Napoleon Solo loved sailing. He loved the feel of being in control in spite of the enormity of that upon which his vessels skimmed and skirted as it commanded the waves. In a life that was full of uncertainty and danger, the experience of handling the boat let him know he could challenge whatever came against him, could steer around danger or glide effortlessly through still waters
Sailing was an equalizer.
This trip was not for pleasure, and for the first time ever he was mixing business with the one thing he held for himself, the almost sacred environment of his Pursang.
Illya was also aboard, loathing the experience as usual. The Russian could swim like a fish and often used that skill in the performance of his duty. Put him on a boat however, and he was more often than not to be found heaving over a railing.
Napoleon disliked water sports, was not a strong swimmer and might even be thought to have an aversion to being in the water. An unfortunate experience early in life had left an imprint still affecting him, in spite of his training and other tendencies towards fearlessness. But let him take the helm of the Pursang and he was a free man, in control of his environment and master of the surrounding seas.
It didn't make sense, not to them or to those who might observe their peculiarities.
This voyage was a courier run up the coast to Boston, and the item being fetched and brought back to New York was a young woman slated to testify against a THRUSH chief being prosecuted by the state. The charge wasn't related to a Hierarchy scheme, but was, rather, a matter of murder, that of the young woman's brother. Having witnessed the crime, her testimony would put Harlan Preston away, hopefully for the rest of his life.
Because the U.N.C.L.E. was experienced with THRUSH and familiar with tactics that might be employed to stop Jessie Bingham from testifying, Solo and Kuryakin were assigned to bring her back in protective custody aboard the Pursang. It was an unlikely means of transportation, something that Alexander Waverly hoped would keep the young woman safe.
It was mid afternoon by the time the agents arrived in Provincetown, Massachusetts. At about fifty nautical miles south of Boston, it was considered a less obvious pick up point. The U.S. Marshalls escorting Miss Bingham had opted to take the ferry out of Boston Harbor rather than drive, another diversion intended to thwart any moves by Preston's gang of thugs.
Napoleon navigated the Provincetown Marina, near the Whaler's Wharf, arriving at a predetermined slip that Waverly had arranged to be available for his agents. Illya jumped out and tied up to the dock cleats, careful to observe his surroundings for any suspicious looking characters. Satisfied that no one was around he began the short trip by foot to the Ferry dock. Napoleon would remain behind; it wouldn't do to return to a boat overrun by THRUSH.
Illya covered the distance in less than ten minutes, arriving where the Ferry Boat docked. He was wearing a black tee shirt and jeans, and on his head wore an uncharacteristic (for him), red baseball cap. More than one young woman, visiting the area with dreams of days on the beach and a summer romance, saw the blond and wondered if he was also at the Cape for a vacation.
Finally Illya spotted them, a young woman and two men in khaki trousers and short sleeved shirts. He thought they looked more obviously efficient than the tourists around them. Jessie was petite, with short hair reminiscent of the English model, Twiggy; her clothing was casual and intended to blend into a crowd. Illya thought that she couldn't blend in, she was stunning from where he stood.
He was supposed to be greeting someone he knew, so in order to keep up the appearance of familiarity he greeted her with an embrace as he whispered into her ear his name and affiliation. She responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck in genuine relief at being rescued from the care of the two marshals. They had been kind to her, but this man in the ball cap was young and hip, at least that was her impression. .
"Thank you gentlemen, I'll take over from here." He covertly showed them his I.D. and spoke a phrase that identified him as the UNCLE agent they were expecting.
"Safe travels Agent Kuryakin, Miss Bingham." That was all they said before waving at a non-existent acquaintance and heading towards a waiting taxi. Illya took the girl by the arm and set off towards the Pursang, handing her a floppy hat and a lightweight jacket that he instructed her to put on. He was glad to have this part of the journey behind him, hopeful that it bode well for the remainder of this affair.
Napoleon was ready to up anchor as he saw his partner approaching with Jessie Bingham in tow. The two looked natural together, like a couple. It always struck him when he observed Illya with a woman that there was a subtle subtext to his movements; he was protective without showing his concern. Probably no one else would have seen it except for someone who knew the Russian as well as he did.
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted movement, the kind made by someone wanting to remain unseen. It seemed unlikely that anyone had tracked them here, no one knew except for the marshals and two people at Headquarters. Since the two in question were Waverly and Lisa Rogers, it came down to the marshals who had escorted the girl here.
Napoleon made a gesture to indicate to Illya to keep walking, a clear signal of danger. Illya removed his baseball cap and threw it aside as they walked, removing his tee shirt to reveal a green one in its place. They should have appeared different from the couple that left the ferry dock, but was it enough? Illya said something to Jessie and then steered her towards a different boat, hoping that the hat and jacket were enough to throw off an identification. He helped Jessie into the boat and then told her to keep down, no matter what she should remain in the boat out of sight. Leaving Jessie in the boat, Illya continued walking at a leisurely pace.
The man Napoleon had spotted was now making his way towards the boat, walking behind a group heading up the low end of the wharf towards the main docking area. As he attempted to blend in, Illya was heading towards him. Jessie was crouching low in the boat where she had been instructed to remain, her head bowed low enough to be hidden from view. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she might pass out, but something made her trust the blond agent enough to not disobey his orders.
Illya walked towards the group of tourists heading his way; he could see the THRUSH agent now, recognizable for his obvious detachment from the others. The moment of intersecting them came and Illya shot the man with a dart, catching him as he began to falter and talking loudly as though addressing a drunk. The group of people that had served as cover paid little attention to them, going on their way. Napoleon jumped into the scene and took over. They would leave him, but not without a dose of Capsule B, UNCLE's amnesia drug. This man would not be able to identify the agents or the method of travel they were using to get Jesse to safety.
Illya quickly returned to where he had left Jesse.
"Is it over?" She was relieved to see Illya again, hopeful that there would be no more encounters with the people seeking to stop her from testifying.
"I cannot promise we won't have others to deal with, but for now… yes, we are ready to set sail." She wrapped her arms around his neck, she was near tears but trying desperately to hold back on such an emotional outburst. Her brother was dead, her own life in danger… Jessie Bingham wasn't sure how much more she could take.
Illya sensed how near she was to breaking, so took her hands and looked into her eyes (he saw now that they were green), and offered as much comfort as he could.
"We will take care of you Miss Bingham. Just try to be brave a little longer." With that he lifted her up and over the railing of the little boat they had used as refuge, then joined her as they walked to the Pursang where Napoleon was waiting for them.
"Hello Jessie, my name is Napoleon. Please,' He extended his arms to help her aboard.
"Welcome to the Pursang, your safe passage home." Jessie was wide eyed as she looked around, impressed by the handsome Napoleon who took her hand and led her to a small salon where she could sit and relax. The boat was beautiful, and she wondered at the circumstances that had brought her here, to be rescued by these two men aboard a very well appointed sailing boat.
"Does this belong to UNCLE?" The fear was subsiding and now Jessie was curious about these two men, and suspicious of the ones she had just left behind in Provincetown.
"It belongs to Napoleon; he fancies himself a pirate of some sort." Illya winked at her, letting her in on what she now recognized as friendship between the two heroes who would save her from THRUSH. She suddenly felt a little like a character from a fairy tale, or a romance novel. Not that she was feeling romantic, although…
"It is lovely, er…'' How should she address them?
"Call me Napoleon. And in case he didn't introduce himself…'' Jessie blushed involuntarily.
"Oh, he .. um, he did. Illya." The smile gave it away. Napoleon closed the book on her, she was smitten with his partner.
Once they were several miles at sea Jesse felt more relaxed, as though the danger on land was left behind them. She thought the Pursang was glorious, it made her feel free to be on the water. It was the sort of thing she imagined might be everyone's dream come true.
Unless one is prone to being seasick, as was the dashing Russian. Much to his disdain and embarrassment, a patch of rough water had sent him to the railing where he remained, uncertain of his poor stomach should he move. Napoleon explained to Jesse that Illya was peculiarly prone to being sick when aboard an ocean going vessel. It seemed to draw her to him, the idea of his vulnerability in contrast to being so heroic.
"Is he, umm… I mean, he's wearing a ring. Is he married?" Napoleon wondered about that as well, although he was fairly certain there hadn't been a Mrs. Kuryakin left somewhere to fend for herself.
"No, I think it's a, well, some sort of Russian thing. How about you Jesse?" The girl looked surprised by the question, but she smiled at Napoleon as though between them there could be secrets told and kept.
"I'm not married, if that's what you're asking. I've been engaged though, once. It didn't work out, he wanted to join the Peace Corps and…' She laughed out loud, surprising Napoleon.
"I mean, the Peace Corps for cryin' out loud. Go live in a hut somewhere. No way, not this city girl. I wish them well and hope it goes okay, but I couldn't pack up and move to some place without running water…''
And then she started to cry. Illya had pulled himself from the railing and came into the little salon just as Jesse started to cry.
"What did you do to her?" Illya looked at his partner expecting an answer of some sort, receiving only a sneer of disdain. Jesse looked up and hiccuped a little as she tried to dry her eyes with her tee shirt. Napoleon handed her his handkerchief, shooting a dirty look at Illya.
"Oh no, no… my gosh no. Napoleon didn't do or say anything, I'm just rambling on about Barry and the Peace Corps and suddenly…' she sighed a big heavy sigh full of the fear and sadness that she'd been holding in for so many weeks.
"My brother Kenny was my best friend, and now he's gone. People want to kill me and … and I probably sent away the only man who'll ever love me. I just have one big screwed up life and you're both so kind, and…''
Illya squatted down next to her chair, his empathy for her distress in full gear.
"Jesse, we won't let anyone hurt you. And as for finding love, I have no doubt that you will spend a great deal of time turning away offers of undying devotion." She looked into the blue eyes and thought the ocean must begin in them.
"Really? Undying devotion?" Illya nodded his head, never losing eye contact.
"Yes, really."
"Okay. I, I guess you're right. I mean, I guess things will be okay. Eventually." Napoleon got up and went to the little bar to fix everyone a drink. Jesse was young but she was over twenty-one, and probably needed a shot of something. At least it would help her to sleep.
"Here, this will make you feel better." He handed her a glass.
"What is it? I mean, thank you but, what is it?" Napoleon smiled. The girl was adorable, no doubt about it. If Illya wasn't careful she'd be offering him undying love.
"It's a shot of bourbon. It'll calm you down and help you to sleep. Warm you up too, the night's beginning to get a little chilly."
Jesse smiled back at Napoleon, accepting the glass as she looked at both of the men to whom she was entrusting her life. She nodded her head, cuing them to raise their glasses to toast a safe voyage home.
As though under a magical spell, Jesse began to feel the effects of the bourbon and the sudden drop in adrenalin. If this was a fairy tale, and these two men were knights in invisible armor, then sleeping on board the Pursang might bring a happier day in the morning. She excused herself, letting Napoleon lead her to the little bunk she'd have all to herself. When he turned to look back at the young woman she was already asleep.
Napoleon returned to the salon where Illya was nursing his own glass of bourbon, something he had begun to enjoy more often thanks to his American friend. Somehow vodka didn't suit an ocean voyage.
"Have you contacted Headquarters yet?" Napoleon had left that task to his partner while he tended to their guest.
"Yes, and we will have a security detail when we arrive.' Illya paused to take a sip of his bourbon, casting a sidelong look towards the porthole and the endless ocean beyond.
"I think one or both of those Marshalls is on THRUSH's payroll. That is the only way there could have been a leak concerning our arrival." His expression was like granite, the look of a man intent on taking action.
"I agree Illya. The man on the dock won't be a problem, but those two know who you are, and that means Harlan Preston will undoubtedly figure out that I'm involved as well." Illya frowned at that, it was annoying to be so well known among the enemy. Subterfuge sometimes helped, but the partnership between Solo and Kuryakin was simply too well documented. It was probably only a matter of time before Waverly would do something about that.
"They do not, however, know with certainty, that we are at sea. It is not how we generally move, so perhaps it will give us some time." Napoleon nodded.
"Well, we will remain vigilant nonetheless. I'll take the first watch, you should get some rest. Being, um… seasick, it can wear you out."
"I am fine. However, I will get a nap and relieve you in two hours. You are the sailor between us, I can't have you sleep deprived." It was said with an almost indiscernible smile, and then he leaned back and closed his eyes.
The night passed without incident, Napoleon's intentions to take his time and throw off any sense of a timetable that Preston might anticipate. A little after six o'clock in the morning the Pursang sailed into the marina where Napoleon kept her, signaling action as Illya jumped out and repeated his duties of the previous day. Napoleon was satisfied with their efforts and yelled to Illya that he was going to wake up Jesse, disappearing inside the boat.
After tying up, Illya scanned the area for the UNCLE agents they were expecting. To his surprise, it was April Dancer and Mark Slate who walked towards him, both of them fending off the morning chill with coats that announced a change in the weather.
"Hello there, and welcome home." April looked radiant, an impressive feat considering how early it was. Mark had on his corduroy hat, a surprisingly comforting sight for all it represented about the British agent. He was steady, reliable… just like that hat.
"Good morning. I was expecting to see lesser personages than yourselves." Illya was smiling, it was always good to see April, and suddenly his attraction to Jesse slipped into yesterday's pages as the vibrant redhead approached.
April and Mark exchanged knowing looks, their presence here an indication of some sort of added element to the mission.
"We are here because new information has come to us concerning this, hmmm… this situation." April looked again at Mark, cueing him to continue. Illya's expression didn't change, but he inquired as to what sort of information would trigger their appearance.
"Yeah, well you see…" Just then Napoleon and Jesse appeared, making their way onto the gangway and towards the three agents.
"Good morning all. Mark, April… this is Jesse Bingham, our mission." Napoleon's smile was as bright as the emerging sun, and Jesse was once again a nervous young woman in the middle of a life threatening situation. Illya's question remained unanswered.
April assessed the girl's appearance and demeanor, impressed by her and sympathetic to the turmoil she was going through. She also noted the wistful expression on her face when she looked at Illya.
"Hi Jesse, it's good to meet you. You're in good hands, we're all going to make sure you stay safe." The words were warm and genuine, and Jesse responded with a smile. She thought April was beautiful, and so confident. In an instant she recognized something between her and Illya, causing her heart to sink just a little.
The morning was brighter with each passing minute, and very quickly the entourage had gathered everything together and were loaded into the van used for traveling in the city under cover of various phony businesses. Today the logo on the side of the van was for Emory's TV Repair. Everyone climbed into the vehicle, taking seats at random. There was a route employed as they drove back into the city; Illya had replaced Mark as the driver.
The van wound through the morning traffic as it headed towards the destination pre-determined as this mission's command center. As he passed a famous deli, Illya was wishing fervently he could have stopped for a bite to eat, but instead drove past it and into an alley, and stopped. April and Mark both got out, intending to meet up with the others after a bit. They wouldn't all arrive in the same vehicle. Napoleon was let out at a different location where he immediately signaled for a Taxi that conveniently pulled in and picked him up. It was, of course, another UNCLE agent driving the cab, and once Napoleon was seated they headed back to UNCLE Headquarters. Mister Waverly's 'new' information was soon to be a vital element to the completion of this mission.
Illya continued on with only Jesse alongside. Hopefully, all of this would serve to keep suspicion at bay, and the 'safe house' truly safe.
The van pulled up at a storefront with a sign that read Emory's TV Repair. Jesse had put on a pair of coveralls over her shorts and tee shirt, and was wearing a cap with the name of the fake business. Illya was also in coveralls, each of them appearing to be employees of the shop. The van was equipped with surveillance equipment that would let those inside the building see what was going on up and down the street. This safe house was a newly equipped, technologically current mini-version of Headquarters. It seemed unlikely that Jesse's safety would be compromised while she was inside.
Illya and Jesse got out of the van and walked into the building, ringing the bell on the door as they entered, and setting off a series of security measures as they did so. Photographs were taken of them, scans showed that Illya had his Special and another small pistol on his ankle. It also measured heart rates, indicating that Jesse's was accelerated.
The interior of the building looked like a real television repair shop should look, and an UNCLE technician was on duty to greet customers who came in off the street. The security measures installed would let him know whether or not they were armed and likely to be enemy agents.
"Hello Andy, how's business?" Illya's greeting was coded for a response as to whether or not it was safe to come inside.
"It's a good day, and coffee's on in the back." That meant the coast was clear. Jesse looked at Illya, not sure about any of this, but hopeful there would actually be coffee. She was in need of a strong cup.
"Is there really coffee? I would love some right about now." Andy smiled at Jesse, instantly smitten by the petite little blonde girl with Agent Kuryakin. He sure hoped he'd get into Section II on his next appraisal.
"Yep, a fresh pot just waitin' for you." Jesse heaved a sigh of relief, it was the first normal thing she'd experienced today. Illya led her through the doorway and into the room behind it. Jesse was impressed with the entire process, and as she looked back at Andy and smiled, he winked at her. He was pleased to see her smile widen at his subtle flirtation.
Exactly ten minutes later April and Mark walked into the shop, Mark was carrying a small television set with a broken antenna.
"I believe you can fix this, right mate." Sometimes Mark enjoyed putting on a bit more of the accent, people seemed to expect it of him. In truth, his background was somewhat privileged, and his education on par with both Napoleon and Illya. Well, maybe not Illya, but he had attended Oxford and graduated with honors.
"Yessir, just leave it with me. Oh, and there's coffee in the back room if you like." Andy winked at the two agents, smitten for the second time this morning as he glanced sheepishly at Agent Dancer. He was beginning to really enjoy this assignment.
Illya and Jesse were waiting for the rest of the group, relieved when April and Mark walked through the door into the back room of this smaller version of the main Headquarters of the Northwest Region. Waverly had conceived of this as both a backup and a security measure, should HQ be breached or compromised.
When entering this 'back room', it was necessary for the agent at the front desk, Andy on this day, to press a control button that looked like the dial on a radio. It released the lock on the door separating the two rooms, and initiated a series of security measures intended to thwart entry by unwelcome visitors. The agent passing through the doorway would be required to press his or her hand onto a glass screen, allowing an identity process to function as it scanned and matched the handprint to all UNCLE personnel. It was a groundbreaking technology, and using it here was a test for installing it in all UNCLE facilities.
Having passed this 'test', April and Mark joined Illya and Jesse in the common room, a name given to it for lack of anything more descriptive.
"Napoleon should be along shortly. He was intending to make several stops, just to ensure that no one is following him, or us." Mark's explanation met with nodding heads, and everyone sipping their coffee, almost in unison. There was a somber attitude in the room, something that would probably remain until all of this was over.
Jesse was apprehensive about the situation, had been from the beginning. She didn't doubt that UNCLE could protect her, but what she hadn't revealed about the situation was beginning to gnaw at her insides. She needed to explain a few things, to give details the D.A. didn't know about. These people were willing to put their lives on the line for hers, and suddenly she felt guilty for asking it of them. At the same moment she was ready to make those explanations, Napoleon came through the door. It caused her to jump, nearly spilling the coffee she was nursing along with her guilt.
"Hello all. My, my… this is a very … hmm… Well, it isn't exactly home, now is it. But, so far it does seem secure enough." Napoleon was looking around the room, noticing how everything was placed, the monitors that showed the street and, especially, the look on Jesse's face.
"Do you have something to tell us Jesse?" Napoleon's expression was … Jesse couldn't tell for certain. He knew something though, and she had to wonder how.
"Wh…what do you mean Napoleon?" Now his expression turned to something more easily understood. Illya stood up, aware now that things were changing, and the mission was not as clear cut as they had previously been led to understand.
"Please Jesse, just tell us the whole story. Tell us what you know." She looked from one face to another, each of them now looking at her with expectation. How had he found out?
The room was closing in on Jesse, the screens and dials, lights indicating communication between here and someplace else. She felt nauseous, light headed.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't want anyone to get hurt, and especially not Kenny…' Her voice trailed off at the memory of seeing Kenny Bingham lying in a pool of his own blood.
"Kenny was my step-brother, his dad adopted me when he married my mother, so our name is, was the same. And we were best friends, but he got mixed up with THRUSH." She gulped back tears at the thought of this mess. Napoleon knew the story already, he had been briefed by Mister Waverly with new information regarding this affair.
"You got involved too, didn't you Jesse? And the reason Harlan Preston is after you isn't so he can kill you…" It would be better for the girl if she willingly gave them the details.
"I ran courier missions for Harlan, and one of them… oh geez… I'm so stupid."
Now Illya, Mark and April were hanging on for the rest of this narration. How had everyone missed these details of her story?
"Okay, I knew about what Preston was doing, who he was working for and what THRUSH is. I mean, you figure things out, you know? But on this one particular courier run, someone in Preston's organization made a mistake and put diamonds inside the document parcel. Kenny found out, somehow… I never knew how. Anyway, he told me to open the parcel and take out the diamonds. We were going to be set for life… for life. It was too much to resist, I …' she sighed again, remorseful and helpless.
"I did it. I ran the document over to the address I was given, but as I was traveling there by bus, I was able to open the document package and remove the diamonds. Oh my, it was scary, and thrilling, and as soon as I dropped off the package I regretted it." All eyes were on Jesse, and the image of an innocent girl in fear for her life was replaced by the picture of doom. THRUSH would never give up trying to retrieve the diamonds, or the threat to Jesse's life for having witnessed Kenny's murder at the hands of Harlan Preston.
April crossed the room and sat down next to Jesse. She had a story to tell and the last thing they needed was for her to clam up and recant the testimony against Preston.
"Jesse, it's easy to get caught up in something like what happened to you, and to Kenny. But do you see now, understand what we're dealing with? You need to tell us everything, because THRUSH isn't going to stop coming after you, even if you give back the diamonds, or fail to testify against Preston. Your only hope of survival is with UNCLE. Do you understand?" Jesse was wide eyed as she listened to April, and she nodded her head at the question.
"I know, I was just so scared. And when the D.A. took me in and then all of you, I just went along with it. Those marshalls, I think they work for Preston, or at least one of them. Something was off about all of that."
"You're right about that. We have the one named Otis Dahl in custody now, he's admitted to being paid off by one of Preston's men." Napoleon's conversation with Waverly had been full of information.
"The man on the dock? He was going to kill me wasn't he?" Illya thought back to that episode, and the amnesia the man was now experiencing.
"It's hard to say, but first they'd want the diamonds back. Jesse, where are they?" Illya's voice was low, not threatening but deep and resonant. It had an effect on the girl.
"Illya, I…' another sigh of resignation.
"I put them in a locker in Grand Central Station. I know, what a cliche´, but it's all I could think of. The key to the locker is in my apartment, taped to the vent behind the front door." Mark and April got up and headed towards the door, they'd retrieve the key and bring it back here.
"Okay Jesse, that's a start. Now, did you actually see Harlan Preston kill Kenny?" Napoleon had begun to doubt every part of her story, although the police did have a statement to support her accusation. Preston was still on the loose, which meant Jesse's life was in danger at least until he was apprehended.
"Yes, I did and he saw me. My screaming alerted the neighbors and they called the police… that's how I ended up in protective custody."
"Don't you think Jesse's apartment is being watched?" Illya realized that someone would see Mark and April enter the building, and since they weren't regulars there, it would trigger suspicion.
Napoleon nodded. He'd planned for this.
"We want them to be suspicious. We want to lead someone to the Station, and for that someone to tell us where we'll find Harlan Preston."
As Mark and April entered Jesse's apartment building, there were four THRUSH agents monitoring the place from across the street. They were set up in a room on the second floor, with visual access to the building and the street. They knew who belonged there and who didn't, and when the UNCLE agents showed up it was an immediate signal that something was going on.
It took only a few minutes for Mark to get the vent frame off of the opening and retrieve the key. He tucked it into his inside coat pocket, took April's arm, intending to exit the apartment.
"Mark, I think I heard something. Should we …?" The smile on her face made Mark chuckle.
"Yes luv, I think we should." April stood back and let her partner open the door to a man standing in the hallway with his gun drawn.
"You two are coming with me. Hand over the diamonds."
April's eyes were wide with innocence as she replied…
"Diamonds? What diamonds, darling?" The question took the fellow by surprise, allowing April to shoot him with a dart. He fell to the floor in a lump.
"Well, so much for the start of this little game.' Mark and April closed the door behind them, leaving the unconscious man in the hallway.
"I think we should call Napoleon and see how he wants us to proceed."
Napoleon outlined his plan to his agents, sending them to Grand Central Station in hopes of them being followed. They only needed one person to give them the information they sought concerning Preston. They needed him in custody, preferably UNCLE custody.
So far as they knew, this UNCLE location was unknown to THRUSH, which made Illya and Napoleon feel comfortable leaving Jesse there with Andy. Two more agents would be on site within minutes, so that the security of their witness seemed intact.
April and Mark were already on their way to Grand Central Station, and now Illya and Napoleon set out for there as well. It would be crowded this time of day, but a contingency of UNCLE agents was already there to help control any situation that might arise. The police had also been notified, since Preston was a fugitive from justice and still under the domain of the New York City Police, and the District Attorney's office.
The fallen THRUSH agent had been discovered shortly after April and Mark left the building. Two of the remaining three men followed the UNCLE agents, while the last man went inside Jesse's building to find his colleague. He notified Harlan Preston upon finding the man unconscious.
Harlan Preston was a man of the world, ambitious and wealthy; his personal fortune one of the key attributes that had been so attractive to THRUSH Central. He was an easy target for the Hierarchy, his own pursuit of power and influence made their promises irresistible.
Standing now at the top of the stairs in the great railroad terminal, he envisioned his own empire as something this grand and impressive. He wanted those diamonds back, and he needed that girl. She was the link to all of his troubles, and whatever thoughts of mercy he might have entertained before were all gone.
Preston saw the UNCLE agents on the floor below. He found it amusing that they were so cavalier about this mission to abscond with his diamonds. He should have known the girl would choose a place like this, it was something out of a mystery novel; it was amateurish, naive.
Nodding his head in the direction of April Dancer and Mark Slate, he sent one of his men after them. The two from the building across from Jesse's apartment were here, and now they were following close behind the UNCLE agents. No one looking to the top of the stairs could have guessed what was playing out on the floor below, no one except for the two men who now watched as Harlan Preston engineered what he hoped would be the recovery of his diamonds.
Mark and April stopped in front of the locker with the matching number to the key they had taken from Jesse's apartment. A discussion was going on, out of hearing range of the men who were approaching them. It didn't matter, the key would be taken and the diamonds returned to Mister Preston.
Walking up to the two people holding the key to the locker, Preston's men didn't see the other two people closing in on them. As they started to pull out weapons intended to intimidate the UNCLE agents, each man felt the end of a gun barrel in his back.
April turned to face them, a smile on her face as disarming as the threat of the guns pressing into them.
"Darling, you really should tell us where we'll find Harlan Preston. Otherwise, well… " It was well known that loyalty to the Hierarchy was not so deeply held among the lower ranks. It was either pay a penalty or pay with your life. The one named Hank spoke up first.
"He's here. He's, um…" There was some hesitation as he considered what Preston would do to him should this not turn out in UNCLE's favor.
The other man, whose name was Hector, decided there was nothing to be gained by not cooperating.
"He's out there, at the top of the stairs. He's disguised as a porter, but you'll know it's him. He's a, he's… "
"He's really short. Shorter than you, honey." The honey was intended for April, and the sound of it made her angry.
"You call me 'honey' again and I'll show what short looks like." The threat made Hank recoil, the insinuation was clear.
Mark was calling Napoleon to give him the information they'd just collected. The two Section III agents cuffed Hank and Hector, turning them over to two plain clothes police officers.
Illya, dressed in black and looking every bit like the lethal machine that he was, approached Preston from one side as his debonair partner sidled up on the other. Preston was so intent on what his men were doing that he failed to notice when Illya cuffed his right wrist, was unable to break the iron grip as his left wrist was also captured by the cold steel of the handcuffs.
"Hello Harlan, it's awfully considerate of you to show up here. I hate having to track people down." Napoleon had that smile on his face, the one that was both charming and threatening, and intended for the likes of THRUSH.
Preston looked first at Solo, then turned to glare at Illya before shrinking back from the attempted intimidation as the cold blue eyes delivered a threat that was understood to be real.
Two New York City detectives were ready to take Preston away and into custody. His next stop would be before a judge. With that done, no one expected THRUSH to step in and take up the pursuit of Jesse. It was not the job of the Hierarchy to defend those whose activities put them on the radar of the police. There would be no help forthcoming from Preston's former employer. He was now considered terminated.
After delivering verbal reports to Alexander Waverly, the four agents agreed to go back to the TV Repair shop and check on Jesse. She would still need to testify, but it was no longer seen as a necessity for her to be in protective custody. As the teams of Solo and Kuryakin, and Dancer and Slate entered the front door to the shop, it wasn't Andy at the desk now, but another agent named Cody Williams.
"Hello, may I offer you all a cup of coffee?" Everyone replied in the affirmative as Cody pressed the knob on the radio that opened the door into the back room.
Andy and Jesse were deep in conversation, a genuine connection developing between the two young people. Of course, with her history and the involvement she'd had with THRUSH, it wasn't likely that this budding romance could go anyplace without a lot of scrutiny. Then again, a girl who'd had the nerve to run errands for THRUSH and then steal from them…
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" April thought they were cute together. And with jobs for women opening up in the Command, maybe Jesse was a candidate for employment.
"April, if you're thinking that Jesse might make a good agent for UNCLE, then yes. Illya, what do you think?" Jesse overheard what they were saying and started laughing out loud.
"Wait a minute, are you trying to recruit me? Hmmm…" Jesse pretended to be giving it serious thought. In truth, she and Andy had already been discussing the possibility of her joining the ranks of UNCLE.
"You know what, I say we all go out for something to eat, it's getting late and I'm starving." Mark figured they'd have plenty of time to discuss the topic of Jesse's future, but he'd prefer it on a full stomach.
"I agree, I'm feeling a bit peckish."
"If that means hungry, then I agree darling."
"Luigi's?" Napoleon could always eat Italian, and suggested it knowing full well that everyone would agree.
"Andy, are you off duty now?" He nodded at April's question. This was fantastic, meeting a girl like Jesse and going out to dinner with the four most interesting agents in all of UNCLE. Wow, is this what it felt like to be on the fast track?
"You bet I'm off. And I'm hungry too, thanks for asking me, us… Thanks."
It was agreed, dinner for six at Luigi's.
Past, present and future, all accounted for.