ACT VII: A Thrush In The Coop
At the first intersection in the road Solo pulled aside and waited, pretending to read a map. He heard the motorcycle before he saw it. The throaty growl became louder at an amazing rate. When the bike came into sight, he decelerated instantly. The rider was decked in full racing gear and being careful not to attract undue attention. By the time he crossed Solo's path his speed was substantially lower and he didn't give the agent a second glance. Solo tucked the map away and pulled his bike out from the crossroad. This was the only road to the small town nearby, and it made sense that another person would be on it at this point.
Solo kept a respectable distance as he followed the assassin. There was only one pub, and that's where he found the bike parked. The agent parked his bike next to it, dismounted and made an effort to look casual.
After leisurely removing his gloves and loosening his jacket he joined the afternoon crowd in the pub. Once his eyes to adjust to the darkness he spotted the rider immediately. Leathers were hard to miss. He was in a far corner talking with two others at a table. The cigarette smoke was heavy in the darkness of the interior, and Napoleon cursed the poor visibility. Finally, someone pushed the front door open and lingered, which allowed the light to filter its way to the back of the room. When Solo saw the dimly lit face sitting at the table, he was grateful for the haze and ducked his head.
The racer was talking to Devin Knight, a top Thrush man last known to be working out of Austria and well known for his stable of successful hit men. They had known that the Danzigs had a formidable power struggle ahead of them, but hadn't expected a preemptive strike. How Arthur Danzig responded would tell all; fall back and regroup, or all-out war?
The agent pushed thoughts of the future aside and focused on the immediate question of how the famous Danzig security got such a huge hole blown in it, and how this could possibly affect his undercover partner as well as the mission.
Napoleon casually finished his drink and left the pub. When he was clear, he pulled out his communicator.
"Open Channel D, overseas relay," he requested. After a few moments and a few clicks, the recognizable voice of his boss came over the waves.
"Mr. Solo? Is that you?" Mr. Waverly sounded flustered.
"Yes, sir," the agent responded.
"Good. I was just going to contact you. I have some information for you on Talia Inova," he began. Solo's eyebrows rose.
"Go ahead," Solo said.
"Since we want to know where Miss Inova has been since her days at University, I went through Mr. Kuryakin's file and located the last incident that both he and Miss Inova worked together. She disappeared right after that incident, which was the defection of a mathematician and his wife from Russia. The husband has since died so the records have been unsealed. The man's widow may be able to give you more details on the incident and where Miss Inova went after that. The woman, Sophia Transenburg, now lives in Paris."
"Transenburg?" Solo questioned. "That's the name they took after the defection?"
"Yes. It's oddness made her easy to locate, actually. Mr. Slate and Miss Dancer are in that area rounding up your assault team. One of them can contact her."
"Good idea, sir. I'll arrange that. And something else has come up. Marcus Danzig has just been assassinated."
"Is that so?" Solo could just picture the old man puffing furiously on his near-dead pipe as he mulled that one over. "Who was behind it?"
"I followed the assassin to no other than Devin Knight. I see a coup in progress, and Illya's cover could be blown. Our phone tap alluded to that possibility. We need to know where Danzigs' investigators are. I'd like to send someone to the Ukraine to find out if the real Androv Inova has been discovered."
"Yes. That's a good idea. Split up Slate and Dancer. The assault team is assembled and waiting for insertion. They can delegate that job and split these new assignments."
"Yes sir. Consider it done. Solo out."
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Napoleon had reached April at precisely the moment she collapsed for the first break she'd had in days. Assembling an assault force was a major undertaking in itself. The fact that they had to be stealthy in treacherous terrain to surround a seemingly impregnable compound only complicated matters. She plucked the communicator from the breast pocket of her jumpsuit and opened it with a sigh.
"Dancer here."
"Hello, April. How's it going?"
"Napoleon! Do you have any idea what you've dumped on us? Leave it to you to test us to our limits."
"Well if you can't handle it…"
"I didn't say that, luv. You just don't give a girl time enough for outside pursuits, if you know what I mean. And Paris is so lovely in the spring!"
She heard a low chuckle on the other end. "As are the young men strolling on the Champs d'Elysee? You'll be glad to hear, though, that you will be able to take a break for a bit!'
Immediately suspicious, she frowned at the pen. "Why don't I like the sound of this?"
"My aren't we skeptical today. We need some information on a woman named Talia Inova."
April pursed her lips. "The woman that started this whole affair? What more do you need?"
"I need to know her motives. Why is she doing this? And, I'd just like to know what she's been doing since 1952. That's the last time Illya worked with her."
"OK, I'll bite. Where am I going?"
"Outside of Paris to interview a woman named Sophia Transenburg. She and her husband Mikhail defected in 1952 with Illya and Talia's help. That was the last case they worked together. Talia disappeared after that. Find out what happened."
"The inscrutable Mr. Kuryakin isn't telling?"
"Not only is he not telling, he's saying there's no need for us to know this information. I'm curious as to why."
"Me too. Consider it done."
"And April, time is of the essence. Associates of Devin Knight have just assassinated Marcus Danzig. There may be a mole in the Danzig compound. I need to know who we can trust." Solo gave her the last known address of the Transenburgs, and signed off to contact Slate.
+++++++++
Grimy with dirt and grunting with exertion, Mark Slate was never so happy to see a box of ammunition in his life because it was the last box he had to load. With that finally done he collapsed onto the bumper of the van, panting heavily. Next to him was a second panting agent that had been helping him.
"This is quite an assault force," the other agent breathed, wiping his brow.
"It's quite a target, so I understand. We have time for a cold one before I go." The warbling of his communicator interrupted that thought, and he rolled his eyes as he pulled the slim pen from his pocket. The other agent barked a short laugh and moved off. "Slate here," he said, wiping his grimy hands on his coveralls.
"Mark! How's it going?"
"The only good thing about this whole effort is that I get to empty the boxes at the bad guys eventually," he stated wearily. "What do you want now? A tank?"
Napoleon's low laugh emitted from the pen. "Good idea. I'll keep that in mind. Actually, I have a lighter chore for you. After the items are shipped I want you to take a side trip."
One eyebrow arched in curiosity as he eyed the pen. "I hope it's to a nice beach resort."
"Unless the Ukraine has a tropical beach I don't know about, I wouldn't count on it. Pack your parka."
A tired sigh escaped the Englishman. "Then what?"
"Marcus Danzig has just been assassinated. He had some investigators in the Ukraine trying to find the real Androv Inova. It seems a minion of Devin Knight's managed to milk one of the investigators for information and contacted Danzig on a private line just before he was murdered."
"Devin Knight of Thrush assassin fame? So, Knight is following Danzig's boys. If he's trying to pull the rug out from under the Danzigs before they even get started, he's off to a stellar start."
"I think so, too. We have to make sure no one has found the real Androv and try to keep the lid on all this until we're sure the program is recovered or destroyed."
"I understand. I'll be off in a bit."
"Solo out."
+++++++++++
Napoleon slipped his communicator back in his pocket and chewed on his lip. With Devin Knight in the picture, difficult was now approaching impossible. Security was going to be practically impregnable in the Danzig arena, and there was still the possibility of a retaliatory strike. How far would the Danzigs go? Who was going to control the Odysseus program at the end of the week? Knight was a careful man; he rarely took chances. The possibility of a plant on the Danzig pay roll put Illya was squarely in danger. He mounted his motorcycle and raced back to the rocky outcropping. They had to move their makeshift base to a more remote spot and get in touch with his partner.
++++++++
Talia spent the next hour settling Monica. Illya managed to stay near her and keep an eye on the movements outside the house. After the initial identification of Marcus' body, security moved in to clean up the mess. Both Arthur and David refused to retire to the house until the remains had been secured and moved inside the compound for further arrangements. Then Illya surmised by the actions of the men that there was to be an impromptu meeting of security.
Illya knew he had to find out what the Danzig's next move was going to be, and he had to find out in a hurry before the U.N.C.L.E. assault team began to assemble. With increased security and another entity now involved, the team would be easily spotted if they assembled where they had previously planned. He checked on Talia and found that Monica was in a drugged sleep in her arms. Talia motioned for him to go, and he slipped back to his room where he retrieved a tiny listening device from a set of cufflinks.
Bugging rooms anywhere in this house would be risky. Marcus had the best electronic screening devices, according to Talia, and they were used regularly. He weighed the device in his hand for a moment, and then replaced the cufflinks. Instead, he pulled out a conventional listening set that amounted to no more than a glorified stethoscope from the lining of his suitcase. The risk of being physically searched was less than the risk of being detected by a screening device. Even with the risks, he had to hear what was going on in at this meeting.
With the premise of getting something for Monica from the kitchen, Illya was able to pass through the gathering crowd downstairs virtually unnoticed. He picked up on the talk of the men and found out that the meeting would take place in Arthur's office. Illya recalled that the office was on the other end of the lower floor. He assembled a small tray of water, crackers and cheese then retreated upstairs.
The layout of the manor was clear in the agent's head. The rooms downstairs on either side of Arthur's office would be too risky. Below was the basement containing the labs, which was a security setup he wasn't ready to hit quite yet. Marcus' private dressing room was above, next Monica's parlor. He deposited the tray with Talia and gave her a reassuring smile.
When he stepped back into the hall it was deathly quiet. He slipped down the hallway quickly and entered Monica's parlor without incident. As Illya inspected it he noted that the sickeningly sweet smell of the woman's perfume hung heavily in the air. After untangling the listening device he moved to the wall adjoining the dressing room and pressed it to the wall. He could hear footsteps padding about inside as well as murmurs of a pair of guards. He heard the door lock with a sharp click and retreating footsteps down the hallway.
Now was his chance. He poked his head out in the hall and saw the backs of the guards. Sliding down the hall he picked the lock to the dressing room, not really surprised at the ease of it. Marcus probably didn't keep any sensitive material here. He entered the huge closet after he deduced where the den below was situated, and lay on the floor under a long rack of hanging clothes. After peeling back the carpet he pressed the listening device to the bare floor.
The voices were very faint, and the agent had to reluctantly plug his free ear to hear and move the device around to find the best spot.
". . . it is. We still have Solomon and Krinsky under watch. It wasn't them." Illya recognized the names of major Thrush players in the area. "If we . . . cancel. At least put it off until we … security." The agent only heard snatches of sentences because the speakers were walking around the room. It made hearing the entire conversation difficult. " . . . a day or two, sir." "It really is the best . . . Marcus would . . ."
"Marcus is not here now, is he?" Arthur Danzig's voice was very strong and clear. He must be sitting right under me, Illya thought. "Nothing changes until I say so. Now leave!" With a couple of respectful 'yes sirs' and a click of a door, the room became quiet. After a moment Illya heard the squeak of a chair followed by a cough. Figuring the program release was still on track for Thursday, he was just about to pack up and go when another noise caught his attention. He pressed the device harder to the floor and frowned in concentration.
The all-powerful Arthur Danzig was crying.