The Spot the Zebra Affair
Chapter 2 – Team Work
Author: Llinos
The agents started on their project at dawn. As it turned out, Illya did have to carry his partner, but only to a strategic spot, about 500 yards away, to the edge of some long grass where, Napoleon had observed, zebra were wont to graze.
"I'm going to pick off a young female," he said, taking aim. Adding, before his partner could, "something at which I'm most adept."
"Don't forget to put at least two slugs into it." Kuryakin stood rooted the spot where Solo had told him to stand so that he would not get in the line of fire. "Otherwise it probably won't even notice."
Solo took a bead on a female yearling and fired three darts rapidly and accurately into the beast's hindquarters. "Got it!" He turned to the Russian. "Okay, your turn. Are you ready?"
Kuryakin held up the halter they had made by plaiting lengths of the torn rug together. Illya had been able to do the straightforward weaving of the strands, while Napoleon had fashioned the device into the right shape. They had also made a long and sturdy rope from the remaining bandages and their neckties.
"Walk forward thirty paces," Solo directed. "Stop. Turn to your left. Forward five paces. Stop. Reach down. There."
The rest of the zebra herd had fled as Kuryakin approached and as he reached down and touched the warm hide, he felt the creature tremble in obvious terror. It was still conscious, even with three darts in it. This was not going to be easy.
Gently, he eased the improvised halter over the zebra's head, speaking softly in Russian to try and calm the nervous animal. Then, having slipped the home-made rope around its neck, he moved his hand down the creature's back to its flank and removed the sleep darts.
"Come on, nyeh byespakoityes - hup, come." Gingerly, Illya pulled on the rope with one hand and the halter with the other, urging the beast to its feet.
After ten minutes of gentle encouragement the animal shakily gained purchase with its hind legs and pushed itself onto all fours.
"Come now. Davaj. Walk on." Illya tugged gently and could feel the zebra begin to follow him a couple of paces. "Does it look all right?" he called to his partner.
"Yes she's quite…Illya watch out!" They had both been unprepared for the animal's sudden return to life. Illya was pulled off his feet as the zebra bucked back and front and then took off in a panic-stricken bolt. The resolute Russian hung on to the bandage rope and was dragged along the grass until he managed to get some purchase with his feet and pull back, slowing the creature a little. The agent's one thought was don't let go... don't let go.
Eventually the animal stopped, exhausted and sweating. Illya pulled himself up, battered and bruised but the rope still tenaciously grasped in his hands. The Russian felt his way to the animal's neck, gently patting and soothing the sweating hide, and felt the pounding heart. It was obviously terrified. He was loath to shout for fear of startling the zebra into another dash, but now he had no idea where he was.
Get a grip he told himself sternly. Think. When he had stood behind Napoleon the sun had been full on his face. Then he had walked forwards. Okay, he reasoned, if I put the sun in my face now and then turn and walk away from it, I will be going in the right direction.
"Come on zebra." He pulled firmly on the rope and the exhausted, nervous animal reluctantly followed him.
He had covered about 500 yards, tripping and stumbling every so often over unseen hazards, when he finally heard Napoleon calling to him and turned towards his partner's voice.
"So, we have a horse." Solo eyed the quivering animal as the unlikely pair of blind Russian and untamed zebra arrived to where he was lying, propped up on his elbows.
"No, Napoleon." Illya rubbed at his bruised thigh. "We have a wild zebra. You are not going to be able to ride this. I've probably battered myself almost to death for no purpose. We may as well shoot it and use the meat."
"Illya how could you?" Napoleon could see his partner's point, but was not about to give up. "Perhaps if we give her a name."
I don't see how that will help." Kuryakin was not the type to get overly sentimental about animals.
"Well, it might stop you from eating her," Solo reasoned. "We could call her Zee?"
"We could call her Dinner?" Kuryakin scowled.
"No, I'm going to call her Spot," Napoleon decided.
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Spot eventually stopped trying to pull away from Illya as he stroked and whispered to her, gradually calming with his soft words and gentle caresses. When her heartbeat had slowed enough, the agent decided it was time for the next step. He tethered the rope to a heavy rock to stop her bolting and slowly eased himself astride the animal's back.
At first she stood calmly enough, but suddenly realising something very strange was happening, bucked with all four legs, leapt high in the air and dumped the rider on the ground.
Illya rolled quickly away from the stamping hooves, certain that he had enough bruises for one day. "Where is she Napoleon?" He scrambled up to his feet again, resolutely determined not to be beaten.
"It's okay, she's still tethered to the rock. Are you all right?" Napoleon was feeling a little guilty that he couldn't help more.
"I'm fine. Just let me get my breath back and I'll try again." Kuryakin stood still. Disorientated by the fall he didn't know which way to go. "It doesn't exactly help not being able to see."
"Maybe if you equalled the struggle a bit." Solo suggested. "How about blindfolding Spot. I've seen that done with horses, if they can't see, it calms them down."
"Bribery works well too." Kuryakin worked his way towards Solo's voice. "I wish we had some sugar-lumps."
"How about peppermints?" Solo shook the bag of candy.
A piece of lining from Solo's jacket was used to fashion the blindfold and Kuryakin, with directions from his partner, sometimes helpful, sometimes not, eventually managed to cover Spot's eyes. At first she twisted her head this way and that, trying to be free of the encumbrance, but finally gave up and stood quietly. Illya then unwrapped a peppermint and, feeling down the animal's nose, located her mouth and pressed the treat against her teeth.
Once more she was startled by the strange new experience, but crunched the candy, then butted against the Russian's arm, obviously anxious for more.
"She likes it!" Solo exclaimed. "And you two have something in common."
"Which is?"
"You both crunch."
Another hour and half a dozen peppermints later, Kuryakin finally sat astride Spot, without her bucking or protesting in any way.
The two agents made a quick meal from the remains of the roast pig. Then Illya lifted his partner up from beneath his arms and managed to manoeuvre him so that he could grasp Spot's neck. Napoleon held on firmly as Illya lifted the paralysed legs over the back of the zebra.
"How does that feel?" Kuryakin still kept a firm grasp on the rope as he reached down and felt about for the sack that Solo had improvised from the remains of the rug.
"Not too bad. Beats the hell out of a camel." Napoleon noticed his partner's fumbling. "The sack is to your left."
Illya hoisted the bundle holding the remains of their possessions over the zebra's neck, counter-balanced by the heavier Jerry can of water on the other side. "How much daylight do you think we have left?"
"About six hours I would think," Solo estimated.
"So which way do we go? Since you're the only one who can see where we are, I suppose I'll have to rely on your navigation." Kuryakin took the halter in one hand and waited for directions. "As we're lost already, I don't suppose it matters much."
"I think we should be able to make it to the mountains before sundown. That's probably our best bet for finding more water at least."
"So - which way?"
"Head West young man."
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Had there been anyone to see, the trio would have made a strange sight. Two men dressed in battered and torn business suits, one riding a blindfolded zebra, hanging on tightly around the animal's neck. The other leading it, with one hand held out defensively in front as though he were walking in the dark.
After two hours of steady travel, the terrain began to get a little more rocky as the three approached the mountains. Illya, with Napoleon's help, found a long twig to use as a stick. It helped him to avoid the smaller rocks without his partner having to constantly alert him to hazards. The Russian was tempted to unblindfold Spot so that at least she could see where she was going, but decided against it, not wanting to risk Napoleon being thrown.
"Stop Illya." Napoleon suddenly ordered. "I think I see water."
The Russian halted Spot, waiting for directions. "Which way?"
"Turn to your left. No back to the right a little. That's it. Okay now straight ahead."
As they approached the small waterhole, Solo could see quite a few other animals, antelope, a couple of giraffe, some kind of bovine with long horns. "Wait for a moment." Illya halted once more. "We need to be careful, there could be lions or other dangerous animals here."
"Do you want to get the gun out of the sack?" Illya suggested. "Maybe you could bag supper at the same time."
"Good idea," Napoleon agreed. "Does sir fancy anything in particular, or would you like the dish of the day."
"Anything, except…." Illya trailed off sounding a little embarrassed.
"What?" Napoleon had guessed what his partner was going to say and was not about to let him get away with it. "Zebra?"
Illya pulled himself up straight and put on his most aloof expression. "Well it wouldn't be very good manners - would it."
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Both agents were bone tired by the time they curled up by the campfire for a few hours of well-deserved sleep.
They had decided to camp a good way away from the waterhole and, after refilling their can, having a perfunctory wash, and letting Spot have a good long drink, they trekked on for another twenty minutes.
Napoleon had bagged a large turkey and while he set to his work of plucking, gutting and roasting the bird, Illya collected firewood as well as armfuls of long grass for Spot's benefit. He tethered the zebra to a rock near the fire as protection against predators and, after removing her blindfold, added a couple of peppermints to her feast.
As the Russian petted Spot and doled out the candy, she nudged him playfully, gradually becoming at ease with her new owner.
"You realise Mr. Waverly will never let you keep her." Napoleon looked up from fiddling about with the broken communicator. "Besides, you'd never get her to live in your apartment."
"Napoleon, I'm just making friends with her, I don't want to marry her." Illya left Spot to enjoy her grass and felt his way over to join his partner. "What are you doing? Anything useful?"
"I'm attempting to see if there is anything to be done with this communicator." Solo twisted a small piece off the antenna and made a minute adjustment to the internal workings.
"And is there?" Illya flopped down on the grass.
"Well the power pack is still functioning, however, I can't raise anybody on it. I think the receiver may be working over short distances, but that's about it."
"So it's no use?" Illya was itching to get his hands on the device, but without sight, there was nothing he could do.
"Maybe I could make it into a homing device." Napoleon carried on twiddling. "If I can just get this bit to…"
"What use is that over short distances?" Illya felt for some firewood as he could feel the blaze lessening. "If headquarters can't pick us up, there's no point."
"At the very least, if I wear the homer, you could carry the receiver," Napoleon suggested.
"What good would that do?"
"It would stop you getting lost all the time." Solo finished adjusting the instrument. "There, that's got it. I won't have any voice left if I have to keep calling you back every time you wander off."
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The following morning the strange little trio set off again. Spot was now behaving very well without her blindfold, although she did tend to butt Illya every so often in the hope of eliciting more peppermints.
"Stoi, stoi," Illya muttered, pushing Spot's nose gently away. "You'll rot your teeth."
They made their way around the edge of the mountains, hoping to find a road of some kind that might lead to civilisation. But three hours of trekking revealed only more mountain to their left and more savannah to their right.
"Illya, could we take a rest." Solo groaned a little and his partner halted Spot and turned to him.
"Are you all right?"
"Not really. My back is hurting like hell and hanging on to Spot's neck is not the best position I can think of." Napoleon tried to ease himself back a little to sit upright, but couldn't quite make it. "There's no sign of anything in any direction. No point in rushing off to nowhere."
Illya tethered Spot to a bush, then lifted his partner down from the zebra and made him as comfortable as possible on the ground. "Do you want some water?" Kuryakin suggested, "and some tablets, there are plenty left."
"Yuh." Solo grimaced. Although Kuryakin could not see him, he could tell his partner was in pain. It was not like Napoleon to complain, unless he was really suffering. He retrieved the water and tablets from the zebra.
When Napoleon sounded a little more comfortable, Illya realised the zebra must be thirsty too. "Can you see anything into which I could pour some water for Spot?"
Solo looked around. "There are some shallow rocks about 20 yards straight ahead. I think if you feel for an indentation in one that should work."
Illya set off with Spot, carefully following Napoleon's called directions. He was getting quite good at this. He found the flattish rocks and felt about until he came to a suitable indentation. Playfully, the Russian splashed some water on Spot's nose, which made her sneeze, so he apologised with a peppermint, but held it low by the water he had poured to give her the idea of where to drink.
Napoleon watched in amusement. "You know what they say Illya. You can lead a zebra to water, but…"
"What? What is it?" Illya sensed the sudden alarm in his partner's pause.
"A plane, there's a plane heading this way."
"I don't hear it." Illya stood up and listened intently.
"Neither do I." Napoleon pushed himself up on his elbows for a better view. "It's as though it doesn't have an engine."
"No engine?" Illya turned towards his partner. "Napoleon, that's what happened to us."
"And it's going to happen to these guys as well." Solo was frantically trying to measure the airplane's trajectory to see if Illya and he were in immediate danger. "That plane is going to crash."
They both waited in silence.
Illya flinched at the sound of the explosion. The plane had blown up on impact, hitting the ground about half a mile away from the agents.
"That's a bit too close to home to be a co-incidence," Solo commented dryly. "Except that whoever was in that plane won't be riding out of here on a zebra."
"So we definitely were attacked and there is obviously something we missed earlier." Kuryakin realised that Spot had finished drinking and allowed her to wander about grazing, whilst he followed, keeping a firm hold on her rope. "What do suggest we do now?"
"Until we get back to civilisation, I don't think there is much we can do about it." The American lay back down on the makeshift pillow he had made of his jacket. "Personally, I'm going to have a nap."
"Hmm - that should help." Kuryakin continued to follow Spot, as she nosed her way across the grass.
Fifteen minutes had passed when Illya heard the sound of a helicopter approaching. "Napoleon, Napoleon, where are you?" There was no reply. Either his partner was sound asleep or he had wandered out of earshot. "Well Spot, where are we?" He could hear the helicopter descending fast, but of course, had no way of knowing if it contained friend or foe.
The machine landed quite close by. The occupants had obviously spotted the two agents. Kuryakin stood his ground as they approached.
"Who are you?" A male voice demanded; it didn't sound like a friend.
"Illya Kuryakin. Who are you?"
"And your friend over there - who is he?"
"I think you owe me a name first."
A bullet whanged off the rock beside Illya, making him jump and Spot to rear backwards in alarm, pulling the rope from the agent's hand. "Just answer the question," the voice growled. "What's your friend's name?"
"I'm Napoleon Solo." The American answered for himself. He had been asleep when the helicopter landed, knocked out by the tablets he had taken. The shot fired had woken him with a start.
"What are you two doing out here, dressed like that?"
"Bird watching." Solo's sarcasm was more for Kuryakin's benefit than the questioners. His partner could not see the THRUSH uniforms, but that comment would tell him who these men were.
Illya felt the man draw close to him and stood passively as he was searched. There was not much else the agent could do and he was not going to give away the fact that he was blind by making any stupid moves.
"What's this," said the THRUSH triumphantly as he withdrew the gold card from the Russian's jacket. "U.N.C.L.E."
"Yes, we're just the advance party," Solo bluffed. "We're onto you and we're expecting a full contingent any moment."
"No you're not." Even Solo had to admit it was not a very good bluff. "You, get over there by your partner."
Illya felt himself shoved in the back and started to walk towards the direction of Napoleon's voice.
"And you." The THRUSH waved his gun upwards at Solo as they approached. "Get up."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Napoleon admitted. "Seem to be having a little trouble with my legs."
Kuryakin stumbled over a clump of grass, nearly losing his balance. He grabbed out to save himself from falling and accidentally caught hold of the THRUSH's arm. The man, thinking he was being attacked, pulled away then fired automatically.
The bullet tore into Illya, searing through the flesh just above his waist. The agent gave a small cry and crumpled forward, hitting the ground face first and clutching at the wound.
"Illya!" Solo called out in alarm.
The second THRUSH had been over near the helicopter, probably to radio his satrapy for instructions, and was now returning at a run. "Why the hell did you shoot him?" he asked breathlessly.
The first THRUSH turned Kuryakin over with his foot. "He tried to jump me."
Kuryakin was conscious, but only just and the wound had made a bright red stain on his shirt, his hand and the ground. "I didn't," he muttered. "I slipped."
"Leave him alone," Solo said with a tone that was more dangerous than he felt. "It was an accident. He can't see. He's blind."
"You two are a sorry pair for dangerous U.N.C.L.E. agents." The first THRUSH laughed disparagingly.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter," the second THRUSH continued, "our orders are to bring one of them in and kill the other."
"Which one?"
"It doesn't matter," THRUSH #2 gestured towards Solo. "We may as well take that one, if he can't walk, he won't give us any trouble."
"You kill him and I'll show you how much trouble I can be," Solo growled. Although, right now, it seemed a pretty empty threat. How much trouble could a cripple and a wounded blind man with a pet zebra give?
Solo's mind was working in top gear, in spite of the drugs he had taken. As the two men lifted him between them and lugged him to the helicopter, he desperately tried to think of some way to stop them from shooting his partner.
"Kuryakin would be quite a prize for THRUSH you know." Although the agent knew they were both expendable, he did not want Illya to die so pointlessly, with a bullet through his head from a THRUSH gun, as he lay wounded and blind.
"Forget it." THRUSH #1 dumped the agent in the back of the helicopter. "We have our orders."
Before Solo could protest further, both THRUSH men had headed back towards the prone Russian. He heard a shot, then, a few minutes later, the men returned.
God Illya, I'm sorry, Solo thought as the helicopter took off. There was nothing I could do.
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TBC