Chapter 5
"What the Blind Man Saw."
Nyman brushed the napkin over his lips and took one last sip of wine. He turned his head slightly and looked at Amy. A smile crossed his lips.
"It's absolutely amazing," he said, "I swear you haven't changed in any way since I last saw you."
Amy gave him a sarcastic smile.
"So what you're saying is I looked like an old lady back then."
"Not at all," Nyman said laughing, "Still have the same dry sense of humor too. Amy, I want you to stay here with me. Be at my side, for me, not for THRUSH."
"Sorry, Charlie."
"Let me sweeten the deal. Stay with me for support and company. No hanky panky I promise and I'll see to it Napoleon lives to a ripe old age."
Amy looked at her old beau. Was he lying again or could he really do what he said? She remembered the two capsules in her pocket.
"How?"
"He'll be kept under THRUSH security in this location, given nice but escape proof quarters. He'll remain a prisoner of THRUSH, but he will live. No more torture. No more using him as a guinea-pig. And you can see him whenever you like."
Amy began to tremble. What a choice. If she said no, she was sure they would kill her nephew without hesitation. But to say yes was to doom them both to a life, if it could be called that, without freedom. Then she remembered what Napoleon had told her. U.N.C.L.E. had their backs. Anything to stall.
"If I agree, how do I know you'll keep up your end of the bargain?" she said, her voice cracking.
Nyman stood up and took her arm. She was still shaking so he carefully wrapped her coat around her shoulders. They walked out of the study and up to the holding cell.
"We will go right now and move him to better quarters," Nyman said, "That is if you question indicates a yes."
Amy felt tears stream down her cheeks as she shook her head in agreement.
Napoleon lay shivering on his cot in the cold room. He heard the cell door open and turned his head towards the sound. As footsteps approached, he sat up quickly. A hand touched his shoulder.
The agent drew his fist back to strike. Two soft hands quickly enveloped his fist.
"It's me Napoleon," Amy whispered, "You're alright, it's me."
Napoleon wrapped his arms around her and held tight.
"Ive been so worried about you," he whispered, "Are you alright? They haven't hurt you have they?"
"Solo, your aunt has come to a decision. A rather wise decision I may add."
"Napoleon, Charlie said if I promise to stay here…..He will let you live…But here, in their headquarters for the rest of your life."
Napoleon began to shake his head. He softly mumbled the word no over and over.
"I told him…I would.."
She held him tight as she cried out in anguish.
"I don't want to see you die, Napoleon," she said trying to control him.
Illya softly but firmly pounded his fist a few times against the metal panel. Marnie looked at him. She and Illya had been monitoring the transmissions from the communicator pen in the security communications room next to Chief Barker's office.
"She is one cool cucumber," Marnie said smiling for the first time in hours.
Waverly walked up and gave her a pat on the shoulder.
"Maybe we should offer her a spot at U.N.C.L.E. after this," Waverly said, a lilt in his voice.
Illya even cracked something resembling a smile at the Chiefs remark.
"What's happening so far?" Waverly asked.
"Nyman said he would let Napoleon live if Miss Penobscot agreed to stay with him. She said yes," Illya said.
"Well yes sort of," Marnie said looking at the Chief, "But Nyman took it that way. They are going to move Solo to a secured but more comfortable area according to Nyman."
"Good. That at least is a good indication that he isn't planning to harm her in anyway. Anything else on the arrival of Liventon?"
"Nothing so far, sir."
"Alright. I want security to continue monitoring the transmission. Mr. Kuryakin, Agent Faris get some rest so you will be able to function properly when the time comes to move."
"Excuse me sirs," Barker said, poking his head in the office door.
Illya turned around. It was only then that he noticed Del Floria was with the U.N.C.L.E. Chief. Waverly noticed the expression on the Russian's face. Even Marnie was a bit confused as to why the U.N.C.L.E. front man was there.
The two elder UNCLE men turned and walked out. Chief Barker's number two man walked in and took over the radio.
Illya and Marnie looked at each other a moment. They suddenly felt less like agents and more like two children being sent to their rooms. In the back of their minds they knew the chief was right and they needed to rest. They headed down to Kuryakin's office and made use of the small sofa with Illya at one end and Marnie at the other. Under other circumstances things might have been different.
Waverly and Del Floria stood in the security Chief's office. Barker paced back and forth a few times then finally stopped in front of his boss.
"Permission to speak freely sir," Barker said.
"Of course, Chief Barker," Waverly replied.
"Sir I wish you would reconsider this," Barker said, "You have put yourself on the line too many times for my taste and I don't believe you should now."
"I appreciate your concern Chief Barker," Alexander Waverly said calmly, "But there is no alternative. I have to do what I have to do, regardless of the consequences. I am U.N.C.L.E. Chief in mind and body, and a U.N.C.L.E. agent at heart."
Barker felt himself smile inside. He knew that it didn't matter what he or anyone else said. Waverly had the final say and that was that.
"Will you at least take my advice then?" Barker asked.
Waverly smiled and nodded. He and Bill followed the Security Chief out of the office and down the hall.
Several hours passed.
6:33 am
The sound of the phone woke the U.N.C.L.E. Chief. He sat up on the comfortable sofa in his office and picked up the receiver.
"This is Mr. Waverly."
"Sir..This is Agent Harbour in the security com…We just picked up over the radio that Liventon will be arriving sometime later this afternoon. Also, Mr. Solo has been moved and secured. He was able to secure a tracking devise to Miss Penobscot and will try to contact us again within the next half hour with Intel."
"Very good Agent Harbour. I will be there shortly. Notify Mr. Kuryakin. He should be in his office."
Waverly hung up the phone. He woke Del Floria who was across the room on another sofa. After a quick freshen up they went to the communications room. When they arrived Barker was already there trying to get a clear signal from Solo.
"Are you sure the room isn't bugged?" Barker asked.
"I have checked the room. There are no bugs, but there is a camera in the room. The bathroom is the only place that is totally clear….."
"Good to hear you voice Mr. Solo," Waverly said, "What have you got for us?"
"The individual room walls are thicker than most. Two layers of concrete, layer of steel between, outer walls steel. Same for the floors and ceilings. The place is built like a bomb shelter. One of the rooms we passed was charred inside. Some of their grunts were trying to clean it out. My guess is the seemingly normal rooms can withstand any type of outward attack or be used as a sealed testing room. I would say their attempts to develop the DS gas have been successful…"
"They seal off the room, pump in the gas on their unknowing subjects…" Barker said.
"Set off the sprinkler system and…Looks like THRUSH has picked up a lot of nasty habits from their predecessors," Napoleon said softly.
Illya and Marnie walked into the communications room.
"What is the situation with yourself and Miss Penobscot?"
"Right now we are both reasonably okay. Nyman seems to be infatuated with my Aunt and she is playing up to him very well. A very brave woman. However that may change when the top THRUSH man gets here….."
"Anything else about the building we should know?" Waverly asked.
"The blueprints we retrieved are exactly as laid out. It's pretty tight. But not impossible to penetrate. The head man's office is located on the west side, ground floor, just down the hallway from their main entrance. Sitting room, sleeping quarters etcetera. On the main floor of the center building is the com room and another office at the front that Nyman usually occupies. Staircase is open. All upper level rooms are storage, lab, operative quarters and so on. "
There was a distant pounding sound.
"What's that noise?" Waverly asked.
"Sounds like they're going floor to floor testing the hall structure….Someone is at the door. Solo out."
"Napoleon's senses are either better in tune then I thought or…." Illya started.
"We had to get him back inside, Mr. Kuryakin," Waverly said, "It was Mr. Solo's idea to fain blindness. He wanted to convince everyone and remain convincing once he was back inside."
Illya tried to suppress his smile. He remembered the incident in the apartment with the dog ball. He thought then that something strange was going on. It was just too coincidental that Solo dropped his cane as Illya threw the ball towards him. He had to admire his partner's nerve as well as his acting.
"Mr. Kuryakin, get you men organized. Notify me as soon as they are assembled and ready," Waverly said.
The compliment of agents was in place. Each knew the danger they were facing. They quickly geared up slipping small filtered ventilators around their necks, tucking them inside the collars of their fire resistant suits. Jackie, Tag and Marnie joined them.
"You all know what to do," Illya said, "We will rendezvous at the THRUSH safe house in one hour. Your first priority is to find Mr. Solo and Miss Penobscot. Agent Reyno and Tag will go with you now. Tag should be able to pick up Solo's scent and alert you to any dangers. Security is tracking a homing signal which we know is on Miss Penobscot's person. "
The door opened and the agents looked to see their Chief and Bill Del Floria walk in.
"This is not going to be easy," Waverly said, "Once inside use the filters at all times. If your mask or your partners turns orange that means the Dilithium Sulfate gas has been released. Get out of the area as quickly as possible. This is no ordinary affair gentlemen, and ladies. Remember, these THRUSHES are the cream of the crop. Good luck."
Illya dismissed the agents. Jackie and Tag went with the first group. Illya motioned for the second group to follow. He and Marnie started towards the door.
Waverly and Del Floria were gone. Like phantoms. There one second, gone the next.
Barker stepped up as Illya looked into the hallway.
"Mr. Kuryakin, do everything possible to protect our people, but remember…Your Chief's life is first and foremost you priority."
Illya nodded and he and Marnie took off towards their car.
Napoleon lay in the bed and snored lightly. He heard the door open and footsteps approached him. But to his surprise there was no rude awakening. No dragging from his bed. Only the appetizing smell of fresh coffee.
"Napoleon….Napoleon wake up," Amy said.
Solo yawned and stretched his arms out. He gave his head a rub, his hair flopping in different directions.
"Aunt Amy?" he asked.
She gently kissed his cheek.
"I brought you some breakfast. Coffee, toast, eggs and bacon."
Napoleon sat up as she put the tray across his lap.
"What time is it?"
"Twenty of seven…They want us fed and ready when this other man shows up. Oh Napoleon, I'm so frightened. I don't trust Nyman or any of these people. The food is alright though; I made it myself just to be sure."
Napoleon smiled and took the coffee cup. Amy watched him closely as he found everything on the plate with no problems. She raised one eyebrow.
"Napoleon?"
"I love the fact that you always put food on the plate the same way every time," he said smiling, "You spoiled me as a kid and as an adult."
Amy reached up and put her hand gently on his cheek. She looked into his eyes and smiled.
"Amy, I need to talk to you about something important…." Napoleon whispered.
They sat and talked for two hours.
The sounds of panicked shouting filled the hallway. Amy and Napoleon went to the door. They could hear orders being shouted from hallway to hallway. Heavy boots pounded the metal floor.
They could hear Nyman's frantic voice barking out orders and Sharpton's nervous replies.
"U.N.C.L.E.?" Amy said.
"I don't think so…This sounds more like panic. I wonder if their guest arrived early." Napoleon replied.
Downstairs, the elder man stood at the large wooden table in the center of the entryway. His aid removed his hat and coat and handed the old man his leather briefcase.
Liventon looked at his watch.
Nyman came quickly down the stairs, nearly headfirst. He struggled to adjust his tie and jacket as he cleared the last step, twisting his ankle slightly as he hit the marbled floor. But he didn't let the pain show.
"Mr. Liventon…Sir….What an unexpected surprise," he stammered, "We weren't expecting you until this afternoon…Sir."
"So I see," Liventon said flatly.
He looked at his second in command. The elder never changed his expression. He lifted one hand slightly his thumb against his forefinger and made a quick upward motion with a simple twist of his wrist.
Nyman looked down. The THRUSH felt his face flush and he quickly zipped his fly.
"Sorry about that sir," Nyman's voice squeaked.
"Shall we get on with the tour?" Liventon said taking a deep agitated breath.
"With all speed, sir."
They proceeded up the curved staircase.
Armed THRUSH agents stood at attention in the hallways and on staircase of the building. Nyman walked a pace behind the elderly THRUSH Chief. Three armed operatives separated the two men from Lewis Sharpton and Randolph Sequa.
They approached the lab.
"Is the Dilithium gas ready?" Liventon said.
"Yes sir," Sequa said stepping forward, "We have enough on hand to wipe out the entire U.N.C.L.E. headquarters."
"I would like to see the efficiency of the gas first," Liventon said.
Nyman escorted him into the control room. He quickly brought up the video footage of the test.
"Very good, but not what I had in mind," Liventon said.
Nyman, Sequa and Sharpton looked at one another. Nyman thought hard. Who was the most ineffective person on the payroll? All of his operatives were top notch. Sharpton? Solo?
Finally he picked out one of the guards. Sequa walked with Nyman and Liventon to the test room as the unsuspecting young man stepped thru the door. He removed his hat and laid his carbine on the table.
Sequa sneered gleefully at the thought of what was going to happen. Suddenly there was a boney hand on his back and felt himself shoved into the room as well. The door shut and sealed.
"Now….shall we proceed," Liventon said.
Nyman and Sharpton looked at one another and followed their Chief back to the control room.
"Sir...No disrespect intended by Sequa is the best weapons man we have," Sharpton said.
Liventon turned on the video monitor. He motioned for Nyman to take the controls and start the gas saturation.
"Second best Sharpton….All we needed from him was the Intel to make the gas. He's done that. We do not need him anymore. Too flighty if you ask me…..Well Nyman what are you waiting for?"
They watched the monitor. Sequa was pounding on the door trying in vain to get out. The guard in the room with him had no idea what was going on or why the man was panicking. They saw Sequa turn and make a lunge for the guard's weapon. The THRUSH quickly picked it up and held it away from the crazed man.
Sequa struggled with the guard. He wanted the gun. Killing himself would be much less painful then what was going to happen. The guard gave him a butt to the chest sending Sequa across the room.
Nyman turned off the knob controlling the gas. Liventon leaned towards the monitor a sick smile crossed his lips.
"Let him squirm a bit more."
Sequa made one last move to get the gun. In the struggle it went off, the bullet relieving the young guard of the impending agony. Randolph turned the weapon on himself.
"NOW!" Liventon shouted.
There was only a millisecond between the first water droplet and the fireball. They saw the terror on Sequa's face for a second then he was engulfed in flames. Sharpton felt sick.
"Excellent," Liventon said, "Most excellent indeed."
Nyman sat at the control panel. His hands and knees were shaking uncontrollably. He cut a sideways glance at Sharpton. Lewis was trying unsuccessfully to hide the terror in his eyes. But the stain on the front of his trousers betrayed him. He folded his hands in front of him and eased his way out of the room.
Liventon shook his head. He motioned to his aid, who quickly made a note on a small pad he was carrying. Nyman tried to get a look but the aid kept the small notebook from his sightline.
The tour continued.
The cells were next and then the interrogation rooms. Nyman had been able to shake off most of the fear he was feeling.
"Very nice Nyman, I am impressed," Liventon said, "The cells, lab, everything seems to be in top order. I would however change the living quarters for the men. Far too much flash. Simple. Make it simple"
"Yes sir. Thank you sir," Nyman said, swelling inside, "Would you like to see the holding area, sir?"
Liventon nodded and they proceeded to the holding area.
"We have a very distinguished guest in our facility, sir," Nyman said "Mr. Napoleon Solo!"
They entered the hallway and went towards the better holding area.
"You have a U.N.C.L.E. prisoner in the Holding area?" Liventon asked surprised.
"Temporarily, sir," Nyman said smiling, "It's part of a coup of sorts….Lure into a false sense of security, then once we have what we want..."
"Is the area secured?"
"Absolutely. Totally escape-proof, nothing in the room that he can "harm" himself with. Coded door locks and armed guards."
The guards snapped to attention as Nyman and the Chief approached. Nyman put the code into the door and pushed it open. Liventon stepped in first.
Napoleon was kicked back on the bed, fully dress except for his shoes and socks. The latter he had rolled into a ball and was casually tossing it into the air and bouncing it off the walls. He glanced over at the THRUSH men.
"On your feet Solo," Nyman shouted.
Napoleon stopped tossing the sock ball and bent his knee as he pulled one of his foot closer to him. He looked at it, let it go and repeated the action with the other foot. He shrugged and went back to the sock game.
"There's nothing on my feet," he said casually.
Nyman walked over with two guards. They promptly yanked the agent off the bed and stood him up on the floor. Solo struggled but could not free his arms from the guards hold.
"Hey is this any way to treat a guest," Napoleon said.
He stared at the elderly THRUSH walking towards him.
"The great Napoleon Solo," Liventon said, "I must say what a disappointment this is. I was expecting something much more…how can I put this….fierce...no, cunning….Not quite..Oh well the right word will come to me…I will say that Alexander's confidence in you as his top man is justified…You seem to be the same type of bungler and incompetent he always was."
Napoleon spit in the THRUSH Chief's eye.
"I know who you are….Santar," he whispered.
A long boney hand caught the agent across the cheek. Solo had to give him credit. He was a lot stronger then he looked. The agent shook off the strike and looked at the elder man.
"Very good Mr. Solo," the THRUSH said, "It's been a very long time since I went by the name Bartomal Santar. I suppose you know everything about me as well. Alexander filled you in I'm sure."
"Every U.N.C.L.E. agent worth his salt knows you, Santar," Solo said as he gave his jaw a shift, "You are a prize we all dream of taking in someday."
"Yes, yes of course…But today is not that day. It will be very gratifying to watch you and Alexander go down together," Bartomal Santar said.
The THRUSH Chief made an odd gesture with his hand. Napoleon felt the guards' grip tighten and he suddenly felt himself being twisted sharply. The pain was tremendous as his body went one way his legs the other. They dropped him to the floor.
Solo lay there a moment. He tried to move but the pain was still very intense. Santar walked closer and lifted his foot back on the heel. Napoleon felt the front of the foot come down against his throat. Press, release, press.
He stepped back.
"I want two guards in the room with him at all times," Santar said, "With orders to shoot to kill if he tries to so much as go to the toilet."
Nyman shouted and two guards who had been standing in the doorway rushed in. Although their uniforms were snap and polish neither of the guards had had time to shave before being called to duty.
"You heard what Mr. Liven..Sant….Excuse me sir, but which name do you prefer we use?" Nyman said knowing that the mere tone of the question would possibly get him shot. Or worse.
"You will address me as Mr. Santar from now on," the THRUSH Chief said glaring at him, "And I want both of these men reprimanded for their personal appearance."
"Yes sir!"
They turned and walked out of the room, leaving the two guards behind.
Napoleon picked up the sock ball from the floor and gave it a hard throw, catching one of the guards in the back of the head. The man flinched and drew his weapon close.
"Can I at least get out of the floor?" Napoleon said.
The guard turned slowly and started towards the bed. He knelt down next to the agent. Solo saw a hand reach towards his face and brush the dark red hand print.
"I see you haven't lost you knack for making friends Napoleon," Illya said with a smile.
Kuryakin and Agent Jobsen helped Solo from the floor. They all fained struggle as the camera was monitoring their every move. They gave the U.N.C.L.E. CEA a shove as he fell across the bed.
"What's been done so far?" Solo said low, twisting his face in mock pain.
"Our people are in position. Tag led us here before company arrived, and now that team is searching for a weapons stash, the DS gas containers mainly," Illya replied, "Napoleon….Mr. Waverly is here…As part of the team."
Solo went pale. The U.N.C.L.E. Chief was putting himself in danger by coming in on the operation.
"….And Mr. Del Floria is with him…"
Nyman and Santar went down the stairs to the front office. Nyman pointed to the hallway across the entry.
"We have your living quarters down that hall sir. There is a sitting room-office combination, bedroom and bath. Very private and secured, bullet resistant glass in the windows, monitoring system that covers all areas of headquarters."
They walked into the small front office.
Amy Penobscot was standing at the far side of the dimly lit room. She shivered and gave the arms of her coat a quick rub to warm up. She looked up as the two men came in.
"Well Nyman," Santar said, "You have been holding out I see…Who is this?"
"Permit me to introduce Miss Amelia Penobscot," Nyman said, "Amy this Mr. Bartomal Santar, head of THRUSH Operations, and in effect, your host."
"She lives here?" Santar said as he walked closer to her.
"Yes sir. She has a connection to Mr. Solo and so in exchange for certain requests, she has agreed to live here with me," Nyman said as he poured out drinks for all.
The sounds of gunfire erupted upstairs. This was followed by the sounds of running feet and shouts from several guards and Sharpton. Lewis came down the stairs.
Nyman rushed out and met him at the foot of the stairwell. The two exchanged words.
Amy stepped into the doorframe, Santar blocking her way.
"What is the problem?" Santar asked.
"It seems that Solo stepped out of line, sir," Nyman said, "He's dead."
Amy screamed and swooned. She fell against the doorframe and slumped into the floor. Nyman rushed back to her and took hold of the woman. He gently gave her cheeks a pat to try and revive her.
"You…..ah…" Santar said pointing to Lewis.
"Lewis Sharpton sir."
"Whatever…..I'm feeling a bit famished. Bring me something to eat."
Bartomal Santar stepped past Nyman and Amy and walked casually towards his office. He dismissed his aid motioning for him to follow Sharpton to the kitchen. The younger man nodded and walked off.
Santar walked into the large office. He started to turn on the light but changed his mind. The fireplace was ablaze and the only light in the room emanated from it. The deep mahogany walls held in the heat and the carvings in the wall and desk cast eerie shadows around the room. Well, eerie to some.
He dropped his briefcase on the desk, poured himself a large neat Gin at the wet bar and carried the bottle back to the desk. He sat down in the thick leather chair and took a drink. That's when he noticed a neatly wrapped package on the desk blotter.
The white tissue paper was obviously old and had a faint smell of mothballs and age. The ribbon holding it closed was antiquated as well. He picked it up and turned it a few times in his hands. The package limped slightly over his fingers.
Santar laid it back down and took another drink. He felt a chill run down his yellow spine as he pushed the package with his finger a few times. Curiosity got the better of the THRUSH Chief and his bony fingers undid the ribbon. He folded back the tissue paper and looked inside.
Bartomal leapt to his feet but found himself unable to retreat. His heart began to pound so hard he felt dizzy. His eyes glued to the small folded object lying in the paper. Gnarled fingers reached down and brushed against what was left of the yellowed silk tassels. He picked up the gin bottle and took a long hard drink.
His other hand picked up the once white silk pilots scarf.