That was all George Dennell needed to hear. He was a section two wanna be that knew he would never be. The last time he had been pulled into the field was years ago during the Waverly Ring Affair; it was frightening but exhilarating experience none the less.
"Wow sure, what do you need...what ever it is, you can count me in. What's going on?"
"George suffice to say it is a long story and now is not the time for it. I am not permitted in headquarters until Thursday; right now Napoleon has gone missing and I need to know who Waverly has assigned to find him?"
"Napoleon missing? Wow, how long? I haven't heard anything about this..."
"George," Illya interrupted, "I need you to focus? I need the names of the agents assigned, can you get me that information now, please?"
"Sure, sure Illya hold on." A few moments later George returned to the telephone with their names. "Agents Bob Denman and Mike Anderson."
"Agents Denman and Anderson," Illya repeated, then cursed to himself. "chert poberi_dammit." Denman might be cooperative but Anderson his partner was a problem, as the man detested Illya as well as any other foreign agent in the New York office. But Illya knew that Anderson, always mumbling under his breath calling him a 'commie.' For this reason he could not rely on these agents descretion if he were to attempt to join them in the search for Napoleon.
"George you are going to have to be my inside man on this mission, can you do that?"
"Sure Illya no problem."
"If Denman and Anderson have not left the building then I need you to somehow place bugs on them."
"Gee Illya that's a mighty tall order."
"I know you can handle it George," Illya encouraged him.
George Dennell looked around his cubby-hole of an office, scratching his head for a moment. "Alright Illya I'll do it." he answered, trying to bolster his own confidence.
"And something else George, I will need you to borrow a surveillance van from the motorpool, fully loaded with tracking equipment."
"Illya now that's really a tall order. I don't know if I can..."
Sensing Dennell's nervousness; Illya preyed upon his ego.
"Come on now George you out manuevered some of Thrushes and UNCLE's best agents last time you worked with Napoleon and I...you are a clever man. You will figure out a way to do this, will you not? And one last thing George, no one is to know of this, not anyone. When you have everything set contact me by communicator...ummm, using the code " I think the Yankees may win the series this year." Understood?"
"Got it Illya,"
"Good, Kuryakin out."
Illya smiled as he hung up the receiver, now he only hoped that George would come through for him.
Napoleon Solo's head felt like it had exploded when he finally came to, finding himself sitting hancuffed to a chair. He was positoned in what looked like the middle of a darkened room, with a single light bulb suspended by a wire from the ceiling, dangling directly above his head.
"Oh Napoleon dearest," spoke an all too familiar voice from the shadows, "I am sorry to have to do this to you."
"Then don't do it," he answered groggily.
She stepped out of the shadows with and electronic cattle prod in her hand, undid his tie, then pulled down on the front of his shirt, ripping several buttons.
"Careful?" he snapped.
"Oh please, darling don't tell me...exploding buttons, really? How old school."
"Nooo, silk."
"Oh Napoleon, you are most amusing." she smiled," I suppose that is why I usually adore your company, unlike that partner of yours who can be so gauche."
"Usually?"
"Yes unfortunately, it is all about business today and we must forego our pleasures of the past."
"We could have pleasure first and then get down to business, why don't you just free my hands and I'll let you know what I mean?" he smiled at her, as he looked into her eyes.
"Why do I doubt that mon belle homme_my handsome man? I have heard the rumour that the great Solo is getting married?"
"You can't believe everything you hear?"
"Enough small talk, Napoleon be a dear and tell me where you've hidden that microdot? We know your were transporting it across the Pacific, but we lost track of you, then to have the incredible luck to simply spot you at the airport. Who would have thought it would have been so simple?
"You mean with a little help from Angelique?"
"Angelique? I think not." she said, dismissing her mentor's name.
"We've checked all your luggage for it and obviously it's not there...so it must be on your person. So we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way?" she smiled, then winked.
"You know, I just don't remember what I did with that darned thing...so small, so easy to misplace."
"Wrong answer dearest..." she touched the cattle prod to his exposed chest.
Napoleon went stiff, stifling his pain. She continued with the contact of the electronic device to his skin as he began to squirm in the chair, struggling uselessly to free himself.
"Nooo, I won't tell you sorry," he let out a little moan.
"Tchk" she clicked her tongue, " Napoleon, you know how this hurts me to do this to you?"
"Hurts me, more than it does you" he quipped. He was started to sweat profusely.
"Napoleon, please? It would really be so much better if you just cooperated with me. My associates...the fellows who brought you in from the airport, do not have as such a delicated touch as I do. It would be a shame to ruin those chiseled features of yours.
"Sorry," Solo whispered, a touch of harshness in his voice," no deal."
"Have it your way. Boys?"
Two large goons appeared out of the shadows, each brandishing a set of brass knuckles.
"Oh boy, "Napoleon mumbled as he braced himself.
Open channel D- Kuryakin
"Kuryakin here."
"Hi Illya," said George," everything is set...ugh, I mean I think the Yankees will wind the series this year."
"I knew I could count on you, " The Russian smiled at Georges delivery of the unnecessary code phrase," can you bring the van to Chinatown? Park at the corner south of Chang's, I will meet you there at nine. Kuryakin out."
Illya stood in the shadows outside of changs, smoking a cigarette. It was now nine o'clock and Napoleon had been missing for at least ten hours. George finally appeared in the black van as Kuryakin extinguished his cigarette on the sidewalk with his shoe then stepped out of the shadows, dressed in his black suit and turtleneck.
He climbed into the passenger side of the van, telling George to pull into the alleyway on the the next block and the nervous man complied without question.
Illya climbed inot the back of the van, placing a set of headphones...then stopping for a second as a pang of doubt suddenly hit him.
"George you did plant the tracking bugs on Denman and Anderson did you not?"
"Absolutely, got em' right under the back of the collars of their suit jackets." he smiled proudly.
Illya nodded in satisfaction as he placed the headphones on, dialing the radio console until he picked up the signal. Luckily the two agents were in a car driving. If they had been in headquarters, then the frequencey would have been jammed.
"I don't even have a clue where to start." Anderson said.
"We'll start at the airport, flash his photograph and see if any of the workers have seen him," said Denman.
"At least there's one thing about this assignment,"said Anderson, " at least that commie prick Kuryakin is laid up and won't be in on this one."
"What is it with you? Why do you hate that Russian so much?"
"You said it right there, he's a Russkie, a red commie; what other reason do I need? One day the bastard will get his orders from the Kremlin and he'll turn on us. You mark my words."
"You need to knock that shit off Mike. Some day it's going to get you in trouble. You've been talking that trash for too long now and it's gonna catch up with you. Never know, one day you could be assigned to work with Kuryakin and he knows how you feel about him?"
Solo was fighting to keep himself conscious, he could feel blood running down his face mixed with his sweat and was unable to open one of his eyes. His right side was killing him...probably a few broken ribs. He was finally alone now, working his hands and fingers around behind his back until he was able to take hold of his pinky ring with the blue star set into it. He pried the stone up with his thumbnail then turned it, pushing the stone back in place into it's setting.
He'd just activated a personal miniaturized tracking device that Illya had designed, and given him as a birthday gift. It had a limited range and hoped that U.N.C.L.E. was spreading out looking for him.
Illya removed the headphones,realizing there was nothing to be gleaned from the converstions between Denman and Anderson; promising himself that he would eventually have it out with Anderson one day. He moved his attention to a radar screen in the console, turning it on as he adjusted the frequency. There was a weak blip...showing north of their positon. Illya smiled as he knew Napoleon had just activated his ring.
"George," he called to the front of the van," start the engine, back it out and head left and drive slowly."
George did as he had been instructed then as he moved down the block he spoke " How far do I drive Illya?"
"Just keep diving slowly George, I will tell you when to stop."
The van continued down the street, traveling three blocks form Changs, then the signal changed in it's intensity.
"George, make a right turn here."
Another few hundred yards and now the signal had become it's strongest. "Alright stop, pull over here."
Illya pointed to a storefront warehouse. The sign in front of it read 'Lucky Bird Trading Company," and had the picture of a Thrush on it and Illya shook his head, wondering at the absurdity of it. Subtlety was never their forté.
"O.K. George, I need you to contact headquarters in fifteen minutes requesting backup at this location...let them know you have located Mr. Solo."
"But what about you?"
"I am going inside the warehouse." Knowing that George might do something stupid; Illya ordered him to wait in the van for the backup."Once the backup arrives, you need to direct them to the warehouse, but you stay in the van; we do not want any of the bad guys stealing our equipment? And remember George. I was never here...you never saw me. You got me?"
"Understood...partner." George smiled.
Kuryakin climbed out of the van, drawing his Walther from his shoulder holster as he moved carefully across the empty street to the warehouse entrance. The door was locked, so he pulled a thin wire from the lapel of his jacket, placing it into the lock. Then he pulled out the crown on his wrist watch, turning it, then pushed it back in. There was a small ppffft and a whisp of smoke. He turned the handle and the door opened quietly. He stepped inside carefully, walking along the walls that were barely lit by dim overhead lights, following them until he came to another door, conveniently marked 'basement.'
He opened it, moving down the stairs; hearing voices from below. He stopped moving for a moment, cocking his head as he listened carefully to what was being said.
It was not the voice he expected...not Angelique; it was Serena, speaking to her minions. He continued tip-toeing down the stairs until he reached another door at the bottom.
He caught a quick glance through a small window. Serena and two men were standing near a figure seated in a chair directly under a ceiling light. Once one of them moved; he could see it was the unconscious figure of his partner.
Illya opened the door in one quick motion, catching them by surprise as he darted the two men.
"Do not move Serena." he warned, "Now where is your friend Angelique?"
Serena seemed genuinely confused by his question.
"Oh Illya Kuryakin, you clever little Russian. You found me much sooner than I had anticipated, but as for Angelique; I am afraid she is not in on this little deal." she sighed, " and now you've ruined all my fun? She reached for a pack of cigarettes on the table, pulling one for herself.
"Would you care to give me a light dear?"
"Oh no. I am not falling for that old trick...a puff of sleep gas from the cigarette. I do not think so?"
"Yes Illya you are right, that is so old." Serena blew into the cigarette, sending a tiny dart into Kuryakin's neck. He staggered trying to control himself enough to fire his gun as he clasped a hand to his throat, pulling the miniscule needle from him. But then he fell to his knees, dropping forward to his hands.
Serena stepped past him. "Peut-être une autre fois, petit chien_perhaps another time little dog." she laughed as she disappeared up the stairs.