CHAPTER FOUR
Trudy careened on in the truck until she was sure there was a good distance between them and the base, and figured she'd taken enough twists and turns to throw off pursuers. She stopped long enough for them to shove the sleeping guard out, then continued on, off the main road. She noticed how her companion favored his left side, and was concerned at his obvious battle to ignore his pain.
Anyone following would have a tough time finding them in the stand of brush she eventually found. It had been a long, rough ride, and the quietness of her passenger was starting to worry her. As she came to a jolting halt, he slumped down, the rifle muzzle jammed in the floor and the butt against his chest, holding him upright.
"Mr. Kuryakin," she said firmly, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. "Hey! Sorry about the rough ride, but.." she stopped talking when she realized that her hand was wet from touching him. Turning her palm, she saw that it was shiny with blood. "Hey! Soldier!" She said a little louder, taking both his shoulders in her hands. "Wake up!"
The only response she got was a slight groan, and a roll of the blond man's head. Trudy tore open the uniform jacket and discovered that he'd been shot. The projectile had entered from the back, just between the spine and the shoulder blade. There was no exit wound, and two possibilities crossed her mind as she tried to control the bleeding and bit her lip: Either the bullet was stopped by the collar bone or it had angled near or in the thoracic vertebrae. I have to stabilize this. He's lost a lot of blood, she thought, instantly going into emergency nurse mode. And there's never a surgeon around when you need one!
Trudy was thankful for the darkness as she stabilized Illya's left side. She kept glancing in the direction of the road, but there was no sign of pursuit yet. When daylight came, they would have to take better cover. She also knew it would be better to have him lying down, but didn't dare move him too much until he was more aware and she could determine were the bullet was lodged exactly. When he was as secure as she could make him, she checked the rest of the truck for anything useful.
The box in the back had lots of exposed wiring and dials, and didn't appear to be anything useful to their predicament. She shoved it aside as she looked under the seat, where she found a green ammo box. Opening it, she found some flares, a small length of rope, and of all things, a hand grenade! The immediately shut the lid and shoved the box back under the seat with a shiver. The only other thing in the truck was a folded camouflage tarp just big enough to cover the small truck.
She was contemplating the possibility of making a shelter of some sort when her patient groaned. Moving to his side from outside the truck she gently lay her hands on his uninjured right arm to steady him. Immediately at her touch, his hand moved like lightening and grabbed her throat. She was unable to utter a sound, and breathing was instantly difficult.
As she fought to take in air, she saw the blond man slowly turn his head towards her. His blue eyes were icy and hard, sending a frightening chill through her body; My God, he's going to kill me! she thought in a panic, astounded at the strength in his grip. Both of Trudy's hands were now trying to pry his fingers off her throat, and she was able to let out a small squeak of panic. Illya blinked at the sound, and his eyes seemed to clear. When she saw them soften and widen slightly, the grip was just as quickly gone.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry! Forgive me!"
Trudy rubbed her throat as she took a step back, and gasped for breath. A few more seconds would have resulted in a crushed larynx, she was sure. There was more to this man, and for a second she was afraid. What had she gotten into? In her past battlefield nursing experience, she had defended herself against delirious soldiers before, but this man's attack had been calculated, rehearsed and well executed, and it frightened her. She was able to push the pain and fear aside when she saw him struggling to get out of the truck.
"No, you have to stay still," she whispered hoarsely, one hand on her throat and the other reaching out to keep him seated.
"I need to keep moving," he replied, brushing off the hand. When he swung his legs out and tried to stand, his knees threatened to give away.
"No, you need to keep still. There's a bullet in you somewhere, near your spine." She reached into her uniform jacket and pulled out several loaded syringes. "I have more morphine here. Don't make me use it, you really need it anyway." Illya glared at her, but she had seen how frightening his look could be, and this one wasn't nearly as scary. She just snorted a laugh. "Doctor's orders."
He narrowed his eyes. "You aren't a doctor."
"I'm closer to it than you, mister! I mean it! You move too much or too suddenly, and you could really be in trouble."
He studied her for a moment, then turned his attention to the back of the truck. "I have no doubt you'd use that on me, so I'll behave. For now. Let's see what we have here." Leaning heavily on the truck for support, Illya tried to reach for the electronic box, but couldn't quite reach it.
"Here," she said, her voice almost back to normal. "I'll get it." She reached in and pulled the box closer. "What is it?"
Illya turned the box over and fingered the wires. "I'm not sure if it's complete, but I believe this is the reason we're in Russia and not Japan."
"Come again?" Trudy replied, confused.
"If my reasoning is correct, I think this is all or part of a navigational warping device. It's not a jamming device, which stops readings. This alters the readings."
She brightened up. "You mean the readings in the cockpit were tampered with? This thing changed the readings of the navigational gauges?"
The blond agent nodded, wincing in pain at the motion. "Yes. I think our flight was a test run. If this had happened to a military aircraft, it could result in a war."
"But why? Who would want that?"
Illya let out a dry laugh. "It's one way to get Russia's hands on the latest technology of other countries. And the military wouldn't mind a war. Keeps them busy. Whoever has their hands on this could control air traffic anywhere." He pushed the device back on the seat. "I've got to get this to New York," he said softly.
It was Trudy's turn to laugh. "New York? From here? With this old truck and with you in that shape? I think that's going to take a bit longer than you realize."
He hesitated. "We'll see," he stated. "I have some...resources."
Trudy narrowed her eyes. "Who exactly are you, anyway? I think we've already established the fact you aren't a salesman." Her eyes sparkled.
"No, I'm not. I work for an international agency called U.N.C.L.E."
"Really?" Trudy said. "I've heard of them! My husband was in Army intelligence, and told me all about them." Her tone softened. "He was going to approach U.N.C.L.E. for work after his time was up in the Army. He died in Korea, though."
Illya tried to make out her face, but his vision was wavering. "I'm sorry," he managed to say as he wobbled his way back to the truck seat. "If he was anything like you, he would have been an asset."
Trudy caught him as his knees gave out. "You're weak from blood loss. We need to build you back up. Where to? Any ideas?"
Illya nodded, his eyes glassy. "Yes. There should be a couple of small towns around that supply the base. We need to get there and ditch this truck. It's too obvious. Follow the smaller roads east and south. We should stumble across one, but I'm sure they'll be heavily patrolled, so be careful. We'll park outside of town and walk in."
"Yeah, right." Trudy mumbled as she climbed in and fired up the truck, rubbing her throat. "We'll see how far you get on foot."
Illya spared a tight grin. "You remind me of someone I work with," he commented. "Always nagging."
Trudy pulled carefully out of the brush. "He must be a terrific person," she countered lightly.
"In his own mind, he is," Illya replied between gritted teeth as the truck hit a rough patch. It would be a long ride.
*************************
Early that morning Napoleon Solo departed for the docks with a couple of names of boat owners supplied by the Sapporo staff. He learned that three of the four were out on fishing runs, and weren't expected back for a day or so. He was down to the final name, and when he inquired as to the location of the boat from an old man at the dock, the old man scanned the horizon and pointed to a black dot in the distance.
Napoleon settled down to wait. The dot grew larger, and then became recognizable as a small fishing trawler. Not too fast, but sturdy, he mused. If we can triangulate on that device as we think we can, that boat could get us in the area we want to be. He was so deep in thought about how to pull this off in such a large amount of coast and water, he didn't immediately notice the person driving the boat. Finally he stood up, waiting to greet the vessel, and was shocked to realize that the captain was a woman, and she was the only one aboard.
The Asian woman's hair was tucked up under a wide-brimmed hat, and she had on a large coat and boots, but when Solo saw her eyes studying him, he could tell she was a stunning woman. Her skin was clear, her eyes alive, and her expression one of aloof suspicion.
By the time she docked and threw the mooring rope to him, she knew he wanted to speak with her, and waited for the right moment to acknowledge him.
Solo tried to study her without looking like he was doing so. She was in her early twenties, he decided, and was lithe and sure in her movements. Working a trawler this size was second nature to her.
"My name is Napoleon Solo. Your name, well, actually I think it's your father's name, was given to me about a boat rental."
She eyed him up and down, but her eyes softened. "Yes," she said slowly in heavily accented English. "He does rent the Empress out, but he is out fishing, and won't be back for several days."
Solo straightened his tie in an unconscious act as he smiled at her. "Well, does your father allow you to rent out the Empress, Miss...?"
"Inturi. Stevie Inturi." She finished tying off the boat and brushed her hands together just before sweeping off the hat. Her long, black hair was shiny and thick as it fell over her shoulders. "Maybe. He leaves those decisions to me in his absence."
"Well, Miss Inturi," Napoleon said with a grin, "I belong to an international group call U.N.C.L.E., and we could use your boat. Can we discuss it over some tea?"
Stevie ducked her head slightly, and looked at him through her lashes. When she smiled, her brilliant white teeth made Solo fight to keep his composure. "I am familiar with your group. My father approves of it. Yes, we can have some tea. Excuse me, I need to change first."
She stepped back in the boat and shed the waterproof, hooded parka. Out of a bag she produced a dark purple, silk jacket that went perfectly with the simple black pants she wore. She also slipped off the rubber boots, and replaced them with simple black slipper shoes.
When she stepped off the boat the second time, Solo realized that this rescue mission wasn't a grim as it was only 15 minutes ago.
Trudy careened on in the truck until she was sure there was a good distance between them and the base, and figured she'd taken enough twists and turns to throw off pursuers. She stopped long enough for them to shove the sleeping guard out, then continued on, off the main road. She noticed how her companion favored his left side, and was concerned at his obvious battle to ignore his pain.
Anyone following would have a tough time finding them in the stand of brush she eventually found. It had been a long, rough ride, and the quietness of her passenger was starting to worry her. As she came to a jolting halt, he slumped down, the rifle muzzle jammed in the floor and the butt against his chest, holding him upright.
"Mr. Kuryakin," she said firmly, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. "Hey! Sorry about the rough ride, but.." she stopped talking when she realized that her hand was wet from touching him. Turning her palm, she saw that it was shiny with blood. "Hey! Soldier!" She said a little louder, taking both his shoulders in her hands. "Wake up!"
The only response she got was a slight groan, and a roll of the blond man's head. Trudy tore open the uniform jacket and discovered that he'd been shot. The projectile had entered from the back, just between the spine and the shoulder blade. There was no exit wound, and two possibilities crossed her mind as she tried to control the bleeding and bit her lip: Either the bullet was stopped by the collar bone or it had angled near or in the thoracic vertebrae. I have to stabilize this. He's lost a lot of blood, she thought, instantly going into emergency nurse mode. And there's never a surgeon around when you need one!
Trudy was thankful for the darkness as she stabilized Illya's left side. She kept glancing in the direction of the road, but there was no sign of pursuit yet. When daylight came, they would have to take better cover. She also knew it would be better to have him lying down, but didn't dare move him too much until he was more aware and she could determine were the bullet was lodged exactly. When he was as secure as she could make him, she checked the rest of the truck for anything useful.
The box in the back had lots of exposed wiring and dials, and didn't appear to be anything useful to their predicament. She shoved it aside as she looked under the seat, where she found a green ammo box. Opening it, she found some flares, a small length of rope, and of all things, a hand grenade! The immediately shut the lid and shoved the box back under the seat with a shiver. The only other thing in the truck was a folded camouflage tarp just big enough to cover the small truck.
She was contemplating the possibility of making a shelter of some sort when her patient groaned. Moving to his side from outside the truck she gently lay her hands on his uninjured right arm to steady him. Immediately at her touch, his hand moved like lightening and grabbed her throat. She was unable to utter a sound, and breathing was instantly difficult.
As she fought to take in air, she saw the blond man slowly turn his head towards her. His blue eyes were icy and hard, sending a frightening chill through her body; My God, he's going to kill me! she thought in a panic, astounded at the strength in his grip. Both of Trudy's hands were now trying to pry his fingers off her throat, and she was able to let out a small squeak of panic. Illya blinked at the sound, and his eyes seemed to clear. When she saw them soften and widen slightly, the grip was just as quickly gone.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry! Forgive me!"
Trudy rubbed her throat as she took a step back, and gasped for breath. A few more seconds would have resulted in a crushed larynx, she was sure. There was more to this man, and for a second she was afraid. What had she gotten into? In her past battlefield nursing experience, she had defended herself against delirious soldiers before, but this man's attack had been calculated, rehearsed and well executed, and it frightened her. She was able to push the pain and fear aside when she saw him struggling to get out of the truck.
"No, you have to stay still," she whispered hoarsely, one hand on her throat and the other reaching out to keep him seated.
"I need to keep moving," he replied, brushing off the hand. When he swung his legs out and tried to stand, his knees threatened to give away.
"No, you need to keep still. There's a bullet in you somewhere, near your spine." She reached into her uniform jacket and pulled out several loaded syringes. "I have more morphine here. Don't make me use it, you really need it anyway." Illya glared at her, but she had seen how frightening his look could be, and this one wasn't nearly as scary. She just snorted a laugh. "Doctor's orders."
He narrowed his eyes. "You aren't a doctor."
"I'm closer to it than you, mister! I mean it! You move too much or too suddenly, and you could really be in trouble."
He studied her for a moment, then turned his attention to the back of the truck. "I have no doubt you'd use that on me, so I'll behave. For now. Let's see what we have here." Leaning heavily on the truck for support, Illya tried to reach for the electronic box, but couldn't quite reach it.
"Here," she said, her voice almost back to normal. "I'll get it." She reached in and pulled the box closer. "What is it?"
Illya turned the box over and fingered the wires. "I'm not sure if it's complete, but I believe this is the reason we're in Russia and not Japan."
"Come again?" Trudy replied, confused.
"If my reasoning is correct, I think this is all or part of a navigational warping device. It's not a jamming device, which stops readings. This alters the readings."
She brightened up. "You mean the readings in the cockpit were tampered with? This thing changed the readings of the navigational gauges?"
The blond agent nodded, wincing in pain at the motion. "Yes. I think our flight was a test run. If this had happened to a military aircraft, it could result in a war."
"But why? Who would want that?"
Illya let out a dry laugh. "It's one way to get Russia's hands on the latest technology of other countries. And the military wouldn't mind a war. Keeps them busy. Whoever has their hands on this could control air traffic anywhere." He pushed the device back on the seat. "I've got to get this to New York," he said softly.
It was Trudy's turn to laugh. "New York? From here? With this old truck and with you in that shape? I think that's going to take a bit longer than you realize."
He hesitated. "We'll see," he stated. "I have some...resources."
Trudy narrowed her eyes. "Who exactly are you, anyway? I think we've already established the fact you aren't a salesman." Her eyes sparkled.
"No, I'm not. I work for an international agency called U.N.C.L.E."
"Really?" Trudy said. "I've heard of them! My husband was in Army intelligence, and told me all about them." Her tone softened. "He was going to approach U.N.C.L.E. for work after his time was up in the Army. He died in Korea, though."
Illya tried to make out her face, but his vision was wavering. "I'm sorry," he managed to say as he wobbled his way back to the truck seat. "If he was anything like you, he would have been an asset."
Trudy caught him as his knees gave out. "You're weak from blood loss. We need to build you back up. Where to? Any ideas?"
Illya nodded, his eyes glassy. "Yes. There should be a couple of small towns around that supply the base. We need to get there and ditch this truck. It's too obvious. Follow the smaller roads east and south. We should stumble across one, but I'm sure they'll be heavily patrolled, so be careful. We'll park outside of town and walk in."
"Yeah, right." Trudy mumbled as she climbed in and fired up the truck, rubbing her throat. "We'll see how far you get on foot."
Illya spared a tight grin. "You remind me of someone I work with," he commented. "Always nagging."
Trudy pulled carefully out of the brush. "He must be a terrific person," she countered lightly.
"In his own mind, he is," Illya replied between gritted teeth as the truck hit a rough patch. It would be a long ride.
*************************
Early that morning Napoleon Solo departed for the docks with a couple of names of boat owners supplied by the Sapporo staff. He learned that three of the four were out on fishing runs, and weren't expected back for a day or so. He was down to the final name, and when he inquired as to the location of the boat from an old man at the dock, the old man scanned the horizon and pointed to a black dot in the distance.
Napoleon settled down to wait. The dot grew larger, and then became recognizable as a small fishing trawler. Not too fast, but sturdy, he mused. If we can triangulate on that device as we think we can, that boat could get us in the area we want to be. He was so deep in thought about how to pull this off in such a large amount of coast and water, he didn't immediately notice the person driving the boat. Finally he stood up, waiting to greet the vessel, and was shocked to realize that the captain was a woman, and she was the only one aboard.
The Asian woman's hair was tucked up under a wide-brimmed hat, and she had on a large coat and boots, but when Solo saw her eyes studying him, he could tell she was a stunning woman. Her skin was clear, her eyes alive, and her expression one of aloof suspicion.
By the time she docked and threw the mooring rope to him, she knew he wanted to speak with her, and waited for the right moment to acknowledge him.
Solo tried to study her without looking like he was doing so. She was in her early twenties, he decided, and was lithe and sure in her movements. Working a trawler this size was second nature to her.
"My name is Napoleon Solo. Your name, well, actually I think it's your father's name, was given to me about a boat rental."
She eyed him up and down, but her eyes softened. "Yes," she said slowly in heavily accented English. "He does rent the Empress out, but he is out fishing, and won't be back for several days."
Solo straightened his tie in an unconscious act as he smiled at her. "Well, does your father allow you to rent out the Empress, Miss...?"
"Inturi. Stevie Inturi." She finished tying off the boat and brushed her hands together just before sweeping off the hat. Her long, black hair was shiny and thick as it fell over her shoulders. "Maybe. He leaves those decisions to me in his absence."
"Well, Miss Inturi," Napoleon said with a grin, "I belong to an international group call U.N.C.L.E., and we could use your boat. Can we discuss it over some tea?"
Stevie ducked her head slightly, and looked at him through her lashes. When she smiled, her brilliant white teeth made Solo fight to keep his composure. "I am familiar with your group. My father approves of it. Yes, we can have some tea. Excuse me, I need to change first."
She stepped back in the boat and shed the waterproof, hooded parka. Out of a bag she produced a dark purple, silk jacket that went perfectly with the simple black pants she wore. She also slipped off the rubber boots, and replaced them with simple black slipper shoes.
When she stepped off the boat the second time, Solo realized that this rescue mission wasn't a grim as it was only 15 minutes ago.