Jules Cutter muttered. He knew that Alexander Waverly was right. However, he hadn't to like it. Since Stellon's disappearance, there was a bit of an atmosphere in the School. A mix of guilt and fear. Barely perceptible, but real. Waverly was right : he probably was the next target. But what would his men, his recruits, think of him ? The young Stellon was a nice guy, and he would be... have been ?... a good agent.
-Illya !
Napoleon jumped out the car and ran towards the other car. His partner leaned back on the seat, eyes closed. The older agent thought his friend had passed out, but the blue eyes opened, and Illya faintly smiled.
-You were ...nearly ...late, my friend.
Napoleon Solo knew better than to answer. He looked at the Russian with an air of dismay.
-Get out of this car and let's take shelter from the rain !
Illya Kuryakyn shook his head. The effort had left him drained of strength, and he wouldn't stand up and walk on his own. Napoleon Solo slipped his arm under his friend's shoulder, and helped him to the dilapidated cabin. April Dancer joined them with the bag. She hugged the Russian, still leaning on his partner for support.
-Illya, I knew it. I ... couldn't believe that you were dead.
-This... came very... close.
-Illya ! You are shivering ! Those clothes are drenched !
She helped him to undress, and to put on a dry sweater. She was to throw away the soaked jacket, when the Russian hissed.
-No, please... April... In the pocket...
She groped in the pocket and got out the medal. Without a word, but an ironical smile, she slid it in her own pocket. Napoleon Solo averted his look.
-We can't stay here, Napoleon. Illya needs...
-I am fine...
And the Russian was shaken again by a coughing fit.
-Just what we can see ! Let's go. I... I know a place.
-The car...
-What about the car, Illya ? We'll leave it there, and...
-No !... we must... destroy ... it... If someone ... finds it... they'll know...
He was right. Illya Kuryakyn was officially dead. They could take advantage of that.
Alexander Waverly thoughfully read the reports. His secretary knocked and came in.
-Mr Waverly ? We ... we'll have to organize something for Ill... Mr Kuryakyn, and...
Waverly frowned and sighed. Yes, he had to look to that... He nodded at her.
-I'll see at it. Can you call Mr Solo ? I have to talk to him.
-But... Mr Solo isn't here, sir.
-What do you mean, « Mr Solo isn't here. » ? He isn't on any assignment !
-Er... I don't know, sir, but Mr Solo didn't come, this morning.
-Did he call ?
-Er... No, sir...
Waverly motioned her to go out. He took his communicator. No answer.
-Napoleon... you should... answer.
-Later, my friend, later.
The car was now down the rocky slope. April get in the sedan, panting.
-And now, Napoleon ? Where are we going ? Oh, that's your communicator ! You should answer !
-Later.
-But it must be Mr Waverly !
-Probably.
Napoleon Solo still bore a little grudge against his superior... and he was determined to enjoy this little revenge... Of course, he would answer. But the Old Man could wait one or two hours... Illya needed some real rest, in a bed.
-Napoleon...
A cold hand grabbed his wrist. His partner was lying on the seat, still shivering, despite of the heat. At least, the coughing fits had almost ceased. The hand squeezed his own.
-Napoleon ? Why don't you...
April sneered.
-Why ? He... is just sulky, Illya !
-Sulky ? Napoleon ? Why ?
Napoleon Solo kept on driving. He knew where he was going. The hand slipped along his arm, and fell down.
-Tell him, Napoleon.
-You are mad at him... because of what happened ?
-I am not mad at ... Okay. I have been mad at him. And at you, partner mine. Because you didn't tell me. You ... plotted. And the Old Man announced your death. Yes, I was mad at him, and at you. And don't tell me that I behaved like a child ! Mikey and ... April already did !
-Waverly wanted to protect you, my friend...So did I... He thought that you could be ...our mole's next target, ...and that he could take advantage ...of my « disappearance »...
Illya Kuryakyn was speaking softly, he obviously looked concerned.
-I know that, Illya, and I understand. I... would have done the same... had he asked me...
The communicator beeped again.
-Napoleon...
Napoleon Solo chuckled and gave up. He held it out to the Russian.
-Answer him, Illya.
Alexander Waverly had an uneasy feeling... He tried again, but Napoleon Solo was still silent. He didn't really know if he had to worry. He asked his CEA to act on his own, just in case. . It was simply caution... The problem was... Had he reasons to fear ?
He remembered the young agent, just coming from the Survival School. Amazingly relaxed. Self-confident. Rightly self-confident. Otherwise, Cutter would have fired him. Efficient. Brilliant. An extraordinary « social creature ». Some could consider him as superficial. A skin-deep appearance. A part he perfectly played. A womanizer... but he didn't look for deep emotional bonds. A good fellow... but he didn't really like to work with a partner. Alexander Waverly knew why. Napoleon Solo didn't fear for his own life... But he refused to take the risk of losing someone he would care about. He had experienced it.
Waverly sadly smiled : he had « teamed » him with his new Russian agent. Cutter had rolled his eyes... Napoleon Solo had frowned. Illya Kuryakyn had... acknowledged.
He called again.
-Mr Solo ?
Jules Cutter grabbed his bag and ran towards the sedan. The driver was waiting, ready to go. Cutter got in the car which moved off immediatly. A car, a driver... and probably some bodyguards. Waverly was really worried. Cutter looked around. In fact, two other cars were following them. He sighed.
Bayle couldn't help sneering. Alexander Waverly was great. Really great ! Thanks to him, they got rid of the Russian. Now, he obligingly handed to them Jules Cutter on a plate... Bayle pouted : he had a regret : he wouldn't see Cutter's face... when he would realize who was driving him...
Illya Kuryakyn coughed, and his partner suspiciously stared at him. The face was pale ; the features strained... he looked exhausted. He couldn't answer. Of course. Napoleon Solo took back the communicator.
-Yes, sir ?
And he didn't miss the faint smile on his friend's lips.
-Mr Solo ! What happens ? Where are you ?
-It's a long story, sir.
-I don't ask for a bed story, Mr Solo ! Jules Cutter will be here soon, and we have to talk. Come back immediately.
-I am afraid... I can't do that, sir.
-I beg your pardon ?
Alexander Waverly was puzzled. Napoleon Solo's tone was... different. No, it wasn't different. It was ... normal. Respectful, with a spark of humor. This normal tone was ... abnormal : Napoleon Solo mourned for his friend. He was angry. The last time he spoke to him, his tone was dull, cold.
-Mr Solo ?
Napoleon Solo mischievously grinned at his partner.
-Excuse me, sir. Someone... someone would like to greet you...
Alexander Waverly's usually emotionless face expressed the greatest surprise.
-Goodnight, sir. I... I am pleased to hear you.
The Old Man gulped... took a deep breath.
-Are... are you, Mr Kuryakyn ? I want you to know... that I am extremely pleased to hear you, too.
-Where are we going, Napoleon ?
April whispered. Illya Kuryakyn was more or less asleep.
-We are close, now. We ... are going... well. I could say that we are going ... home.
-Home ?
-My grandma left me a house... We'll be safe, and we'll care about Illya.
-Napoleon, Mr Waverly refused to know where... Why ?
-The mole, April.
-Mr Waverly ? We... we might have a problem.
-What about ?
-Mr Cutter's flight arrived as scheduled. But...
-But ?
Alexander Waverly eagerly insisted.
-But ?
-We saw him get in the sedan, and they moved off, with the bodyguards. But, sir... We've just found ... five bodies...
-And ?
-The driver, sir. And the four agents.