A Man from U.N.C.L.E. Story
by Darklady
Chapter Fifty-Two: When All is Said and Done
Rated: PG-13
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Post operations is the usual chaotic mess. Even well organized chaos, as such things go. Michael Shoenberg's secretary proves quite helpful about finding towels, and Lee is unexpectedly efficient in getting all 'unofficial' personal out of range of the press vultures. Even so, it is a long, chilly, and rather damp drive back to headquarters.
I get shuffled off to medical, where I waste far too much time explaining that I am *not* in shock, and that the jacket is *not* considered a vital organ. Then Janet Trent wants a situation report. Then Ordinance wants my gun for ballistic comparison. Then Property wants to know were I bought the jacket. So many reports. And Napasha used to complain about U.N.C.L.E. paperwork. With all the required procedures it is mid afternoon before I have a chance to reconnect with Napoleon.
I finally catch up with him again in the Command Center, where he is chatting with April Dancer. Or rather, with the wall broadcast of April Dancer. Debriefing session. Like I remember with Mr. Waverly. Indeed, April is sounding *just* like Waverly.
"Really, Napoleon. Another suit?" That is the first line I hear as I take my seat between Napoleon and Mark.
"Another suit plus a leather jacket." Napasha smiles over at me. " Illya's jacket was ruined too."
"Plus a car. Two cars! Plus last night's dinner tab?" April gives a most unladylike snort. "I'm beginning to question exactly how much of an asset you are."
Napoleon just grins. We broke the plot. We stopped the assassination. And he also managed to annoy the accountants. Even in borrowed gym clothes he is in his glory.
April sees that all-to-familiar expression and sighs. "Very well, Napoleon," She gives in graciously. "But please...no more four-hundred dollar bottles of wine. I do have a comptroller to justify these things to." With that, she blinks out.
"So." Napoleon turns to Mr. Smith " I gather everything is now under control?"
"Apparently." Smith nods and reaches for his briefing binder. "We'll leave the high security in place just in case, but to all appearances the crisis is over. The three men inside and the two that Lee's people caught at the gate were the full operation team."
A secretary bring me my own report, which I scan through quickly. No interrogation reports yet. "One question. Have any of the prisoners given up their connection with T.H.R.U.S.H.?"
Smith shrugs. "Turns out there wasn't one. Avian Solutions is legit." Seeing the shocked expressions on Napoleon, Mark, and even myself, he adds. " Well, reasonably legit." He flips quickly to a back page. "When T.H.R.U.S.H. went south, the local remnant decided to turn their resources to making money. Thus Avian Solutions."
Napoleon looks at me, then at Mark, and finally asks, "Then why?"
"Why did Avian hire thugs to try for you? Well, this turns out to be not *quite* a T.H.R.U.S.H. operation. Personal enmity."
Lee mutters, "More like personal stupidity."
Smith ignores the comment, still adressing Napoleon. "Do you remember a man named Frederick Trask? He's currently Avian's Chief Financial Officer."
"Trask." Napoleon rubs his chin, clearly thinking back. " No. Not off hand, but..."
"Turns out he remembers you rather well. In the arrest report he says something about a brunette in Madagascar. So when Bill Vally told his friend Joe Bierbaum you were in town, naturally Bierbaum told Trask, and well..."
"See, Napoleon." I give him what I hope is a severe look. "I told you your charm would get you into trouble."
I must be losing my edge, because Mark just shakes his head, and Napasha quips back, "You told me I had no charm."
"That too." I try hard not to smile. "No more brunettes for you."
"I promise," Napasha places his hand over his heart. "Only blonds from here on out."
"Blonds?"
His voice drops, and his eyes darken. "One blond."
"That is better," I answer. Then I smile.
Napasha turns back to Smith. "You're telling me this Trask hired a bunch of thugs to kill both Illya and myself because I seduced his girlfriend...thirty years ago?"
Lee answers from the far end of the table. "It's more like his wife. And you threw her off a roof."
"Oh." Napasha stops for a moment, slightly nonplused. "I suppose I can see where that might be memorable."
"Mr. Lee." I move the conversation back to more useful channels. "What is going to happen to Mr. Trask?"
The young man shrugs. "Realistically? Not much. His lawyer has him out on bail, and unless he does something stupid he'll probably cop probation and community service. I mean, he does have a very good record in with local charities. And when it comes down to it you're *not* dead. Of course, with Avian at risk of losing its high-security contract status, I suppose his shareholders will be none to happy with him.. "
"You think they will take him out?"
"No." Lee shakes his head. "More likely they'll reduce his bonus. Might even fire him if he gets convicted. But he's not our problem."
"And the assassination attempt?" Because T.H.R.U.S.H. or not, *someone* was shooting at me.
"There was one, obviously." Mr. Smith takes back the conversation. "Simply not by T.H.R.U.S.H. The assassination effort turned out to be an internal affair. Standard mujahideen fanaticism. Or perhaps tribal. The two we arrested outside we cousins to the main shooter. And they have implicated several more back in Azerbaijan."
"So out presence was ...random?"
"I would rather say fortuitous. In any case, Vice-President Babeyev is most grateful. If we hadn't been on alert....?" Smith leaves the sentence unfinished. No matter. Everyone here is far too familiar with those possibilities. "So?" Mr. Smith asks as he closes the file. "I gather you two will be staying?"
Napoleon looks at me before answering. "No. I don't think so. You have a very professional operation, but it's not ..quite what we're looking for."
END CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO