ACT X: Over The Wall
When darkness fell Tuesday night, Illya was ready to go. He had darkened complexion and added a moustache, knowing the bad light would help. Dressed in a black coat and topped with a knit cap he turned off all the lights and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark and for the household noises to settle down. He spent his time watching the security patrols and their patterns.
It was near midnight when he moved. He slipped out his bedroom window to the narrow ledge that ran the length of the building and used the worn bricks of the walls for finger holds. He sidled over to the downspout not far from his window. When he reached it, he waited for an opportunity in the guards' patrol.
When one came a few minutes later, a statement from Houdini crossed his mind: Safes were built to keep people from getting in, not getting out. "And the same thing can be said for security here," he mumbled to himself when he noticed the lack of interest in the façade of the building on the behalf of the guards. That would work for him now, but getting back would be a whole different affair.
He quickly rappelled down in the side of the building and landed softly in the shadows on the manicured lawn. He appraised his situation then, satisfied, pulled off his dark coat. Underneath was the security guard uniform. The black coat was stashed in the bushes by the downspout.
He kept to the shadows of the building and maintained body language that said he belonged there as he worked is way to the front gate. He knew where he wanted to go to scale the outside wall; his daily strolls had allowed plenty of time to study them.
When he reached the guardhouse he passed it without slowing. He was nearly out the pedestrian gate when a voice stopped him.
"Hey. Where's your partner?"
Illya stopped and waved an arm at the house. "Back there. Sick. Something at dinner. Did you eat in town?"
The guard laughed shortly. "He ate at that hole in the wall place, didn't he? I thought we warned everyone about that dive. You must be from the new bunch."
Eavesdropping on the guards' chatter had paid off. "Yeah, well, he's deaf as well as dumb."
"I'm not surprised. I think that's a requirement to work here. Doucat!" A guard close by snapped to attention.
"Sir?"
"Perimeter patrol." He motioned towards Illya who didn't have a chance to protest.
"Yes, sir." The young man trotted to the agent's side and they walked out together.
"Where's your rifle?" young Doucat asked.
"I won a bet and it's getting cleaned for me," Illya bluffed. He patted a lump on his hip. "I have my own sidearm. Let's split up. This will get done faster and then we can get some coffee." The agent turned from the young man before he could protest.
As Illya walked off alone Doucat stood for a moment with his mouth open to say something. After a second he closed it, shrugged, and went the opposite direction.
As soon as the front gate was out of sight and he was in the area he wanted, Illya pulled out the lump at his hip - a harpoon gun with cable. He knew there was a six foot dead camera area here and confirmed the location by the marks he'd made on the wall. The only thing he'd have to avoid is the single team roving outside the walls. After listening carefully, he took a chance and shot the cable.
The first launch was successful. Quickly, he scaled the wall and rolled over the top in a low-profile maneuver and gathered the cable for his return trip. When the Russian dropped to the ground he ran low to the woods. He moved just inside the tree line until he was close to where he thought Napoleon was camped. He checked his watch; the electronic scanners were still enabled.
Illya entered the woods cautiously and tried not to rustle the brush. He slipped through easily at first but the shrubbery became thicker the deeper the entered. Finally, a sweep indicated he was out of electronic surveillance range and he hunkered down and pulled out his communicator pen. "Prince to pauper," he whispered.
It took a few moments for the reply. "Pauper here. And I'm surprised the Prince has graced us with his presence."
"There are new complications. The plan has to be moved up 24 hours." Illya heard voices in the background. The news was not going over well.
"Can do, but only half the serfs will be here. You may be on your own to get out. And there's a possibility that you may be uncovered. There's a missing bloodhound on the loose, last seen in the homeland."
Illya mulled that one over and caught the drift. "Understood. Prince out." Marcus wasn't taking any chances if he had investigators on Talia's tail. That puts both of us in danger. He pocketed the pen and turned go back when a noise to one side made him freeze; something was moving in the brush close by. He waited, his hands ready for attack, when a large shadow breezed by. Illya exhaled - it was a deer. Just as he straightened to move, a smaller form crashed through the brush just behind the bigger shadow.
"Hey! Who's there?" The security patrol had heard it, too.
The agent had to take cover. He lunged towards a large stand of brush as several gunshots split the night calm and white-hot pain seared his upper arm.
He stumbled and fell to his knees, then hugged his arm tightly to his chest. The cause of the second crash in the brush and the guards' attention crossed his path - a smaller deer. Another volley erupted behind the injured agent and the smaller deer dropped at Illya's feet. The frightened look in the creature's eye quickly faded to dullness with its death. Illya felt another bullet pluck his jacket and was knocked flat by something zinging across his temple.
Fighting unconsciousness he crawled around the dead deer and into the stand of thick bushes. Vision spinning, he made himself as small as possible and listened. His head and arm throbbed as he tried to make out anything in the inky darkness.
Voices came near and a slash of light rippled over the surroundings. The ray circled around the dark form on the ground and settled on it. "I got a deer!"
"I shot, too. I could have been me!" A second beam merged with the first.
Two shadowy forms blended together in the darkness moved to the deer and stopped next to it. They hovered proudly over the dead creature as they reported in.
"It's Code 4. We just shot a deer making noise in the brush. Would the cook do venison for us?" The speaker kicked the form then pushed the rifle around to his back. "We're heading back to the open area before someone shoots us," he said. Stowing the radio, he tipped his head in the direction they came. "Let's go."
The shadows moved off and the agent let out a shaky breath. Being carefully silent he assessed his wounds when his vision slowed its spinning. The head wound was only a graze and had stopped bleeding already. He pulled the cap down to conceal it. As far as he could see, a bullet had gone cleanly through his upper arm. He pulled out the communicator and checked his watch to see if he was clear. He was, and called his partner.
"What was that?" Napoleon snapped.
"The wildlife flushed out some hunters," Illya said quietly. "I'm fine. A deer acted as my shield."
"So the guards aren't suspicious?"
"No. You're fine. I'm heading back now."
"Be careful, partner."
"Always. Prince out."
It took a few minutes to wrap the arm tight enough to stop the bleeding with a narrow strip of cloth torn from his uniform shirt. By the time he got to the edge of the woods and within sight of the outer wall, his vision was clear but his arm throbbed. His fingers felt numb. Climbing the wall was going to be difficult.
Illya rested a few minutes to gather strength and focus. He dashed to the wall and launched the cable and was able to make it to the top unspotted. Gathering the cable as he rolled over the top, he then dropped to the grass and knocked the breath out of himself when he hit the ground.
In a haze he wobbled to his feet, stashed away the cable and gun and stumbled towards the gate where he met up with Doucat. The young guard was puffing from the run around the perimeter zone. "Where were you? Did you fire your gun?"
Illya gasped for an entirely different reason unbeknownst to the young guard. He shook his swirling head and took the opportunity to steady himself. "Personally, I think it's a bit too late for target practice. Come on." They slowly tramped their way back through the gate and toward the house. "I'm going to find my lazy partner," Illya said, taking his leave from the excitable Doucat. He found a dark patch of ground near the downspout and collapsed in the shadows. He fought lightheadedness.
After a bit of rest he found the black jacket tucked away in the brush and covered the uniform. For a few long seconds he toyed with simply going through the front door before he filed that thought as 'not-in-this-lifetime'. Instead, he took the time to watch the guards and gather his strength.
He had no idea on how long he'd sat there. Time seemed to take on a surreal edge. With a final sigh he stood, fought off the dizziness, and began his ascent up the downspout focused on one step at a time. Finally, his head spinning and his arm screaming, he made it to the ledge and paused. Both his head and arm pounded. Eyes narrowed in determination he locked his sights on his destination and edged his way along. Luckily the moon was on the other side of the house and the guards still focused on the perimeter. He was able to get to the window of his room unspotted.
The window pushed it open easily and he bit his lip to hold back the gasp of pain when the temporary patch on his arm tore open. A motion inside the room made him jerk his head up and he came face to face with a shocked Talia. Without comment she helped him inside. He collapsed against the wall under the window and fought to see through the spinning stars in his vision.
She'd obviously been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot and watery, her voice shaky. "God, Illya, what happened? I was so worried! When you weren't here, I thought for sure. . ."
"I'm all right," he said through clenched teeth.
"You're bleeding," she stated flatly.
"I am now. It wasn't before."
"You've been shot!" She said, shocked, when she unwrapped the wound.
"It went through. I've had worse, Talia. I'll be fine."
Talia found the graze on his temple when she yanked off the cap. Her fright turned into stubborn determination. She helped him out of the shirt, got a wet towel from the bathroom over his protests and cleaned off the area in awkward silence.
When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "Napoleon knows about the new timetable. This will all be over soon." He watched her eyes for a moment, trying to read her. "Why are you crying in the dark?"
She rubbed her nose nervously. "I'm afraid, Illya. I'm afraid for both you and David." The agent raised an eyebrow at that. She continued to clean the wounds, her words coming out more easily while her hands kept busy. She laughed a short, sad laugh. "When I first met him, he was different. He was curious about everything, fun, and smart. He's a brilliant man. When he's away from his family, he's the man I love. He's changed since we've been here, Illya, and I don't like it. I don't like it at all." She dropped the cloth and tore a bandage from one of the many pillowcases. "I have to confess that my reasons for betraying him are purely selfish. Without the program, David would have no reason to stay here. We'd have a chance at a life." Her eyes again became watery as she fought back the emotion. "Now that Marcus is dead, I think I may have lost David. Arthur needs him. David is moving too easily into Marcus' place."
Talia took a moment to steady herself. She rested her hands on top of the agent's and he could feel her trembling. "Illya, he wants revenge on four men coming here tomorrow." Her voice was tired and wavered as she fought unsuccessfully to keep the tears gathered in her eyes from spilling over. "He's sure one of them murdered Marcus, so he wants to destroy all of them. He wants revenge. He's not the David I fell in love with."
Illya had to suppress the urge to wipe the tears from her cheek. Instead he ducked his head and studied their hands. The desire to gather her in a comforting embrace was strong. She was right; David was lost and was on a path of no return. "I'm sorry, Talia."
She nodded absently and helped Illya to his feet and to the edge of the bed. They sat side by side in the shadowy room for many minutes. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "When I first met him, he reminded me of you."
Illya didn't know how to respond. He felt his heart flutter and turned his attention to getting dressed. He stood and picked up a clean shirt from the bedside table but before he could pull it on, Talia took his hand. The weary agent was forced stand and listen, the cool breeze from the window tingling his bare skin.
"He had the same excitement in discovery, the same quick brain; he was you, Illya. And I missed you so much." She stifled a sob, and took a breath. Her voice became stronger. "I need stability, Illya, and he can offer that. He has roots and holdings and history; and he does love me."
Illya caught her eyes and she met them with determination. After a moment he said quietly, "He has a strange way of showing it."
Talia's eyes flashed. "What do you know? You haven't been around him when he's away from here. He's . . . he's …" the tears started again, and her voice sounded defeated. "He's just like you." She quickly stood and turned to go. Illya's hand flashed out and caught her arm, stopping her in mid step.
"Are you sure he will go away with you when this is all over?"
"Yes. I'm sure he will come with me. He loves me."
"Talia," he said firmly, keeping his grip. "Just remember that Emily and Monica Danzig also wanted the security you seek. And they have it."
She turned on him, her eyes burning. "David wouldn't . . ."
"Put the family business ahead of you? You didn't think he be driven by revenge, either."
A heavy silence hung between them before Talia finally replied. "He hasn't done anything yet. And what about you, Illya? Isn't U.N.C.L.E. your 'family business' just like the Underground was before that?"
Taken aback, he dropped her arm. Neither of them moved or broke eye contact, but for Illya, suddenly everything looked different. The first impression he had was surprise. Then the weary agent allowed a door to open to his unconscious where he examined an idea from a new point of view. It was an idea he had done his best to ignore since he'd first seen her in Brussels.
What he said next came from the heart, backed by truth, and both scared and comforted him.
"Yes. But I would leave it with the right incentive."
Where Illya's eyes did not waver, Talia's eyes widened like a frightened deer. Quickly she moved to the door where she paused over the knob.
Softly, she said, "I came up here to tell you something. The Program is finished." Then she fled, leaving in her wake an ex-lover with a new plan.