It was an ominous announcement from the Russian.
"We have less less than ten minutes...there is no time for me to go get my tools. Angelique do you have anything sharp in your purse, nail clippers perhaps?"
"No but would a pair of cuticle scissors do or a nail file?."
He flashed her a 'are you kidding' look. "Both."
Getting his facial expression; she dug into her beaded bag, quickly handing them to him.
"You know what you are doing?" The nervousness was obvious in her voice.
"Yes, now leave me be. We do not have much time."
Illya knelt, using the metal nail file he unscrewed the top, carefully opening the device and examining the wiring. Seconds later he reached in with the cuticle scissors, and snip snip. The timer didn't stop, but jumped ahead to one minute.
It was a fail safe, setup in case someone tampered with the device. He began to sweat profusely, letting a bead of sweat run down to the tip of his nose before he wiped it with his sleeve.
"Snip." He cut one more wire and the timer stopped.
Illya finally exhaled. "We had better get a cleanup team in here and fast."
"Do ya think? Good job tovarisch." Solo gave his partner a hand up.
"Now what do we do?" Angelique interrupted them. "Altschuler suspects UNCLE is now in pursuit; he is going to make it harder for us to find him."
"I suggest we head to the satrap. We know that he is gathering money to fund his plans, perhaps, given the fact we interrupted him here, he might go there to steal some currency?"Illya said," There is the remote possibility he is setting another bomb there as we speak."
"Oh joy," Napoleon held his hand to his head, feeling a little dizzy.
They dashed to the elevator; all three crossing their arms in front of themselves and tapping their toes impatiently as they were forced to listen to an excruciating instrumental version of the song 'Ramblin' Rose.'
Finally the elevator doors opened to the lobby and they headed immediately to the exit.
A gentleman had just exited his silver Corvette convertible in front of the Remington, and Illya pushed his way forward stepping up to the man and holding out his hand, pretending to be the valet.
"Be careful not to scratch it or heads will roll." He slipped Illya a five dollar bill."
"Yes sir, thank you sir. I will be careful." Kuryakin quickly nodded his head.
The man mindlessly handed him his keys and the Russian hopped into driver's seat, starting the engine up with a roar while Napoleon got into the passenger seat, pulling Angelique onto his lap, since it was only a two seater.
"Punch it tovarisch!"
Illya floored the powerful V-8, tearing away from the front of the casino leaving a trail of smoking rubber. That translated into truly ferocious 0-60-mph and quarter-mile acceleration: The four-speed hit the quarter-mile mark in less than 15 seconds as the car neared the 100 mph mark.
Angelique gave up worrying about her hair and simply wrapped her arms around Solo, while directing the mad Russian to the location of the satrap.
They pulled up to a simple warehouse style building out in the desert, with a white van parked in front of it. Exiting the Corvette with caution, they drew their weapons as there was no one in sight.
Napoleon nodded for them to head to the entrance, glancing in the open back of the van that was now filled with stack upon stack money. Not just American currency but Canadian bills, francs, English pounds, Italian lira, and even Soviet ruble banknotes. He was financing his operation all right courtesy of his former employers.
Illya tried the doorknob, finding it open, but quickly backed off as he heard approaching voices. He held his finger to his lips as he warned Napoleon and Angelique.
The door opened, hiding the agents behind it as Willie Altschuler and two burly men exited, carrying heavy duffle bags.
"We all set boss?"
"Yes Fritz, you and Adolph may set off the charges."
"What happened to the one in the casino boss? I didn't see no mushroom cloud."
The rogue agent looked at his wristwatch. The bomb at the Remington should have detonated by now. " Solo, you son of a bitch" He cursed in German. That UNCLE agent must have found the bomb and disarmed it.
He handed a remote device to his goon. "Go ahead Fritz, you many have the pleasure of setting off diese bombe once we are far enough away."
"Danke Chief!"
Adolph slipped into the driver seat and passenger side, starting up the engine while Altschuler climbed in the back of the van and closed the doors behind him.
"Not so fast! Illya stepped in front of the van, pointing his weapon directly at the windshield. "Shut it off now."
Instead of complying the driver put it in drive and floored it, and in his own defense Illya shot at them as he tried dove to safety; the van winged him as he tried to get out of the way.
Napoleon and Angelique did the same, firing into the rear of the van, but none of their efforts stopped it and the vehicle sped off into the dark desert.
Illya lay on the ground, nursing his shoulder while cursing to himself in Russian.
"My my what a potty mouth you have,"Angelique said as Napoleon knelt beside his partner, checking his injuries.
"Will you shut your mouth you silly cow!" Illya yelled at her through clenched teeth. "Napoleon never mind me, get after them!"
"Hey buddy, I'm taking care of you and besides," he lowered his voice," one of the rounds I shot into the rear of the van had a tracker embedded in it. They can be as far as five miles away and we'll still get a signal."
He helped Illya to his feet, after making sure there was nothing broken and turned to Angelique, abruptly pulling her white silk scarf from her shoulders.
"Hey that's expensive!" She protested as she watched Solo make it into a sling for his partner.
"Best to keep your shoulder as immobile as possible chum."
"Napoleon, though your ministrations are appreciated,please...let us get after Altschuler before we are blown up as well."
"Bomb?" Napoleon and Angelique blurted out. She and the Russian were so busy trading barbs, and distracting Solo that they'd forgotten about it.
The three of them piled into the sports car; Napoleon would have to take over driving duty, while Angelique would be forced to sit on the Russian's lap.
"Don't you get any ideas you Bolshevik boor," she hissed at him.
"Do you really think you can get a rise out of me? And I mean that exactly how I said it."
"You only wish you could get a hard on." Angelique crossed her arms in front of herself, obviously annoyed. She suddenly wagged a neatly manicured finger in front of his face.
"And if you ever call me a cow again, you will pay dearly Kuryakin."
"To be precise I called you a silly cow and, and promises promises," Illya jabbed back at her through clenched teeth.
"Knock it off you two! Napoleon called, but just as he grabbed the handle to open the car door, there was an immense blast behind them.
The warehouse went up in a glorious explosion; one that would have made Illya Kuryakin envious had he been able to view it but instead the force of the concussion sent him hurtling sideways along with Angelique. Napoleon, closest to it was thrown in the air over the hood of the car, landing face first on the ground.
It was some time later when the trio awoke.
Angelique opened her eyes, realizing she was laying on top of the Russian, whose body had broken her fall. She watched as Kuryakin's blue eyes slowly fluttered open, and somehow they were instantly drawn to her breasts...her cleavage being even more exposed from the position in which she was laying.
"Mmm," Illya whispered," they are actually nicer than I imagined. I suppose that is why, in part, my partner is so infatuated with you. Perhaps you might deem to show me more someday that I might validate my assumptions."
"Sie Russisch Schwein! " She swore at him in German, calling him a Russian pig. She moan as she pushed herself up and away from him.
Illya laughed, but suddenly held his side, favoring it.
"I think cushioning your fall cost me a few broken ribs," he moaned. "Are you unhurt?"
"Yes, I am...ugh, thank you for asking," she was taken aback by his concern, and offered Illya her hand to help him up.
They looked each other in the eyes for a moment, voicing the same thought…"Napoleon!"
They went off in search and found him in laying in the dirt, still unconscious.
"Napoleon darling," the THRUSH temptress knelt beside him; using the hem of her once white dress to staunch the blood from a gash on his head.
"Wake up!" Illya tapped his partner on the face. A moment later a pair of hazel eyes were looking up at them, looking a bit dazed.
''What happened?" Solo mumbled. He was still disoriented.
"You do not remember? There was a device in the warehouse, though thankfully it was not a nuclear one. Are you all right my friend?"
After a brief accounting of body parts Napoleon nodded. "Other than a splitting headache I seem to be intact. You?"
"I may have cracked some ribs; Angelique however is fine," Illya cast a quick glance her way." He let go a long sigh, looking at his watch.
"I am afraid we have most likely lost our target as we were knocked out at least fifteen to twenty minutes.
The partners had developed a sign language all their own and Illya
leaned in close, signing with his fingers to Napoleon so Angelique would have nothing to hear.
"Even with the tracker, they will have gotten out of range in that amount of time for us to find them."
Napoleon signalled he understood. What else was there to say?"Maybe we can still pick up his trail. He probably thinks we're dead. Maybe he's headed back to Vegas?"
Angelique had no idea they were communicating with each other.
"I think we need to get back to the hotel and gather our thoughts while we bathe and change into more suitable clothing," she said as she and Illya helped Napoleon to his feet.
"Hmm, a bath would be nice," Solo smiled, flicking his eyebrows mischievously.
"Do you not ever just turn it off?" Illya demanded.
"NO!" Both Napoleon and Angelique answered at the same time.
The car was dented but intact as Napoleon eased himself into the driver's seat. Illya moved gingerly, sitting in the passenger seat and Angelique carefully lowered herself onto his lap, without comment from either of them. Though the look of disdain on both their faces was more than obvious.
Solo started the engine, it was still running fine in spite of the abuse and they drove off into the desert. He pulled the tracking device from his pocket, checking it to the side just in case but as expected, there was no signal.
They headed off into the night returning to the Reminton; the only sound in the quiet of the desert was the purr of the car engine. Yet each of them stole a glance back as the remnants of the burning warehouse lit up the night sky with an ominous orange-red glow…
"