ACT I: Discovery
Katherine Tarasov angrily stuffed her diary into her rucksack and circled the room like a caged lion looking for prey. She snatched a small, silver framed photo from her desk as well as the small transistor radio that worked sporadically in this area and added them to the pack. Her eyes fell on the ragged stuffed tiger on the bed, and she hesitated for a moment. In a quick decision with a resigned sigh, she tucked the tiger in with the rest and topped off the pack with a bright red heart-shaped pillow. She pulled the buckles down snugly, checked that the sleeping bag was securely attached and shrugged on her winter coat.
A meek tap at the door made her smile. She stepped over and cracked the door open.
"Please, miss, take this with you. The cold takes your energy as quickly as your warmth." The tiny maid pushed a paper bag toward her. Kat knew it was enough calorie-laden food for the day, and probably a night. Standing aside, she allowed the small woman in and traded the bag for an affectionate smile.
"Oh, Lucya, I know that my babushka must talk to you from heaven. Only she took care of me like you do."
"Be careful, child." Kat could feel the soft, velvety warmth of Lucya's wrinkled hand patting hers as she accepted the bag. "You are like one of the creatures of the woods, I know, but I still worry."
Since her beloved grandmother had died so many years ago, Kat knew this was the only person in the entire of Russia who really knew her; the only person she really and truly knew wanted the best for her and understood her thoughts. She considered Lucya to be her mother, and if her actual mother ever knew these feelings, Lucya would be gone in a heartbeat.
A direct descendant of royalty could never consort with the house staff. It simply wasn't proper.
Kat gave Lucya a quick hug. "You know I'll be careful. I respect the out doors." She smiled again. "I'll be back in the morning. I just have to burn off some steam. You know how I am."
"Yes, dear, I do." Lucya backed away and hesitated in the doorway, her work worn hand on the crystal doorknob. "You are just like your father. He watches you from above, like a guardian angel. I know you're safe." She backed from the room and closed the door quietly.
Katrina slipped the bag into her pack and shouldered it, then turned off the lights in her room. She didn't bother sneaking out anymore. She also knew that Josef, the security chief and old family employee, kept a close eye on her but allowed her some freedom at the same time. Katrina was followed everywhere she went, she knew, but the men were skilled and rarely noticed by her. She knew her freedom was artificial but she would take what she could get for now. Next year, when she turned 18, she had plans to really live that involved an intricate scheme to escape Russia. She didn't know if she'd ever have the guts to actually do it, but it was fun to think about.
Escaping down the servant's stairs that went through the kitchen Kat thought briefly of her stepfather and felt her temper flared again. What did her mother see in that man? For perhaps the millionth time in the past eight years that question plagued her. If there was one thing she could thank the man for, it was the fact that in the past eight years she had figured out the kind of man she DIDN'T want to marry!
The kitchen was unusually quiet for being so soon after dinner but she didn't wonder why as she opened the back door. Outside the snow was falling heavily and the darkness nearly complete. Kat pulled down the snowshoes that hung on the delivery porch and skillfully put them on along with the fur hat with earflaps. With an excited grab she took the sturdy wood walking stick from its hook and was ready to go. It was dark and near white out conditions, but that didn't faze her. Katrina knew where she was going; it was the one place she could call her own.
**********
Helplessly, Napoleon Solo had watched the focus of their assignment leave the cabin just after darkness fell and the heavy snowfall had begun. All he could do was watch him go; snowfall essentially blinded him in his location - Illya had the only chance at a clear shot, and he didn't answer his communicator. The target drove away, undisturbed.
What had happened to Illya? His failure to check in was unusual.
By the time Solo dodged the forest guards and made it around the perimeter to the last known position of his partner, visibility was nonexistent. The cold wind tossed his unruly forelock in all directions around his concerned eyes as he studied the area. His face was flocked in fresh white, his cheeks red from cold.
It's like he simply disappeared from the Earth, he thought. Solo hadn't heard any ruckus and the guards were still in place and unconcerned. His communicator went unanswered, and Solo didn't dare try it again because the beeping might not help Illya's situation, whatever it may be.
He chewed his wind-chapped lip. The snow didn't reveal any clues, but that was to be expected in this storm. He carefully moved in and located the spot where his partner had been and began to poke around with his toe as he kept one eye on the lighted house.
Solo was about to give up when he felt it - something hard and unforgiving and on the edge of an unnatural hollow. He squatted down and fumbled through the drift until he pulled up a rifle.
Illya's rifle. And there was another one next to it Napoleon didn't recognize.
With a desperate glance around he held the rifles close and retreated. It still didn't make any sense. Where what his partner? And why wasn't Adrian Kozlov's security crawling in these woods right now?
********
Kat made it to the rocky cave in no time. She could do this hike with her eyes shut. What she didn't expect was to find a crumpled body against the far wall.
Kat entered the cave loaded with wood she'd gathered as she walked, planning to get a fire going as soon as possible or the cave would be a cold respite. She kicked off the snowshoes, dropped her pack and blew a feeble fire into a respectful flame that illuminated the entire cave in a matter of minutes. When she saw the still form in the flickering light her heart leaped into her throat.
Who ever it was had yet to make a noise. After several long seconds of heart settling study she decided to approach it. She felt the pounding in her chest begin again but she commanded control and knelt down by the form. All she could see was a slash of eyelashes and skin between collar and hat.
Gently she reached out and felt the exposed spot of cheek. It was cold and only slightly pink. Katrina worked her fingers down the cheek to the groove in the neck where she thought she would find a pulse.
There it was - barely - a thrumming in the neck against her warm fingers. Next, she lifted an eyelid and saw the pupil contract from the firelight. He was alive.
Katrina rocked back on to her heels. Now what? She leaned in and sniffed his faint breath - he wasn't drunk, and he certainly wasn't asleep unless he slept like a rock. Who was he? She knew all the surrounding estates and didn't recognize him.
She pulled out her sleeping bag, opened it and threw it over the man. Then she sat by the fire and warmed her hands while she thought. I wonder if he needs a doctor. I'll need more wood to keep this fire going all night. She stood to do just that, but before she left she took time to get her hands really warm over the fire and approached the stranger again. This time she pulled off his hat, which released a cascade of blond hair, and began to unbutton the outer layers of clothes to look for injuries.
As soon as the light colored outer coat was pulled aside she saw a large shiny area on the black turtleneck beneath. She touched it with her bare fingers and they came away sticky. When angled in the light, she realized it was blood. Kat gasped, and tugged the sweater to check under it when the form jerked slightly, then groaned. Amazingly, his hand moved with surprising speed and grabbed hers, taking her wrist in a painful grip. Kat yelped.
His eyes fluttered open. "Who are you?" He slurred in an accent typical of Western Russia.
"Be still," she snapped to cover her fear. "You're hurt."
The grip lessened enough to allow her to expose the skin surrounding his wound. When the chill of the cave hit the open wound he sharply sucked air between his teeth and the grip tightened again.
"Stop," he growled. "Who are you?"
"Kat," she replied. "And you need a doctor." The raw wound began to bleed freely again when exposed.
"Nyet." The man pushed her hands away and pulled the clothing back over the wound. "Where's Napoleon?" He mumbled drunkenly.
Kat leaned back and raised her eyebrows. "In France?" She replied brightly. Then she shook her head. "We can't be talking about the same Napoleon." When the man's hands struggled to close the coat, she leaned over and closed it for him. "And I hope your Napoleon is a doctor because there's a lot of blood here."
The man tried to sit up a bit taller, his hair falling forward and covering his forehead in a wild way, but he fell back with a groan.
"That'll teach you, mister. I told you that you were hurt."
He focused his startling clear blue eyes on her through the unruly bangs. "Who are you?" A pain filled grimace passed over his features and he ground his teeth.
"Kat. You seemed to have found my private escape." She indicated the cave with a wave of her hand. "And you? Who are you?"
He blinked as her words sank in. He looked around. "Illya," he said. "Sorry for the intrusion. I didn't have much choice." He spoke through gritted teeth and held himself tightly. "What time is it?"
Kat consulted the small watch on her wrist. "7:30."
Illya's fuzzy brain backtracked what he remembered. It had been at least two hours since sunset, and Napoleon had to realize something was amiss. "My partner, Napoleon, is out there looking for me. He can help."
"In this storm? I don't think he could find his own feet if he doesn't know this area. Plus he'll be discovered before he gets far. My stepfather has this whole area, and me, watched very closely. I'm sure there's an armed guard camping nearby right now." She smiled a bit. "And with this storm, I'm sure they aren't very happy about that right now."
Logic seemed to be coming back to his muddled brain; she was right. And if his partner had followed procedure, he'd scrubbed the mission and would fall back, regroup, and apply a new plan. He should be long gone from this area by now.
But something in what she said made the injured man study her again. She shifted uncomfortably with the scrutiny. Those icy eyes were unnerving. After a few moments, his eyes widened a bit and he said, much to Kat's surprise, "Inessa Katherine Tarasov."
"It's Kat," she squeaked instantly. "And how do you know my name? I don't know you." Frightened, the girl scrambled to her feet and eyed the cave exit.
"Your mother is Viktoriya Lukin Tarasov Kozlov, and your step father is Adrian Desnya Kozlov. Your father was Alexei Vitaliy Tarasov. He died about nine years ago." The injured blond slumped against the wall. "Now if I could just figure out if your being here is a curse or a blessing."
"Hey! What do you mean by that?" Kat stuttered, suddenly indignant. Then she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "Who are you? If you don't tell me, I'll get the guard that I know is out there. And I get the feeling you don't want that."
A tired chuckle came from the man. "No, not really. But I don't think you'll do that."
"That's it. I'm letting you bleed to death." She turned her back to go, but his next words stopped her in her tracks.
"How well do you know your stepfather?"
Slowly, she turned back and squinted suspiciously at the mysterious man. "How do you mean? I know I don't like him much, but he gives my mother what she needs."
Illya nodded. His voice was quiet but steady. "Your mother. She's a direct link to the royal family, isn't she? I know that's not a popular thing to be these days, but in some powerful circles that stay out of the Government's radar that connection means a lot."
Intrigued, Kat slowly moved next to him. "So? What's that got to do with Adrian?"
"Have you ever heard of a group called THRUSH?" Illya's voice was strong, but Kat could tell he was very uncomfortable. He shifted and grimaced, and she could tell he held back a groan when he bit his lip.
"Well, nothing really, except I've seen folders in Adrian's office with a black and white drawing of a bird on it. Is that the THRUSH you mean?"
"Yes. Now Kat,think back. The security that surrounds you and your mother; are they the same men your father had?"
She frowned and sank back down to her knees. "Well, I only really remember Josef. He is the security chief. The others have come on since mother married Adrian."
"And all those others are members of a group called THRUSH, as is Adrian Kozlov."
"So? What does this group do?"
"Nothing good that we have found. Their goal is to rule the world, basically."
Kat laughed, but a stab of fear burned her stomach. "That's not possible. The way things are with this Cold War. . ."
". . . make it a perfect opportunity for some. The people I work for think your stepfather is setting himself up to be the major power in this part of the world. THRUSH's goal is to dominate humankind."
Kat's mouth dropped open. Eventually her brain kicked in again and she said warily, "And who exactly do you work for?"
"I work for a group called U.N.C.L.E. It's an international organization for peace."
"I've heard of UNCLE. It's on the list of groups that I'm supposed to know. If any of them contact me, I'm to tell my stepfather immediately." She grinned an impish grin. "But then again, I've always made it my rule to do the opposite of what he wishes."
"I've heard there's not much love between you two."
She laughed shortly. "I believe he wishes I were of the picture. My mother's family is still newsworthy, especially if it's news that makes the old royals look bad. My mother likes to be kept in a certain fashion and Adrian can supply that. I guess that's good for her. So tell me, what is my stepfather up to?"
Illya slowly explained while Kat tended the fire and made a strong broth from bouillon cubes. Adrian Kozlov was one of the secondary leaders of THRUSH in Russia, and climbing the ladder with impressive speed. His marriage to Kat's mother was, UNCLE felt, to make him popular to those circles that still respected and supported the royal family. Rich circles - the bourgeoisie that hoped to rule some day.
Kozlov was reported to be the main force behind several small incidents aimed at increasing the Cold War tensions nearly to the point of actual war. If he was successful and was backed by the people of Russia, his chances of being the main THRUSH leader in Russia would be excellent. He could pull together his own personal army of Russians if THRUSH ever became a problem for him. The double back up system he'd set up over the years made it a sure thing that he was on top either way. UNCLE preferred that THRUSH was out of the picture.
Exhausted and trying not to show it, Illya looked to Kat for a reaction. He cradled his left arm tightly against his side using it to stop the blood flow from the wound when he realized it was otherwise useless. He felt his head steadily growing lighter, probably from blood loss. He took the broth she offered with his right hand, which shook slightly.
She appeared thoughtful. "And Adrian has these THRUSH guys working for him now."
"If you don't believe me, take a look in the wallet of the guy that did this to me." He pressed his side and winced. "He should have an ID card."
She choked on her broth. "Are . . . are you saying there's a dead man outside? And I walked right by him?"
"He wasn't moving much last I saw him."
"But Josef would notice him missing! It's only a matter of time before they begin a search!"
"You are probably right." Illya put the broth cup down.
Kat jumped up and began a nervous pacing of the cave. "You have to get out of here. Josef knows where this cave is. He makes the other men keep their distance, but when they discover that man missing he's going to come here first to get me."
Illya struggled to sit taller, which set off a brand new show of fireworks in his vision. "I know that. Leave me here. I can take care of myself. There's no reason for you to be involved."
"Leave? You can't even stand! Who are you fooling?" She knelt at his side again. "Look. You said your partner, Napoleon, is out there. I can contact him and he can get you out. What about that?"
"Kat, I can't allow you to . . ." He swayed.
The girl jumped to her feet. "Well, there's not much you can do about it. I need to get a little more wood for the night. Try not to bleed too much before I get back."
"Kat!"
She darted out the cave, cinching her jacket tight as she moved into the darkness.
Once outside she stood a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the dark. It was still snowing, but not as heavily as before. A dot of moonlight broke from the clouds and she eyed the bumps glowing with the weak light in the riverbed with suspicion; one of them was a dead body. Carefully, she moved upstream where she knew of a small grove of trees. Wood would be plentiful. Curiosity made her a bit braver and she nudged the man-sized boulders she passed on the way.
She didn't expect to find the body on the third nudge - its softness gave it away. She let out a little squeak of surprise. It was no more than twenty feet from the cave, practically right on top of them! Momentarily rooted in fear, Kat swallowed hard and tried to stop the pounding of her heart. Unsuccessful, she decided to face her fear and carefully squatted next to the form. Nausea made her unable to find the face; she felt for an arm and was rewarded by the glint of silver in the pale light - an identity bracelet. There was only one guard - Tima - that wore one of those. She shakily stood and backed off, the vapor from her nostrils clear in the night air.
They had time, she realized. This guard, Tima, was supposed to be on vacation and not due back for two more days. No one would miss him. The guards usually parked on the public street away from the house and walked in because Adrian didn't like his house crowded with cars. That's where he was coming from when he'd run into Illya.
Slowly, the nausea left her and she smiled and turned to get the wood, a stomach tingling giddiness encouraging her feet to move. She never did like Tima. She often saw him kick the stray dogs in the street and laugh about it when they went to town. She also heard the rumors about how he beat his wife.
Kat's self-confidence raised a notch. If she could handle a dead body without being sick or passing out, then she could handle anything. Someday, maybe she could be a secret agent, too. She smiled a bit more broadly. Wouldn't that get her mother into a tizzy!
Katherine Tarasov angrily stuffed her diary into her rucksack and circled the room like a caged lion looking for prey. She snatched a small, silver framed photo from her desk as well as the small transistor radio that worked sporadically in this area and added them to the pack. Her eyes fell on the ragged stuffed tiger on the bed, and she hesitated for a moment. In a quick decision with a resigned sigh, she tucked the tiger in with the rest and topped off the pack with a bright red heart-shaped pillow. She pulled the buckles down snugly, checked that the sleeping bag was securely attached and shrugged on her winter coat.
A meek tap at the door made her smile. She stepped over and cracked the door open.
"Please, miss, take this with you. The cold takes your energy as quickly as your warmth." The tiny maid pushed a paper bag toward her. Kat knew it was enough calorie-laden food for the day, and probably a night. Standing aside, she allowed the small woman in and traded the bag for an affectionate smile.
"Oh, Lucya, I know that my babushka must talk to you from heaven. Only she took care of me like you do."
"Be careful, child." Kat could feel the soft, velvety warmth of Lucya's wrinkled hand patting hers as she accepted the bag. "You are like one of the creatures of the woods, I know, but I still worry."
Since her beloved grandmother had died so many years ago, Kat knew this was the only person in the entire of Russia who really knew her; the only person she really and truly knew wanted the best for her and understood her thoughts. She considered Lucya to be her mother, and if her actual mother ever knew these feelings, Lucya would be gone in a heartbeat.
A direct descendant of royalty could never consort with the house staff. It simply wasn't proper.
Kat gave Lucya a quick hug. "You know I'll be careful. I respect the out doors." She smiled again. "I'll be back in the morning. I just have to burn off some steam. You know how I am."
"Yes, dear, I do." Lucya backed away and hesitated in the doorway, her work worn hand on the crystal doorknob. "You are just like your father. He watches you from above, like a guardian angel. I know you're safe." She backed from the room and closed the door quietly.
Katrina slipped the bag into her pack and shouldered it, then turned off the lights in her room. She didn't bother sneaking out anymore. She also knew that Josef, the security chief and old family employee, kept a close eye on her but allowed her some freedom at the same time. Katrina was followed everywhere she went, she knew, but the men were skilled and rarely noticed by her. She knew her freedom was artificial but she would take what she could get for now. Next year, when she turned 18, she had plans to really live that involved an intricate scheme to escape Russia. She didn't know if she'd ever have the guts to actually do it, but it was fun to think about.
Escaping down the servant's stairs that went through the kitchen Kat thought briefly of her stepfather and felt her temper flared again. What did her mother see in that man? For perhaps the millionth time in the past eight years that question plagued her. If there was one thing she could thank the man for, it was the fact that in the past eight years she had figured out the kind of man she DIDN'T want to marry!
The kitchen was unusually quiet for being so soon after dinner but she didn't wonder why as she opened the back door. Outside the snow was falling heavily and the darkness nearly complete. Kat pulled down the snowshoes that hung on the delivery porch and skillfully put them on along with the fur hat with earflaps. With an excited grab she took the sturdy wood walking stick from its hook and was ready to go. It was dark and near white out conditions, but that didn't faze her. Katrina knew where she was going; it was the one place she could call her own.
**********
Helplessly, Napoleon Solo had watched the focus of their assignment leave the cabin just after darkness fell and the heavy snowfall had begun. All he could do was watch him go; snowfall essentially blinded him in his location - Illya had the only chance at a clear shot, and he didn't answer his communicator. The target drove away, undisturbed.
What had happened to Illya? His failure to check in was unusual.
By the time Solo dodged the forest guards and made it around the perimeter to the last known position of his partner, visibility was nonexistent. The cold wind tossed his unruly forelock in all directions around his concerned eyes as he studied the area. His face was flocked in fresh white, his cheeks red from cold.
It's like he simply disappeared from the Earth, he thought. Solo hadn't heard any ruckus and the guards were still in place and unconcerned. His communicator went unanswered, and Solo didn't dare try it again because the beeping might not help Illya's situation, whatever it may be.
He chewed his wind-chapped lip. The snow didn't reveal any clues, but that was to be expected in this storm. He carefully moved in and located the spot where his partner had been and began to poke around with his toe as he kept one eye on the lighted house.
Solo was about to give up when he felt it - something hard and unforgiving and on the edge of an unnatural hollow. He squatted down and fumbled through the drift until he pulled up a rifle.
Illya's rifle. And there was another one next to it Napoleon didn't recognize.
With a desperate glance around he held the rifles close and retreated. It still didn't make any sense. Where what his partner? And why wasn't Adrian Kozlov's security crawling in these woods right now?
********
Kat made it to the rocky cave in no time. She could do this hike with her eyes shut. What she didn't expect was to find a crumpled body against the far wall.
Kat entered the cave loaded with wood she'd gathered as she walked, planning to get a fire going as soon as possible or the cave would be a cold respite. She kicked off the snowshoes, dropped her pack and blew a feeble fire into a respectful flame that illuminated the entire cave in a matter of minutes. When she saw the still form in the flickering light her heart leaped into her throat.
Who ever it was had yet to make a noise. After several long seconds of heart settling study she decided to approach it. She felt the pounding in her chest begin again but she commanded control and knelt down by the form. All she could see was a slash of eyelashes and skin between collar and hat.
Gently she reached out and felt the exposed spot of cheek. It was cold and only slightly pink. Katrina worked her fingers down the cheek to the groove in the neck where she thought she would find a pulse.
There it was - barely - a thrumming in the neck against her warm fingers. Next, she lifted an eyelid and saw the pupil contract from the firelight. He was alive.
Katrina rocked back on to her heels. Now what? She leaned in and sniffed his faint breath - he wasn't drunk, and he certainly wasn't asleep unless he slept like a rock. Who was he? She knew all the surrounding estates and didn't recognize him.
She pulled out her sleeping bag, opened it and threw it over the man. Then she sat by the fire and warmed her hands while she thought. I wonder if he needs a doctor. I'll need more wood to keep this fire going all night. She stood to do just that, but before she left she took time to get her hands really warm over the fire and approached the stranger again. This time she pulled off his hat, which released a cascade of blond hair, and began to unbutton the outer layers of clothes to look for injuries.
As soon as the light colored outer coat was pulled aside she saw a large shiny area on the black turtleneck beneath. She touched it with her bare fingers and they came away sticky. When angled in the light, she realized it was blood. Kat gasped, and tugged the sweater to check under it when the form jerked slightly, then groaned. Amazingly, his hand moved with surprising speed and grabbed hers, taking her wrist in a painful grip. Kat yelped.
His eyes fluttered open. "Who are you?" He slurred in an accent typical of Western Russia.
"Be still," she snapped to cover her fear. "You're hurt."
The grip lessened enough to allow her to expose the skin surrounding his wound. When the chill of the cave hit the open wound he sharply sucked air between his teeth and the grip tightened again.
"Stop," he growled. "Who are you?"
"Kat," she replied. "And you need a doctor." The raw wound began to bleed freely again when exposed.
"Nyet." The man pushed her hands away and pulled the clothing back over the wound. "Where's Napoleon?" He mumbled drunkenly.
Kat leaned back and raised her eyebrows. "In France?" She replied brightly. Then she shook her head. "We can't be talking about the same Napoleon." When the man's hands struggled to close the coat, she leaned over and closed it for him. "And I hope your Napoleon is a doctor because there's a lot of blood here."
The man tried to sit up a bit taller, his hair falling forward and covering his forehead in a wild way, but he fell back with a groan.
"That'll teach you, mister. I told you that you were hurt."
He focused his startling clear blue eyes on her through the unruly bangs. "Who are you?" A pain filled grimace passed over his features and he ground his teeth.
"Kat. You seemed to have found my private escape." She indicated the cave with a wave of her hand. "And you? Who are you?"
He blinked as her words sank in. He looked around. "Illya," he said. "Sorry for the intrusion. I didn't have much choice." He spoke through gritted teeth and held himself tightly. "What time is it?"
Kat consulted the small watch on her wrist. "7:30."
Illya's fuzzy brain backtracked what he remembered. It had been at least two hours since sunset, and Napoleon had to realize something was amiss. "My partner, Napoleon, is out there looking for me. He can help."
"In this storm? I don't think he could find his own feet if he doesn't know this area. Plus he'll be discovered before he gets far. My stepfather has this whole area, and me, watched very closely. I'm sure there's an armed guard camping nearby right now." She smiled a bit. "And with this storm, I'm sure they aren't very happy about that right now."
Logic seemed to be coming back to his muddled brain; she was right. And if his partner had followed procedure, he'd scrubbed the mission and would fall back, regroup, and apply a new plan. He should be long gone from this area by now.
But something in what she said made the injured man study her again. She shifted uncomfortably with the scrutiny. Those icy eyes were unnerving. After a few moments, his eyes widened a bit and he said, much to Kat's surprise, "Inessa Katherine Tarasov."
"It's Kat," she squeaked instantly. "And how do you know my name? I don't know you." Frightened, the girl scrambled to her feet and eyed the cave exit.
"Your mother is Viktoriya Lukin Tarasov Kozlov, and your step father is Adrian Desnya Kozlov. Your father was Alexei Vitaliy Tarasov. He died about nine years ago." The injured blond slumped against the wall. "Now if I could just figure out if your being here is a curse or a blessing."
"Hey! What do you mean by that?" Kat stuttered, suddenly indignant. Then she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "Who are you? If you don't tell me, I'll get the guard that I know is out there. And I get the feeling you don't want that."
A tired chuckle came from the man. "No, not really. But I don't think you'll do that."
"That's it. I'm letting you bleed to death." She turned her back to go, but his next words stopped her in her tracks.
"How well do you know your stepfather?"
Slowly, she turned back and squinted suspiciously at the mysterious man. "How do you mean? I know I don't like him much, but he gives my mother what she needs."
Illya nodded. His voice was quiet but steady. "Your mother. She's a direct link to the royal family, isn't she? I know that's not a popular thing to be these days, but in some powerful circles that stay out of the Government's radar that connection means a lot."
Intrigued, Kat slowly moved next to him. "So? What's that got to do with Adrian?"
"Have you ever heard of a group called THRUSH?" Illya's voice was strong, but Kat could tell he was very uncomfortable. He shifted and grimaced, and she could tell he held back a groan when he bit his lip.
"Well, nothing really, except I've seen folders in Adrian's office with a black and white drawing of a bird on it. Is that the THRUSH you mean?"
"Yes. Now Kat,think back. The security that surrounds you and your mother; are they the same men your father had?"
She frowned and sank back down to her knees. "Well, I only really remember Josef. He is the security chief. The others have come on since mother married Adrian."
"And all those others are members of a group called THRUSH, as is Adrian Kozlov."
"So? What does this group do?"
"Nothing good that we have found. Their goal is to rule the world, basically."
Kat laughed, but a stab of fear burned her stomach. "That's not possible. The way things are with this Cold War. . ."
". . . make it a perfect opportunity for some. The people I work for think your stepfather is setting himself up to be the major power in this part of the world. THRUSH's goal is to dominate humankind."
Kat's mouth dropped open. Eventually her brain kicked in again and she said warily, "And who exactly do you work for?"
"I work for a group called U.N.C.L.E. It's an international organization for peace."
"I've heard of UNCLE. It's on the list of groups that I'm supposed to know. If any of them contact me, I'm to tell my stepfather immediately." She grinned an impish grin. "But then again, I've always made it my rule to do the opposite of what he wishes."
"I've heard there's not much love between you two."
She laughed shortly. "I believe he wishes I were of the picture. My mother's family is still newsworthy, especially if it's news that makes the old royals look bad. My mother likes to be kept in a certain fashion and Adrian can supply that. I guess that's good for her. So tell me, what is my stepfather up to?"
Illya slowly explained while Kat tended the fire and made a strong broth from bouillon cubes. Adrian Kozlov was one of the secondary leaders of THRUSH in Russia, and climbing the ladder with impressive speed. His marriage to Kat's mother was, UNCLE felt, to make him popular to those circles that still respected and supported the royal family. Rich circles - the bourgeoisie that hoped to rule some day.
Kozlov was reported to be the main force behind several small incidents aimed at increasing the Cold War tensions nearly to the point of actual war. If he was successful and was backed by the people of Russia, his chances of being the main THRUSH leader in Russia would be excellent. He could pull together his own personal army of Russians if THRUSH ever became a problem for him. The double back up system he'd set up over the years made it a sure thing that he was on top either way. UNCLE preferred that THRUSH was out of the picture.
Exhausted and trying not to show it, Illya looked to Kat for a reaction. He cradled his left arm tightly against his side using it to stop the blood flow from the wound when he realized it was otherwise useless. He felt his head steadily growing lighter, probably from blood loss. He took the broth she offered with his right hand, which shook slightly.
She appeared thoughtful. "And Adrian has these THRUSH guys working for him now."
"If you don't believe me, take a look in the wallet of the guy that did this to me." He pressed his side and winced. "He should have an ID card."
She choked on her broth. "Are . . . are you saying there's a dead man outside? And I walked right by him?"
"He wasn't moving much last I saw him."
"But Josef would notice him missing! It's only a matter of time before they begin a search!"
"You are probably right." Illya put the broth cup down.
Kat jumped up and began a nervous pacing of the cave. "You have to get out of here. Josef knows where this cave is. He makes the other men keep their distance, but when they discover that man missing he's going to come here first to get me."
Illya struggled to sit taller, which set off a brand new show of fireworks in his vision. "I know that. Leave me here. I can take care of myself. There's no reason for you to be involved."
"Leave? You can't even stand! Who are you fooling?" She knelt at his side again. "Look. You said your partner, Napoleon, is out there. I can contact him and he can get you out. What about that?"
"Kat, I can't allow you to . . ." He swayed.
The girl jumped to her feet. "Well, there's not much you can do about it. I need to get a little more wood for the night. Try not to bleed too much before I get back."
"Kat!"
She darted out the cave, cinching her jacket tight as she moved into the darkness.
Once outside she stood a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the dark. It was still snowing, but not as heavily as before. A dot of moonlight broke from the clouds and she eyed the bumps glowing with the weak light in the riverbed with suspicion; one of them was a dead body. Carefully, she moved upstream where she knew of a small grove of trees. Wood would be plentiful. Curiosity made her a bit braver and she nudged the man-sized boulders she passed on the way.
She didn't expect to find the body on the third nudge - its softness gave it away. She let out a little squeak of surprise. It was no more than twenty feet from the cave, practically right on top of them! Momentarily rooted in fear, Kat swallowed hard and tried to stop the pounding of her heart. Unsuccessful, she decided to face her fear and carefully squatted next to the form. Nausea made her unable to find the face; she felt for an arm and was rewarded by the glint of silver in the pale light - an identity bracelet. There was only one guard - Tima - that wore one of those. She shakily stood and backed off, the vapor from her nostrils clear in the night air.
They had time, she realized. This guard, Tima, was supposed to be on vacation and not due back for two more days. No one would miss him. The guards usually parked on the public street away from the house and walked in because Adrian didn't like his house crowded with cars. That's where he was coming from when he'd run into Illya.
Slowly, the nausea left her and she smiled and turned to get the wood, a stomach tingling giddiness encouraging her feet to move. She never did like Tima. She often saw him kick the stray dogs in the street and laugh about it when they went to town. She also heard the rumors about how he beat his wife.
Kat's self-confidence raised a notch. If she could handle a dead body without being sick or passing out, then she could handle anything. Someday, maybe she could be a secret agent, too. She smiled a bit more broadly. Wouldn't that get her mother into a tizzy!