Illya Kuryakin was sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning against the wall. Napoleon Solo didn't move, with the back to his friend. They kept silent. None of them was dozing.
-Evan Stellon was there for you, Illya. So was Mikey.
Lost in thought, Illya Kuryakin startled. The voice was amazingly... absent-minded.
-They helped you. All of them. Stellon, Mikey, Cutter, April... and Waverly, of course.
The Russian was at a loss for words. Napoleon Solo was just ... phrasing. He talked to.. himself. Suddenly, the older agent got up.
-It's late, Illya. You were right. I'll leave you alone... and go back home.
And his friend saw him walking towards the door , picking up his jacket.
-Napoleon , What the hell are you doing ?
Napoleon Solo stopped, and answered, still the back to his partner. At least... he had stopped.
-Just what you asked for two hours, Illya.
The voice was now strangely strained. He wasn't angry. Illya Kuryakin came up to him, next to the door, and took hold of his arm. Napoleon Solo stiffened, but didn't turned towards his partner.
-Look at me, Napoleon. Tell me. What's wrong ?
-Let me go, Illya. Everything is all right. I am just a little tired.
Illya Kuryakin released his grip, but let his hand on the arm.
-Look at me. Please. Yes, they helped me. All of them. I know it. And, Napoleon, so did you. As you did, this night. As... you always did.
Napoleon Solo took a deep breath, and gently pulled away his friend's hand. At last, he turned to him.
-If I had been locked in this jail...
-Oh, please, no, Napoleon ! You already told me that.
-No chance, Illya. You would have found a way to ...
-No, no, no, Napoleon. I wouldn't. You did what you could. More than you had to. You saved my life... and I saved yours. As usual, my friend. We are so good at it. Aren't we ?
The Russian gave a meaningful smile.
-It's late, Napoleon. Too late. I have a spare room. This way, my friend.
Napoleon Solo sighed.
-No, Illya, I can't...
-No choice.
Illya Kuryakin's countenance was surprisingly calm. He gently smiled, but his voice didn't allow any discussion.
Alexander Waverly woke up. He felt dizzy, as you feel when you sleep soundly, and then, suddenly awake. The house was silent, but the number one section one, pulled his gun out. You could be out of the field... As long as you worked for the Uncle, you had your gun under your pillow. It made his wife mad. Not very romantic. Not very safe. He got up, grabbed his flashlight and walked out of the bedroom. He didn't know exactly what happened. Probably nothing. Probably he was going to make a fool of himself, if he woke up Jules Cutter. Footsteps? Voices ? He had heard something... or he was getting too old for those games. He slowly went down to the living room. Eventually, he lit up. The house was still silent, and he was obviously the only one wandering along. He sighed and sat down on his armchair. Too old for the job... Retirement... Amazingly, there were rules, concerning the agents. Not really concerning the number one section one. Waverly bitterly shrugged his shoulders. Apparently, people relied on the leader's own judgement. Barely logical. Hardly wise. « The Old Man »... Waverly sneered at himself. He knew that they called him « the Old Man ». A sign ? No, the name went with the job... « The Old Man » could be 40 years old... And perhaps, some day... it could be ... a woman. Waverly shook his head. It was late, and he needed to sleep. His communicator suddenly beeped. He jerked, and caught it.
-Mr Waverly ? Is everything okay, sir ?
Of course... they saw the light... they checked. He sighed.
-Yes, yes, everything is okay.
-So, that's fine, sir. I am sorry the noise disturbed you.
-The noise ?
-Yes, Mr Cutter had to go back to the Survival School, but he didn't want to wake you up.
-What do you say ?
Alexander Waverly foamed. He looked daggers at the poor guards sheepishly standing in front of him. So, Jules Cutter had left the house. Apparently, he had been called back to the School. And those stupid... just helped him ! He forced himself to calm down. Of course, those men knew Jules Cutter. They ... they had no reason to suspect him. The governor of the Survival School. One of the Old Man's closest friend... He was the one to be blamed. He dismissed the guards, with a soft tone.
Cutter's face. When he had seen Evan Stellon. Surprise. Doubt. Trouble, Then, smile, satisfaction, cheer. It could be because they lose the most convenient suspect. It could be something else. Cutter had probably his communicator... Of course, he had. He didn't answer.
-Illya, I...
They wouldn't know what Napoleon Solo was to say. His communicator beeped.
-Mr Solo ?
-Yes, sir.
Automatically, Illya Kuryakin went back to the bedroom, in order to dress up. If Alexander waverly called in the middle of the night... Well... he looked at his watch. A little after the middle of the night, it was rarely to ask you if you slept well, or to wish you a good night. Napoleon Solo followed him, still listening at Waverly.
-Did you call the airport ? The School, sir ?
-Of course not, Mr Solo. I don't want to create a buzz... I'll call them tomorrow. I want you to pick up Mr Kuryakin. You'll check the airport.
-But...
-Jules Cutter is probably on his way to the Survival School. His communicator may be out of order. If I call... and if he is not... We have to be discreet, Mr Solo? And careful. Our friends from the Commission would like that...
-Oh, yes, sir. We leave immediately.
Illya Kuryakin was waiting for Solo's explanations. The older agent gave him notice of Waverly's worry, while they left the apartment and picked up the car.
-Napoleon...
-Yes, Illya, I know.
April Dancer had to choose one way or another. She could wait. Evan Stellon would talk to Waverly... A few hours later. She could do something. Right now. She could report. Immediately. In the other hand... she wasn't eager to call Alexander Waverly in the middle of the night. Stellon's story was disturbing, yes.. But it was also hazy. Logically, she had no option, but to contact... the CEA. He would probably be mad at her, in the beginning. Or she could call Illya... But she wasn't one to bear a grudge...
-Napoleon ?
-April ?
They kept silent. April was now reporting to the Old Man. Illya Kuryakin drove, and his partner stared at the strained profile. The Russian looked straight on. He felt Napoleon Solo's gaze, but concentrated himself on the road.
-Jules Cutter doesn't answer, Napoleon. We are wasting time.
-What do you mean ?
Illya Kuryakin rubbed his forehead.
-That's what I wanted to tell you : if Jules Cutter was on his way to the School, he would answer. He has his communicator. No doubt. If he doesn't answer...
-If he doesn't...
-He must be in trouble.
-Or we... could be in trouble, Illya.
No comment. Just a pout.
Beep, again.
Waverly. They were wasting time. He had called the airport. Cutter wasn't there. They had to come back to the headquarter. Illya Kuryakin made a U-turn without a word.
They were all in Waverly's office. Again. Exhausted. Evan Stellon sat beside the sketcher, and depicted the man he had seen. Waverly puffed at his empty pipe. April Dancer and Napoleon Solo sipped their coffee. Illya Kuryakin leaned against the wall, with a faraway look.
Disappear. « I'll be indulgent with you... » Bayle could hardly breathe. Indulgent ? No. Stupid. No, not stupid. The shock had hit him like a punch in the stomach. But now, he could think again. This man should have been mad at him. He should have threatened him. He should have ... And he hadn't. He had ... scolded him, as if he was a naughty child. It was not logical. The man wasn't really angry... He sounded bothered. With... Bayle was almost sure of it... with a hint of relief. This man had his own secrets... At least, he was safe, for the moment. And he had been given a free hand. End game ? How interesting... But he wanted to play. Again. And he would win.
The sketcher put the sheet of paper on the desk. Evan Stellon leaned forward.
-Yes, sir. That's him.
Napoelon Solo picked up the drawing, peeped at it, and handed it to Alexander Waverly. The Old Man stared at it, then gave it back to his CEA.
-Mr Solo ? Check our files, with Mr Kuryakin.
Napoleon Solo nodded, and they went out of the office. At least, the computer would help them to consult all the files.
-Illya ? Are you okay ? You look terrible...
-So do you, Napoleon. Show me this paper. Thanks to the computer, we...
Napoleon Solo looked at his partner with surprise. What he saw made him froze. The young man had bleached, his hands shook, and he dropped the paper. He staggered back to the wall. Out of breath. On the edge to pass out.
-Illya !
-I... know this man, Napoleon. I know him. It's the man I saw in my dream. It's him.
-Illya...
-Do you understand ? He ... he is real. He exists.