cole's men stepped forward and dragged Illya into the tent. They walked past a very bewildered Terry Cook, who had been asleep, and dumped the agent in another corner. They stood over him.

'Where's the rest of the rope?' asked the first one.

'Not much point using it,' said the second. 'He's out of it.'

'And what if he comes round?'

'Hey look, he's in no condition to fight. The sun here is pretty nasty. And if he's not had water all day…' The Thrush agent leaned closer to Illya to examine his breathing.

It was then that Illya sprang to life. Illya punched the agent before the Thrush man knew what was happening and he went down instantly. The other shocked Thrush agent leapt at Illya but his enemy quickly got the better of him. Illya kicked the agent onto his side and managed to knock him out as well with a swift blow.

Breathing heavily, Illya stood over the unconscious Thrush agents with his fists clenched. Then he sighed and turned to face a stunned young woman who was tied up close by. Illya smiled and pushed his long and messed-up hair from his eyes. 'Hello Terry.'

'Hi, Illya,' Terry managed to reply. 'Erm…wow.'