How in God's name can they do this to him? Now, after everything I've just put him through, how the hell can they justify hauling him in front of a Section two hearing? Damn it, even the administrative and political clout that comes with the role of CEA wasn't enough to stop this happening to him. Дерьмо, I should be the one under suspicion of having done U.N.C.L.E's reputation all the harm, not him; he performed flawlessly as ever, way above the call of duty. I could see it in his eyes how much it cost him to hold up under everything I did to him. Hasn't he suffered enough for the moment? Must the выблядок pump him full of truth serum and dig open the raw wounds this last mess has left both of us?
Couldn't they have allowed us time to heal a bit first, to sort out our views on our partnership first before deciding if there's still going to be a partnership? I've got no doubts, I still trust him; possibly even more than before, but I've seen the way his eyes are filled with doubts now. He thinks this has destroyed everything; that he's lost everything, lost me.
My footsteps sound uncomfortably like the rapid staccato fire of an automatic as I pace up and down the short corridor outside the room where my partner is currently being grilled by our side. The next turn takes me to the blank wall at the end of the corridor and, although this may not be the smartest thing I've ever done, the pain of my fist meeting that wall hard gives me something else to concentrate other than the very real possibility I may be about to lose my partner, for ever.
No chance in hell! I'm not going to let the best thing to ever happen to me go with out a fight. A rather cold and unpleasant smile curls my lips; after all I'm very, very good in a fight. Even if I have to fight him as well as this jumped up, misconceived kangaroo court to keep us together.
The door opens behind me and I spin round, smoothing my face so no hint of my emotional turmoil is viable. The person who steps out is the one person in that room right now I consider an ally; Grace our secretary and life saver as only a miracle- working secretary can be. I'm more than half-way ready to believe that the Old Man planted her in this mess to give both of us some support.
Grace stands aside and says "We're ready for your testimony now Mr Solo."
I square my shoulders as she smiles encouragingly, bring it on I tell the others in that room silently. Nodding at her as I walk past her I see the slumped, quiet and drugged form of my partner in a chair to one side, hang on in there Illya I tell him in my mind the cavalry's coming.
Translations (according to Google translate and a few online russian/english dictionaries at any rate):
Дерьмо : Shit
ублюдки: Bastards