Andropov handcuffed Solo's hands behind his back, and the girl Sonya did the same to Elliott. He barked an order and Maxim brought him a telephone, and then after making his call several more men appeared to escort the agents to a back room. The prostitute had hitched herself onto Kiril's wagon, sensing his power and she of course liked his money though she earned it the hard way. This man and woman had invaded the territory of the Murmansk, and she had a strange sense of loyalty to it as she sided with Kiril against these two whom she sensed were threatening the club and her living.
Napoleon and Elliott were both strapped into chairs then searched. Removing Napoleon's wallet, and dumping the contents of Elliott's purse; the men taking it all with them as they left the room with it all for Kiril to view the contents.
Andropov entered a few minutes later fuming with anger as he threw their U.N.C.L.E. ID cards on the table. Then suddenly smiled. "So U.N.C.L.E. is trying to hunt the hunter enh? How is my dear brother Illya doing? I am sure that he is now climbing the proverbial walls in your headquarters, as he was never one to take being confined very well, especially if he is still in the hospital. He was never a patient man like myself. Tell me, will he still have the use of his hand?"
"Illya is fine," Napoleon smiled, "and looking forward to a family reunion."
"As am I," Andropov said, " I have found it quite surprising to find that my brother was married and had a family, but I suspect you know that I already took advantage of that information after my little bit of arson at their house. Sadly that manuever did not draw my brother out as I had hoped. Perhaps I need to think this differently, instead of killing him...I should dispose of his family first and make him suffer before he dies."
He was clever, watching Elliott for any signs of reaction and only her eyes gave her away. Stepping towards her; he pulled the blond wig from her head, revealing her red hair.
"You bitch," he said to Elliott, "I knew there was something familiar about you. You are his wife," he said, and I not being sure as I had not gotten a good look at your face that night.
"Sorry ye are mistaken, I'm no one's wife. Our organization doesn't permit that...marriage that is."
Kiril slapped her across the face. "I know who you are. I heard you tell the ambulance driver that night in the alley that you were his wife!"
Elliott's shoulders slumped having remembered uttering those words to the medical tech in the heat of the moment. In her carelessness, she was responsible for the attack on the house," she told herself, " Kiril would not have known to look for their family had he not discovered Illya was married.
"Feck," she mumbled to herself, then her fierce temper took over. "Ye go near my babies again and I'l feckin' kill ye with my bare hands, I will!"
"Elliott!" Napoleon called to stop her but it was too late as her threat now confirmed Andropov's suspicion about her identity.
"Da, good so it is you! You will be useful to draw Illya out into the open I think...but first I will have a little fun." He grabbed Elliott by the back of her head, kissing her violently while he groped her with his other hand.
"Leave her alone Andropov!" Napoleon barked at him.
He released her as she spat defiantly in his face, but gave her no reaction as he wiped off her spittle with his arm, then turned suddenly punching Napoleon in the jaw, laughing as he released Elliott from the chair and pulling her from the room after him.
Napoleon was at least alone now and after a few minutes he managed to wiggle the lock pick concealed in the hem of his sleeve into his fingers then he set to work on opening the handcuffs.
He finally freed himself after several minutes of some awkward maneuvering, then exited into a surprisingly unguarded hallway.
.
Andropov looked down hungrily at Elliott as she lay cuffed, spread-eagle on the bed.
"So," he grinned, "time to sample what belongs to the great Illya Kuryakin. Do you think he will mind sharing your pussy with me...we are after all family?" He pulled at her dress, ripping it in the process then bent forward licking and sucking on one of her breasts, then he bit into her but Elliott only showed him a wince of pain."
"So you are a strong one bitch. We'll see how strong you are when I have pounded on you for a bit?"
He tore her panties away, then unzipped his trousers, letting them drop as he preparing to rape his brother's wife.
Elliott cursed Kiril in several languages as he positioned himself to enter her, telling him that if she didn't get to kill him, then Illya would.
At that moment Napoleon burst through the bedroom door, seeing Andropov on top of Elliott; he charged the man grabbing him and pulling him off her, pounding him with his fists to the floor and into unconsciousness.
When the deed was done Napoleon, he quickly searched the man's pocket for the hand cuff keys then freed Elliott's hands and feet. He pulled her up from the bed and held her shaking body for a moment, then wrapped her in the sheet to cover her.
"I'm all right Napoleon, ye stopped him before he could...he know. Thank ye," she said, letting him hold her for a moment.
He admired her courage, knowing that she had been raped violently once before, thinking that a lot of other women might have fallen apart at their husband's brother trying to molest them.
There was a dress hanging in a nearby wardrobe and Napoleon grabbed it, handing it to her to put on. He turned his back as she dropped the sheet, slipping the small sequined mini dress over her head. Once on she realized that her breasts were near fully exposed in this skimpy attire and she cringed at the sight of it.
"May I borrow yer jacket, this get up is not leaving much to the imagination? " she asked.
Napoleon slipped it off, still keeping his eyes averted like a gentleman, even though he'd seen more of her than he'd wanted to remember.
She put it on, holding it tight around herself. "Right then, let's get what we came for and get the hell out of here?"
Napoleon cuffed Kiril's hands then picked him up, hoisting him over his shoulder then he and Elliott headed out into the hallway. She leading the way with Kiril's Tokarov in her hand. They made their way into the gambling room...suddenly Andropov came to, screaming out in Russian.
His men appeared from the shadows, surrounding them, forcing Napoleon let Kiril down.
"Nice try Solo," Kiril said pulling the agent towards him by the shirt and without warning, head-butted him.
Napoleon's head flew back as blood trickled down from his forehead and nose and he fought for a moment to steady himself.
"Voz'mite ih obratno v komnatu_take them back to the room,"Kiril ordered.
A small man with a moustache stepped forward, his face like the others hidden by his hat. "Da," he mumbled then grabbed Elliott by her arms, holding a gun to her head. Suddenly she caught a flash of bright blue eyes from beneath the brim of the hat.
He pulled Elliott along, followed by another more burly man holding onto Napoleon. As they entered the holding room the smaller man turned without warning, slamming his gun into the head of his fellow thug and knocking him out.
He removed his fedora, speaking softly. "I thought you might need some help," smiled Illya Kuryakin.
Elliott went immediately to her husband's arms. "Illyusha, this isn't good."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Napoleon demanded.
"As usual, getting you out of trouble. Once Elliott let slip about Kiril being at The Murmansk, I knew you would be in trouble, and I knew that there would be no way she would not be coming here with you...and do not worry lyubov' moy," he said to his wife," the children are safe in the secure location with Olga as well as a security team.
Illya pulled two more pistols from his coat pocket, handing them to his wife and his partner.
"That evens up the odds now a little more enh?" he smiled. "But do not hesitate to shoot," he whispered, heading out into the hall towards the gambling room, " as this lot would kill us in the blink of an eye."
As soon as he opened the door Illya let off two muffled shots, bringing down the only men there.
They exited, heading down another hallway leading to the front room filled with the prostitutes and Maxim working his deals with the Johns.
The three agents hid their weapons, trying to walk past them all, when a familiar voice called out to them.
"Ah, so Illya Nickovich you have decided to come see your brother after all? And leaving so soon without so much as a good bye...how rude of you? Have you at least not learned any manners in America? Now drop your weapons all of you and slowly place your hands on your heads. No sudden moves."
The three agents complied as Andropov moved closer to them.
"Kiril, you do not need to do this," Illya said softly." You can stay here, we can be...family. You will be happy here as I am." Even after all Kiril had done Illya had softened and was still willing to try to make peace with only living relative.
"Happy...happy?" Kiril yelled. "Following in the footsteps of the great agent Illya Nickovich Kurayakin, the very reason for the sufferings in my own life?"
"As I told you before, you are responsible for your own misfortunes, not I. You could never admit that could you?" Illya retorted.
"Nyet! It is you! You caused my life of misery. I had to always walk in your shadow, and did not even have the satisfaction of having our father's name!" Kiril cried out almost like a wounded child.
He drew a blade from the back of his jacket, throwing it down; the point landing in the floor at Illya's feet in challenge. Kiril was a master with a knife and Illya knew it.
"Illuysha don't!" Elliott pleaded.
"Ah see brother, even your woman knows that I am better than you, especially when she felt me between her thighs, " he taunted. "but she was not as good a lay as I was for her.
"He's lying Illya, don't listen ta him." Elliott said.
"Nothing happened!" Napolen called, " don't let him egg you on tovarisch."
Illya remained emotionless as he bent down, picking up the knife in his right hand.
"No Annushka, tonight it ends one way or another." Króshka, ya lyublyu tebya_ baby, I love you." Illya said, then turned his attention back to his brother. " Kiril, you let them go, it is me you want."
Andropov laughed waving his men to take hold of Elliott and Napoleon, pulling them back.
Kiril gave no answer but was bemused at his brother's show of weak sentiment towards the woman. He then assumed a hunched position as he began tossing his own knife back and forth, hand to hand.
Illya took a fighting stance, the knife remaining in his right hand, as his left was still bandaged.
They circled, Illya and Kiril watching each other's moves like hawks they moved in and out mirroring each other for minutes. When suddenly Kuryakin jabbed, feinting with his blade then his body. Kiril rushed at him sweeping with his knife, catching Illya's shoulder with it, drawing first blood and stunning him for a split second.
Andropov smashed his fist into Illya's bandaged hand as he used it to cover the bloody wound on his arm
And was the momentary distraction that Kiril was waiting for, assuming he now had an advantage when he threw his blade at his brother, but Illya ducked from the oncoming weapon then leaped at Andropov. He grabbed him by the throat with his injured hand, wrestling backwards with him across the floor, then took his own knife sticking it point first under Kiril's chin, but then he hesitated.
"Eto vaxh sobstvennyi delaet Kiril_this is your of your own doing Kiril, " Illya said to him."Surely you have to know this? Please, I ask you not to make me do this?"We...we could be brothers?
Kiril only answer was to spit blood in his brother's face.
Illya's anger returned. "Zatem idite k chertu, vy grebanyi ublyudok_ then go to hell, you fucking bastard!" he snarled, as he gave the final violent push against the against handle of the blade, driving it deep into Kiril's neck as he listened to the gurgling sounds of his death throes. He released his brother's body, letting it drop to the floor.
The hookers began to shriek, then they and Maxim scattered like cockroaches in every direction as the retreated from the building.
Napoleon and Elliott turned on the men holding them, taking them down with some strategically placed karate chops. Illya spun, diving to the floor grabbing two of their abandoned weapons, tossing one to Napoleon while he fired his own, taking out one of the goons. Solo reached out catching the pistol in mid-flight, firing it and dispatching another of Kiril's men...the rest ran off, following the hookers and Maxim out of the building.
When it was all over, Elliott walked over to her husband, wrapping her arms around him as Napoleon placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.
Illya stared coldly at Kiril's body, knowing like their father, he too now had committed his own sin...he had murdered his brother. Part of him regretted it, yet part of him did not as he had to do what was necessary to protect his children, his wife and himself.
"Well in this case we can say the adage doesn't hold true,"Napoleon said softly," Yablo ot yabloni nedaleko padyayet_the apple falls not so far from the tree."At least in reference to your broth...ugh, to Andropov that is.
"At first Illya caught in his private thought felt insulted by his partner's remark but then he knew better. Napoleon in his own way was telling him he had done the right thing, as Kiril was not really family and never could be as he was filled with too much hatred and self-loathing.
"Very good Napoleon." he tried smiling. " I think you are finally beginning to get the gist of Russian colloquialisms, now if we could just work on your accent?" Illya broke the tension with that little joke.
Elliott could feel her husband's body trembling just a little as she still held him in her arms " Ye did what ye had to, and now it's over. Don't punish yerself for it? Now let's go get our babies and go home."
Illya looked into his partner's sympathetic eyes, then his gaze shifted to the body of Kiril Nickovich Andropov, knowing that Alexander Waverly was not going to be pleased. He was having one of his intuitive moments, feeling that this was not quite over with yet.
.
Finis...well not quite.