Sir Raleigh's office was somewhat crowded that morning, and the noise level was almost out of scale; Stephanie, Solo, Kuryakin, Maureen and two lab technicians were all talking at once.

The Brit's voice suddenly boomed over that brouhaha: "ENOUGH!"

The sudden silence allowed him to return to a normal voice level. "That's better. Sorry to interrupt your, ah, rather animated discussions, but I'm afraid they are getting us nowhere. What I want to do now is analyze the situation rationally, although I can appreciate the fact that you are all worried by the recent and unexpected turn of events."

One of the technicians, his face red, said: "But, sir, the vial's contents turned out to be a highly concentrated lethal poison. Its formula is totally new, so that means that Thrush is not only back in operation, but that it also has highly equipped chemical facilities."

"I realize that, Donovan, but I don't think that raising your heart pressure is going to help solve the problem."

The man's face turned almost purple, but he wisely decided to follow his superior's advice and promptly sat down and tried to relax.

Stephanie decided it was the right moment to contribute with her opinion. "Sir, we are not positive that Thrush is involved."

At that, Kuryakin jumped from his chair like a tensioned spring. "What do you mean, we are not positive? Of course we are, the stuff they used to drug me is their trademark."

Solo interjected: "That only proves that they were trying to get their hands on the poison, not that they actually created it."

The Russian shook his head. "It proves that they are involved, and that's more than enough for me to suspect that they have also formulated the poison."

Sir John was forced to quench another escalating argument. "Gentlemen, please. I want facts, not suppositions." He turned to the other lab technician: "Brad, kindly enumerate what we know so far."

The man counted on his fingers. "First, the drug contained in Mr. Kuryakin's dart is Thrush, ergo the men who tried to abduct Mr. Kuryakin and seize the vial are Thrush. Second, the vial contains a deadly chemical poison based on a brand-new formula. Third, it would indeed require a complex and undoubtedly expensive chemical lab to devise such a formula. Fourth, we know of at least three other international organizations which could afford such a lab. Fifth, that does not exclude that Thrush is among such organizations. Conclusion: since they tried to get hold of the vial so desperately, it means that it was the only available sample and that, for some reason, they probably don't possess the formula anymore and therefore cannot replicate it. Suggestion: destroy the poison and the formula, and do not exclude the possibility that Thrush is actually back in operation."

Solo whispered in Kuryakin's ear: "The way that young fellow speaks reminds me of you. The two of you must be remotely related."

Sir John overheard the comment. "You don't agree with Brad's analysis, Mr. Solo?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, Sir John, your 'Mr. Spock' here has not considered another quite important factor."

"And what might that be?"

"If Thrush was not the actual creator of the formula, they might have thought that getting their hands on the sample was the easiest way to steal it from competition. Which leads us…"

Stephanie finished his sentence "… to the possibility that another organization has actually created it and still owns the formula. My God. We're back to square one."

Illya mumbled: "Indeed. Not a very attractive prospect."

UNCLE's chief rose from his chair with a very somber expression. "Well, Miss Rogers, I do hope you have fully recovered, because your next mission will involve the search of such an organization."

Kuryakin didn't give her the time to answer. "Wait a minute. She hasn't even finished her vacation, thanks to your brilliant idea of asking her to take care of that package delivery."

Stephanie put a comforting hand on the Russian's arm. "Illya, please, calm down. I want this mission."

He looked at her, dumbstruck. "You do?"

"Of course. Don't you understand? This is my life, this is what I like to do. This is what I want to do. I'm sure you've been through this before yourself."

The Russian was staggered. "But… but I thought you wanted to relax for a while."

She shook her pretty head. "No. I relaxed long enough. Inactivity is not for me. I'm sorry, Illya, I really loved spending time with you, but now I need to get back to work."

He pouted. "This means we are not going to see each other again for a long time."

"Not necessarily," Sir John interjected. "I was thinking that maybe you and Mr. Solo would like to see this through. I'm sure that Miss Rogers could use some help, since she doesn't have a partner anymore."

She beamed. "Oh wow! Illya and Napoleon as my two partners? I couldn't ask for more!"

Solo elbowed his friend. "What do you think, chum? Shall we help the damsel in distress? Like the old days?"

The Russian was unsuccessfully trying to hide the smug smile that was slowing spreading on his face.

"Might as well."

Stephanie grumbled: "Hey, don't sound so enthusiastic, mister!" She then grabbed his forearm and dragged him outside the room, playfully slapping his arm.

Solo, looking complacent, delicately took Maureen's arm and slowly guided her outside, too. "Well, Maureen, it looks like we have a little time before the new mission starts. How would you like a guided tour of the Big Apple?"

The woman beamed at him. "Oh, Napoleon, I would love it! But… how about lunch first?"

"Jeez, I think you spent too much time with that ravenous Russian. Lunch it is, then." Then he added, waiving at UNCLE's chief: "See you, Sir John. You know where to find me."

Sir John, finally alone in his office, smiled and uttered, sotto voce: "Indeed, Mr. Solo. Indeed."

THE END