ACT VIII: The Tale of Illya and Talia
Solo and Neiman quickly shut down the operation and disconnected the phone taps. They just made it to the secondary retreat when Danzig security forces began a sweep beyond the outer wall. The terrain was wild and thick and the guards were none too quiet as they thrashed their way around the perimeter. At one point they were less that a handful of meters from Neiman, on his way back from getting the last of the wiretapping equipment. He covered himself with leaves and shrubs, and heaved a sigh of relief when they continued past. As he retreated, he almost had a heart attack when he flushed a deer from her daytime resting spot.
"Wildlife," he grumbled as he clutched the butt of his Special. "They don't belong in the woods." When he related his story to Solo on his return, he didn't get much sympathy.
"What?" Solo replied, intent on studying the security squads with his binoculars. "You didn't tackle it and get us some fresh dinner?"
Neiman rolled his eyes. "I'm getting tired of field rations, too, but wrestling a deer isn't my idea of shopping."
Solo and Kuryakin had spoken late the previous night. Illya had relayed that the release date still looked to be on Thursday, but the status of the accompanying party was not confirmed. Supplies were still coming to the house and a lot of Thrush Council members were still scheduled to arrive Wednesday. Solo's signal to move in with the assault team would be very obvious; the computer lab would be blown to the sky. Illya and Talia would then head to the area of the rocky outcropping for pick up.
Although things seemed to be moving right on schedule, the agent was tense. The little voice in his head wouldn't be quiet. He hoped to hear from April and Mark soon; maybe that would help. And Illya's explosives had to be delivered to the house as soon as they arrived. When the Russian was armed and ready to go, he figured the deed was as good as done, and perhaps then the little voice would shut up.
For now, he could only hope and wait.
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"Mme. Transenburg?" April Dancer found the elderly woman tending her small garden behind the tidy house outside Paris. She'd tried the front door, and when no one answered decided to try the back. The sound of someone humming drew her to the white gate surrounding a gathering of glorious flowers and healthy green shrubs. When she stepped through the gate she felt enveloped by nature. "Mme. Transenburg?"
The woman straightened as much as she could and turned to the agent. Her startled eyes were wide for a moment, but a friendly sparkle soon replaced the surprise. "Oh! Oui? Je suis Mme. Transenburg."
April apologized in her perfect French. "I'm so sorry to startle you. My name is April Dancer." She cupped a perfect rose gently in her hand. "Your garden is beautiful."
"Thank you, dear. Here, let's sit under the plum tree. I need to get off my feet for a moment." The matronly lady indicated a bench under a tree festoon with delicate flowers. "Where are my manners? Can I get you something?"
"No, I'm fine. Please." April motioned towards the bench and they both settled down. Mme. Transenburg let out a sigh and removed her gardening gloves.
"Well, April, was it?" The agent nodded. "What brings you to visit an old woman in her garden?"
"It's about you and Mr. Transenburg."
The woman's eyes lit up at the mention of her husband. "Oh, Mr. Transenburg, my Misha, has been dead for years," she said apologetically, placing her hand briefly on April's knee. "He was a wonderful man."
"I know and I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sure you miss him. I'm here to ask you about you're coming to France."
Mme. Transenburg looked momentarily confused and then frightened. "Who are you, again?" She asked tentatively.
"I don't mean to frighten you, Mme. I'm an agent with U.N.C.L.E., an international law enforcement agency. I believe you knew one of our agents. That's why I'm here."
"You must be mistaken," the woman said softly. April noticed her begin to fiddle with her hands in her lap. "I don't know any U.N.C.L.E. agents."
"Oh, Illya wasn't an agent then. He was, um, well, I guess the best term is freelancing, then. He became an agent later."
"I see, I see." Slowly, April saw a look of recollection enter her eyes. "Is he a blond boy? Thin?"
April laughed. "Well, he's still blond, yes. And I'd call him wiry. Blue eyes? He was a college student when you met him."
Mme. Transenburg smiled warmly. "Yes. So young. I remember him." Her eyes sparkled again. "Talia didn't want to talk about him very much."
"Talia Inova?" April wasn't expecting to hit pay dirt so soon. "She's why I'm here, actually."
The woman turned a suspicious eye on April. "I think I should look at your identification."
"Certainly." The agent pulled out her gold card and the woman peered at it closely.
"It looks to be in order. What exactly is it you want, my dear?" The suspicion hadn't dissipated completely, so April decided the best way to gain this woman's trust would be by quid pro quo: A trade of knowledge. Briefly, she ran down Illya's assignment, leaving out names and details, and how Talia had appeared from nowhere to enlist his help.
The woman laughed and any shred of suspicion left her eyes. "Oh, dear! That is so Talia. She has you all perplexed, doesn't she?" She patted April's hand with a soft chortle. "Your aren't the only one she's left in her wake. I love Talia dearly, but sometimes she just can't see the nose plainly on her face." Now it was April's turn to look perplexed. "I will tell you what I know about Talia only because I want to see her happy. I don't want her to lose that young man again."
That's when Mme Transenburg began her tale to a now very curious April.
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"It was the fall of 1952 and Misha, my husband, was very sick. He was working for the Russian government then on something to do with rocketry. His last remaining relative, his brother, had died a few months before and there was no one left on either side of our families as my parents had passed on when I was young. Our son left Russia two years earlier," her voice cracked, but she continued, "And we missed him so. Misha really missed him. Maybe he was thinking about the quality of life, or how life was so short, but he decided to defect as Rennie, our son, had. We had talked about it before; I only had him and Rennie, so I left it entirely up to Misha. He knew I'd follow him anywhere.
"We finally got in contact with Rennie and he arranged the whole thing. You see, Rennie is a mathematician just like his father and he knew what to offer another government. France jumped at the offer and it was set."
The woman's face had taken on a far away look as she recalled the events. "The night we left was cold, very cold. When the young couple came to our door I thought they were travelers looking for warmth. They were practically babies!"
April suppressed a burst of laughter and covered her mouth. She could clearly imagine the whole meeting.
"He was so professional, but his eyes had this inner fire; it was so difficult not to stare. And she was as delicate as a spring flower." She leaned down and plucked a yellow bloom and stroked the petals as she spoke. "They were both so warm and caring." April had a hard time connecting those two words with the Kuryakin she knew. "And they were so in love!"
The agent's jaw dropped; it was the last thing she'd expected. "In love?" she repeated.
"Oh, yes. The way they looked at each other, the way they talked. Always touching. Not blatant like the kids now a days; it was tender and respectful. You could see in their eyes how dedicated they were to each other." April was speechless. Mme. Transenburg was quiet for a moment, a soft smile on her aged lips as she continued. "They had every detail covered, every question answered before we ever left the house. When we started out that night I saw a light of hope in Misha's eyes that I thought was long gone."
"You left that night?" The woman nodded. April had dealt with her share of defectors and knew the work required to set it up. To swoop in and remove the subjects in the same night without any prior contact only showed how professional, prepared and qualified both Illya and Talia had to be for this kind of work. No wonder U.N.C.L.E. had noticed him. "Very efficient," she said, impressed.
"It took two days of travel to get out and there wasn't one hitch. It all went smoothly until the end." Mme. Transenburg seemed more puzzled than sad, and April's curiosity was piqued once again. "We talked a lot with them as we traveled. It soothed me and I felt the young man . . Illya?" April nodded. "Seemed to know that. He chatted with me constantly about my life and his, how he was looking forward to having a family. He was quite the conversationalist." Again, words Aril never connected with the agent she knew.
"And so was Talia, but I could see something in her eyes; something I couldn't pin down then, but realized later it must have been sadness." She studied the flower for a moment and April kept respectfully quiet as the woman gathered her thoughts. "She and Misha clicked instantly. They even favored each other. They could have been father and daughter. The whole affair, which should have been so terrifying, was more like a dream, a pleasant dream.
"When we got to the final train transfer, the one that would actually take us from Russia, the escort that was to stay with us from that point on couldn't be found. The crowds, the pressure; something finally went wrong.
"We almost missed the train. They got us on, though, at the very last second. Misha's heart was not strong, which was why he was so ill, and Talia practically carried him on the train and found seats for us. Then the train moved, and that was our last day in Russia."
"What about Talia? Did she get off the train?"
Mme. Transenburg raised her head and caught April's gaze. The old woman's eyes were aglow. "She didn't get off. She was supposed to, but didn't. She came with us all the way here and was like our daughter for nearly two years. Misha, Rennie and I loved her like family. Wonderful girl."
Again, April was stunned. "She just left? She never went back?"
The woman shook her head. "I could tell the decision broke her heart, but I had to concentrate on Misha. She never spoke of that young man again and I never pried. She must have had her reasons. I don't know what they were. She certainly wasn't the same after that. True, I'd only known her for a few days when we left, but something in her eyes was gone. She truly loved that young man. Deeply. And he loved her." She sighed.
"What did Talia do after leaving Russia?"
"She worked in a lab and paid her way through post graduate school. Then she got work in Germany. When we last spoke, she said she was engaged. I don't recall his name, but she said she was happy."
"You didn't believe her?"
The woman smiled a knowing smile and folded her hands in her lap with the stem of the flower between them. "I was lucky to find my true love in my Misha. I believe it only happens once in a lifetime. I saw that kind of love in Talia and that young man. And like I said, it only happens once."
April felt a wave of understanding wash over her. The whole story was so tragic, and all the gaps they wondered about in Talia's life had been filled, as well as some of the mysterious Illya Kuryakin. There didn't seem to be anything nefarious in her motives to this point. Napoleon was going to be disappointed - or maybe not. April rose to her feet.
"Thank you, Mme Transenburg," she said politely, taking her hand. "You've been very helpful."
"If you see Talia, give her my love. And tell her she needs to visit."
"Certainly. I can find my way out."
The woman smiled and handed April the flower she'd been holding. "Take your time, dear. Enjoy the blossoms while they are here."
The agent nodded and smiled, then slowly strolled to the gate. She took the time to appreciate the heady fragrance of nature's offerings before heading to Germany to check Talia's past employment.