For the last two years, their enemies had often taken his top agents as "favored" targets, through malicious and evil plots, again and again. Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin had missed death by a hairbreadth. Eventually they had defeated the villains, again and again, because they were efficient, brilliant, lucky, stubborn. Too efficient, too brilliant, too lucky, too stubborn...
They were at the moment the ones the enemy wanted to get rid of. It wasn't unusual, unfortunately. After the meeting he would have to talk with them about future.
Alexander Waverly sighed.
Everything would be fine.
"Shouldn't you be at work, Napoleon?"
The dark haired man looked at his friend at the moment fully awake and chuckled at the frowning face.
"I'm working, Mr. Kuryakin! I'm actually making my way through the twists and turns of this devilish plan of yours..." He pointed at the file he hold. "Amazing, and brilliant, Illya. Several locations among which you'll make the final choice..."
The Russian shook his head.
'No, I won't. You will, Napoleon. With Mr. Waverly." The blue eyes were staring at him insistently. "And you won't tell anyone about it. Ideally, Mr. Waverly should be the only one to know."
Napoleon Solo grimaced a smile.
"Ideally, Mr Waverly's colleagues should stay where they belong..."
Harry Beldon's sneering ghost crossed the room. Illya Kuryakin shrugged his shoulders.
"Pious hope, my friend..."
Napoleon put the file aside and considered his partner, catching a glimpse of various dressings under the pajama top. He hadn't missed the ghost of a grimace his friend had let out. Illya hissed defiantly.
"I'm fine!"
The dark haired man gave a theatrical dubious pout which unexpectedly didn't cause Illya to protest. The Russian just stated softly.
"It took you a long time..."
"A long time?"
"You're back to your old... insufferable self. At last."
Napoleon smiled. Yes, he was.
"About Mousehole, Napoleon..." Illya Kuryakin hesitated. "It would be complicated, wouldn't it?"
"What the hell are you babbling, now?"
He was puzzled, but the Russian stiffened slightly.
"The clinic... Your clinic is the most judicious choice. Mr. Waverly is right. Mousehole would be so much trouble..."
Napoleon Solo frowned.
"I'll see at everything, Illya, and..."
"It's risky. Thrush..."
He cut in, resting his hands on the bed.
"First, agent Kuryakin, I didn't intend to proclaim it from the rooftops. Thrush wouldn't look for you in such an exposed place. Then..." He paused, bending forward, and whispered mischievously. "You hate clinics, partner mine. I know this one, and you'd try to blast it at the end of your first day there. Lastly..." He sat upright, observing the blond man with his most defiant, self-confident face. "Lastly, you'd have to explain Mikey about that. He's waiting for you."
"Mr. Waverly... He..."
"The Old Man agrees, Illya."
They hadn't a clue concerning the meeting, not that they couldn't collect some information, but because they didn't need to. All they have to do was to outsmart Uncle agents. Eliminating Kuryakin was a determining factor. They had failed to kill him, unfortunately, but Napoleon Solo was at the moment back to his old status as the New York Uncle HQ C.E.A., in charge of the organization of the meeting.
The man stiffened as he recognized the voice..
"Mr. Kuryakin will be taken at the clinic as soon as possible, Doctor."
He suppressed a sigh, both relieved and terrified. The enemy's plan worked perfectly well.
"Doctor?"
He cleared his throat.
"Yes, sir. I... Of course, we'll be happy to help Mr. Kuryakin. I can assure you, he'll do well."
"I trust you." Alexander Waverly's voice sounded slightly distant, The voice of a man who was already looking over something else. "We owe you Mr. Solo's quick recovery, and you've to know that he recommended you. Though..." He paused. "You have other patients, I guess?"
"Yes, sir. Two agents who..."
"We'll see at taking them somewhere else, Doctor. Illya Kuryakin will be your only patient. We must be careful."
Careful...