Chapter 3
"Something Very Strange."
Charles Nyman walked back into the THRUSH stronghold. He poured himself a large brandy and sat down next to the fireplace. His mind filled with images of the woman he had turned away from. He was somewhere far back in time when the opening of the door brought him back to the present.
"Didn't mean to interrupt you sir," Sharpton said smiling, "But Sequa has something I think you're going to want to see."
The men walk up to the third floor and into one of the small rooms.
All of the rooms in the house had been reinforced with a new THRUSH formulated concrete. Totally sound proof, escape proof. An experimental explosion, fire or even a chemical leak would be safely contained within the four walls it happened in. As Nyman had noted, it was an impressive amount of work in such a short time. Costly to be sure, but if things played out correctly it would be well worth the expense.
"What have you got?" Nyman said curtly as Sequa met them in the hallway.
The weapons expert held up a small vial. He smiled.
"This is the Dilithium Sulfite I have been working with. Odorless, tasteless and highly volatile when exposed to liquid."
He motioned Sharpton and Nyman into one of the small rooms. Switching on one of the monitors they could see the area used by the guards as a lunch room. A few minutes passed and they saw two of the men walk in and sit at the table.
One of the guards fixed his coffee from the stainless steel urn and went to sit down. He laid out his lunch and took the salt shaker giving his hardboiled egg a hefty sprinkle. The other simply grabbed a powered donut from the box next to the urn, a cup of coffee and they sat down and began to eat and talk.
"Hand me the sugar," the second said.
The guard slid the sugar container to his comrade and shook his head as the man put two heaping spoonfuls into his cup.
In a no time the two men began to feel ill. They both paled and held their stomachs.
They both took a drink, the pain intensified and both men cried out in agony.
Sequa, Sharpton and Nyman watched as the two men began to burn from the inside out. Sequa turned off the sound.
"Dilithium Sulfite mixed into the salt shakers and sprinkled on the donuts," Sequa said, "Undetectable…."
"And highly effective," Sharpton said turning from the sight on the monitor.
He looked as if he was going to be ill.
"It can be easily replicated, packaged, and sent to THRUSH locations around the world. Our people working on the inside of factories can add it to the salt supply that is shipped out for home use, even added into powder. Imagine getting out of the shower, then sprinkling down with a nice soft powder. Once it contacts the water, sweat or any moisture….."
He motioned back to the monitor. What was left of the bodies of the two men lay motionless on the floor of the room, still burning. He changed the setting on the monitor to another of the rooms. It was empty except for a few old pieces of furniture. They looked at the monitor.
"So what am I supposed to be seeing?" Nyman asked.
Sequa reached over and turned a small green knob on the control center. He handed each of the other men a pair of thick protective goggles and then slipped a pair on himself.
"Keep those on and watch," he said.
Sequa flipped a switch. For a brief moment they saw the overhead sprinkler system kick on. Then the monitor was filled with a brilliant bright light, almost as if they had witnessed and atomic blast. They felt a slight rumble in the floor but the building remained strong. Looking back at the monitor they saw the furniture in the room reduced to cinders in seconds.
"In its gas form it can be piped in anywhere, a political office, a school…..Even U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters and no one would even know. Set off the sprinklers systems and….."
"Agent Flambé," Sharpton said looking at Charlie.
"Ingenious," Nyman said, "Randolph, I have to admit this is better than we could have hoped for. I'll see to it you receive a special commendation from THRUSH for this. How long will it take to make enough of both versions to ship out?"
"The powder, we can make a thousand pounds in a week. The gas takes a bit longer but we can have enough to destroy UNCLE in about three days."
"Get on it," Nyman said.
The THRUSH looked at the monitor once again.
Very impressive work.
Charlie Nyman went back to the study. He sat once more at the large mahogany desk and folded his arms behind his head. He smiled.
A faint buzzing sound came to his ears. He reached over to what looked like a large humidor on the desk and flipped open the top. Taking out the microphone, he quickly opened out the sides of the wooden box and plug in the mic jack.
"This is Nyman," he said coolly.
"How are things progressing, Mr. Nyman?"
Charles sat up quickly and for some unexplained reason gave his tie a tug to strengthen it.
"Splendidly, sir. The house has been completely re-enforced and is ready for move-in. All the security precautions are in order and preliminary testing shows no leaks in the structure. We even had a demonstration of the room's strength by fire. The walls didn't even singe, sir. Just lost a few sticks of furniture."
"Everything sounds like it's running well and ahead of schedule. Anything that needs to be pushed?"
"Two of the, ah, "specialty" rooms are almost completed."
Nyman heard a low chuckle through the speaker.
"Specialty rooms…..I like that Nyman. Make sure each is equipped with the monitor system so our guests can see from room to room…"
"I believe that's all that needs to be finished sir," Nyman said, "The holding cell in the basement, elevator from there to the rooms, medical facilities, offices all complete. Security measures are nearly finished and in place for the bulk of the space. All windows double insulated and bullet proofed. We have a better set up then UNCLE ever dreamed of."
Nyman took a deep breath.
"And speaking of UNCLE, sir," he said slowly, "They have made no attempt to raid the house."
"You sound disappointed, Nyman!"
"Not disappointed, sir. But a little weary. Our agent on the inside has had no information to give us on why Waverly hasn't launched an attack. They know we are here, they probably know our compliment by now, but there hasn't been a single move on their part to shut us down."
"Are you sure our agent hasn't slipped over to UNCLE's side. We did disable Napoleon Solo, and he is always fair game for our agents. What about Kuryakin?"
"Waverly has been sending him out on other assignments."
"Curious. Perhaps we can find another lure for the agents in question. Family perhaps?"
"Kuryakin's family are all dead sir. Solo's parents as well. I do not believe he has any living relatives. And at last reports, neither man had any special women they were seeing. Unusual especially for Agent Solo."
"Dig man," the voice said, "Find out if anything in their backgrounds has been over looked."
"Yes sir, right away, sir…" Nyman said.
"Keep me informed, Nyman. That is what second in command does."
Nyman smiled and looked at the microphone as he heard the click of the cut connection. HE put the radio back in the wooden box and sat back in the chair once more.
"Second in Command," he said aloud to himself, "I like the sound of that."
The elder THRUSH on the other end of the call, sat back in his high wingback chair. His boney fingers gently tapped his chin.
"What are you up to Alexander?" he said slowly, "What little plan do you have in mind?"
U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters
Amy was visibly shaken at seeing her old beau. She was trembling and her breathing was labored. Agent Larkin made sure the man was gone before he whisked her out of the shop and back to the car. They made a be-line to UNCLE headquarters.
Larkin gave Waverly a full rundown on the strange man. Height, weight, hair, eyes etcetera. The name was unfamiliar. Charles Nyman. The chief had the name run thru the U.N.C.L.E. system.
"Here you are sir," Lisa Rogers said handing a sheet of paper to Waverly.
"Charles Richard Nyman: age 65, American…hum….Self made millionaire. World traveler, last known residence Paris, France." Waverly read, "Questioned in 1951 by Interpol for allegations of affiliation with certain underground activities. No conclusive evidence could be produced so he was released. He has remained on their watch list since that time."
"THRUSH?" Larkin asked.
"Possible...The time frame would certainly point in that direction,"
Security Chief Barker walked in with a file in hand. He handed it to Waverly.
"Surveillance photos from the THRUSH house." Barker said.
Waverly looked thru the five shots. One stopped him. He handed the photo to Larkin.
"That's him," the agent said in surprise, "That's the man who ran into Miss Penobscot."
"Something else sir…." Barker said, "The woman we were tracking….Miss Wyss…"
"Yes?" Waverly said looking up.
"We tracked her to a location five blocks from the THRUSH house, an abandoned section of buildings. She hasn't moved in the last three hours. Not even from building to building..."
Waverly stood up.
"Agent Larkin, take Agent Saunders and locate the girl. Get the last known coordinates from security. Chief Barker, notify medical and have two of your men standing by as back up. I'll notify Mr. Kuryakin, Agents Reyno and Faris of the situation."
Everyone quickly went to the task at hand. Waverly picked up his microphone.
Illya, Napoleon, Marnie and Jackie were sitting in the living room. The chirp of the communicator gave them all pause. Illya reached inside his jacket and opened the small pen.
"Channel D open…Kuryakin here…"
"Mr. Kuryakin are agents Reyno and Faris with you?"
"Yes sir, right here," the women said together.
Napoleon began to feel uneasy. He shifted his body slightly.
"Something has happened to Amy," Napoleon said low pressing his hands to his face.
On the other end Waverly smiled slightly.
"Nothing has happened to her Mr. Solo….She is a little shaken up though…It would appear that she had a run-in with an old friend…A friend who we believe now works for THRUSH.I need everyone on their toes and alert for possible THRUSH activity. Miss Penobscot is going to remain here at headquarters for a few more hours."
Larkin and Saunders followed the directions from security. They parked a few blocks away from the location of the tracking device and walked slowly and cautiously. Weapons drawn they found the alleyway from which the signal was coming.
But there was no sign of anything. No car, no THRUSH, no girl.
Larkin called in while Saunders checked around.
"Nothing Mr. Waverly," Larkin said.
Waverly was in security with Barker. He looked at the radio equipment then back at the security Chief.
"That's impossible Agent Larkin." Barker said, "According to the tracking device you're only a few feet away from her."
"David over here," Saunders called to his partner.
Larkin walked over and stooped down next to the other agent.
"Saunders found something sir," Larkin said.
"A handkerchief soaked in blood," Saunders said, carefully picking up the dry tip of the cloth.
Something fell with a light clink onto the pavement. Larkin looked at the tiny disc.
"And the tracking disk, sir," Larkin added.
Waverly and Barker looked at one another.
"Get out of there now," Barker said quickly.
Saunders took his own handkerchief and laid the bloodstained one in it. Larkin grabbed the disc with his own handkerchief and both men took off, watching closely for any signs of THRUSH.
Waverly picked up the phone and called Doctor Martz.
"The disc was surgically implanted. Where no-one would find it…" the doctor said, "I told her she needed a few stitches but that was just a cover to insert the implant."
"THRUSH found it," Waverly said, "And removed it…By force it would appear."
Martz took a deep breath.
"If that's the case, she'll be dead in a few hours," the doctor said.
The THRUSH guards dragged Astrid's limp body into the satrap. Nyman was called immediately and headed for the medical area.
"What the hell happened?" Nyman shouted looking at her.
"She's an U.N.C.L.E. agent, sir," one of the men said.
"She's a THRUSH double agent you ass," Nyman shouted giving the man a hard clout to the head.
"She has severe internal bleeding," the doctor said, "I have to go in now if there's any chance to save her."
While Astrid was being prepped for surgery, Nyman stood close by and talked to her trying to find out any information she might have acquired.
"Solo…..hidden….other agents protecting…." Her words were slow and beginning to slur.
"Kuryakin?"
"No….others….."
"Does Napoleon Solo have any other contacts? Family perhaps?"
Astrid's body drew up in pain. The doctor came in the room to give her a sedative.
"Aun….aunt….…."
"Napoleon has an aunt? Interesting. Her name?"
Astrid's eyes began to flutter as the sedative kicked in."
"A….Amy….peno….pen….."
Nyman looked taken back. He moved closer to the dying woman.
"Amy….Penobscot?"
Astrid took one last gasp of air. Was it a yes or no? Her head limped to the side. Her eyes blank.
"I hope you found out what you needed to know," Doctor Nester said.
Nyman looked at the woman. She had been the best THRUSH operative they had on both sides. If he had only found out what else she knew.
His nostrils flaring, Nyman ordered the guards who had assaulted her into the room. He had two others forcefully lay the men out on the long examination tables and strap them down.
The men looked at him.
"You two cost us our top U.N.C.L.E. informant….." Nyman looked at the doctor, "Castrate them…Both…And no anesthetic."
"What?" the men shouted.
"Let the punishment fit the crime," Nyman said. He looked at the two men standing nearby. "And let this be a warning to the rest of you."
"Yes sir," the men said standing at attention.
Doctor Nester smiled and went to retrieve his instrument tray. He was a doctor but preferred to use his skills in the line of "persuasion" rather than healing. Often operating with little to no anesthetic, knowing just how to cut into a human body with practically no blood, but plenty of pain, the masochistic maniac was perfect for the THRUSH organization.
Nyman stepped into the hallway and waited. In a few minutes, he could hear the voice of the first guard, begging the doctor to stop. His agonizing cry filled the air.
Nyman smiled and went back to the study.
"Amelia is Napoleon Solo's Aunt," he said very pleased, "This is going to be even easier than I thought."
Sharpton threw open the doors of the study and stormed in.
"What are you doing to my men?" he shouted.
"They are being punished for causing the death of our informant. Don't worry Lewis, they're not going to die, they're just going to wish they would."
"I decide what punishment my men receive," Sharpton continued, "Not you…."
"Oh shut up. You are nothing but a little toady to THRUSH. I am in command here."
Sharpton backed down. He knew the man was right.
"Have my car ready in fifteen minutes," Nyman said, "I have some scouting to do on my own."
"Yes sir," Lewis Sharpton said.
Sharpton backed out of the room and told one of the men to get the car ready.
Nyman, showered, shaved and put on his best suit. Everything ready, he left the safe house and headed towards Fifth Avenue.
Napoleon was getting agitated being confined to the apartment. He was driving Illya crazy and even the two women were slowly getting annoyed.
He sat on the sofa, leaning forward on the cane he was being forced to use. Solo was nervously biting at the side of his knuckle, a habit he had never quiet broken.
Illya sat across from him, staring at his partner. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. The Russian turned his head to the side and continued to watch. He carefully reached into the floor and picked up a rubber ball belonging to the dog.
Napoleon slowly weaved back and forth on the cane bored by the quiet.
Illya raised the ball and gave it a sudden throw towards Solo.
Napoleon's cane fell to the floor and he bent down to pick it up.
The ball sailed passed his head and hit the wall.
Solo sat up quickly, turning his head from side to side.
"What was that noise?" he asked.
"Just playing with the dog," Illya said.
Solo's mouth twisted slightly.
"Right….In the first place you hate dogs, in the second, Tag isn't even in the room."
Illya looked at him and smiled.
"How do you know Tag isn't here?"
Napoleon raised his hand a tapped the end of his nose with his finger.
There was a knock on the door. Illya went to answer. He checked the view and opened the door for Jackie and Tag.
"Marnie is checking the rest of the floor," Jackie said, "Amy should be arriving back at any time."
She nodded towards Napoleon. Illya lifted his hands and made the motion of claws. He made a soft hissing sound. Jackie couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm glad someone is having fun," Napoleon shouted, laying his head back on the sofa.
"How about a walk?" Jackie said, "Nowhere far just a few floors, maybe down to the lobby?"
"Good idea," Illya said, "He's already to go."
Kuryakin grabbed his partner and pulled him off the sofa. He gave Solo a shove towards the woman.
"Take it easy," Napoleon said giving his shoulders a shrug.
Jackie picked up a leash and snapped it on Tag's collar. The dog whined a bit, but finally accepted it. The other end she slipped over Napoleon's wrist.
"This way you won't need the cane," she whispered in his ear. She gave his cheek a quick kiss.
Jackie took his arm. Napoleon felt the tug around his wrist and they were off, out the door and down the hallway and into the elevator. It wasn't much but at least he was out of the apartment.
Marnie had finished her security sweep of the last few floors and was checking the lobby. The elevator doors opened and she saw Tag dragging Napoleon behind him. Jackie was trying to hold them both, but the dog had obviously picked up something and instinct told him to follow.
She watched as agent a dog made their way to the revolving door. Tag got in one and poor Napoleon ended up jammed in the section behind him. The leash tightened around his wrist, but Solo was wedged in the door. To pull it back would trap the SAR dog between the door and the frame.
Jackie, Marnie and the desk clerk rushed over to help. Jackie used the side door and went outside trying to push Tag back into the space, but the dog only pulled tighter.
Napoleon was in severe pain as the pressure of the door built and the circulation in his wrist decreased.
A car pulled up outside. One of the young U.N.C.L.E. agents stepped around the vehicle and opened the door for Amy. She tried to hide her smile as she saw her nephew trapped in the door and the dog pulling to get out.
Jackie managed to get her hand inside the door and unhooked the leash. In a flash Tag leapt from the door, and rushed down the alleyway beside the building, barking loudly. Jackie turned and followed him.
Napoleon felt the tension drop and moved inside the door turning it slowly until he felt the cool afternoon air. He felt someone take his arm.
"Are you alright Napoleon?" Amy asked.
"I am now," he said smiling as he felt her hand rub the red ring around his wrist.
Another car pulled up just to the side of Amy's. A very well dressed man got out and walked towards the revolving door.
Thru the glass Marnie saw the man stop and speak to Amy. She clutched Napoleon's arm and started to push past. The other U.N.C.L.E. agent stepped up. The young woman made her way quickly to the door, reaching for her weapon as she moved.
In one motion the U.N.C.L.E. agent who had driven the car went to his knees, blood pooling at the base of his neck from the blow. The man grabbed Amy and Napoleon and with the help of another man who quickly emerged from the alley, they managed to get them inside the car.
Marnie burst thru the door gun drawn.
She saw the man in the car hold a gun to Amy's head.
As the car sped away, Tag and Jackie came out of the alley. The dog took off in pursuit of the vehicle.
Marnie fired off a few shots that merely bounced off the car.
As the vehicle turned an abrupt corner, Tag let out a loud yelp. The two women ran down the sidewalk in the direction the car had gone.
Jackie saw her four legged partner limping up the sidewalk, making small yelping sounds. He was gingerly putting on leg down only to lift it quickly back from the pavement. He was swaying slightly, dazed no doubt from the impact with the car. She quickly picked him up giving the animal a reassuring nudge with her face.
Marnie skidded to a stop at the corner. She looked up the empty street.
No car.
No Amy.
And no Napoleon.
She quickly radioed in
"What do you want Charlie?" Amy cried clutching her nephew's arm.
"I can't let you go again," Nyman said sarcastically, "I had no idea you had such a famous nephew Amelia. And what about my son? Is he a U.N.C.L.E. agent as well?"
Amy buried her face in Napoleon's arm. He could feel her shaking.
"Leave her alone, Nyman," Solo said, "If you want me fine, but leave her alone."
Charlie Nyman made a small laugh and rolled his eyes.
"Come now Mr. Solo, you of all people know that is not possible. Besides she and I have a history. As much as I would love to rekindle that passion, it's going to be up to her how much you have to endure. So Amelia did you keep it? Or did you even have it? Not a very nice thing to do you know….Only little whor..."
Napoleon's fist flew past his aunt into the side of Nyman's face. The window caught the other side.
Nyman quickly regained his senses. He reached over and pulled Amy away from Napoleon's grasp. Solo heard the woman scream.
"Once more, Mr. Solo.." Nyman shouted, "And I'll kill her right here, right now."
He tightened his grip on Amy. She screamed again.
"Don't hurt her," Napoleon pleaded, "Don't hurt her….Please."
Nyman smiled and gave Amy a kiss on the cheek.
"Your nephew has more brains then I gave him credit for."
Amy looked at the hopeless expression on Napoleon's face. She knew that he was going to die at this man's hand. And possibly herself as well. She shuttered.
"Please, Charlie," she said, her voice trembling, "At least let me sit with Napoleon."
Nyman let her go.
She slipped up close to Solo and put one arm around his shoulder. Her other hand gently pulled his face close and rested it against her shoulder.
"I should be holding you like this," Napoleon whispered low.
Amy kissed his forehead.
She reached over and slid his arm around her waist.
"Don't worry," Napoleon said, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."