Chapter 5

The UNCLE agents raced down the hall heading toward the exit, the alarms blaring throughout the building. Illya was in the lead with the device in his hands, backpack tucked in his shirt, while Napoleon provided cover fire. As they rounded the corner, the CEA fell from a bullet in his leg. Unable to call out as the Thrush agents were closing in, he watched Illya dash before him.

Powerless to get away, he slowly stood steadying himself on his injured leg, hands on his head. Illya, who sensed that he was alone, turned back in time to see his partner surrounded. Catching Napoleon's eyes, he could see him indicating to take the machine and get out. Shaking his head no, he saw him mouthing, 'That's an order.

Knowing his duty was to complete the mission, he took one last look at his partner then headed out of the building as the American turned his back to him facing his capturers and diverting their attention from the fleeing man.

"Gentlemen, is there something I can do for you?" he said with the most winning smile he could through his leg pain.

Pyotr Baskov pushed his way through the gathered agents heavy limping from injuries he had received from his encounter with UNCLE in New York.

"Where is your partner and my materials?" he demanded.

The prisoner shrugged his shoulders, smiling.

"It seems I can never keep track of him. He's always disappearing."

Baskov swung the rifle the butt of it connecting with the side of Napoleon's head, send him to his knees. Dizziness and nausea attacked him then his vision blurred.

"I asked you a question, and I do not appreciate your smart aleck answers. Where is my machine and papers? And while we are on the subject of things that belong to me, where is my whoring wife?"

Anger could be seen in Napoleon's eyes as he tried to stand and face Pyotr.

"You did not know that I am aware that she is sleeping with you and any other men who ask her. She is my wife, and I intend to get her back. After using her, I will share her with my men."

Napoleon could ignore a lot and he knew that the man was taunting him in an attempt to make him angry, but this threat was too much to let slide. He launched himself at the man before anyone could stop him.

A fist landed in Baskov's eye before he swung the rifle toward his prisoner's leg. The sharp edge of it slammed into the wound and the sound of the bone breaking echoed through the corridor. As Napoleon fell to the ground, he was kicked repeatedly in the ribs by the Thrush chieftain.

"I believed you called me a piece of garbage in New York, Mr. Solo and gave your men orders to get rid of me. I intend to return the favor but my goal is not to let you go but make you talk."

He looked at his men, "I want answers. Do not kill him yet, but get me the information I need. I hope you take a while giving us the information as I shall enjoy your suffering."

As he left the area, the guards lifted their prisoner dragging him toward a cell and the torture that was waiting for him.

….

Illya managed to get outside the building by keeping to the doorways. It wasn't until he reached the grounds that someone spotted him. He needed to run as the guard yelled for help before he could silence him. Knowing there was no way he could get outside the fence with the laser, he hid with it in an abandoned building until night fell. Still unable to get it out, he took the laser out of its container and found a place to bury it with the back pack under old boxes and rags.

He headed over the fence with the empty container hoping that if captured they'd believe he had hid it outside the compound. Making it less than a mile from the Thrush camp, he was cornered and had to surrender. Hand away from his side, he faced his enemies.

"Where is the machine, Kuryakin?" Homs, the man leading the group, asked after looking into the empty laser case.

"I thought it was in the case when I took it," he looked into the empty case himself. "I must never have had it."

The smirk on his face angered the guard who kidney punched him.

"Listen funny man, either you tell us where it is or I'll enjoy wiping that smirk off your face."

Straightening up Illya stared into the eyes of his capturer, "I have no clue."

Homs grinned back, "I'm going to enjoy making you talk. Bind him then we'll head back to the compound."

Illya's hands were bound tightly behind his back, and he was pushed back along the rocky path. Without the balance needed to stay upright, he was kicked each time he fell until he could push himself painfully to his feet once again.

Baskov met the group at the entrance. "My machine and papers Kuryakin, where are they?"

Already battered and bruised from the march back to camp, he continued to antagonize Thrush by refusing to answer and asking a question of his own.

"Where is Mr. Solo?"

Homs landed a solid blow into his unprotected stomach causing him to fall to the ground once more. Hauling him up, he backhanded him viciously across the mouth causing a trickle of blood to spill from his split lip.

Holding up a hand to stop Homs, Baskov looked over the Russian standing before him.

"So worried about your sister's American boyfriend. No, Mr. Holms I think we will let him see his partner. I have an idea that there is another way to make Mr. Kuryakin talk. Take him to the cell."'

…..

The plane ride was used to brief the new agent on what the assignment was about and what they would be expected to do. She found Jimmy's questions direct and to the point. Although anxious to get active, he showed he understood the importance of being well prepared.

After a meal, they decided to catch a few hours of sleep before landing.

"You never know when your next opportunity will be. So always take advantage of food and sleep. You will find we lose a lot of both when on assignment." She explained before putting her head back and dozing off.

Jimmy looked at the agent in the seat next to him. He knew he was lucky to be partnered with her and hoped he could live up to her and her boss's expectations. Soon he was also sleeping.

…

Napoleon woke up this time with a wet cloth wiping his face that he tried to push away.

"Shh, it is me," Illya said.

"Did they get the machine?" He hissed through pain and nausea. "I think I have a concussion and I know he broke my leg."

"The machine and papers are safe. I agree with your medical diagnosis but think you forgot to mention the few cracked ribs and multiple bruises and contusions. Can you sit up?"

Napoleon tried, but any movement brought the nausea and dizziness on stronger. His leg felt numb, and his ribs hurt enough to make him cough with movement. "Sorry."

"We have to try to escape as I believe Baskov intends to use you to make me talk. And partner, I do not believe you can take much more."

"Mission first, remember we're all expandable."

"If I tell you where it is, you can be the judge of how much more you can take."

"No, don't. You know we can't give him what he wants."

The two men knew the outcome of keeping the secret but giving the lunatic the machine was worse. Thousands maybe millions would die once he had the calculations for the aiming device. It might take a while but they had no doubt he'd find it, even without their help.

Illya held his partner as the evening wore on. Napoleon began to develop a fever and chills. Taking off his own jacket and shirt, Illya wrapped it tightly around the sick agent. No food was given them, but the sink was working, so he was able to keep cool rags on his forehead and moisture in his throat.