Mark decided he would start at the oldest footage and work his way forward while April studied the footage of the attack.
He stopped when Murdock appeared in the shot, going slowly forward and zooming in at the approach of a young woman. Wishing there was sound, he watched that section then watched it a second time before calling April over.
"My lip-reading skills must be rustier than I thought. I can't make out a word either of them are saying."
"Let me have a go at it, darling."
As Mark had done, April watched the sequence all the way through, then restarted it again.
"I see your trouble, Mark luv. They aren't speaking English. Were I to hazard a guess? I'd say they're speaking Russian, but I don't know the language well enough to be positive."
Pursing her lips in thought, April rolled a pencil between her fingers.
"Someone spotted Illya in the vicinity at an earlier time, sent some agents back to verify. Illya's known for having donned some fairly elaborate disguises . . . the height difference couldn't be attributed to makeup though."
"Not entire true, April. You can fake a few inches with the right shoes - Illya said he wore shoes once that added about five inches to his overall height and that's only an inch off HM's height. Which is close enough that most folks wouldn't be able to tell the difference unless they were side by side." So, how bad was the attack?"
"Very. Howler couldn't even defend himself. Four against one? The only time someone unarmed beats those odds is in a TV show or a movie. How long before Napoleon and Illya come home?"
"Mister Waverly said they were able to get things settled quicker than expected and should be back tomorrow night. He also made the call not to tell them what's going on. Nothing they could do until they return, so why spoil whatever sleep they might be able to grab between now and then?"
"Goodness - look at the time. We worked right through lunch. I don't know about you, darling, but I need a sandwich and at least two cups of coffee before going over the rest of this footage. Let's give our eyes and backs a break and walk to see what might be left in the cafeteria."
Mark agreed wholeheartedly. One thing they both knew from past experience was that a few minutes away periodically from any sort of intense studying to clear the brain was far more likely to bring positive results. The walk also gave them time to process what they had already viewed.
"This whole setup doesn't sound like a move T.H.R.U.S.H. Central would make, April. I'm wondering if we have a rogue agent or satrip involved."
Both agents jumped when a voice spoke up directly behind them.
"Those are my thoughts as well, Mister Slate. Would you and Miss Dancer accompany me to my office? Miss Eklund is arranging some light refreshments for us all."
"Gladly. She's one of the few folks in this building that knows how to brew a proper cup of tea."
"Learned from her mother who was once part of the support staff for the British Olympic team. In fact, her father was an assistant coach for the Swedish Olympic team - the two of them met in the Olympic village and the rest, as they say, is history."
April entered the office as Mister Waverly held the door for her.
"That's a lovely story. It seems I've met several in our organization that have Olympic ties - even Illya does. That seems a bit odd."
"Not really, Miss Dancer. Keep in mind that even though the athletes are there to represent their nations, for many of them, those sporting events are their first real opportunity to view people from other countries as individuals rather than as a faceless mass. Seeing other nationalities face to face is the first step to humanizing them. Viewing a man as a talented opponent instead of the enemy for the first time can be a life altering experience."
"I'd never thought of it in those terms, sir."
"You, Miss Dancer, were born in a country that is of a size that is, frankly, incomprehensible to most who were born overseas. For example, were you aware that you could fit approximately three countries the size of the United Kingdom in the state of Texas alone? One state out of fifty and it is larger than most countries."
The three settled down at the conference table in Mister Waverly's office, April deciding to join the men in taking tea with her food. A member of their intelligence section rapped on the door, then came in long enough to drop a file off to Mister Waverly, which he accepted before dismissing her. Flipping through the pages as he sipped his first cup of tea, a bemused look came across Mister Waverly's features.
"This Mister Murdock of yours. He can be a bit unpredictable, I take it?"
April and Mark exchanged a quick look before April answered.
"Unpredictable is . . well, almost too tame a word for him, sir."
"Our people have picked up some chatter from one of the local satrips. See what you make of it."
Mark took the offered folder and April shamelessly leaned over and read along with him. Mouth opening, she reread a section, then looked up at Mister Waverly.
"They deliberately let him escape and then lost him?"
"Along with one of their young agents. The two of you have the most experience with Mister Murdock - have you any idea what he might be doing?"
Mark closed the folder and shook his head.
"HM was a prisoner of war. He has been known to have flashbacks. If their treatment of him has triggered one of those, there's no telling what he might do next. If he's in the present, he'll look for a way to let us know where he's at. If he's thinking he's in an enemy country? T.H.R.U.S.H. won't be the only ones having trouble finding him."
While that meeting was going on, Murdock was putting the finishing touches on a shelter that, even when only a few feet away, blended into the surrounding area so well as to be near impossible to spot even if looking for it. Alyona was, quite frankly, impressed by how much Murdock had been able to accomplish that day with very limited resources. He shrugged it off.
"Grew up on a farm, went to Scouts, had survival training and picked up a lot of other stuff out of pure necessity, little lady. Here, help me crush up some of these leaves and spread them around. The smell of them will help keep bugs from snacking on us while we sleep."
"But, shouldn't we keep moving? They are bound to be looking for us."
"While I have no doubt that's true enough, it's going to be dark pretty soon. Brush is pretty thick and we'd be likely to get tangled or twist an ankle in a hole that we can't see because the moonlight can't get through the canopy real well. Besides, we aren't very near any roads and even if they use a helicopter with a searchlight? Look up. All they're going to see is the tree I built this nest in. They won't see us that way. And if they come in by foot, they'll have to be looking up. I mean, it's weird, but most folks flat out forget to look up, but even if they did, I think I've got us pretty well covered. Now, I wasn't able to gather much in the way of food today, but tomorrow, I'll do better since the shelter's already finished. Eat up."
Noting that Murdock had given her the lion's share of the meager food had Alyona's guilt twinging again. She drew the line when he insisted that she take the blanket.
"Nonsense - the blanket is big enough to share. Besides, it will be warmer for both of us that way."
Murdock didn't argue with her and took the time to combine the leaves he had heaped as a combination of cushion and insulation. As they settled down in that gathering darkness, she felt him pat her shoulder after he spread the blanket over them.
"Get some sleep and try not to worry, little lady. It's me and you against the world - as long as we stick together, we'll do fine."
After the day spent hiking and assisting Murdock, even Alyona's growing disquiet couldn't keep her exhaustion from causing her to fall into one of the deepest sleeps she'd ever known.
