Part III - Dinner and... Quantum Mechanics

As he took his seat at a discreet table in his favourite restaurant, Napoleon was feeling restless. Dr Kendall had turned out to be a pretty, slightly tomboyish redhead, with large green eyes and a dry sense of humour. They had talked politely in the car when he picked her up. They made smalltalk over drinks, while the table was prepared. She had been attentive and amusing, while making it perfectly clear that she would much rather be somewhere else. Napoleon was starting to agree with her.

Maria tapped her fork sharply on the table. Damn! Not only had he not heard a word she'd been saying for the last couple of minutes, but she'd noticed his wandering attention.

"Mr Solo, I really don't see why I should participate in this farce. I have no intention of joining this bunch of power-crazed lunatics!"

Napoleon scrambled to retrieve the situation.

"Thrush tend to resort to coercion when they can't get you to volunteer, Dr Kendall. We just want to keep you safe, that's all."

"So I'm going to be followed around for the rest of my life? Panic buttons, blind dates with trained killers? How do I make it stop?"

Napoleon winced at the "trained killers" comment, but was relieved that she was keeping her voice down. He shouldn't have let her drink that martini. The depressant effect of the alcohol was cracking her self-control.

"Oh Napoleon isn't that bad once you get to know him," said a familiar voice. "Most of his girlfriends leave their panic button behind after the first five or six dates."

Napoleon glared up at Illya, who had managed to keep his usual straight face.

"Dr Kendall, this is my partner Illya Kuryakin. Illya, Dr Kendall."

Illya shook hands with Maria and sat down as a waiter bustled up.

"Will the gentleman be joining you Mr Solo?"

"Yes, another place please." Napoleon said resignedly and watched as Illya was equipped with cutlery, napkin and wine glasses.

Maria had been studying Illya's face, with a puzzled expression. "I know this may sound odd" she said, "But did you study at Cambridge? You remind me of someone I once met."

"Yes I did. Quantum mechanics in fact, I did my PhD under Professor Salter."

She giggled. "I knew it! You probably don't remember, but I was one of a party of college girls who visited Cambridge one summer on an exchange trip."

Illya looked uncomfortable. "How could I have forgotten?" he muttered.

"Really?" Napoleon said, an evil grin spreading over his face. "I hope Illya made you all feel welcome."

"Actually, I'm afraid we made terrible nuisances of ourselves. Especially Betty Crane..."

Illya winced. A quick glance at Napoleon confirmed that his partner was enjoying this immensely.

"And just what did Miss Crane get up to?"

Illya looked at Maria beseechingly, but to no avail.

"Oh, she had a terrible crush on Illya. She followed him everywhere."

"She would have made a great insurance saleswoman." Illya said. "I've met Thrush interrogators who were less persistent."

This evening is definitely looking up thought Napoleon, hugely amused at the image of an irate Illya being relentlessly tailed by a love-struck teenager. His arrival seemed to have taken Maria's mind off her troubles too.

"Do you still take an interest in Physics? You seem to have made quite a career change since we last met."

"The U.N.C.L.E. research department subscribes to all the major journals, so I get the chance to stay up to date. I read them whenever I am, um, resting."

"I suppose you have to 'rest' quite a lot in a profession like yours." said Maria, clearly not fooled by Illya's circumspect mention of the times he spent in the infirmary.

"Sometimes. I try to keep busy though."

Illya decided to change the subject.

"I was really fascinated by your last paper in "Reviews of Modern Physics". I thought your description of attempts to find a solution for the three body problem was superb."

Any second now one of them is going to produce a pen and start writing formulas on a napkin, thought Napoleon ruefully. Sure enough, in less than a minute biros were fished out and the two of them were scribbling busily, the red head and the blonde bent intently over a jumble of hideous-looking equations. Still, the proprietor's two daughters were waiting tables tonight. With them to contemplate, the evening would not be without its compensations.

Napoleon coaxed his companions into actually ordering dinner from the bemused waiter, but aside from that, he didn't hear a single intelligible thing from either of them for the first two courses. Finally, after the waiter had cleared the plates away for the second time, Maria excused herself.

"So this is your idea of a date then Illya? I think I prefer the old-fashioned kind myself."

Illya grinned.

"It's wonderful! I haven't had a chance for a talk like this since I left Cambridge."

"Illya, listen to me. You have just spent an hour talking to a beautiful woman in an extremely expensive restaurant, for which you are not paying, I might add. Fine food, excellent wine, and candlelight to watch her by. She has a lovely dress, you have clearly stolen someone's tuxedo. There is even a full moon outside. Why do you care about her equations?"

"Because her mathematics is so beautiful!"

Napoleon shook his head, helplessly.

"U.N.C.L.E. - I give up."

Illya smiled, his blue eyes dancing with fun at having driven his friend to surrender the point. Napoleon laughed back at him, treasuring the look of unguarded pleasure on the Russian's normally sombre face.

When the smile vanished, Napoleon snapped from relaxed to alert in a heartbeat. Illya was seated facing the back of the restaurant, his steely gaze fixed on some threat behind Napoleon.

Napoleon turned slowly and saw the drooping figure of Maria, being led solicitously out of the ladies' room by a young woman he hadn't noticed before. It looked as though Waverly had underestimated Thrush's level of interest in Dr Kendall.

"I'm afraid Maria is feeling unwell Mr Solo. I think we should take her home." said the Thrush girl with a small, triumphant smile.

Maria looked flushed and feverish, her eyes unfocussed. Whatever she had been given, it worked fast. Napoleon glanced at the hand on Maria's arm - the Thrush girl's finger was tipped with a device like a thimble, which had a small needle on the end. No telling what the drug on there would do, if he put up any resistance. Under her careful scrutiny, he summoned a waiter, who was most sympathetic at such a premature end to a favourite customer's evening. Once the bill had been settled, the four of them left the restaurant, where a couple of large men handed them into a waiting black van.