January 4 10:00
No one in the neighborhood thought twice about the two black sedans and a faded white delivery van parked a block west of the brownstone building where Illya Kuryakin was being guarded. None of the pedestrians hurrying along the sidewalks gave a second glance as four men in each sedan and two in the van exited the vehicles and stood together chatting and smoking nervously while they waited for the telling squelch of static on their communicators signaling them to pull up to the edifice and complete their assignment. Circumstances at UNCLE headquarters were getting increasingly bizarre and they didn't know what to think of the turn of events.
"Yes, sir!" Agent Finkmeyer smiled smugly as he capped his communicator and left his post at the third floor window in the safe house. "This is going to be rich", he muttered as he descended the narrow stairwell. Reaching the main floor he opened the doors to the parlor and stepped in. Nurse Elma was bending over her patient, preparing to inject another dose of sedative into the IV port, so intent upon her task that she jumped as Finkmeyer called out.
"Nurse, stop right now! Do not give that bastard the injection," Finkmeyer demanded.
"Agent Finkmeyer! What's wrong?"
"You are not to give Kuryakin any more sedatives!"
"But, Mr. Solo gave me orders to..."
"Napoleon Solo is no longer giving the orders." Finkmeyer sneered. "He has been relieved of duty and is currently in an interrogation cell keeping the bunk warm. Now move away from the prisoner," he ordered sharply.
"I can't do that, Agent Finkmeyer! This man needs continuous medical attention and he needs the sedative to help keep him calm. It will help him heal faster."
"The Section 1 Chiefs want him coherent during interrogation and for his trial. Besides, he won't be needing to worry about healing. The little Commie's only going to have to worry about one more injection. The one that will carry out his execution! Now, move...away...from...the prisoner!" He pulled his special from his shoulder holster to further convince her he meant business. With his other hand he opened his communicator and gave the signal for the waiting enforcement team to enter the building and take Kuryakin back to the medical holding cell at headquarters.
Fernando Yrigollen, Section 1 chief of South America, followed the guards and Napoleon Solo to the interrogation cells. As they stepped in to the security area, Yrigollen grabbed Solo's collar and spun him around to face him.
"I don't know what you were thinking, Solo. We know that Kuryakin is alive and where he is being stashed away. Rest assured that he is being returned as we speak, and he will stand trial for murder and treason tomorrow. Then we'll deal with you.
"Mr. Williams, this man is to receive only the basic needs. No radio, no television, and no communicating with the guards!"
The man turned away and headed back to Mr. Waverly's office.
Bill Williams was angry and frustrated as he watched three of his agents go through the protocol of booking a prisoner. It was a rather humiliating procedure not only for the sake of security but also designed to humiliate and break down the confidence of a prisoner. Prisoners were given a full body and cavity search. Rubber bite blocks were forced into their mouths as they were checked for false molars that might contain explosives or suicide pills. Full face and profile photographs were taken and then prisoners were finger printed. Never mind that the man in front of him was the most trusted agent in UNCLE. Never mind that they already possessed several id photos and that he had been finger printed many times before.
Embarrassed for Solo, as well as himself, he approached his prisoner.
"I'm sorry, Napoleon, this is not the way I would have handled the matter if I hadn't been ordered to do so."
Napoleon gave a sad half smile, shrugged his shoulders, and looked his friend in the eye. "Bill, it's okay. You and your men need to follow standard procedure no matter who the prisoner is, that's called doing your job. Besides, you don't want the Powers that Be breathing down your neck as well. You just do what you have to do."
"But this just plain isn't right, Napo..."
"Bill, it's really okay." He looked at the other agents who were waiting to go through the procedures. "Gentlemen, let's say we get on with it." And he started undressing.
After the booking process, Napoleon stood in front of the cell door with his hands cuffed behind his back. He had been stripped, searched, and given a jumpsuit to wear. His face was a mask of calm hiding the turmoil that dwelled within him. There must be a mole within the New York office. How else would Yrigollen know that Illya is alive?
One of the guards asked him to move forward into the cell. The door was closed and locked. Napoleon backed up to the bars and extended his wrists so the cuffs could be removed. Once his wrists were freed he walked over to the bunk and laid down. There was nothing more he could do except worry and sleep and right now he needed to sleep.
The white van, escorted by the agents in the two sedans, pulled into the emergency vehicle bay in the underground garage at UNCLE headquarters. Finkmeyer walked to the back of the van. Jerking the double doors open, he grabbed at the gurney Kuryakin was on and gave it a hard pull causing the medical attendants to lose their hold of the IV bags and their grip on the handrails and nearly upending it as it hit the ground with a vicious thud.
The injured agent screamed. The jarring pain from the harsh jolt was more than the pain drugs could compensate for, and the IV ports pulled hard at his skin.
"Hey, Finkmeyer! Take it easy!" One of the agents yelled. "What's your problem, man?"
Finkmeyer spun around, anger coloring his face. "What? You want to molly coddle this son of a bitch? Have you forgotten that he killed the Old Man? Or are you some kind of Commie lover?"
"Allegedly killed Waverly, Finkmeyer. Allegedly," the agent retorted. He didn't particularly care for Kuryakin, but he liked Finkmeyer a whole lot less. "We'll let the Chiefs decide his fate at the trial. Meanwhile, back off, man!"
Finkmeyer backed off. The medical attendants and nurse Elma checked their patient over then rapidly made their way to the infirmary and the medical holding cell.