Epilogue
"Begin at the beginning...and go on till you come to the end; then stop"
Allison Lydell stood within the growing crowd of gawking spectators being kept safely back behind police barricades as the old tire warehouse burned to the ground.
She hadn't quite told Illya the truth when she'd said she'd planted explosives in Carole Lewis's lab that would go off in mere minutes. She hadn't been that foolish not to allow them both plenty of time to escape, and so she hadn't actually set the timer until she knew Illya was safely away.
The other thing she'd kept from him (besides the fact she knew another way out of the bunker that led to the outside) Illya would learn soon enough once U.N.C.L.E. interrogated Leonard and Erik regarding their roles in Illya's abduction and captivity.
She smiled to herself at how she'd subtly manipulated Carole Lewis into encouraging Allison's seduction of Illya, something she had secretly wanted to do the moment she laid eyes on him.
Her gaze anxiously scanned the dozens of firemen, police, and U.N.C.L.E. agents milling about on the far side of the barricades, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the blond Russian. She was soon rewarded when she spotted him walking between Napoleon Solo and another man she did not recognize as they escorted him to a waiting ambulance.
Allison knew it would be protocol for U.N.C.L.E. to have Illya thoroughly examined by doctors and other specialists due to his enforced captivity. He'd also be able to tell them about Carole Lewis's memory machine and the drugs she'd been using on him, which ultimately would do him little lasting harm thanks to Allison.
She had saved not just Illya Kuryakin's life but his incomparable mind as well, and perhaps someday she would collect on that debt. And if and when that time came, she promised herself that she would also have him in her bed again. But for now she was satisfied knowing that she'd gotten him out safely and that he understood how much he'd meant to her despite his allegiance to U.N.C.L.E. and hers to THRUSH.
Allison watched until the ambulance pulled away, and then she turned and disappeared further into the growing crowd.
The paramedics had insisted that Illya lie still on the gurney in the ambulance while they checked him over. Satisfied that his vital signs seemed normal, they took their seats, giving Napoleon Solo a chance to talk more to his partner.
"Are you sure you aren't feeling any affects from what they did to you?" he asked with obvious concern.
Illya nodded and replied, "I've already told you and them" and he motioned toward the paramedics, "that I feel fine overall. I am just grateful to be out of there and back…." his voice trailed off and he gave Solo a strange, almost wary look.
"What is it? What's wrong?" the senior agent asked.
"Turn your face the other way," Illya said.
Solo blinked at him in surprise. "Why? Is there some reason you don't want me to look at you?"
"Napoleon! Just humor me, please."
Although thinking that his friend was now acting a little loony Solo shifted on his seat and turned to face the other way just to appease him.
Illya's blue eyes intently scrutinized his partner's face, and then he relaxed and gave an audible sigh of relief, quoting under his breath: "'Now that we have seen each other,' said the unicorn, 'if you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you.'"
"Is that some old Russian saying? What does it mean?" Solo asked, now thoroughly concerned about him.
The blond agent replied: "It's from a children's story I read once. For me it signifies that this is no illusion and I am really seeing and talking to you right now, my friend." He paused, then smiled. "Just promise me that you will never remove that mole on your face."
Once Illya had been given a good bill of health by the U.N.C.L.E doctors he was released to return to duty, where he gave Alexander Waverly his full report about what he could recall of his captivity, leaving nothing out, including his physical relationship with Allison Lydell and her subsequent efforts to help him escape.
Waverly had accepted Illya's report with little comment, merely saying he was happy his agent had been relatively unharmed and that THRUSH had learned nothing of consequence from him.
The next morning the Section Chief , Napoleon Solo, and Illya Kuryakin were all seated in one of the interrogations rooms in the lowest level of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters.
Across from them on the other side of a bulletproof glass partition sat Leonard Davies in manacles, and behind him stood Brad Campbell and another U.N.C.L.E. security agent. All parties could hear each other on speakers and microphones installed in each room.
Waverly and his two agents had been interrogating the THRUSH operative regarding his part in kidnapping Illya and how it was that Davies looked enough like Alexander Waverly to pass as his twin.
Speaking in his natural voice the prisoner had explained that he was a retired actor and impersonator whom THRUSH had recruited six months earlier because he already bore a striking resemblance to Waverly. He'd subsequently undergone plastic surgery to enhance that resemblance in the event it could prove useful, which it had recently in staging Illya's abduction.
"You say that you were recruited six months ago by THRUSH," Waverly noted. "Yet our reports indicate that the Jabberwock has been operating in the field far longer than that."
Davies looked surprised. "Are you saying that you think I am the Jabberwock?"
"Aren't you?" Solo asked. "He's said to be a master of disguise, and yours was certainly good enough to fool one of our best agents."
Leonard Davies smiled. "Gentlemen, many THRUSH operatives are recruited and trained to pretend to be someone else. You have merely apprehended two of us, and we are low-level at that so there is little I can tell you. I resemble Waverly…Erik resembles you, Mr. Solo…attributes which THRUSH and Carole Lewis put to good use in their efforts to retrieve information which Mr. Kuryakin stole and memorized. But we have also played other roles. Surely you young men," and he indicated Napoleon and Illya, "have used disguises and other identities doing your job as U.N.C.L.E agents."
"Yes, that is true," Illya responded. "But if you are not the Jabberwock, then who is, do you know?"
Davies gave him an amused look. "You have already spent some delightful time in her company, young man."
"Sir, are you saying that…Allison Lydell is the Jabberwock?!" Illya exclaimed, looking dumbfounded.
"Our dossier on...this person…indicated this secret THRUSH operative is a male," Waverly frowned.
Davies shrugged. "Well, gentlemen, I am telling you the truth. Allison Lydell—and that is not her real name, of course, nor her true appearance—has even disguised herself as a man for the very purpose of throwing U.N.C.L.E. and the KGB off her perfumed scent. But because she betrayed EriK and myself to you, I have no qualms in revealing who she is."
"She had to know you'd tell us this," Napoleon replied.
"Of course, Mr. Solo," Davies nodded "Erik and I were intended to serve as her calling card, so to speak. But ultimately it matters little that you know as she is a most cunning and dangerous creature who has little fear that U.N.C.L.E. will ever catch her...yet curiously, she chose to catch one of you."
He looked over at a disconcerted Illya Kuryakin...and gave him a Cheshire Cat smile.
(Sloww FADE OUT...)
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!"
There you have it, and I hope you enjoyed this new fic; and as always I thank you sincerely for reading as well as reviewing and/or commenting!
I mentioned in the opening that hearing the iconic 1967 song "White Rabbit" by psychedelic rock band Jefferson Airplane (easily found on YouTube) was a partial inspiration for this story. The song was among the first to sneak references about psychoactive drugs and magic mushrooms past radio censors.
For anyone caring to read them, here are those lyrics, as written by the band's lead singer/songwriter Grace Slick, who was inspired by what she perceived as subtle drug symbolism in Lewis Carroll's *Alice* books (which is certainly open to a debate I'm not getting in the middle of, ha!, but there is plenty about that online):
One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all
Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall
And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to fall
Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call
Call Alice
When she was just small
When the men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low
Go ask Alice
I think she'll know
When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's off with her head
Remember what the dormouse said
Feed your head
Feed your head
(copyright by Grace Slick 1966-1967)