Once Napoleon and Illya were satisfied that everything was secure within the safe house, they helped Ekaterina settle in, showing her to an upstairs bedroom.
For some reason the room happened to be very feminine and frilly, with white lace eyelet curtains on the window, and a matching spread on the bed, there were a pair of floral throw pillows as well. Small pictures on the wall of pastoral scenes filled with bright flowers added to the softness of the room."
"O, eto krasivo_h it is beautiful," the girl sighed to Illya,"my home back in Moskva is not pretty at all like this." She flopped on the bed, relishing the comfort.
Illya sat beside her, smiling at her simple enjoyment.
"Vy khotite , chtoby vernut'sya domoy_do you want to go back home?" He suddenly asked her quite directly.
She sat up, looking at him with a pensive gaze. "I am not sure. I sort of miss my mother and father, though not much as I rarely see them. They are too busy to make time for me."
"Would you like to stay here in the United States?"
She cocked her head. "How could I?"
"Things could be arranged, if that is what you want. Do not make up your mind quickly, think it over. Now rest. I will bring you tea and something to eat."
The girl slipped off the bed, touching his arm. "No matter what I decide...I just want to say thank you for saving me Illya."
"It has been my pleasure, but we are not out of the woods yet, as we must still deal with Vladek."
"That thought frightens me." She sat back down on the bed curling up in her familiar ball.
"I promise you Ekaterina, you will be safe." That was the one thing he was pretty sure of in this whole affair. Illya left her, heading down to the kitchen to prepare the tea and their meager meal.
Napoleon was stretched out on a sofa in the sitting room in the front of the house, his Special resting on the coffee table beside him.
"She all settled in?"
"Yes, she is a little frightened, but that is to be expected. So all the chess pieces are in place?"
"Yep, Mr. Waverly made the phone calls for us. We're all good," Napoleon answered with tone of satisfaction in his voice.
Illya inhaled deeply, parking himself on the arm of the sofa. "Tell me this is going to work my friend?"
"Of course it is. Don't my plans always do that?"
Illya let go a snicker...
"Oh ye of little faith Illya Nickovich," Napoleon grinned at him.
"Do you want some tea? I am going to put on a kettle, and warm some soup for us.
"No coffee huh?"
"No, safe house is not very well stocked."
"All right tea it is then. What kind of soup?"
"Does it matter, soup is soup."
"Now was that necessary," Napoleon frowned.
Illya harumphed his answer. "I will tell you once I open the can in the kitchen. A few minutes later Illya called out, 'chicken soup.' He had no need to see his partner's face as he knew he'd be happy at that.
Illya brought the tea and soup to both his partner and the girl. As the night progressed the agents took turns standing watch just in case Vladek decided to make his move on them both had their doubts, as the building was too sturdy and the escape too convoluted to make for a clean getaway.
A knock came at the front door and both agents quickly rose, standing on either side of it with their weapons drawn.
"Who is it?" Solo called.
"Pizza delivery darling."
"And Chinese too, mate."
Solo opened the door, letting them inside.
"Tell me you do have real food with you?" Illya asked.
"A veritable feast," a certain auburn-haired agent smiled.
.
Grigory Vladek sat huddled in his sedan for the night, permitting himself to take only brief cat naps. He was hungry, but could and would do without, as he was trained to dismiss such things.
He kept a watchful eye on the brownstone, seeing a single light turned off upstairs, no doubt that was where the girl was. He cursed himself, wishing he had but a few grenades, as they would solve his dilemma in one fell swoop, but all he had was his Tokarov and that would have to do...besides he was a deadly marksman. He continued his surveillance; there was no movement, save the delivery of takeout food.
They would all be dead very quickly, and Vladek relished that thought, letting himself nod off again.
.
The next morning the KGB agent was awake in his car, looking a little worse for wear. He had taken the chance, walking a few doors down to a deli where he bought a hot cup of coffee and retreated quickly to his car.
As he sipped his dark beverage he admitted this coffee here in America was quite good, nothing like it that he could recall back in Moskva. He drained the last mouthful from the paper cup, and tossed it to the floor of the car the moment as he observed Kuryakin exiting the brownstone.
Vladek watched as the agent examined the car, checking it for explosives no doubt, and when the coast was clear Solo came through the door with the girl and quickly helped her into the car. Kuryakin started up the engine and they were off.
There was little traffic this time of the morning and he pulled out, hanging back so as to not be seen.
It was but a short drive to the motel near the airport and again the Russian agent watched as Kuryakin pulled into their car into the parking lot. Vladek parked his car at the curb, waiting to pull in once the UNCLE agents and the girl were checked in.
The sign said 'no vacancy' as that had surely been pre-arranged for security reasons, and the empty lot told Vladek there would be no witnesses to the assassination of these people.
The scene was quiet, and with no one around; he pulled his car into the lot, parking near the hotel room where his quarry had sequestered themselves.
Exiting the black sedan with his Tokarov in hand; he crept along the building to room number seven, where the unsuspecting trio thought they were safely hidden away. Grigory was a big man and would have no trouble kicking in the flimsy motel door and taking them by surprise.
"Odin, dva, tri..."he counted mentally, slamming his large foot against the door, breaking it open and cracking the door frame in the process.