The Shot in the Park Affair: Chapter 8 mrua7

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Taking his chances in the duct, Illya crawled along it, though the pain in his side and leg were hampering his efforts. It didn't help that the duct was rather dusty and made the Russian sneeze a few times.

He only hoped that wouldn't give his whereabouts away. Though any guards would assume he was still in the cage, waiting to become the big cat's next meal. No one but the Snowman would go near the tigers while they were loose.

The blossoming bruises covering Illya's body were discomforting enough, but each time he sneezed his side he'd feel a sharp stabbing pain in his side. He wasn't quite sure now that it was broken ribs, but perhaps more strained ligaments and pulls of the intercostal muscles between the ribs.

Surprisingly, he wasn't having difficulty breathing; another clue that there was possibly no damage to his rib way, his side still hurt like hell; there was nothing but to grin and bear it if he were to manage his escape.

Illya's thoughts were darting in different directions, escape, help his partner, find the missing microfilm …he grunted, letting the pain momentarily distract him.

He stopped moving as he was suddenly filled with a feeling of hope… There it was, as the saying goes, literally a light at the end of the tunnel; that spurred Illya onward, helping him to ignore the discomfort he was feeling as he shimmied along the duct.

Finally he dropped down from the ceiling after pushing out a grate with his feet. Luckily no one was around to witness that, or to hear the moan he made when he hit the floor.

Like a cat, he landed on his feet, crouching low for a moment, making sure it was all looked about the room and let free a sly smile despite his pain; he realized he was staring right at Toni's coat draped across a chair.

He quickly rifled through the garment, and found the capsule containing the microfilm in the inside pocket right where Napoleon said he'd felt it.

Toni was never aware it was there as it was small and innocuous enough. The Solo luck was paying off…

To his relief he found his and Napoleon's communicators in one of her pockets as well. That reaffirmed the suspicion the woman was THRUSH.

Illya quickly assembled one of the devices. "Open Channel D- Waverly. Emergency, agent needs assistance."

"Mister Kuryakin, what is the nature of the problem?" Waverly responded in his usual direct tone of voice.

"Mister Solo has been taken by THRUSH agents to the Central Park location where the courier Parson Brown was killed. It is a ruse, as Nap…Mister Solo told them he'd hidden the missing microfilm capsule there."

"Where is its location, young man? Please tell me it's safe?"

"I have it in my possession sir and will be heading directly to headquarters with it. I have suffered some injuries and will not be able to render Mister Solo back up."

"Very well, get here as quickly as possible Mister Kuryakin; I will send a Security team to extricate your partner. Waverly out."

Illya quickly found an exit, though on his way out to the street he grabbed a trench coat that was left hanging nearby. It would serve to cover his disheveled condition and his wounded leg.

There was a scarf stuffed in the sleeve which he used to bind his bleeding leg as the claw marks were deep.

Again the Solo luck was rubbing off on him as there was a bill fold in one of the pockets containing more than enough cash to pay for a taxi to take him to headquarters.

Kuryakin limped outside to a sidewalk unexpectedly covered again in snow, as it had previously been cleared. It wasn't much, but it was coming down pretty hard. He headed to the next block before loudly whistling for a taxi, and as one pulled up Illya noticed a tiny trail of red drops he'd left behind him in the snow

It was later in the day than he thought and now the city streets took on a warm glow from the neon signs softened by the snowfall. It was all rather picturesque and perhaps in a different situation the Russian might have waxed poetic and taken in the rather pleasing view…but not today.

He tightened the scarf around his leg and gave the driver the address to Del Floria's, and told him to step on it.

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Napoleon continued to lead his feathered companions on a wild goose chase as he poked and prodded around the many trees in the area.

He played his part well, looking determined but frustrated and a bit nervous at the same time.

Snow was beginning to fall again, a very wet one that you could hear as it landed. It muffled the sounds of the city, but it was also complicating Napoleon's plan though in a helpful way.

"I'm sorry guys, it was dark when I hid it and everything looks so differen," he hesitated for effect, "and now with more snow... I'll find it though, I give you my word."

"It's gonna be dark soon so you better find it Solo; time's running out for your Russian buddy, and the woman too," Slay threatened. "If you're stalling for time, it's not gonna work. Nobody knows you're here; there won't be any UNCLE cavalry to the rescue."

That made the Snowman and Belz snicker.

Napoleon only hoped that had Illya managed to make one of his Houdini-like escapes; yes, time was ticking away, as was the patience of the Snowman, Slay and Belz.

Antonia, of course, continued her femme fatale-damsel in distress routine…taking on a rather exaggerated demeanor like Theda Bara in a silent movie. She raised the back of her hand to her forehead, rolling her eyes, looking as though she were ready to faint.

Checking his wristwatch, Slay growled, "Times up Solo! Kuryakin's is cat chow. Can you just imagine the screams as he's eaten alive? The woman is next to die if you don't give us what we want...now!"

He pointed his gun at Toni, whose eyes widened with what seemed like genuine surprise…