"THRUSH never sleeps. THRUSH does not give up. THRUSH will rise to take this city, and soon the world, by the throat to make the people know who true leaders are. The youth who follow us will have everything they ever wanted and more."
Young David Daniels listened to the audio cassette over and over in his bed at night. His parents were losers. They couldn't give him the things everyone had a right to in life. At 19 he still didn't have a driver's license or a car. He didn't have a stereo or the right clothes like his friend Johnny. He even had to work part time to pay for college when his lazy parents should be paying the whole thing.
Meeting Johnny and taking the extra curricular class was going to be the best thing that ever happened to him. He was sure of it. He was very excited about the practical application field trips that were about to start too. By the end of the year he hoped to be living in a nice apartment with a car and the most gorgeous girl on his arm. Then he could sneer at his lousy parents and show them what losers they were for denying him the things he wanted in life. It put a smile on his face as he fell asleep listening to the empowering tape.
Illya arrived home after a long day of paperwork. With Napoleon gone it was Illya's job to take on the responsibilities Solo left behind. He'd rather hoped for an assignment. Even a courier run would be better than staying inside making certain all "t's" were crossed and "i's" were dotted. By the time he arrived home his eyes were crossing.
With a contented sigh, he dropped the bag that contained a large deli sandwich and a container of vegetable soup onto his coffee table. He quickly changed into something more comfortable before sitting down to dinner.
He'd just tidied up after eating when a firm tap sounded on the door. He frowned and pulled his weapon from the holster, carrying it with him to the door. He looked through the peephole and saw Javier Ponce, a Section 2 agent from Puerto Rico, on the other side. His frown deepened. Gun still at the ready but out of sight, he opened the door just wide enough for one man to get through.
"Javier! What are you doing in town?" Illya greeted as he let him in. Not that he wasn't glad to see the man. They'd worked together a few times, once undercover. That sort of thing tended to either make men fast friends or bitter enemies, depending on how things went. For them, it had gone very well.
"Hola, Illya," Javier said, giving the Russian one of his signature sunny smiles. He slipped inside and Illya shut and locked the door behind him. "Mission. Apparently I'm the best match for the mission parameters for a job out of New York." His accent was heavily Latin with a bit of Hebrew thrown in. He grew up in Puerto Rico with his native Puerto Rican father and Israeli mother. His father died when Javier was 13 and his mother moved them to Israel to live with her family, which was where the Mossad recruited him fresh out of college.
"Ah, yes," Illya said, some of the parade of paperwork from the day flashing through his mind. "The one upstate."
"That's the one, mi amigo." He gave Illya an endearingly crooked grin. "Apparently they needed a handsome Latino."
A tiny grin played with Illya's lips. "But lacking that, they decided just any Latino would do, I guess."
Javier slapped a hand to his chest. "Oh! You wound me!"
Illya snorted in amusement, holstered his weapon, and turned to reset the alarm. Actually, Javier Ponce was a devastatingly handsome man. Tousled black hair and smoldering dark eyes combined with his taut gymnast's body to make the man a seduction just waiting to happen. He was the Napoleon Solo of the Puerto Rican office.
He turned and gestured to the sofa. "So, sit down and tell me to what I owe this visit."
"Illya! I thought we were friends. Can't a friend visit another friend?" Javier protested as he settled on the couch.
Illya's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Of course, but usually you visit me in my office. Come on, Ponce. Something's going on in that handsome head of yours. What is it?"
Javier's face brightened. "You think I'm handsome?"
Illya blinked in surprise. He had mentioned that fact, hadn't he? "Um, well, that is why you were chosen for your mission, is it not?"
"Yes, but the fact that you think so is encouraging." He took a deep breath. "So, I hear you're back on the market."
The conversation was shifting too quickly and was too confusing for Illya to keep up. "Market? I didn't realize I was for sale."
Javier chuckled. "Not for sale, but up for grabs."
Illya's mouth opened and closed a couple of times but nothing came out. He had no idea what his friend was talking about.
Javier stood and moved until he was just at the edge of Illya's comfort zone. "I understand you and Frank are no longer seeing each other."
Illya stiffened. He had thought he and Frank had been very discrete but apparently not. "I don't know what you're talking about. Frank and I are colleagues. We've gone to a few jazz clubs together. What has that got to do with anything?" Deny now. Kill Frank for obviously opening his big mouth later. Of course, if Ponce planned to try to blackmail him, the Latino would be the first to die. Frank would be second.
Javier's eyes widened and he stepped back, hands raised. "Don't be alarmed, mi amigo," he said placatingly. "Your secret is safe with me. I don't even think anyone else in the UNCLE family realized the two of you were together. The only reason I know is I'm a trained spy. I've had my eye on you for awhile but I didn't think you'd accepted what you were yet."
Illya's eyes glittered dangerously. "And what, exactly, do you think I am?" His heart pounded with a fear he absolutely did not allow to show on his face.
"A lover of men." Javier smirked and tapped his chest. "Like me."
Illya's eyebrow climbed under his blond fringe. "What?" Javier was a homosexual? No. Not possible. He flirted with and dated every woman he came in contact with.
"So does Napoleon," the voice in the back of his mind pointed out.
Illya had to concede the point. Napoleon was known as the Casanova of North America. Yet not only had Illya and his partner slept together a number of times, Napoleon made it very clear he wanted to do so again.
"If this is a trap, Javier," Illya intoned softly, an undeniable edge in his tone, "I will kill you and hide your body where no one will ever find it."
Javier was no slouch in the danger department himself. Even so, his face blanched at the threat. He waved his hands in front of him, eyes wide. "Dios, Illya, no! This isn't like that! I'm just trying to ask you out to dinner." He sighed. "You think you and Frank are the only homosexuals in UNCLE? You're not. Oh, in the scheme of things, you and I are in the minority, but there are a handful of us worldwide. We have sort of banded together, made a little family."
Illya relaxed a little. Frank had said a few things that made Illya wonder about just such a group. "With so many knowing of the others, how do you manage to keep it secret?"
"No one would out another, you see, because it would out him, as well. In a way I suppose it's a form of blackmail, but it's one we all enter into willingly. For many, our little family is the only support they have. We protect each other. Much like partners watch each other's backs."
It made sense. Illya shifted his stance into a slightly less defensive one. "And what if I am like you? What makes you think I'm available?"
"You had me scared for a minute there," Javier breathed in relief.
"Don't relax just yet. Answer the question"
Javier shrugged. "Easy. I had figured out you and Frank were a bit of an item. I was a bit surprised at that, by the way. Frank is well known in our circles for wanting a permanent relationship and I was pretty sure you had no more interest in such a thing as your playboy partner."
Illya regarded him for a long minute then relaxed completely. "He seemed the safest bet. I knew he was a homosexual. He was part of UNCLE so he knew the score and wouldn't cause problems if I got called away suddenly." Illya shrugged. "It just seemed the most convenient. The fact we have a number of interests in common just made it more logical."
Javier nodded in understanding. "I can see that. At any rate, when he started up with his present boyfriend, I knew there was no longer anything between you. Frank just doesn't spread himself around like that. He is strictly a one man at a time sort. I figured you had given him his walking papers because he became too clingy. Since I have no more interest in a relationship as you do, I thought a fling between us would be better for both of us. After all, you and I understand our job much better than even Frank or any of the others can."
Illya's first instinct was to turn Javier's proposal down. He tended to be a one man sort, as well, and the man he wanted was Napoleon. Well, one of the men he wanted, but Antonio was forever unavailable so that made it a moot point.
On the other hand, he and Napoleon had agreed they would not be exclusive to each other. He had no doubt Napoleon would take advantage of that concession. Illya also had no doubt that if he, himself, did not take advantage as well, the old jealousies and hurt would return and that would chase Napoleon away.
"I don't see any reason why we can't go to dinner," Illya finally agreed. "Tomorrow night?"
Javier jumped up, the sunny smile on his face once again. He shook his head. "I leave for upstate in a couple of hours. I'll call you when I get back. I should have a couple of days before I have to return to Puerto Rico. We can do it then if you're in town."
"All right. I'll see you soon, then."
"I should have this mission done by Friday." He checked his watch. "I'd ask if you want to take a quick tumble but I have just enough time to get back to the office and gather what I need for the job before heading out. I'll see you when I get back." His smile widened and turned lascivious. "We can take a tumble then." With a jaunty wave, he swept out of the apartment.
A bemused Illya closed the door behind him. He didn't want to go out with anyone other than Napoleon, but he had to or it would never work out between them. It could be worse. Javier was handsome-as he'd accidentally mentioned out loud-interesting, and wanted nothing more from him than an occasional hot meal and some hot sex. Javier lived in Puerto Rico and they only ran into each other a few times a year. It would help Illya fulfill his part of the bargain he had with Napoleon and Javier wouldn't have the constant requests for his time that Frank had started to make towards the end of their affair. This could work out rather nicely.
Napoleon strode down the gunmetal corridors of UNCLE, glad to be home. It had been a difficult few days. Karin had been one of his favorite cousins and being around everyone without her made him miss her all the more. Even though he dealt in death on a daily basis, it still hit him hard when someone he knew died. Maybe because he and Illya flirted with the Grim Reaper so often, he knew the finality of it more than most people. He also knew how to move on afterwards, though, and he knew Karin would want him to do so rather than let his feelings of loss get him or Illya killed.
The thought of Illya brought a smile to Napoleon's face and spring to his step. Finally-finally-Illya was his once again. The icing on the cake was that he didn't even have to give up women to do it. When they were together before he sensed that was what Illya wanted. He'd tried. God, had he tried. Managed it, too, but just barely.
Truth be told, he'd started to resent Illya for it, too. When Illya cut him off, though, that resentment flew right out the window, replaced by indignation and disbelief. He was used to being the one to end an affair. He didn't like being on the receiving end of things.
Especially since he rather liked the fact that in bed was the only time Illya let him dominate him. Napoleon wasn't going to lie to himself about the fact he enjoyed that aspect almost as much as he enjoyed the sex. Illya would accept a direct order or allow Napoleon to have the last decision on things, but never without a fight. Napoleon was the boss but only marginally. They were partners and both he and Illya tended to see that relationship of equality as superseding his role as CEA. Even so, it was nice for Illya to give in without a fight.
"Napoleon Solo, you'd better stop right there!"
He recognized Sarah's dulcet tones. He smiled as her svelte body and lovely face sprang into his mind's eye. He turned and the fantasy changed to reality. "Sarah, my sweet."
She approached him, a seductive pout on her pink lips. "You cad!" she said, the twinkle in her eyes belying the sting of the words. "You owe me a date. I do hope you are able to pay up tonight."
Napoleon thought about it. Sarah was a beautiful woman and he had already cancelled on her once. He knew she would have sex with him at the end of the date if he took her out to dinner and dancing. On the other hand, he also had Illya waiting in the wings for him. Illya would have sex with him, too, and Napoleon wouldn't even have to buy him dinner or take him dancing. Well, maybe he'd expect dinner, but he'd be just as happy with take-out Chinese as "Chez Maurice". Happier. That made him the cheaper date. Besides, Napoleon had waited for Illya to agree to let him fuck him again for months and he wasn't about to blow that now.
He regarded Sarah with eyes filled with apology and a slight moue of dismay on his lips. "I'm so sorry, my sweet, but I will be unable to see you tonight. I am really exhausted and I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company. I would much rather be completely awake so I can devote all my attention to you rather than trying to keep my eyes open. I will be in much better shape tomorrow night. Why don't we do it then? I can pick you up at six and we'll make a long evening of it."
She sighed in disappointment but her smile didn't leave her face. "Of course, Napoleon. You get some sleep tonight , though, because I plan to keep you up quite late tomorrow night!"
He kissed her on the cheek. The corridor was too public to do anything else. One of his other conquests might show up and see it and that would cause problems. They knew he played the field with all of them, but they didn't like to see it. "I look forward to it."
Her smile widened and she turned around to return to her desk. He watched her backside appreciatively thinking about what he would be doing with her the next night. When she disappeared around the corner, he whistled a merry tune as he resumed his trek to the office he shared with Illya.
Illya made a few notes in the margin of the file in front of him and placed it in the stack on the right side of his desk. A secretary would be by before long to pick them up and distribute them to the proper parties to fix whatever Illya had asked for. He glanced up as the door to the office opened.
"Hola, amigo," greeted Javier Ponce as he entered the office.
Illya sat back in his chair and smiled. "Back from upstate, I see. How did the mission go?"
"A complete success and only one THRUSH got the chance to throw any punches."
Illya frowned in concern. "Very bad?"
The artificial lights reflected in his shiny black hair as Javier shook his head. "A few bumps and bruises but nothing much." He grinned. "You should see the THRUSH pendejo. I got a lot more punches in."
Illya snorted in amusement. "Good to hear."
"So, you want to go to dinner tonight?"
"Of course. Why don't you meet me here at six?"
"I'll be here," said Javier. "I need to go do my report. See you at six." He turned and left the office.
Illya stared at the closed door. Over the last few days Illya had thought it over and felt his decision to take Javier up on his offer would be for the best. If he showed Napoleon he was willing to go out with other people, his partner would realize he was serious about not saying anything to him about dating.
He was still looking at the door when it opened again a couple of seconds later and Napoleon walked in. Illya felt his heart lift at the sight of his friend. "Napoleon! I didn't know you were returning today. Why didn't you call me?"
Napoleon sat on the corner of Illya's desk, shifting aside the files balancing there. "I just wanted to get home so I didn't take the time to use a phone. I thought of using the communicator but since I wasn't coming back from a mission and the Old Man frowns on using them for personal business, I decided not to."
Illya grunted in understanding.
Napoleon leaned closer. "So, what time should I expect you tonight?"
Illya's eyebrow shot up. "I can't tonight," he said, his voice laced with regret. "I have a date."
Napoleon froze, eyes widening in surprise. "A date?"
"You should have called. I would have turned him down." Illya took note of the expression on Napoleon's face. He enjoyed the tiny thrill of satisfaction that shot through him. "What? The fact that I have a date surprises you?"
As Napoleon tried to regain his composure he struggled for words. "Uh... Yes. I suppose so. You never dated that I knew of."
"Then you knew wrong," Illya said returning to his work. "How is the family?" he asked.
Napoleon took a seat at his desk and let out a long breath as he tried to get past the shocking revelation that Illya was dating and turn his mind to work again. "Uhm... As well as we could expect I'm sure. Time will tell. Aunt Amy stayed there. I think she is going to spend a month or two with the family."
"Your aunt is a good woman. Strong." Illya commented before their conversation died down.
"Johnny," Phillip Austin said sternly. "Listen to me. I've invested a lot in you, in your importance to this assignment. It's not just about school. It's about a real investment in the future of THRUSH in this country."
"Cool it, Pop. I got it," he said casually. "I can handle this with my eyes closed."
Phillip slammed his fist on the breakfast table, making the glass of milk splash over its rim and Johnny jump in his seat. "Don't give me that hippy attitude! This is serious business. David Daniels and Matthew Doyle are gifted young men and will be brilliant scientists. We have to make sure that they join us. They have the right balance of motivation and desire that we can easily recruit if you do exactly what I told you to do."
"I know," Johnny replied, clearly intimidated by his father's more official tone. "I've already got David interested. It won't take long for me to get Matt and maybe even others involved."
"It better not. THRUSH paid your tuition and everything else that goes with your schooling. I don't want to have to pay them back," he growled at his son. "Now finish your breakfast and get going. My son will not be late for his classes."
Johnny nodded a little nervously and guzzled his glass of milk leaving his half-eaten pancakes and sausage to get cold.
Illya walked into Alexander Waverly's office with an easy stride. He looked directly at the elder man with respect and said, "You asked to see me, sir?"
Waverly casually packed his pipe. "Yes. Please have a seat. I wish to discuss a mission with you."
"Mission? I am being sent out on assignment?" he said, hoping his excitement didn't come through in his voice. The downtime made him anxious and he longed to get back into the action again. He also knew that Waverly might have issues with his fieldwork now. Any sane man would if they knew of Illya's real past.
"Yes. It shouldn't be too difficult and I think you will find yourself in a very familiar environment." Waverly sat down and placed his unlit pipe on the desk.
"What kind of environment would that be, sir?" Illya asked. He had many questions but knew Waverly would only tell him as much as he wanted and at whatever pace he wished. It was difficult to be patient. So much had changed with his emotional being since his time with Antonio and facing himself in the asylum. The calm he displayed with such ease a couple years ago was more difficult to master now. He would have to just work harder at it.
"I'm sending you back to school, Mr. Kuryakin," Waverly stated.
"School? Survival school?" he asked, thinking it was more training again.
"No. College to be precise," Waverly explained and placed a mission folder on the desk and rotated the tabletop to deliver it to his agent.
Illya looked at the Head of UNCLE New York in confusion. "College, sir?"
"You have the right youthful appearance and should fit right in. Even your haircut makes you look scholarly. I want you to keep it that way," Waverly said. "We suspect that THRUSH may be trying to recruit potential graduates in several fields. This could be the start of a long term project. We don't know what their ultimate goal is. Nor do we know for sure this is what is happening. As a student you will have the perfect opportunity to observe the student body and the professors for clues."
"Would it not be better if I were a teacher?" he asked, thinking he would have access to more information that way.
"No," Waverly said. "We don't believe this presently involves any of the faculty. As a student the other students will be more likely to relate to you. We have arranged an ID card for you and transfer papers from a college in California. You will proceed to the school this afternoon, register your transfer, and begin your classes as normal. Your initial targets will be those students on your list who are gifted young men on minimal scholarships. THRUSH tends to target those in need of monetary advancement."
"And what do I do if I find THRUSH there?" Illya asked.
"Your assignment is to investigate and report until ordered otherwise," Waverly said and picked up his pipe to light it.
Illya recognized the motion of his superior. When Waverly lit his pipe it meant the conversation was at its end. Illya picked up his file and stood. "Will that be all, sir?"
Waverly nodded and waved Illya out while drawing the match flame to his burgundy flavored tobacco.
Assignment! Illya jumped for joy on the inside though he maintained his usual cool demeanor to those around him. Perhaps it wasn't the action he hoped for, but at least it wasn't a way of keeping him off the streets and tied to a desk for the rest of his career.
Illya kept the casual pace of his walk back to the office he shared with Napoleon. As he entered the room he held up the folder.
Napoleon looked up, surprised. "What's that?"
"New assignment," Illya said, pleased.
"For us? Why wasn't I briefed?"
"Not us. Me," Illya said.
"Alone?" Napoleon responded. "That's not normal."
Both men knew standard operation procedure required a back up on the first mission back after serious incidences like the one Illya had just been through.
"I can handle it," Illya insisted, not letting an oversight on Waverly's part stop him from getting back into the field at last. He knew Waverly didn't normally make mistakes like this either. Perhaps the man deliberately decided he should be alone on this for some other reason.
Napoleon shrugged. He had his reservations but didn't want to upset Illya by voicing his concerns. At least not yet. "I didn't say you couldn't. What is it?" he asked.
"Local. Undercover at a college as a student," he explained. "Apparently THRUSH may be trying to recruit vulnerable students."
"For what?" Napoleon asked, approaching Illya's desk to perch on the corner and see the file. He picked up Illya's ID card. "Dmitri Grishuk?"
"Says here parents are immigrants and that I've been in the country since I was 12. I guess I won't have to fake an accent for this."
Napoleon tossed the ID back onto the desk. "I don't like this," he said.
"Don't like what?"
"You. Going out on assignment alone." Napoleon shook his head and got up again. "You know the rules just as much as I do."
"Rules? UNCLE policy is not like Soviet 'must be followed to the letter' protocol, Napoleon. I'm sure that Mr. Waverly knows what he's doing," Illya argued. "Besides. I am not a child. I am a highly skilled agent."
Napoleon, with his back turned to Illya, rolled his eyes. "You are blind to everything when it comes to Waverly. He must have some ulterior motive for sending you out alone."
Illya bristled with indignation as he stood. "I don't know what your problem is, Napoleon, but I assure you I am neither blind nor incompetent. I can handle this." His mouth set in a hard line as he quickly gathered up his things and scurried out of the office to change. His normal suit would be a little too dressy for the campus. A turtle-necked sweater seemed more appropriate.
After Illya left to register for school, Napoleon waited impatiently for his afternoon meeting with Waverly. As the date approached for the Waverly family reunion the old man was spending a couple hours each afternoon with him. The two of them went over each assignment, the agents involved, and the progress of the missions.
Today Napoleon wanted to bring up the lack of back up on Illya's task. He could hardly contain himself to wait for the meeting. The first instinct he had on hearing of Illya's solo affair was to march right down to Waverly's office and confront the man on it.
Waverly couldn't be pressured into anything though. Napoleon knew that was one of the reasons the Englishman was chosen for his position. Solid and a clear thinker, Alexander Waverly was a force to be reckoned with. Even heads of other UNCLE chapters looked up to Waverly with respect. They backed down during disagreements with him and Waverly never had to raise his voice.
Although Napoleon tried to concentrate on reviewing the files and folders to prepare for the meeting his mind was constantly drawn away to thinking about Illya. If it wasn't the unsettling thought of the blond being alone on a mission, it was the idea that Illya would date another man. Their bargain that they would see others and still be together wasn't to mean other men in Napoleon's mind. A woman here and there wasn't the same thing.
Eventually a steady ringing caught his attention. Napoleon sat up, lifting his mournful chin from the cradle of his left arm propped on the desk.
The phone?
Napoleon picked up the receiver. "Solo here."
"Napoleon. Where are you? You were supposed to meet with Mr. Waverly 10 minutes ago," Lisa Rogers said, her tone colored with astonishment.
Looking at the clock on the wall and then his watch, Napoleon was surprised that he had so thoroughly lost himself in thought. No wonder Lisa sounded so surprised. He prided himself on always being punctual.
"Ah... sorry, Lisa," he said in his syrupy golden tone. "I must have forgotten to wind my watch. I'll be right there." With the phone cradled on his shoulder he gathered his things. "What kind of mood is he in?" he asked.
"I guarantee it will be a bad one if you don't get your handsome face in here and fast," she warned him.
Illya rested his arms on the counter, looking over the papers he filled out. "I'm sorry for the late enrollment but are you sure these are all the classes with open spaces for my minor?"
The woman with graying temples and deepening crow's feet at the edges of her eyes sighed. "Yes. The classes filled up early this year. The school is becoming quite popular. What about taking Russian? It would be easy for you I'm sure. You said you already speak Ukrainian. That's the same thing."
"Which is why I do not need to take it," Illya replied. He wasn't about to tell her that was like saying English and French were the same language. Americans just didn't understand the Soviet Union wasn't made up of just Russians. Besides, he spoke Russian, too, so his objection remained the same.
"Well you would get credit for the course toward your degree and it would give you more time to study for your major," she explained. "Of course if you want to split your year and take the other classes next year it would work but you'd be in school longer. You won't get your degree as fast."
"I have a suggestion."
Illya looked behind the woman helping him to where a pretty coed sat at a desk. The young woman bit her lip nervously as the older woman glared at her.
"What do you suggest?" Illya asked her.
She glanced at the older woman and took a fortifying breath. "You could take the Soviet Studies class instead."
Illya raised an eyebrow. "And how is taking a class about a country I already know different from taking a language I already know?"
"Well, it's sort of like history. I'm American yet I still had to take an American history class. I didn't realize how much American history I didn't know until I took that class. It would be the same thing with you and the Soviet Studies class. You might know a lot of it but at least some of it will be new to you. Besides," she added with a flirtatious smile. "I'm in it. I could probably use some help with it."
Illya gave a soft huff of amusement. "All right. You've convinced me."
"Great, Louise," the older woman said gruffly. "Why don't you finish enrolling Mr. Grishuk."
Illya winced at the way she pronounced it "Gry-shuck" but refrained from correcting her. It didn't matter, anyway. Not like it was his real name she mangled.
Louise's face brightened. "I'd be happy to. Why don't you bring all your paperwork over here, Mr. Grishuk." She pronounced it correctly. "I'll get you finished."
Illya moved his papers to her desk and worked to fill in the rest of his schedule.
"You must know people in high places," Louise said as she went over the pages he'd already finished.
Illya's pen paused midway through scribbling the signature of his fake name on the last form. "What makes you say that," he said guardedly as he completed the signature.
"You're a week too late for enrollment. We stopped accepting new students five days after classes started on September second." She rolled a paper onto the platen of her typewriter and quickly typed out Illya's new schedule.
Illya relaxed slightly. "Oh. I have an uncle that is rather influential." He shrugged. "It comes in handy sometimes."
"I don't suppose it matters. If you can't catch up you'll be the only one to suffer." Louise smiled at him to take any sting out of the comment. She checked over the forms one more time and tapped them on the desk to straighten them out before putting them in a folder with Illya's alias on the tab. One copy of the schedule went into the folder and she handed Illya the second. "I'll see you in class on Monday."
Illya took the papers and stood to leave. "You certainly will. Thank you for your help." His lips quirked in amusement and he nodded to her before leaving. He had just enough time to clean up and meet Javier back at his office.
Napoleon straightened his tie and slicked his hair back with a hand on his way to Waverly's office. He thought about what and how to bring up Illya's backup-or lack thereof-for this most recent mission. Being late to the meeting meant he was going into it from a weakened position. Not where he wanted to be. It wouldn't be the first time, however, and he seldom lost. But, then, neither did Waverly. This should be interesting.
He took a deep breath and gave Lisa his best smile. "May I go in?"
She smirked at him. "I think you'd better." She pushed a button to let Mr. Waverly know the person entering his domain was cleared then went about her business.
Napoleon didn't even break stride, expecting the doors to part before he could run into them. He entered Waverly's office with an air of confidence and strength he didn't feel. "Sorry I'm late, sir. I was going over the details of one of my agent's missions and saw a few discrepancies in policy. I wanted to make sure I had my facts correct before bringing them to your attention." The best defense was a good offense, after all. Besides, this kind of thing was not so uncommon an occurrence that it would irritate The Old Man. It was part of Napoleon's job and part of what this special training was all about.
Waverly's bushy brows shot up. "Do tell, Mr. Solo. What agent is that?"
Napoleon sat down and placed his briefcase on the desk, snapping it open briskly as he brought out his copy of Illya's mission file. His copies weren't always complete and he was sure this one was one of those. "Mr. Kuryakin apparently has no backup in place. It is our policy for an agent first returning to the field to have a backup."
Waverly's eyes narrowed as he studied his protégé. Then he relaxed and reached for his pipe already packed with tobacco. He slapped at his pockets for a light. "It's gratifying to see you are so aware of policy, Mr. Solo. Mr. Kuryakin has a backup."
But it's not me! Napoleon swallowed his protest and kept his expression mildly curious. "How so, sir? I don't see anyone assigned as such."
Waverly finally found a matchbook and pulled it out. He pulled off a match and folded the cover back down as he struck it across the rough surface. The match flared to life and he placed it to his pipe bowl as he puffed on it. Smoke stuttered from the sides of his mouth and he sat back in satisfaction. "Mr. Solo, the mission is here in New York. Mr., erm, Kuryakin has this entire facility as his backup. He can call in here anytime in the day or night and aid will be at his side within minutes. It's the best backup he could have."
Napoleon's lips compressed into a thin line. "Normally I would agree with you, sir, but Ill...Mr. Kuryakin was nearly lobotomized into a vegetable by an U.N.C.L.E. psychiatrist." He didn't add, "and that you allowed to abduct him" but ooohhhh, he wanted to. "It was traumatic enough it has taken him over two months recuperate. Having a backup after a psychological episode like that, I believe, is essential."
The bushy eyebrows went into action again as the smoke from the pipe curled up around them. "Are you saying Mr. Kuryakin's present psychological health is a risk to this organization?"
"No, sir!" Napoleon backpedaled. Getting Illya labeled such a thing could keep him out of the field forever. His friend would never forgive him if that happened. He cleared his throat, conceding this point to Waverly. It would be the only one. "No, sir, I believe Mr. Kuryakin is fully capable of carrying out this mission. But the policy is there for a reason. Someone should be close by in case we're sending him into the field too early."
Waverly sighed. "What do you want a backup agent to do, Mr., uh, Solo? Sit outside the man's classes and follow him around campus?"
"Uh, well, no," admitted Napoleon. "But I...uh, he should be close by in case Mr. Kuryakin needs m...um, him."
Waverly's eyes flashed but whether with irritation or amusement, it came and went too quickly for Napoleon to decide which.
"Mr. Solo, I believe I am giving your partner more credit than you are. I am confident in his ability to do this mission at this time. Not only does the young man not need you or anyone else to hold his hand, I believe we would do more harm than good to his recovery if we did so. I have instructed him to check in with me daily." He gave Napoleon a pointed look. "Or you. In an emergency he will contact the switchboard and they will dispatch someone. He also has the luxury of coming into the office if need be. I see no reason to waste manpower on a man that does not need it. Now enough of such nonsense. It's time to get down to the real work."
Napoleon relented, knowing he'd completely lost this round. But not the war. Not even the battle. This was a mere skirmish. A precursor to the battle. He was fighting for Illya's life and that was one fight he did not intend to lose.
Napoleon was deep in thought when he rounded a corner and ran into Sarah. He grabbed her by the waist to steady her.
"Hi, Napoleon," she purred. "It's always so nice to run into you."
Despite his Russian troubles-or maybe because of them-Napoleon gave her a slow, simmering smile. "Mmm. I would have to agree, lovely Sarah." He lifted a hand and twirled a strand of her bleached blonde hair around his finger. The color was flat and not nearly as beautiful as Illya's. Touching Illya's hair felt like petting a cat's fur. Sarah's hair felt coarse.
She pouted prettily. Napoleon stopped himself before he started comparing her mouth to Illya's, too. "Something wrong, my sweet?"
"You owe me a dinner," she whined.
Napoleon tried not to cringe. He used to think her pouting and whining were attractive. Now they were just annoying. Even so, she was good in bed.
Not as good as Illya. He frowned slightly at the thought. Was it true? He shied away from thinking about it any further. He had a beautiful woman in front of him, ready and more than willing. He forced his attention back to her. "You're absolutely right. Why don't I make it up to you tonight? Dinner at "Maison du Pierre" then maybe dancing at the Rainbow Room. And then a nightcap at your place. How does that sound?"
Her face lit up with a big smile. "That sounds wonderful."
He gave her his patented seduction smile. "I'll pick you up at seven." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "That should hold you until then." He whistled as he headed back to his office.
Napoleon waited anxiously for Illya to return from the college. Waverly's reassurances didn't sit well with him and he wondered how he could work a way around it.
The simplest solution would be to sit tight and once Waverly was gone call a review of the assignment to assess the situation. At that time he could make the ruling to add back up and even do some supervising of Illya in the field at his discretion. It wasn't common but he knew Waverly had done the same thing on several occasions.
With a heavy sigh Napoleon stared at the clock. The hands almost seem to have stopped. The only thing he could do was start wading through the mile of paperwork he had to go over for the next review on Monday. He only had one more week until Waverly was due to leave and there was a ton of things to do to be ready.
Although the assignment was a simple and straightforward one, Illya was happy to be back in the field. He had begun to have doubts that he would ever be assigned to active field duty again. But Waverly seemed to want him and that was enough. It was far better than being tossed back into the hands of Sarkov in Russia. The thoughts of what could happen to him there would be enough to bring any ordinary man to his knees in terror. He didn't want to dwell on that. Of course, there was a strong possibility KGB and Sarkov wouldn't care if their agent was a little on the insane side. After all, it always seemed to him that was what they were trying to accomplish. He shook his head. Didn't want to dwell on that, either.
Illya went to the book store and purchased the necessary volumes for his classes. With each one he opened the cover and gasped at the cost. Even the used books were outrageously overpriced. It was shocking that the West made education so expensive when in Russia all the students needs were given to them.
A lot of the books he'd read cover to cover as recreational reading years before. He knew much more updated information than what they contained. They were required to have if he were to pass as an ordinary student so he lugged the heavy burden outside and asked for directions to the Student Union Building where he could sit and sort out his things.
On the walk over to the brick building on the far side of the campus, Illya stopped under a shade tree and sat down, looking like any student on a break. He checked around to make sure no one was in listening distance before calling in to U.N.C.L.E. and reporting his progress. He wasn't surprised when the person on the receiving end took the standard information and passed him on to Waverly. Often the head of U.N.C.L.E. New York would have specifics to pass on to the people in the field personally.
"Mr. Waverly, sir," Illya said as the connection went through.
"Ah... Mr. Kuryakin. Have you completed registering for your classes?" the pleasant English accented voice inquired.
"Yes, sir. I was just on my way to the Student Union to find a place to stay near campus," he replied.
"Good. I'm glad I caught you before you'd applied anywhere. I have a name for you. David Daniels," Waverly said, allowing a moment for Illya to absorb the instructions. "He's a student that we have concerns about. He's living in an apartment about half a block from the college campus and is advertising for a roommate. If you are lucky the space is still open."
Illya memorized the address and decided to check into it as soon as he finished at the Student Union.
"Yes, sir. I know where that is. Can someone bring by his file?" he asked.
"Yes," Waverly replied. "I'll let you read it and then it can be returned with the courier. U.N.C.L.E. out."
Illya disassembled the communicator and tucked the otherwise normal looking pen back into his pocket. He wasn't concerned with the abrupt end to the conversation. Waverly had never been a man interested in chit-chat.
There were a number of people in the Student Union when Illya got there. First impression was that of a nice bunch of normal kids. A friendly young guy pointed the way to some lockers so Illya could store his books while he looked for a place to stay. He made a point of browsing the bulletin board even though he had an apartment in mind. Illya spotted that very one on the postings and took it down to reduce the chances of someone else getting it before heading out to secure his lodging.
The apartment building from the outside was just like every other one on the block. Boxy. Dull. Drab. Old. It had a well used appearance, although far from being a slum. It wasn't fancy but definitely had the potential to be comfortable. One could tell by various graffiti that it had been inhabited by students for quite a while. Illya walked up to the third floor and followed the numbers to 315. He looked both ways down the hall and then knocked on the door.
"Come on in. It's open," a male voice inside called out.
Illya tried the knob and found it unlocked. He opened the door slowly and looked inside. "Hi. I'm looking for Olaf?" he said.
A tall Swede looked over from the sofa and raised a hand like a student answering a question. "You got me."
Illya observed the young man to be very casual and stepped inside.
"Hi. I'm Dima Grishuk. I found this ad that says you are looking for a roommate?" he said, holding up the paper from the bulletin board.
Olaf stood and walked over, extending his hand. He was even taller standing up as his 6'3" frame closed in on Illya. "Hi Dima. You can call me Ollie. Everyone does."
"Okay, Ollie it is. So you have a room for rent?" he asked again.
"Yeah. Come on. I'll show you." Olaf walked him down to the last room at the end of the hall. It was larger than the tiny room he inhabited when a student in the Soviet Union but small by American standards. There was a desk and bookshelf by a window that would let in the morning sun. A single bed with linens and a closet for clothes. There was also a small table and a chair making the place a little crowded but cozy at the same time.
"Rent is 65 a month, utilities included. You pay for your own food," Olaf said.
Illya could tell this was the largest of the three bedrooms without even looking at the others. "Why would you not take this one for yourself?" he asked.
"Gets the morning sun. Most of us like late nights," he said, nudging Illya in the ribs. "If you get my drift."
Illya didn't, but gave him a wry smile and nodded. "Seems fair to me."
"First and last month in advance," Olaf said. "When can you move in?"
"I will bring your money tomorrow and move in then. Will that be all right?"
"Seems fair to me, Dima," he said, echoing Illya's own words.
Napoleon sighed as the end of the work day came and went with no sign of Illya's return. He considered waiting longer but Sarah showed up at the office door excited for their date. He didn't really feel like going out, which for him was odd, but he was also a man of honor and a promise was a promise. He didn't have any excuses lined up in any case.
Putting on his best smile, Napoleon folded up his last file, tucked the stack into the drawer, and locked them up.
"I like a lady who is on time," he said charmingly. He pulled his suit jacket from the back of his chair as he stood and then in one smooth motion swung it around and slid his arms into the sleeves. After a quick adjustment of the cuffs of his shirt, he offered Sarah his arm. "Dinner awaits and then..." he said.
"And then what?" she giggled back.
"Who knows?" he replied flashing a wink and a mischievous grin back at her. The door closed behind them putting Illya out of his mind for the night.
"Javier?" Illya said in surprise as he entered his apartment. "How did you get in?"
The handsome Latino grinned back. "I'm an agent. I have my ways."
Illya snorted and then let out a small laugh. "Any other man and I would have had to kill you."
"I know. But you won't," he said and stood. He walked over to Illya with a file. "Mr. Waverly said you needed to read this over. I have to take it back when you're done."
Illya looked at the name on the tab. "Thank you. Let me look through this before we go out. You don't mind waiting do you?"
"Take your time. I have all weekend free," he told him.
Illya nodded. "I wish I did but I only have tonight. I move into a shared apartment just off campus tomorrow. You can stay here while I'm gone if you wish."
"Nice of you to offer. Thanks." Javier took a seat on the sofa again. "When you're ready how about some spicy Caribbean tonight? This New England stuff is pretty boring."
Illya liked all kinds of food. He was partial to Ukrainian cuisine if he had to pick a favorite but anything else was okay too. "All right. I kind of know what you mean about American. They don't seem very original."
Napoleon spent the rest of the weekend out in his boat. His date with Sarah went well but he invited Patricia along for a sail down the coast in the morning when he decided to go. He wanted to take advantage of the weather while it was still summer. While the change in women, to one he found more appealing, seemed to make sense he made excuses to man the wheel as much as possible. Even relaxing on his boat didn't feel right. Everything was fine last time he took the Pursang out. Everything was the same now, as then. Perfect weather, good food, and delightful company. Patricia substituting for Illya seemed the only difference.
He glanced at Patricia where she sat in the bow of the boat, her hairspray brittle tresses not so much flowing in the breeze as flapping. Illya had even sat in the same place in a similar pose. Of course, his hair blew around his face rather than snapped up and down. Still, very similar.
Napoleon scowled as he thought about the reason why Illya wasn't with him this time, too. He had a "date." With another man. Why? Why did the insufferable bastard feel the need to replace him with someone else, even if it was just for the night? A niggling voice in the back of his mind reminded him he did the very same thing with Sarah. And Patricia. He thwacked the stupid voice with an imaginary finger. Not the same thing! They were women! lllya was with another man. Completely different.
He spent the remainder of the outing reminding himself of that.