Mark Slate – All About Our Next Plan
It was the biggest shock of my life when I found out that Illya was going to leave fieldwork in order to get married. I mean, I always sort of believed that it would take a hell of a lot more than a woman to tear Illya away from Napoleon. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing kinky or gay or anything about them, it's just that they have been through so much together, and Napoleon has backed up Illya, even getting himself declared legally dead so that he could follow Illya on a desperate mission in Russia and Ukraine three months ago*. Illya would do as much or more for Napoleon in a heartbeat, so the strength of love and attachment that Illya must have felt for Claire had to be strong enough to even overpower his attachment to Napoleon. And then Claire was killed.
How on earth must Illya have felt? I've lost people, most of us have I suppose at some time or another, but it seems that Illya has lost just about everyone he has ever cared about…except for Napoleon. In his place, I wonder if I might start to think that I was somehow under a curse? That Napoleon was jinxed just by hanging around me. Fortunately, Illya doesn't believe in that stuff.
I would give a lot to see that bloke genuinely happy because something good has happened for him. When he found his brother's daughter three months ago, his niece Katiya, he seemed happy for a while, and then he lost her when she and her grandpa had to go into hiding. All he has left of her now is a letter once a month.
I know the others have already talked about the shooting, and the stuff at the hospital, and the fact that Napoleon had to take off after Illya, who climbed out of the hospital window and down the fire escape. April and I were busy at the hospital, dealing with the details surrounding Claire's death, dealing with her family, getting them settled in local hotels and hospitality suites, and then we drove mister Waverly back to headquarters.
Sam Darkly called me via communicator and told me that Solo wanted April and I on the investigation and brought me up to speed with all the results of their work so far. Mister Waverly was more than happy for us to go out again. It seemed he had concerns of his own. He gave the two of us a stern warning before we left.
"Remember Mister Slate, Miss Dancer, this is to be a professional investigation. By rights Illya should be back in the hospital under guard until the investigation is completed."
"Because he is personally involved, sir?" I replied. Waverly nodded. "Illya is justified in being extremely angry and vengeful, and we cannot have matters being handled that way. Mister Solo too, as Illya's closest friend needs to exercise caution. I don't want any one of you to jeopardize things by your…zeal."
So me and April left headquarters. April was calling Napoleon on her communicator as I backed our car out of its parking space.
"Napoleon? It's April. Mark and I are free now and on our way to join you. What do you need?"
"Confab first. Meet us at Joe's Place, ten minutes."
"Righto."
Joe's Place was a greasy spoon diner, not hot on keeping his place well decorated, but everything was clean and he cooked the best fried and grilled food in New York State. April and I arrived first, and being as we were both hungry, we went ahead and ordered a lunch. After all, we had missed out on the meal we would have had at Illya's reception. I hate to sound heartless about that, but it was gone three thirty in the afternoon by this time, and all I had had to eat that day was a hot muffin. I ordered the house special; fried eggs, bacon, sausage, tomatoes, hash browns, mushrooms et al. April ordered herself an omelette and toast. Very ladylike. She tends to eat like a butterfly in front of Napoleon and Illya, but believe me, when she and I are on a mission together she can pack it away as well as I can.
We were halfway through our meal when the guys came in. They were both looking the worse for wear. Napoleon had a dressing on one cheek and dried blood in his hair; Illya had a large and slightly bloody dressing on his scalp where the bullet had winged him, that looked like it was missing a substantial bandage. They sat down and poured themselves each a glass of water from the jug on the table but refused food.
"You two look like you should both be in medical." I told them. Napoleon gave a wary smile. Illya glared at me.
"I won't find any murderer sitting in medical!" he snapped. "We…"
Solo glanced at his partner, and Illya subsided at once with a soft, "Sorry". April and I exchanged glances.
"You need to know, both of you that Mister Waverly is worried about you."
Illya's glare if anything intensified. I felt myself shudder. That bloke can be ruddy scary at times, you know.
"Do not worry yourself, Mark. I will not be embarrassing anyone."
For a moment, a flash of anger ripped through me. Why was he taking things out on me? I was only the blasted messenger! I quickly quashed those feelings though. After all, today would have to be among the worst day ever for Illya, and the day wasn't nearly over yet. I tried to imagine myself in his position, but I couldn't. I thought back three weeks ago when my sister had sent me the news of my mum's death**. I thought about the emotions that had ripped through me when I first learned of it. It was not difficult to do. I had only got back from her funeral a week or so ago, and immediately tears started unexpectedly to my eyes. Suddenly embarrassed, I dived into my food again and when I looked up, Illya was offering me his handkerchief, a slight smile of empathy on his face.
"Here, Mark. I'm sorry. I keep forgetting that I am not the only one here who has…"
"Hey mate, forget it. I'm with you all the way. Just a tip though for what it's worth…the old man says that if any one of us over reacts in any way at all, anything that would prompt someone to question our motives, the three of us, he says, will finish our days scrubbing out the toilets and drains, and you will be shipped back home in disgrace."
"Which would mean the firing squad." Illya agreed. "Fine, we are polite all the way to these heartless murderers. Where do we start? We have to find the sniper from the van, and think of some way to find the traitor inside UNCLE."
I stared at him.
"A traitor inside UNCLE?"
Napoleon nodded.
"So what will this traitor be after?"
Illya raised his eyebrows.
"We have reason to believe that the machine-gun fire was intended to cause chaos, not to kill anyone. The sniper with the shotgun was after me."
"When poor Mildy was killed?"
Illya nodded. April finished her meal and sat back with her glass of water.
"So what will this traitor do now that he knows he's failed? Try again?"
Napoleon shook his head slowly.
"This couldn't have been planned for long, more of a last minute arrangement. Although everyone has known for a month about Illya and Claire, no one knew about where and when the wedding was happening because of Mister Waverly attending. We clapped a veil of secrecy over it for security, and only released the details in the last three days. Even then the `where' was need to know. So presuming that the snipers and gunners were from THRUSH, who knew and could have tipped them off?"
We all thought hard. April glanced at me.
"It seems to me that finding out who this traitor is will be easier if we can work out why they set this up. If they wanted to get Illya out of the field, or simply break up the magic combination of Solo and Kuryakin, why try to shoot Illya? Just let him get married and he is out of their hair."
"Hmm." Napoleon was thoughtful as he sipped his water. He put his glass down suddenly and leaned forward, his eyes bright.
"Hey, what if the traitor has his own reasons for hating Illya and wants him dead? It would have made more sense to just shoot him in person, but…"
Illya interrupted.
"Napoleon, for someone to decide they've had enough of me and shoot me directly is likely to be suicide. Someone who wants me out of the way would be more sensible to contact THRUSH and offer to betray UNCLE in return for a favour…"
"Exactly. So now THRUSH have themselves a mole inside headquarters who will be forced to do their bidding or risk being revealed. What will THRUSH decide? Try another sniper attempt?"
April shook her head.
"Been there, done that and failed. What they want is for you two to be taken out of the field, or at the very least, split up so that they can get a better shot of winning…one of you being easier to deal with than both of you."
I was frowning, trying to catch at an idea that was floating in my mind, but just out of reach. April must have caught my expression for she dug me in the ribs and made me jump.
"Hey, you have an idea Mark. What is it? Give!"
I shook my head slowly. I looked from Napoleon to Illya and back again.
"Rather than wait for this mole, this traitor to make his next move, why not tempt him with something? That way you can set the rules yourself?"
Illya's eyebrows lowered slightly.
"In what way?"
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"I'm not sure. It…it sounds like a silly idea, but…if you wanted to break up me and April for instance, make sure our partnership was broken. Or if you were ordered to somehow make it happen, killing one of us might be your first idea. But if, when that failed, we returned to headquarters and started to argue and quarrel, what would be your first thought?"
Napoleon's eyebrows arched in surprise.
"I might just decide to encourage the quarrel…possibly start rumours or something…anything to encourage the quarreling to continue."
I nodded.
"If you want to find this traitor sooner rather than later, now would be the time for you to return to base and set things in motion…considering everything that has happened today if you try hard enough, you might find something to twist suitably into a…" I paused and fell silent, feeling suddenly very awkward under Illya's icy stare. After a full minute of that icy blast directed at me, Illya blinked and turned to Napoleon.
"I hate that idea Napoleon. I hate it, but I think it might just work…"
"What will we quarrel about, Illya?" Napoleon countered, fascinated but clearly reluctant. Illya shrugged, a lop-sided smile playing about the corner of his mouth.
"I don't know. You could be angry with me for attacking you and knocking you out."
I felt my eyes open wide in surprise.
"You did what?"
Napoleon flashed me a weary smile.
"It was an accident, but yes Illya, I could do that. You could…sorry Illya…you could accuse me of failing you on your…er…hmm…you know."
"On my wedding day, letting my wife be killed."
"Umm yeah. That."
Illya was looking closely at his partner and suddenly the penny seemed to drop with something of a clatter.
"Napoleon, you are feeling guilty because of Claire…aren't you? You know it was not your fault…and it was my suggestion that when we left the building you would bring up the rear…you were inside when everything kicked off. How could it possibly be your fault my friend?"
I won't go any more into that conversation. After all, all of us were in shock that day, and Napoleon and Illya the worst of all of us. Napoleon was deeply upset because he failed to protect Illya's wife, Illya was upset at having lost her and at himself for having lost his perspective over the case…all in all, ten minutes of tears and angst, explanations and then deciding on a plan of action between them to put my idea into action. First, Solo decided, they would have to go in to see Mister Waverly and let him in on the plan and the reasons for it. Otherwise…
Meanwhile, April and I would track down the shotgun sniper, the man who had killed Agent Mildenhall. A two-pronged attack. I hoped and prayed we could get things sorted out quickly. April and I got up, and she smiled as she took my arm.
"If we meet any THRUSHies then guys, and they ask how you are, we tell them you have started fighting like cat and dog and blaming each other for today's events?"
Illya glanced at Napoleon who returned the glance and then nodded.
"Yup. We're both reasonably good at acting. We'll put on a good show."
"All the best with it." I said, feeling my gut wrenching in sympathy with them. "Come on April, we can start by tracking down the owner of that transit van."
Feeling our colleagues' eyes on our backs, April and I left the café to start our investigation.
MFU
MFU
*The Lake of Tears Affair
**The Rose
