Chapter 21

A GRUESOME DISCOVERY

Pulling up at the side of the road, April covered her face with her hands and for a moment she sat there, taking deep, gulping breaths. Sam Darkly twisted slightly to look at her.

"You okay there, ma'am?"

April smiled wanly at him and nodded.

"That has to be about the hardest thing I have ever had to do."

Darkly nodded.

"I expected them to be bitter, or angry at us or something. But they were all just so nice!"

"Mister Solo's family are always gracious and welcoming, even when the skies are falling around them. Right now, I think it might have almost been easier if they had been less grateful for a visit."

"At Least they haven't thrown any of Mister Kuryakin's belongings away anyway."

"I knew they wouldn't do that. All of those things in that crate, Sam, represent Illya's whole life since he arrived in this country."

"A record player, a set of china, some books and records? That's it? That's his entire life summed up? Not much of a legacy for a man to leave behind."

"I know. But he's saved lives, Sam. Mine, Mark's, Napoleon's many times, Mister Waverly's too…Illya became almost like a son to Napoleon's mother."

"They're the ones who organized Illya's memorial service, right?"

April nodded and breathed deeply, wiping her eyes.

"Yes…look, can we stop talking about this? It's just too…"

Darkly nodded in understanding, and April pulled back into the traffic.

Mark Slate sat in Waverly's chair, with the head of section three Devlin Maseko sitting opposite.

Maseko had never had a great deal to do with Agent Mark Slate in the past, and he had to admit that from the distance, Slate had never really made a huge impression. Sitting here now, though, with the man sitting in Mister Waverly's chair, fixing him with a very direct, almost Illya-esque stare, he had to admit that Mark was making more of an impression now.

"So, you completed the full security check?"

"Yes…sir."

"And?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, sir."

"What about the secret surveillance of the canteen and kitchens?"

"Consistently under camera surveillance sir ever since yesterday. We have not yet viewed the tapes."

Mark stared at the man.

"Wait, you've been recording the action, but no one has been monitoring live? Are you sure you remember what it at stake here Mister Maseko?"

Maseko looked indignant.

"Of course I remember, but I have had half my force seconded into the full sweep of the building and systems, several of my men sent out on bodyguard duty, and those available for the live monitoring I considered too green to be…"

He broke off as Mark held up his hand.

"All right, all right. We don't have time for this!" Mark interjected, and then he paused and rubbed his eyes. "We can at least view these tapes ourselves and if we see something happening that shouldn't be, recorded evidence will be exactly what we need. Let's pipe it through here right now shall we, and see what we can see?"

The two men watched carefully as the meals were prepared, and they watched as the UNCLE cook prepared the tray for the prisoner. Last night's supper, one paper cup of tea, one of orange juice and one of water, a plastic plate loaded with roast potatoes, baked ham and green vegetables, a large slice of chocolate cake in a large napkin. They saw a large napkin laid out on the thin plastic tray, and a plastic knife and fork laid on top of it. So far, so good.

Mark carefully made notes of everything he was seeing, and they moved on to the next meal. Breakfast this morning. Simply several slices of buttered toast in a napkin, and the usual three paper cups; one of tea, one of orange juice and one of water. Mark nodded to Maseko in dismissal.

"Do you want me to continue monitoring?"

Mark nodded.

"For the time being…view the tapes yourself if you would…looking out for anything that strikes you as odd…out of the ordinary. I'm sure you know the kind of thing and let me know if you come up with anything. I need to compare our information here with our prisoner."

George Dennell was once again on duty watching Moran on the view-screen. He waited for Mark to give the security knock then unlocked the door.

"It isn't time for you to relieve me yet is it?"

"No. Who was on last night?"

George glanced at the list in front of him.

"It should have been Malcom Tanner, but he came down with food poisoning...he called me and asked me to cover, or to arrange cover. I agreed and was just leaving when I had a call from Mister Waverly telling me that he had covered it himself and not to worry."

Mark frowned.

"What shift was that for George?"

"Twenty-thirty hours until twenty-three hundred hours…that's strange, the space has been left blank. No one signed in."

The two men looked at each other.

"George, you said Waverly called you? What exactly did he say?"

"He said he was going to cover that time himself, so I needn't worry until morning."

Mark nodded.

"Mister Waverly would not sign in on the register because he is able to monitor everything from his office. There is one big problem. Waverly could not possibly have told you that he was going to cover himself."

Dennell's eyebrows raised.

"Well that's what he said, why?"

Mark looked George in the eye.

"Because Alexander Waverly was at the Russian Embassy from seven o'clock yesterday evening, until just after midnight. There are approximately two-hundred guests to confirm that…including my partner and myself. When did he telephone you?"

"Some time before midday I guess."

"Were you at home?"

"Of course not, I was in my office catching up on some reports."

"Can you get your secretary to check the phone records and find out where that telephone call came from?"

"Sure. Right now?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Mark set his sights on the screen in front of him and at the same time, running his eyes over the journal of events left by everyone watching the day before. Same old, same old. Moran had very little to do stuck in his cell. Mark couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the man. But looking at him now he seemed to be keeping his sanity together by continuing his enraged ranting.

The longer Mark watched the security screen, the more he began to feel like he had seen this before. The first shift he had spent in here, Moran had been ranting and pacing in this exact same way. And yet the other watchers had reported that although the ranting still happened every so often, the man had started to calm down a lot more. This agitation was of a man who was newly incarcerated and determined that shouting alone might be enough to melt all the locks. Mark shook his head.

"This is not right."

He took his communicator out of his pocket.

"Miss Rogers."

"Miss Rogers here." Came her voice almost immediately.

"Switch to secure channel please."

"Channel secured. What's happened, Mister Slate?"

"I need you to check the camera feeds from Mister Waverly's office. The recordings of the prisoner's wing. Have the tapes been copied or is the computer being tapped? Can you check it out straight away for me and let me know what you discover?"

"Right away sir."

Biting his lip, Mark sat back in his chair, thoughtfully watching the screens.

Twenty minutes passed and there came the sound he was waiting for. The security knock. He opened the door and found both George Dennell and Lisa Rogers standing there looking ill-at-ease. They entered and stood before him both shuffling. Mark raised one eyebrow.

"I take it from your expressions that both of you have bad news for me?"

They nodded in unison. Mark nodded.

"Very well, George, what did you come up with?"

"The computer voice authentication system confirms that the voice on the phone was definitely Alexander Waverly, and the call came from his office."

Mark nodded slowly, taking in the information and turned to Miss Rogers.

"The computers in Mister Waverly's office…they are not being tapped…but I can confirm that someone directly in the office at some time since the original footage was recorded, has made a duplicate of a portion of it…it has to be someone with adequate seniority to have access to the entire computer system. But, there is some good news."

She handed a small box to Mark who stared at it, turning it over and over in his hands. He looked up in surprise.

"Is this what I think it is?"

She nodded.

"It is a sort of transponder…designed to tap into telephones…if this was to get out into the open market, criminal types would have a field day with it. If you program a phone number into this device and then hide it in the vicinity of that particular phone, you can make any phone call, from anywhere, to anywhere in the world, and the call will always be routed through that chosen telephone. The chosen phone would receive all the phone bills, and the original caller would be all but untraceable…at least without highly specialized equipment."

"Hmm." Mark mused. He picked up his communicator once again.

"Security, send a team down to the cell block immediately and check upon our newest prisoner. Report to me in the security office."

"Yes sir," came a voice from the communicator. Mark rubbed his chin.

"Someone has copied a portion of our surveillance material on Moran and is playing it to us here and now. Which suggests that the prisoner is no longer in his cell. Someone has seemingly got a recording of Waverly's voice and played it to George in a telephone call that has been deliberately routed through Waverly's office. Thanks to that phone call, we know there was a two-and-a-half-hour break yesterday evening where no one was watching the security cameras. Plenty of time for someone to get in there and visit, speak to or rescue our prisoner. If it wasn't for this transponder device, all the evidence would seem to point to Alexander Waverly."

"Unless the transponder was put there by Waverly to throw some of the suspicion away…"

Mark stared at George, who fingered his collar uneasily and gave a nervous laugh.

"Just a suggestion…"

"Whatever happened during those two-and-a-half hours, was not Waverly. He was a guest at the Russian Embassy at the time… remember?"

"Sir, did everyone know about the Embassy Ball last night?" George asked. Mark glanced at Lisa who shook her head.

"Only a few…I did, Heather did, Darkly and Fielding, Foster and Sambrook of section three, the new fellow from THRUSH, Jackson…but they were all together for the entire evening…in Waverly's office watching live camera work from the Embassy. Most of the staff knew nothing about it. A lot of the women saw Agent Dancer in her ball gown, and she simply told them she was going to a fancy dress party dressed as Cinderella at the ball. No one thought twice about it."

At that moment, Mark's communicator pen blipped. He picked it up and activated it.

"Slate here,"

"Sir, you had better get down here."

"I told you to report to me in the security office."

"Sir, it is important that you come down here and see for yourself."

Mark glanced at George.

"Continue here for a bit? I'll see that you're relieved as soon as possible."

"Of course."

Mark and Lisa left the room. Lisa returned to her duties and Mark headed for the elevator. He found a man from security waiting for him when the doors slid open.

"This way, sir."

Mark knew the way already, but he could see this man was agitated and wondered what was the cause of it. Half way down the corridor he met a second security man, who nodded formally and let them pass, then rather than follow, he remained where he was. Mark was aware that something grave must be awaiting him at the end of the corridor. He arrived at the cell door, where the security chief was standing with two men. The cell door was closed.

"Mister Slate, sir."

"What have you found, Chivers?"

Chief Chivers pulled back the narrow grill which afforded a very restricted view of the cell. The prisoner was nowhere in sight. Mark frowned.

"What, is he asleep or something?"

Chivers shook his head.

"No sir. We found the door locked, but there was no sound from the prisoner. The last meal delivered has not been eaten. The prisoner knows that if he does not replace the tray on the ledge, he will not receive any more meals. The tray was absent, and his next meal is almost due. I thought it prudent to unlock his door to ascertain the state of his health."

"And what did you find?" Asked Mark, half afraid of the answer. In reply, Chivers unlocked the door and swung it open. Moran lay on the floor of his cell in a pool of blood. His throat had been cut. Mark stared, and then turned to Chivers.

"No one has entered this cell? Picked up anything? Touched or removed anything?"

"No sir."

Chivers was the most honest and upright man Mark had ever known. He had reached his position within UNCLE by merit alone. If he said no one had touched or removed anything, then it was true. Mark nodded.

"Well, there is no weapon in there, so whoever did this has walked…or run…away with a bloodied knife in their possession, and likely blood on themselves too. Is that likely?"

He looked up at Chivers.

"Keep this area completely secure for the time being. I will send down Doctor Simpson, and he will arrange for the body to be removed. I like the way you arranged your security along the corridors. If you could secure this entire wing similarly, I would be obliged."

"Can I take two men away from guard duty?"

"Guarding whom?"

"Jackson, sir…the fellow you captured from THRUSH."

"Yes, he is being taken care of for now directly by section two. Call me if you need to."

"Sir." Chivers nodded and walked away, communicator in hand to begin his deployment. Mark made his way back to the elevator, his communicator in his hand.

"Open Channel D. April?"

"Channel D. April here. Hi Mark."

"Where are you?"

"UNCLE garage. Mission successful."

There was a slight catch in her voice that Mark did not miss.

"It couldn't have been easy. Are you all right partner?"

"I'm okay Mark. I feel so sorry for Mrs. Solo. We'll be up in two ticks."

"Meet you in our office."

Mark signed off and stepped into the elevator. They definitely had a traitor within UNCLE walls. Once he arrived in the office he shared with his partner, he sat at his desk just a moment before April and Sam came in. Mark picked up the telephone and held up a hand to his partner to stop them speaking for the moment.

"Lisa? Good. Can you get me Mister Waverly's home number please? …Hello, Mrs. Waverly? …Hello, it's Mark Slate here…no, that is quite all right, it was you I need to speak to if you don't mind. I just wanted to ask did Mister Waverly make it home all right? The traffic was pretty bad and we were concerned that's all…he is? Good. Do you mind telling me what time he arrived? I need you to do me a favour… whatever happens, until I speak to either of you again ma'am, do not let him out of your sight or hearing….no, there is no danger, but there is a good reason why we need your husband to stay at home until I call back. If he argues with you Mrs. Waverly, tell him I called and he will at least understand the reason…thank you so much Mrs. Waverly…goodbye ma'am."

April and Sam were looking at him strangely.

"What's happened to bring that on?"

"Someone has been trying hard to frame Mister Waverly as the THRUSH mole." He told her, "but fortunately for us, they have made mistakes. Close the door, Sam, and I'll bring you up to speed."

Mark explained to them what had been discovered so far. April looked up.

"George is watching for nothing, then."

Darkly looked bleak.

"So how do you intend to play this one Guv? If someone is feeding recordings into the security room, that suggests that they don't want you to find the body yet, but as soon as the next meal is sent down the balloon will go up anyway."

"I know. I considered keeping up the farce of keeping watch and all of that, but it's a waste of time really. April, will you go and let George know what has happened and cancel the watch program for me? By the way, you got that stuff of Illya's?"

She nodded and handed over a small phial with a rubber stopper.

"I suspect you would use a small nailbrush or something to paint it on."

Mark and Sam glanced at each other. Sam guffawed.

"I don't carry nailbrushes around with me through the day, what about you, Guv?"

"No, nor me. I don't suppose you would…?"

"Well, when I have spoken to Mister Dennell, I will return and see what I can find."

With that, she smiled sweetly and left the room.