Prologue

"Okay, this is the worst of the worst." Sammy, The Toe, Jimson was not a happy camper. He poked a piece of trash and deposited it into a sack. "Who cares if America is beautiful?"

"You're just bitter because you got caught. Should have thought of that before trying to joyride in your old man's car." Derek Kingston had been in the same high school class as Sammy, but his path led to a much different career choice. While Sammy pursued the easy way of making a buck, Derek earned it the hard way, punching a clock, doing his time. That's why Sammy was doing community service work now and Derek was wearing a deputy badge, and currently acting as Sammy's overseer. Life was funny like that.

Sammy added another chunk of aluminum foil to his sack. "Why are people such slobs?"

Derek spit out a mouthful of tobacco juice, grimacing as it splattered back on his dusty shoes. "Because we have people like you to clean up after them."

Sammy, however, successfully dodged the foul brown liquid. "Nice, Derek." He stumbled and caught himself before he tumbled into a pile of clothes. He was no expert, but even he could tell quality clothes when he saw them. "Crap, Derek, can we keep what we find?" He held up the jacket and shook the dried grass from it.

"Keep looking. Maybe you can find some pants to go with them."

"They're here-" He reached out and then gave a squeal of surprise.

Derek laughed. "You scream like my baby sister." He sobered at Derek's terror filled expression. "What is it?"

"A bo… body, I think."

Derek became all business. He half slipped his way down into the drainage ditch and cautiously reached out with his foot. It jiggled like an under-filled water balloon. "That ain't no body… it's a joke…"

Then it moaned and Sammy leapt back. "Shit," he yelled. "It's alive."

"Worse than that." Derek held up a slender brown wallet with a gold ID card. "It's an UNCLE."

From a short distance away, a man dropped a bottle into the bag he carried and smiled as he overheard the two talking. This was going even better than he planned.

Act I

Napoleon Solo yawned and arched his back again. Nothing was going to relieve that ache except for a very long hot bath or a good massage or maybe both. He entered the reception area of UNCLE – New York and grinned at his partner.

Illya was leaning over the shoulder of a lovely brunette… Sylvia, if it was Tuesday… trying to unjam something in her typewriter.

"Problem?"

Sylvia jumped and nearly popped Illya in the nose with her head. His reflexes barely saved him.

"Do you mind, Napoleon?"

"I mind very much. I've been complaining about our typewriter for a week now." He bent over so that Sylvia could pin his ID badge on. "Why the preferred treatment?"

"Because your problem is operator based. Hers isn't." Illya made an adjustment. "Try it now."

Sylvia typed something and nodded. "Still not perfect, but a lot better. Thank you, Mr. Kuryakin."

"Illya." The Russian's voice dropped to a purr and she began to blush. The phone rang and she grabbed it.

"Reception. Yes, sir, he's just arrived. I will tell him, sir." She cradled the phone and smiled apologetically to Napoleon. "Mr. Waverly's office, ASAP." Napoleon saluted and started to walk away. "He said to bring your handyman partner, too."

Illya wiped off his hands on his handkerchief and followed Napoleon into the elevator.

"ASAP. I wonder if he knows any other acronyms."

"Oh, I imagine one or two." Illya tucked the handkerchief away as Napoleon punched the button. He arched his back again as the car took off. "Back sore? Busy night?"

Napoleon smirked, then the door opened and a white-jacketed doctor entered. "Hey, Doc, going our way?"

"Sadly, yes." He offered nothing else and Napoleon didn't push. He was always careful around physicians. The last thing he wanted to do was annoy one of them.

They got out at Waverly's floor and headed to his office. The secretary didn't even look up as they passed. Napoleon looked a bit crest-fallen and Illya elbowed him.

Quickly, they took their usual places at the table while the doctor looked a bit lost. Napoleon angled a chair in his direction. "Care to join us, Doc?"

The man looked as if he'd rather be skinny dipping in a trash dumpster.

Mr. Waverly turned toward them and all attention went to him. "How is your patient, Doctor Waldo?"

"He… he's passed… thankfully."

"Who passed?" Napoleon was immediately on alert. He went through the Section Two agents who were still out on assignment. Nothing in the way of anything more dangerous than routine came to mind.

"Thank you, Doctor. I know you did what you could." To Napoleon, Waverly said, "Never fear, Mr. Solo. It was an agent from the West Coast UNCLE office. A Mr. Szeglag."

The agents exchanged a glance and Illya shook his head." "How did he die, sir?"

"That's a question for the ages. He was discovered in a drainage ditch along Interstate 5 in the Central Valley of California. A group of men were doing community service and came upon him." Mr. Waverly pressed a button and a grainy photo appeared. It looked like a suit of clothes on the ground.

"Where is Agent Szeglag?"

"Unfortunately, inside the clothes."

"What?" Illya dug out his glasses and looked more closely. "I don't—"

"Every bone in Mr. Szeglag's body had been liquefied."

Napoleon's mouth worked for a moment without any sound coming from it. "I don't… I can't," he finally managed. "How?"

"And thereby hangs the tale, Mr. Solo." The doctor sat back in his chair and sighed. "Such technology doesn't exist."

"Yes, it does." Illya's voice was soft. "Remember Agent Riley?"

"The double agent?" Waverly was all attention.

"Dr. Egret gave him a pen. If you triggered it against something, it shattered everything."

The doctor nodded in memory and used his handkerchief to dab the sweat from his face. "Oh, yes, he lost the total use of that shoulder. It's the price you pay for turning traitor."

"He's lucky that all he lost," Napoleon muttered. "But, Illya, that was shattered, not liquefied."

"That's true, Mr. Solo." The doctor sighed. "Mr. Szeglag lived for a short while, but was unable to speak. All his bones had been turned to almost a jelly. His organs finally collapsed." He looked at Waverly. "He wasn't in any pain, sir."

"A small mercy for him, I'm sure."

"But how?" Napoleon tried again, looking from his boss to the doctor and back.

"That's what you and Mr. Kuryakin need to figure out." Waverly spun the table and airline tickets and file folders stopped in front of them. "Your plane leaves in two hours."

Both men started to rise and Waverly cleared his throat. "There is something else."

"Sir?"

In the file, there is a name. He will meet with you tomorrow to bring you abreast with the news. Time is of the essence, gentlemen."

Quickly, they walked from the room, Illya scanning the top sheet of the file as they headed for the elevator.

"Whatever this is, it's big." Illya flipped the folder closed and stowed his glasses.

"What do you mean?"

"The man we are supposed to meet?"

"Yes?"

"If I'm not mistaken, he's the state's attorney general. I have a feeling that the game's afoot."

Velmar Martin gingerly picked up a cherry tomato and popped it into his mouth. He learned early on not to hesitate at this moment. The tomato nearly melted upon contact with his tongue, an explosion of liquid flavor. What pleasure mere mortals missed by closing themselves off to new experiences.

He pushed back from the table and sighed contently. All in all, it had been a most satisfying week. He'd proven his point not just to a nosy busybody, but also the entire state of California and they still didn't have a clue.

"Are you coming, Martin?" He jumped at Sophie's voice. She was a fellow lab tech, a pretty little thing he steered well clear of. He knew all too well he didn't want to draw attention to the two of them. He was desperate for her friendship, but scared out of his mind, too. "We're going to Jamie's for a drink."

"No, you go and I will tidy up the lab."

"You know what they say about all work and no play." Sophie gave him a playful nudge and he resisted grabbing her hand and kissing it. "Come on. It will do you good to get out of this lab… oh, Martin, those poor vegetables. They look as if they've lost all structure."

"They have, however, taste."

She hesitated, then opened her mouth. He carefully selected a fruit and then dropped it onto her tongue. She started to close her mouth and her eyes widened. "Oh, my god, it's gone. What… what did you do to it?"

"Nothing, just an experiment I've been messing with."

"That's… that's incredible, Martin."

"Now, imagine that in a more practical application."

She laughed at that. "What's a more practical application for smooshy vegetables?"

"Imagine what it could do to a fault line… or a human body?"

He saw the fear flicker in her eyes and she immediately looked away, looking for someone to help, but they were alone… just the two of them. "I'm late, Martin, they are expecting me."

"Then we shall have to tell them something came up." He grabbed her arm and she winced.

"You're hurting me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean, to, I just… I'm just talking. If anyone, you know how we scientists think."

"I've never thought like that!" She shook herself loose and fled the room, taking any hope that Martin might have had with her.

Act II

Napoleon lowered his razor and checked his face for any stray whiskers to the sound of their hotel room door opening. They would be meeting their contact for lunch and he wanted to present at his best.

"See anything interesting?" At Illya's non-response, Napoleon retrieved his pistol from the top of the toilet tank. "Illya?"

He'd been on edge since his dream last night… nightmare, really. He closed his eyes and he could still see the corpse dragging itself from the grave, flesh sagging and falling off as it clawed its way free of the ground. Burning skin and muscle shuffled from their bones and the creature finally stood and growled. The message was clear – vengeance would be his.

Napoleon had woken up at that point, a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. Illya was sprawled out on his bed, dead to the world, no pun intended. Only then did Napoleon relax enough to go back to sleep. Still, the dream left him on edge.

Their room appeared empty, not that there was any real place to hide. It was about large enough to change their minds, if nothing else. The door opened then and Napoleon aimed his weapon.

Illya looked at the P-38, then up at his partner. "Trouble?"

Immediately, Napoleon lowered the pistol. "No, I thought..."

"You thought what?"

"I thought I heard the door open and there was no one here." He set the weapon down on his bedside table and shifted his attention to the window. It looked undisturbed.

"Nerves or ghosts paying you a visit?" Illya grinned as he sat on the end of the world's most narrow bed to retie his shoe. "The desk clerk was just telling me that the Citizen is supposedly haunted."

"Ghosts? As in shuffling off mortal coils or spooks?" He put air quotes around the last word. Better than walking skeletons, he thought.

"According to the staff, there are some spirits who wander aimlessly here, but they don't tend to interact with the guests."

"My mind was elsewhere, I guess." Napoleon looked in a mirror and paused. There was a foggy image hovering close to Illya. "Illya, look at this." He held his breath, but the figure didn't move even as his partner joined him.

"Oh, yeah, I had that happen this morning, too. The ceiling vent blows down on it and the moisture fogs up this part of the-" Illya wiped the condensation away. "Wait, you didn't think…?"

"No, of course not."

Illya grinned at that and patted Napoleon on his shoulder. "Your secret is safe with me." He sobered then. "You are very worried about this affair, aren't you?"

"Something doesn't sit right with me. There are other agents who have a lot more experience under their belts here. Why bring us in all the way from the East Coast for a West Coast issue." Napoleon threaded his tie around his collar. "I just don't like the idea of stepping on anyone's toes. UNCLE agents aren't exactly the forgiving type."

Illya shrugged. "Mr. Waverly must have thought it warranted. I just go and do what he tells me to."

"Since when?" Napoleon finished with his tie and reached for his shoulder holster. Once he had it seated comfortably, he put on his jacket. "I just don't like going into something blind. I mean, why bring us in at all? Why not handle it at home?"

"That part I will agree with you on, as well as not annoying any of our fellow agents. It never pays to aggravate someone who knows where all your secrets are buried."

"From what I have gotten from my sources-"

"You mean, Connie?"

"Sources." Napoleon repeated. "The local offices weren't even approached. The attorney general came right to New York."

"About as far as from the state as possible. Curiouser and curiouser…

"So, where's the restaurant located? I am assuming you have already scoped it out." At Illya's look, Napoleon grinned. "I know you, Kuryakin, and I know your appetite. A cup of coffee and a doughnut is not breakfast, even for me."

"About two blocks, easily within walking distance." He checked his watch. "If we leave now, we should beat our contact by ten minutes."

"I'm ready." Napoleon tossed one more look into the mirror and followed his partner from the room.

The day was just starting to warm up and Napoleon knew that packing his lighter suit had been a good idea. Illya kept up a steady pace, purposeful, but unhurried, nothing that would attract any attention from the casual observer. It paid in their line of work to be invisible.

They stepped into the small lobby of the restaurant and used a moment to adjust their eyes to the darkened interior. It was just coming up on half past eleven and already there were people at the bar and behind tiny tables.

He stepped up to the podium and turned on his best smile for the hostess. "Yes, we have reservations – Uncle Sid."

"Ah, yes, this way, please." The hostess gathered up some menus and led the way past the diners and drinkers to a private booth in the back.

A man was seated there and he glanced up over the top of his glasses at them. "Solo and Kuryakin?"

"I'm Napoleon Solo." He offered his hand and then gestured. "This is my partner, Illya Kuryakin, Mr.?"

"Sid Granger will suffice at the moment. You're the expert?"

Illya glanced at Napoleon, confused as they slid into the booth. "Expert?"

"You have a background in explosives."

Napoleon nodded. The waiter appeared and placed an old fashion glass in front of him. He eyed it suspiciously.

"I'm told you prefer your scotch neat," Granger said. "And you prefer yours on the rocks." A rocks glass ended up in front of Illya.

"It's just a little early for me," Napoleon said with a gracious smile.

"Not when I tell you why you are here."

"And that would be?"

Granger looked around, but they were alone in the room without even a waiter to attend to them. "The State of California is being held for ransom."

"You joking."

"Sixteen million dollars. I'm not joking about-" Granger broke off as a waiter, carrying a large tray appeared. A second man opened the tray support for him. "—the food here. It's incredible. I took the liberty of ordering for you."

Conversation drifted about how this and that dish looked delicious, but it wasn't until the waiters departed that Granger continued. "I'm sorry for the cloak and dagger."

Illya grinned at that. "We're used to it. These are very good."

"The Yu Kwok is their specialty. There was one senator who would always order them when he was trying to make his mind up on a bill. If you were observant, you could guess which way he was leaning by whether he dipped into the hot mustard or the sweet and sour sauce. So many decisions and meetings are done here that it's called the Second Capitol."

"You were saying?" While Napoleon was enjoying his food, he was still curious.

"Oh, yes, well, we received a ransom note a week ago. At first we thought it was just a prank."

"A prank?"

"We get them all the time and figured it was just someone looking for their fifteen minutes of fame. Then it hit."

"What hit?"

"An earthquake. He'd said that he set up a little demonstration for us."

"I heard about that. An entire town was destroyed."

The man looked down at his lap. "It was a lot worse than that, but we were able to keep that part out of the press."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone in town was killed."

"Is that unusual?"

"Nothing about this was usual. None of the people had any skeletons. All their bones were gone and we think we know who is responsible."

"Just like our agent," Illya murmured to Napoleon.

"Now you know why I called you." Granger looked from one to the other. I'm scared. I'm really scared." He laughed a little. "Makes me glad we have a summer home in Colorado."

Martin didn't mean to listen in on Sophie's conversation. He was just going to grab some fresh batteries from the store room and froze when he heard her voice. She must have been using the phone at the old watchman's desk. He didn't even know it still worked.

"It's just… I think he's serious, Timmy. He's planning something and it frightens me to think what he is capable of. He's brilliant and that makes him even more dangerous. I think all the talk about fracking has gone to his head. I'm getting out and I'm going to the press."

Martin closed his eyes and kept from punching himself. What was he thinking, sharing with her? He had thought they were friends… close friends, now she'd signed her death certificate.

"I am leaving. I gave my notice and will work out the week. No one else knows. I will… Bye."

Martin waited until she left the room and counted to five, then walked over to the phone. He picked up and listened to the dial tone for a long moment. Then slowly, his heart in his throat, he started to dial.

"Yeah, it's me, we have a problem."

Act III

The longer you stayed at the labs, the more twisted the corridors seemed to get and with it, its people. And Velmar Martin had been here a very long time.

People were starting to avoid him now more than ever. Even Sophie had been avoiding him and he was starting to regret ever saying anything to her. He watched her walk from the lab with her usual gaggle of friends and get into her car.

Once inside, she locked the doors and started the engine, looking both left and right, then directly at him. The color drained from her face as he waved to her. She waved back weakly and sped off.

It didn't matter. Martin glanced down at the small device on the front seat of his car. He didn't have to follow her to know she was headed home, back over to Altamont to Tracy.

Traffic was its usual stop and go, but he didn't care. He'd programmed the device to come on in an hour. With any luck, she'd still be on the road.

He laughed and headed to his favorite restaurant for dinner. He'd be careful to draw attention to himself, either good or bad, but they would remember him. Maybe he'd even managed to eat something tonight.

Napoleon pressed himself against the dusty velvet wallpaper, trying to force his body through the wall as the skeleton growled and crawled closer.

"Go away!" Napoleon demanded, pulling his weapon and firing.

"What do you think that's going to do?" Illya asked. "You do realize that it's already dead."

Napoleon would have given Illya more credit if he wasn't mostly a skeleton himself. "It's not all that bad. It's only the first twenty years or so that it really hurts."

The phone rang and Napoleon sat bolt upright. From his spot in the other bed, Illya propped himself up on his elbows and squinted at the clock. "Who would call us at this time of the morning… night… is it technically morning or night?"

He flopped back as Napoleon coughed and answered the phone. "Solo here."

"Mr. Solo, Sid Granger, here. There's been an incident. I'm sending a car for you."

"No, just give us the address and we will meet you there."

The sun was just peaking over the Altamont and Illya adjusted his sunglasses as he drove. Even with ignoring all the speed limits, it had taken them nearly two hours to make it to Tracy. If they hadn't gotten the police escort, he knew it would have been even worse.

He heard a noise from the other side of the car and chanced a fast glance at his partner as he asked, "Are we there yet?"

Illya grinned at his partner. "You my friend, went out like a light the minute we got in the car. I can't remember you ever doing that before. Are you all right?"

"I haven't been sleeping really well the last couple of nights." Napoleon busied himself with the car's radio, trying to find a news station, signaling a reluctance to talk.

"Apparently, according to early reports there was some sort of disturbance last night. An entire side of the mountain let go, but thankfully not during rush hour traffic. There were only a few fatalities."

"From the road collapse?"

"Not exactly." Illya slowed the sedan as they approached the scene. He pulled over and parked the vehicle as a pair of police ran up to them waving their hands.

"You have to stop here."

Illya pulled out his wallet. "I believe you are expecting us."

"Ah, the men from UNCLE. This way, please."

On foot, they proceeded up the road a few hundred feet. "We can't get any closer. The land keeps slipping away."

"What happened?" Illya's voice was hushed. Tons of hillside had collapsed upon the road beneath. In the near distance, windmills tilted or collapsed onto the ground in large chunks. A train track dangled in midair, part of it gone, part of it still swinging in the breeze.

"He happened." Sid Granger approached them, his hard hat set at a precarious angle. He held up a four by six photograph of a nondescript man.

"Who is he?"

"Velmar Martin. He works as a tech for the lab here."

"What lab?"

"There's only one, Napoleon. What has he done?"

"We're not sure. We got the call about a week ago from someone inside the lab. We were going to meet with her tonight, but then this happened. Her car in down in the middle of all of that mess."

"She's dead?"

"So everyone thinks. She had car trouble, it felt funny, and she pulled over. She walked to a nearby hotel to use their phone and in the meantime, someone stole her car and took off. Luckiest thing that ever happened to her. That happened about twenty minutes later. Thankfully, there was an accident further down the hill that stopped most of the traffic from following. In any event, we are keeping her out of sight for the moment."

"You think this was an attempt upon her life? And you think it was this guy?"

"Oh it's him. The land has turned to jelly and is collapsing. This road is… was a lifeline through the mountains. This is going to cripple the local economies. Two birds, one stone."

"I don't understand." Napoleon finally admitted to the confusion they both felt.

Granger passed over a plastic bag with a piece of paper inside it. Thought you'd like another demonstration to know I'm serious was written on it. "We found that attached to the car."

"Was the framework of the car all right?" Illya turned the note over in his hand.

"Now that you mention it, yes."

"That tells me that whatever this is affects organic matter and not made man structures."

"So bridges would be safe?"

"But not the ground they sit upon."

"He's threatening to send us into the sea. Could he do it?" Granger watched as another section of the mountain collapsed.

"I don't know, not entirely, but I wouldn't know that until I see a map of the geographic structure beneath the state," Illya admitted, then shot a look at Napoleon before returning to Granger. "I'd like to see his lab. Is there any way you can get me inside?"

To Napoleon, Ganger said, "I see why Mr. Waverly suggested you two." To Illya, "You'll need to be able to walk the walk…" Granger started and Napoleon clapped him upon the shoulder.

"Don't worry about Illya. What he doesn't know, he'll fake."

Illya gave him a half-hearted smile. "Just leave it all to me. All will be well, I hope."

Velmar Martin was a not a happy man. Not only had the security leak been tended to, but pretty succinct message had been sent to Sacramento. While it was gratifying to know that his formula worked, it was also terrifying. He touched his breast pocket and felt for the airline ticket – one way- to Hawaii. That cheered him slightly.

Also, for some strange reason, he was actually hungry this morning and managed not one but two slices of toast. If he kept eating like that, he's lose his moniker of Mr. Bones.

He heard someone approaching and busied himself with his samples. The door opened and lab supervisor stepped through, ushering in a stranger.

"It's right through here, Mr…. what did you say your name was?"

"Just call me Illya." The young man stumbled and looked down at the floor, while trying to keep from dropping his armful of supplies. "I don't see why I needed to relocate from my own lab. I was happy there. I… I had experiments…"

"We promised Mr. Martin a lab assistant. Here you are, Vel. Meet your new assistant."

"New? What happened to Sophie? Is she sick?" He kept just the right amount of concern in his voice.

"She's…. been transferred… permanently. Um, accident and all." The supervisor mumbled and hastily backed out of the room. "Have fun!"

"Idiot," Martin murmured.

Illya watched him leave and shook his head. "And then some." He then focused his attention on Martin. "Where can I set up my stuff?"

Suspicious? Of course he was suspicious. He'd just gotten rid of Sophie and they immediately replace her in two days when it had taken him months to get her in the first place.

Martin kept a close eye on the stranger, but, by the end of the morning, he was convinced the man knew his stuff and he was over-reacting.

"Is there some place to eat around here?" Illya asked after three hours of non-conversation. The experiment he was working on had been one he'd left in his own lab. It was nice to have the time to fiddle and not worry about something else. He knew that Martin wouldn't threaten him immediately, so he was safe around the man.

"Yeah, there's an okay place just around the block or you can eat here if you've got all your shots updated." Martin laughed at that and after a beat, Illya chuckled.

"I understand. Ours back home was like that. You could never be sure what would end up on your plate, usually it was last week's failed experiments."

"Where's home?"

"Here… this week. I get moved around a lot." Illya sat back and stretched, flexing his shoulders. "You?"

"Naw, I've been here so long, I feel like I've grown roots."

Illya smiled. "That sounds nice." He stood and stretched again. "You want to join me?"

"Me?" Martin had never had anyone ask him along. "You're asking me?"

"Why not? I hate eating alone and you look like you could do with a good meal."

Martin looked down at his body and shrugged his shoulders. "I've always been a picky eater, I guess." He glanced over at a poster that hung by his lab bench. It was an image of skeleton reflected by a mirrored ball. "I've had that poster forever. It makes me feel inspired."

"It makes me hungry." Illya grinned. "Of course, that and everything else."

"But you are as thin as I am."

"It's not for trying. My brothers used to complain that after I finished, there was no food left for them." Illya pulled off his lab jacket and tossed it onto his stool. "I told them they should be faster"

"You should hang that up." Martin made a grab for the jacket, but Illya was faster. His communicator fell out of the pocket.

Illya swore and rescued it before it could roll under the bench. "That's my favorite pen." He tucked it into his shirt pocket.

"Sorry. It didn't break, did it?"

"No idea, it hasn't worked in years. I just like it." His grin was lopsided.

Napoleon grinned at Illya's comment and sat back from the table where he'd been for the last four hours.

"Anything?" Sid Granger entered and settled into a chair across from him.

He finished his coffee and pushed the cup aside. "No, but that's to be expected. Considering the mess made after he spoke too freely before, I was expecting him to be cautious. If he's going to talk, Illya will get it out of him. He's really good about that."

"I hope so. His deadline is fast approaching." Granger shifted nervously in his seat. "I confess, I've sent my family away."

"We don't have to worry as long as he's still here. He's not going to destroy the state with him still in it." Napoleon stretched and ran his hand over his face.

"Makes sense, but I'd feel…What's New York like at this time of the year?"

"Buggy." He sighed and Granger patted him on the arm.

"Would you like me to spell you for a bit?"

"That would be great, Sid, thank you."

"Do I have to do anything in particular?"

"Nope, just listen and don't press any buttons."

Martin nearly dropped his glass of iced tea when Illya's communicator went off. "What the hell?"

Illya snatched it out of his pocket and twisted it off. "Sorry. When it fell, the alarm must have been kicked on. Are you okay?" He shook it and started to tuck it away, but Martin held his hand out.

"Can I see it?"

"Sure." Illya went to pass it over and dropped it in the glass of ice tea. "I am hitting on all circuits today." He fished out the communicator and shook it dry. "I'll get you more iced tea." He started to put it away and then laughed. "I get rattled easily. You wanted to see it?"

"No, I'm okay." He laughed. "I understand. I really understand. What were we talking about?"

"Projects. You were going to tell me about yours."

"What do you know about fracking?"

Illya made a face. "Nothing, actually. I'm more into quantum mechanics I've heard the term, though."

"It's the injection of water and chemicals into the ground to dislodge natural gas."

"You mean, like placer mining?"

"Not really. I mean yeah, mountains were literally washed away, but it's still basically okay, just shifted. With fracking, the land is injected with water and all these chemicals to shatter the rocks."

"That sounds environmentally harsh."

"It gets the job done, but the flow back often allows cancer-causing chemicals to get into the ground water." Illya looked slightly alarmed at his glass of water and Martin laughed. "Don't worry, we're fine. We have an on-site water filtration system."

"So you're working on a way to clean up the chemicals?"

"That's the theory. I think they are actually just stalling long enough for people to forget about it and move onto the next environmental disaster. We have a lot of them here."

"Is that usual?"

"That's California. We always picking fights or cleaning up after them. You'll get used to it after a while. Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't. Last place I worked was New York. It's much quieter here."

"Well, not exactly."

Act IV

"And then he smiled and said not exactly. I didn't get much out of him after that." Illya stretched out on his bed at the America's Best Value. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean and cheap, Mr. Waverly liked cheap, plus it wasn't far from the labs.

"Good recovery with the communicator."

"Why did you call me?"

"I didn't. I went to stretch my legs and when I came back, Sid was messing with it."

"After you told him not to."

"Yeah, pointedly."

Suddenly the ground began to shift under their feet and they looked at each other. "Outside," Napoleon ordered and Illya didn't wait to argue.

By the time they made it outside, everything had stilled. The property owner looked over at his customers and grinned sheepishly. "Congratulations. Now you've experienced your first California earthquake."

"Do you get a lot of them?" The woman asking seemed overly nervous and clutched her children closer to her.

The property manager laughed reassuringly. "More as of late, but you want them because it relieves the pressure of the tectonic plates."

"I miss New York," Illya said, deadpanned to his partner. Then something occurred to him and he turned to the owner. "I remember hearing that you were waiting for the Big One."

He was dismissed with a hand gesture. "That old chestnut? Yeah, that's been going around for years. It'll hit and California will slide off into the ocean."

"That couldn't happen, though… could it?"

"Not likely, but that doesn't stop the talk."

"Or for someone wanting to take advantage of it." He gestured to Napoleon. "We need to talk to someone."

"I'll call Sid." Napoleon headed back to their hotel room, but Illya caught his arm.

"No, someone else. Someone from our Natural Resource Department."

"Why?"

"Do you trust me, Napoleon?"

"With my life. I'll make a call."

"But, is it possible?" Napoleon studied the woman in front of him. They were deep in UNCLE HQ – San Francisco, although you couldn't really tell. It looked the same as the one in New York, Hong Kong and London. While it looked no different, Napoleon knew it was secure and they could speak freely.

Stacey Buchannan shrugged her shoulders. "I guess it could be, but why anyone want to do that? What possible good could come from it?"

"Greed, power, control," Illya suggested as he pushed a file towards her. "What do you know about your attorney general?"

"Sid Granger?" She shook her head. "Not much. I stay away from him as much as possible. He has… roving hands. He got me cornered in a broom closet once."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Thankfully, a department head got a little clumsy drunk and he spilled a pitcher of martinis all over the floor. The Lt. Governor came to get the mop and that gave me an out. After that, I made sure I wasn't in the same place at the same time with Sid."

"Did you report him?"

"No one paid any attention. After all, he's the attorney general and I'm just a flunky scientist. There were whispers of me blackmailing him."

"Is he ambitious?"

"Does a baby go, goo? Yes, he's even run for governor, twice. Thank heavens he lost or there would be oil drilling in the middle of all our state parks. He wanted to build a drilling platform on Lake Tahoe. Lake Tahoe!" She threw her hands into the air in disgust.

"So, he's not so environmentally minded?"

"You're joking, right?" Stacey made a face. "If he had his way, the entire state would be one big billboard inviting businesses to come and rape our natural resources. He'd love the whole idea of fracking the entire state, never mind that we wouldn't have any water to drink or use."

"You think he is in league with Marshall?" Illya asked Napoleon. He had his glasses off and fiddled with them.

"I think it goes deeper than that. I don't think he's working with him. I think he wanted to finish what Marshall has started. He's not after a ransom, he's after control of the entire state. He has the ability to destroy any spot that doesn't comply, well, it would be easy to keep people in line."

"But he's an elected official," Stacey said, then stopped. "I'm sorry, that was really dumb to say. Of course he would. Control California and it's a hop, skip and a jump from controlling the country."

"And I thought THRUSH was bad." Illya put his glasses away. "So, he's not working with Marshall."

Napoleon shook his head. "He may be working with him, but not on the same level as Marshall. He might see them as partners as opposed to a stepping stone."

"What do we do?" Stacey looked from one man to another. "What do I do?"

"Nothing." Napoleon smiled at her. "Did you pack a bag as I asked?"

"I did."

"Stay here for the next few days. If Sid hears that we spoke with you, your life might be in danger."

"But that other woman spoke with him—"

"That was to lead him to Marshall. She's safe, or at least as safe as she can be under his protective guidance."

"I hope she has a strong lock on her door," Stacey muttered.

Napoleon nodded grimly and gestured them closer. "Okay, this is what we are going to do."

Illya walked into the lab and barely suppressed a yawn as he made his way to his bench.

"Late night?" Velmar Martin didn't look up from his own spot. Surrounded by tubes, stands and equipment, he was practically invisible.

"Stupid earthquakes. When I get my hands on the as… assignment placement clerk, he's dead." Illya dropped his glasses to the black fiberboard top and rubbed his eyes. "And it doesn't help that my allergies are in full swing."

"You'll get used to both if you stay here long enough." He attempted to pick up the gooseberry, but it disintegrated at his touch. "Damnit?"

"Trouble?" Illya squinted at him, pretending to have trouble seeing him.

"No, just too much of a good thing." Martin sat back and winced at the pull in his neck. The earthquake last night had spooked him as well. He jumped at the feeling of hands on the back of his neck.

"Relax. I'm told have I have a very soft touch." Illya pressed gently with his thumbs into the tight muscles. "When did you last have a good massage?"

"Um, never." Martin wanted to push him away, but the rubbing felt good, just hard enough to work the knots out, but not hard enough to hurt.

"You could use one." Illya winched at the feeling of bone beneath his hands. "And a good meal, too."

"I know. I have a strange phobia, but I'm working on overcoming it."

"What's that? I don't like dogs myself. Messy, smelly things."

"Chewing. I don't like chewing."

"Chew… Wow, how do you eat?" Illya kept massaging carefully to avoid hurting him.

"Mostly with a straw. Thanks, that feels a lot better."

Illya took that as his cue to stop. "What are you working on?"

"It's sort of something personal."

"Got it." Illya nodded, wisely. "I've got a couple of those going, too, although not here."

"I don't have a choice, this is where the money is. If I try anything, I will lose my funding."

"Remember when it was science for the sake of science and not to just further some political agenda?"

"Wha… why would you say that?" Martin looked as if he was going to choke.

"Well, it makes sense. Their fingers are in everything these days. I mean, look at what I'm doing, trying to synthesize alcohol from cattle manure. Like I'm going to belly up to the bar and order a bottle of Bull Droppings Daniels with a whiskey chaser."

Martin laughed at the image. "I know what you mean, now." He rolled his shoulders. "Thanks again. It really does feel better. I've just been under a lot of pressure lately. My last assistant, she was killed in the Altamont slide."

"I heard about that. Nasty business." Illya glanced around as if checking to make sure they were alone. "I heard someone say that rock had been liquidized. I can't even imagine how…" He shook his head and slapped Martin lightly on the shoulder. "My hat is off to the guy or girl who figured that out."

"It's not hard, not really. All you have to do is…" Martin sighed. "Have you ever been forced to do something? Something you know is wrong, but that you really have no control over?"

Illya hesitated and his smile disappeared. "Martin, is someone threatening you?"

"Not really." Both men spun and Martin convulsed as Sig Granger shot him.

"What the –" Illya started to move to the fallen man, but froze as the weapon was aimed at his midsection.

"He was becoming a liability. Now that I have his formula, I no longer need him." Granger snorted. "He cared a little too much for his assistant. I thought he was stronger than that."

"Some people care about others.

"And some of us don't." Illya's communicator chirped, but he didn't move.

"That will be your partner telling you about the brutal murder of our poor witness, Sophia."

"She trusted you!" Illya sputtered out.

"So did he and for that matter, so did you."

The pen fell silent. "Poor Mr. Solo. Imagine his frustration at not being able to warn you ."

"About what."

"About me." Granger laughed. "You see, I-"

"… am the mastermind behind this whole plot. Yeah, that's old news."

"What? How?" Granger looked shocked and more than a little dismayed.

Illya forced his body to relax, preparing it for whatever he might ask of it in the next few minutes. "Well, it took me a while to figure it out, but I couldn't help but wonder why a California official, one who obviously loved this state so much talked so much about leaving it." Illya shifted a bit closer to the lab bench. A pile of fruit sat there, each one sagging under their own weight. "You made your first mistake by involving UNCLE." Illya's communicator chirped again. He looked anxiously down at his breast pocket.

"How better to get the attention of THRUSH?" Granger laughed at that. "Not only did I feather my own nest, as it were, but I relieved them of two very large pests."

"Hello, Napoleon," Illya said casually, looking over Granger's shoulder.

"Oh, not that old chestnut. I'm not that gullible."

"You should be. It would save a lot of time." Napoleon leveled the gun at Granger's back.

Granger started to move and Illya grabbed a beak, throwing it at Granger. The man screamed, fired wildly and tried to protect his face. He fell to the floor writhing in pain.

"Oh, get up, it's distilled water, you idiot." Illya secured the man's hands behind him and dragged him up to his feet. Section Three agents pushed past Napoleon and took possession of him. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know that it was time for me to rally the troops and pay you a visit."

"I think we have trouble, Napoleon," one of the Section Three men called.

Granger was sagging, as if unable to stand, his skin looked as if it was turning to gelatin. "What did you do?" He gurgled, then collapsed.

"Don't touch him," Napoleon barked. "We need haz mat in here."

Illya looked at the beaker he'd tossed by inserting a glass rod into it.. "Well, to my defense, it says distilled water on it. I guess Martin didn't trust anyone." Illya went to Martin's side, but the man was still, gone as well. He reached into Martin's jacket pocket and pulled out the blood-stained airline ticket. "He really was a victim in all of this."

Napoleon brushed off his hands and shook his head. "So are all of us, at one time of another. Let's go home."