CHAPTER NINE
Illya Disappears Down The Brain Drain
In class on Monday Solo noticed that Illya seemed more focused and alert. The senior agent was now aware that nothing had shown up on the surveillance camera tapings over the weekend, including Sunday night.
Nor would anything happen later that Monday evening; so therefore both agents decided the cause of Illya's former malaise must be found elsewhere, and the Russian discontinued the taping.
However, by Wednesday Illya was complaining about the headache, fatigue, and intense dreaming again, and after class Solo told him to set up the camera surveillance once more.
"I know we decided the source of these issues didn't occur while you slept but you've also been feeling better until now."
Illya agreed—and this time what the camera caught was shocking and troubling to not only both agents, but to Mr. Waverly as well when Solo reported what they'd discovered.
"It is obvious the vapor or mist emitted into the room after Mr. Kuryakin is asleep acts as a tranquilizer to ensure he doesn't awaken when they come for him," Waverly commented thoughtfully through the connection on Solo's communicator.
The senior agent was sitting out in his rental car in the teacher's parking lot, and several yards away a group of students ambled across the campus green, laughing and talking together. He held the communicator a little lower as he responded.
"I thought I'd noticed a medicinal odor the last time I was in Illya's dorm room and found him deep asleep. Now I understand he had been drugged."
"And Mr. Kuryakin still cannot find an entrance in that closet where the men are coming through?" Waverly asked.
"So far he hasn't had any luck in locating it or a release latch. It's a very old mansion and now I'm beginning to suspect it holds many hidden secrets."
Solo heard Waverly sigh, and when the U.N.C.L.E. chief spoke again his voice was heavy with concern. "Do you feel it advisable to have Mr. Kuryakin's room changed while you continue with the investigation?"
"No, Sir, Illya and I discussed that. He knows there's risk, perhaps even danger, involved but he also feels as I do that we finally have a clue to what's been happening to some of these kids. Now we just need to find out who's behind it and why. If Illya changes his room that might frighten them off or they'll turn their attention back to another student."
"Very well. What is your next course of action."
Solo's expression grew grim. "Stand watch with Illya in his room tonight in the hope of catching his abductors in the act."
It was half past midnight when Napoleon Solo reached Illya's dorm room. The big house had quieted down due to the strict 10 p.m. curfew imposed upon Prichard students on school nights. Dean Channing had arranged for Solo, posing as a resident Prichard professor, to tour Webster House to ensure curfew was being observed by the students. School administration and teachers all did a stint of curfew monitoring at all the dorm housing on campus, and thus Solo's presence, as Professor Nathan Sinclair would not have seemed odd or unusual to any student who might have seen him roaming throughout the halls of Webster House that night.
He tapped softly at Illya's door and when there was no answer, Solo tried the door handle, finding it locked. He tapped again, but still there was no response, and immediately he knew something wasn't quite right since Illya had known to expect him.
Glancing around to be sure the hallway was empty, once again he proceeded to pick open the door lock.
When he entered the room he picked up on the same medicinal smell he'd noticed once before, but this time its odor was much stronger—and his heart began to race with fear for his partner. There was no sign of Illya although the small desk light was on and the Russian's bed covers were in disarray. In the previous night's taping the time lapse on the recording indicated that the intruders hadn't entered Illya's room until after 2 a.m. Why had they come so much earlier?
As a precaution Solo checked the bathroom, also finding it empty, and then walked over to the closet and turned on its light.
Inside it Illya's clothing hung neatly and there was no indication of any thing out of the ordinary. Just as Illya had also done, the senior agent checked along the side and back walls of the cubicle for a trigger mechanism that might open a secret doorway or panel, but also found nothing.
Momentarily frustrated, he stepped back out of the closet ….and for the first time saw the blood on Illya's pillow, which had been partly covered by the rumpled bedding.
With trepidation Solo went over and picked up the pillow. The stain was large and still fresh, and the agent knew without a doubt that not only had the younger agent been abducted again—but this time something had gone terribly wrong.
He quickly checked to verify if Illya had set up the camera to record that night, but he hadn't, likely because he expected Solo to be there with him if and when the intruders returned.
With a heavy heart he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out his communicator.
"Open Channel D. Solo here, Priority One," he ordered.
Almost immediately the familiar voice of Alexander Waverly, responded. Solo had long ceased to marvel that no matter what time it was, day or night, or what country or time zone he was in, the head of U.N.C.L.E. New York almost always seemed to be available.
"Yes, Mr. Solo?" Waverly intoned calmly.
"Sir, as you know I decided to do a vigil in Illya's room tonight and when I got here, he wasn't in it, although he knew to expect me." He took a steadying breath: "I noticed that strange medicinal odor when I came in, and there's evidence of a struggle…but I think something went wrong when the abductors tried to take him." His voice trailed off as he looked over at the bloodied pillowcase.
"What do you mean, Mr. Solo?" Waverly asked sharply.
"I think Illya must have somehow still been aware enough to realize what was happening and he tried to put up a fight…and in attempting to subdue him the kidnappers may have accidentally killed him. There's, ah, blood on his pillow, Sir…a lot of blood…perhaps from a severe head wound."
A long empty silence followed Solo's statement, and when Waverly spoke again he sounded tired and gravely troubled.
"Mr. Solo, the blood on the pillow might indeed indicate Mr. Kuryakin has come to serious harm or worse, but to what degree has yet to be fully determined. Whoever has been taking him obviously has use for him, and to kill him would likely not be part of their plan. They've not seriously harmed any of the other students at this point, and I think you must operate under the assumption Mr. Kuryakin is still alive even if he has been injured during a confrontation with his abductors."
"I know, Sir. I just thought I should apprise you of the possibility that an agent may be down," Solo murmured, still staring at the pillow.
"Continue trying to determine what has happened to that young man and where he's been taken, and report back to me any further findings."
"Of course, Sir," Solo replied, closing off the communication and slipping the pen-like device back into his jacket pocket.
With renewed determination he stood up and walked back toward the closet.