The Man from Yesterday
A Man from U.N.C.L.E. Story
by Darklady
Chapter Forty-Seven: One More Time ( For the Good Times)
Rated: PG-13
****
We are back in the briefing room, along with Smith, Lee, Trent, and several new faces too briefly introduced. Ordinance, Transportation, and a statistics maven named Tawny Dawn borrowed from the Census Bureau. For once I am the one grateful for the inclusion of a pretty young woman. She is the only person there not wearing black.
With her help Janet Trent's list of 'birds' is now up to thirty-six. Which gives us the link to our now-identified assailants.
The prison 'mug-shot' of the first shooter is glowing on the wall. "A run of W-2 forms shows Jose *Bent Penny* Dias employed by Avian solutions as a janitor back in the first two quarters of 2000," Tawny Dawn says. "A check with Avian's personnel office lists him as fired for non-performance, but.."
"Obviously an effort at plausible deniability."
"As you say, Mr. Smith." Miss Dawn flips to a similar picture of the driver. "Mr. Jose Dais's cousin, a Mr. Juan *Do-Wop* Dias, has a less direct link. He did, however, work for a gardening contractor who was hired by Mr. Bierbaum earlier this year. And by several other of the T.H.R.U.S.H. names on our list."
"Another link?" Napoleon asks Lee.
"I think it's more likely Juan came in through his cousin." Lee consults his notes. "*Bent Penny* is the older, and has the worse criminal record."
Miss Dawn does not comment, putting up the faces of the remaining four from the first two cars. "The others have various co-employment connections with each other, but no direct ties to Avian Solutions. They do, however, all come from the Montecito area."
"So.." Lee summarizes. "Vally tells Bierbaum you're in the area. Bierbaum, or more likely his boss, tells this *Bent Penny* to take you out. Private contract, since we found the cash on them at arrest." Lee nods at Miss Dawn, and a evidence photo including a thick stack of bills replaces the faces. "Penny screws up the first try, but they have his cousin and crew waiting at the factory."
"Where I decide at the last minute not to go," Napoleon adds.
"Precisely," Lee agrees. "Do-Wop* and his crew have a tracker on the car, and they know your departure time, so they decide to catch you on the way up. Probably on the narrow road just past Pismo." A marked map now shines from the wall. "You must have been driving plus 80. "
I give Napoleon the look which says 'He's right'.
Agent Lee continues, "Because they didn't catch up with you until past San Jose."
I check the map. "We stopped at a farm stand in Gilmore. I believe the family name was Miller."
"Thank you, Dr. Kuryakin." Janet Trent makes a note of the name. "We'll check them out."
"After you managed to take out the second crew." As Lee mentions them, another photograph of a smashed auto appear overhead. "Avian gave up on local talent. The third crew was pro." Miss Dawn sends up a pair of photos, one an old mug shot, the more recent a Polaroid from the morgue. " Not the best, but the Bird was hiring on short notice. And Avian wanted the hit enough to pay *them* as well."
I turn to Napoleon. "That would explain the last group's greater competence."
The man from Transportation flips though his report. "I don't believe that was mentioned..."
I give him the look designed to silence officious desk officers. "You did not observe the damage to our car?"
Smith cuts that off. "What do you think this 'satrap' is working on?" He looks at Napoleon. "It must be major, if they are going to take the risk of assassination."
"Especially by a method which so publicly tips their hand," I agree.
That brings several solemn nods. If this incident had not forced T.H.R.U.S.H. into the light, the Avian Affair could probably have continued unnoticed for years.
"Ms. Trent?" Smith signals to the Communications Officer. "See if your section can pull a PR file. What are they doing in the next few weeks that would be operational?" He stands. "Until then? You are released for lunch."
There is a brief flurry as the various agents gather their reports and excuse themselves, but the room is soon quiet again.
"I have to apologize, Mr. Solo." Smith drops his voice as he steps to our side of the table. "Dr. Kuryakin." His glance politely includes us both. "When Director Dancer told us to work with you, I thought she was just being political, but... damn. You guys are as good as your reputation makes you out to be."
"Thank you, Mr. Smith." Napoleon rises. "We just do what we can. As do you."
*****
We eat lunch with Mr. Smith in his office. Hot pasta, cold salad, and polite conversation about houses and traffic. Those two topics seem the local equivalent of the British weather. All quite light. Mr. Smith is a pro. He knows it will get heavy enough once the second report is ready.
We are sipping espressos when his secretary comes in. "Ms. Trent believes she has something, sir."
We stand. Time to go back to work.
*********
This time, rather then photos, April Dancer is on the wall. A live video link to her conference room, where she is flanked by a duplicate assembly of black-suited agents.
"Sir. Ma'am." Janet Trent addresses the camera as an assistant passes out new black binders. "I think we have a probable. The Vice -President of Azerbaijan will be coming here to tour several high tech companies as part of an economic visit."
"Including Avian?" April asks.
"No ma'am," Trent replies. "But he will visit Global-Sat Telecommunications, which is one of Avian's biggest rivals."
"Where the loss of even a minor world leader...." Smith leaves the question unfinished, but evident.
April nods. "I think you could safely say that would ruin their chances of further government contracts."
"Global-Sat?" I check with Napoleon. "Was that not Col. Austin's company?"
"Janet, dear," Napoleon charms. " Do you think you could get a line on a thief arrested in Estonia Tuesday before last? I'm afraid I don't have a name, but they would have taken him in on the Warsaw Express between Tallin and Riga."
"You think that is where they first noticed us?" I ask.
"It would fit with April's theory." Napoleon acknowledges the Director though the camera. "And it's the earliest starting point I can imagine." Then he turns his attention back to the agents at our table. "This Adil Babayev?" He slows to pronounce the name correctly. "When is the man due?"
"That's the bad news, sir." Lee scans down his report. "He flys in tomorrow."
Smith nods. "That could explain the rush."
"No chance for anything elaborate." April Dancer informs both rooms. "Put a perimeter around Avian Solutions. Discreetly. Get a tail on every name we can find. Ditto kids and spouses. Global-Sat Telecommunications should be getting Foreign Affairs coverage, but have it matched with our people."
Smith frowns at his papers. "I'll have to borrow to do that."
"Then borrow," April commands. "Call up Hays at the Secret Service. The Treasury Department owes us big time for the Democratic National Convention in LA. And the BATF. If we hadn't stopped them last time they got their maps wrong, they would have raided a nursery school. And you have my permission to remind Tomlin of that if he gives you any lip."
"As for you?" Even over several thousand miles of wire I can feel her eyes focus on me.
"Illya?" Napoleon smiles in triumph. "Was Global-Sat Telecommunications on our list of callers?
"Yes." I pull out my memo book." For both of us. Three times." I find the call note and offer it to him. "Here it is."
"Good." He pulls out his phone. "Give them a call. I think tomorrow would be a good day for the two of us to tour *their* facility."
*********************
I borrow a quiet office for my call, and catch up with Napoleon afterwards in the map room. He and Smith are setting up road coverage. Black suits on point, loaner personnel between. Not a perfect arrangement, but the best that can be done with limited resources and short notice. Still, my first glance at the map leaves me with a sinking feeling in my gut. This was never enough. Not even with U.N.C.L.E. troops. If T.H.R.U.S.H. wants to get in, they likely will. Which means...it's our show.
"Good news, Napoleon." I sit beside him on the edge of the table. "We have a ten o'clock appointment with Michael Schoenberg, the head of projects at Global-Sat, tomorrow."
Smith looks up, clearly surprised."With Babeyev coming, they still want to interview you?"
"Desperately." I keep the triumph out of my face, but possibly not completely from my words." "Apparently Col. Austin was quite vocal about out little session on the train." At Smith's nod, I continue. "Schoenberg tried to put it off, but I told him we had an offer from Dumont at CNES, and we would be flying out on Friday."
I glance at Napoleon, who smiles approvingly.
"Then going on to Moscow to speak with the ESA liaison." When Smith frowns, I add. "I called Kronsteen, and his office will definitely support such a story."
Smith makes a note on his binder, but says nothing as I continue.
"Besides, Demitri Ivanovich suggested that the Azerbaijan project may be one of the projects they want us for. It would fit the profile. His operation has the satellite launch contract, and he will send over his files for background."
"Baykonur launch?" Napoleon leans back. "That means Russian personnel approval required at the the launch stage. We are definitely in."
Yes. We are definitely in. I look again at the map. Now if there were only some promise that we would get back out again. "Any sign of action?" I ask Smith.
"None yet." He waves at the map. " Enforcement has all the main roads covered, but... this close to the date?"
I understand what he does not say. All too well.
Smith looks at me, then at Napoleon. "I would suggest you two stay here tonight. If Avian is set on your removal... they are running out of time."
"True," Napoleon agrees. "In fact, we had better bring Slate and Martinez in as well. If T.H.R.U.S.H. has been watching the house, they may now be targets."
"Covered." Smith flips though his notes. "No report of adverse surveillance at that location."
"Then they're even more at risk." Napoleon corrects him. "T.H.R.U.S.H. may still think we are there."
Smith reaches for the call button. "I'll send..
"Only if Mark Slate agrees." Napoleon rises. "Slate's a pro. He'll know how he wants this handled."
******************************
I am rechecking our updated list of potential T.H.R.U.S.H. contacts with Janet Trent when David and Mark come in.
"David. Mark." Napoleon goes over to greet them. " Sorry for the inconvenience, but..."
"So," David asks, openly curious. "This is one of your safe houses?"
"No," Napoleon grins. "We're crashing at the office tonight. Lousy beds, I'm sure, but this close to operations? Who sleeps anyway? Except Illya, of course."
"I would not think this would be your first time in protection?" I ask David, rather surprised. If they were in New York for five years?
"Oh, Mark took a desk once Waverly died." David looks around calmly, taking in the controlled chaos of the command center. "And back then.... I was never on the spouse list."
Napoleon takes Mark's arm and draws him over to the map display. "Sorry to pull you in, Mark. But I need someone I can trust to cover my back."
"I thought that was Illya."
"Illya's taking the lead."
"I also am sorry that we had to pull Mark in," I tell David, walking with him over to the coffee. "Such poor repayment for your hospitality.
David takes a cup. "What is that line? A man has to do what a man has to do?" His expression is, not grim, but serious. "I've stood at Mark's side and at his back for a quarter of a century. For better or for worse. I'm not changing now."
After a brief consultation our partners rejoin us.
"I think it's set," Mark confirms. "Smith has a reaction team at our house. Another driving the car, although I can't imagine T.H.R.U.S.H. falling for that old trick. Avian is all but locked. And Babeyev is covered every inch of the way."
Napoleon nods, gratified. "Then the only other thing I need to know is... what is this town's best restaurant?"
"Humm," Mark ponders for a moment. "I have a suggestion."
END CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN