It was an amazing feeling, amazing and uncomfortable. He was simultaneously an Uncle agent, an actor and his own director. As an Uncle agent, he had to think about the tricky situation, to solve problems, to defeat the enemy. As a director, he had to take the audience into account. Those men were his fellow agents, but they were an audience, too. A not so benevolent one. As an actor, he had to play his part, to extemporize. He felt exhausted. It was unfair. Those men weren't that bad. They worried about Napoleon Solo. Napoleon Solo. His « partner-to-be ». The trapdoor, the wires, it had been too easy, too obvious. The villain was somewhere, enjoying himself.
-Where are you?
How brilliant, Solo! How clever! As if the man would answer. The Uncle agent was alone. This strange cell was deserted and resonant. What had he said? The game would end soon. They had to wait for the finishing piece... Napoleon Solo forced himself to calm down. So the game wasn't over. They had captured him, and though the game wasn't over. A finishing piece?
-Illya?
The Russian was standing in front of the window. His back still to the other men, he raised his hand, pointing at the outside.
-What's this?
Bob Milton came up to the young man. He was staring at the dilapidated construction when a voice barked impatiently behind them.
-That's an old water tank. And yes, we checked it. What are you doing? It's a ruin, empty, deserted. That's a trick, a delusion. Look at this place! It isn't a Thrush base. It's just...
He paused, looking around. The others didn't react. They were waiting. Waiting for what? For this Russian's brilliant ideas?
-You're right... and you're wrong.
As he was speaking, Illya Kuryakin turned calmly to the man.
-You're right. This place is a trick, a delusion. But you're wrong: it's a Thrush base. At least, it was one.
-Your friends are really dense, Mr Solo.
Napoleon Solo flattened himself against the wall, and started to take a step after another, trying to spot the voice. It was different, this time. It sounded annoyed, impatient. The man has said: "your friends". His friends? The other agents, probably. He was breathing easier. It was good to be again his old self. So, he was somewhere, next to the warehouse. Some Uncle agents were looking for him, and the villain was obviously in trouble. Had he expected the others to leave, without going through the place with a fine-tooth comb? They would find. Napoleon Solo smiled at himself.
-I am very disappointed, you know.
More impatient, with a hint of anger, a childish anger. The villain didn't like vexations, and he needed to talk, to explain. The dark haired man kept silent, still listening.
-I thought that Mr Kuryakin would spot it quicker.
Kuryakin? Illya Kuryakin? The Russian?
-He is here.
-We know that! What...
Illya Kuryakin shook his head.
-I mean, Weber. Mr Solo is here, but... so is Weber. When you left the warehouse, he managed to capture Mr Solo, with some gas, probably. Then, he has taken him away, using the trapdoor.
-We didn't see anything, you know. The ground... the ground was...
The Russian bit his lips. They were wasting time, but he had to explain.
-I think he used a draught. Then, as you see, the trap door is close to the entrance. As you came in, you walked there.
The impatient one retorted flatly.
-So, stop talking, now! Let's clear the way! We're wasting time, and...
Illya Kuryakin cut in, his blue eyes turning icy gray.
-No, listen to me, please. Weber couldn't leave this place. You'd have seen him, heard him. So, he's here, with Napoleon Solo. And he's waiting.
-Waiting? Here? Under our feet?
-No. This is a way out, just a way out. It's a nasty trick... You know, Weber had to leave England, more exactly, he had to run away, and to hide for six months. He has to even things up, to prove himself in the US. So, he set it all up. Capturing Napoleon Solo, and...
He paused, looking at the others.
-And possibly blowing up some Uncle agents. Weber is somewhere, outside, enjoying the show, counting his trophies.
Napoleon Solo shook his head. The Russian have had to deal with Weber. He knew the man. Eventually, a good way to start their partnership.
-A Russian, in the New York UNCLE HQ... That's amazing, and your Alexander Waverly is a strange old fox. Unfortunately, he won't derive any profit from his new recruit.