Javier met with Dr. Frank Webber in the lab. He handed him the plastic bag containing the plant material. "I need this analyzed. Can you do it right away?" he asked.
Frank took the bag and maneuvered the material inside by kneading the bag with his fingers. "Right away as in yesterday or as in tomorrow?"
"ASAP," he replied. "I think it might be tainted and a bunch of the students at the college have been partaking."
Frank looked up into Javier's face. He knew how often agents in the field were forced into taking drugs or unknowingly ingested them.
"I know," Javier said, practically reading the man's thoughts. "I'm going to go to medical and have blood drawn. So you see my point."
Frank shook the bag and nodded. "ASAP," he replied. "I'll get on it right away."
The lab scientist turned and took the bag to a work bench to set up the samples. Javier didn't watch long before he turned and headed back out the way he came.
Dr. Bernardo Cruz gave instructions to Nurse Paula Leon regarding the follow up to be done on Agent Smith. The man broke his ankle in a foot pursuit of a 4-year-old. It was a nephew who escaped the yard chasing a ball while Smith visited with his sister. The man limped in thinking it was just a bad sprain. He obviously didn't expect to be leaving with a foot held solidly in a coating of plaster.
"Hi," Javier said upon seeing the doctor enter the reception area.
Cruz looked up and raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar face.
Javier extended a hand. "Agent Ponce. Puerto Rico." he said, introducing himself.
The doctor smiled and shook the hand. "Dr. Bernardo Cruz. How may I help you today, Agent Ponce?"
Javier gave him a sheepish grin. "Well I may or may not have been exposed to a substance."
"What kind of substance?" Cruz asked. "Give me some details. Why don't you come into my office and we can talk in private?"
A relieved nod from Javier told Cruz to lead the way. He followed him down the hall to an office that was probably more lavish than most but also held a collection of the latest medical journals and texts. Javier sensed Cruz was a well read man who liked to keep up on the latest discoveries in the field of medicine, a must for an UNCLE physician. "Nice office," Javier said.
Cruz let out a small amused snort. "Take a seat," he offered and then walked around his desk to take his own place. "Now you were saying, Mr. Ponce?"
"Agent Kuryakin and I are on an assignment at the college. Possible THRUSH recruiting going on there. In order to investigate, Illya... er Mr. Kuryakin," he explained, "is living in a shared apartment with a few others. I'm afraid marijuana is part of that lifestyle and nothing he and I haven't sampled before but..."
"Yes?" Cruz said confident that minimal exposure to marijuana would not be harmful. "But what?"
"Both Agent Kuryakin and I have noticed slight changes in behavior. It's possible that the smoke is contaminated with a foreign substance. I brought it in for analysis and want to get myself checked out while I'm here."
Cruz nodded. "That's probably a good idea. What kind of behavior changes did you notice?" he asked.
Javier paused a moment, wondering if he should talk about having sex on duty or not. "An increased susceptibility to suggestion. Lack of focus on priorities. I don't really know how else to explain it. A strong desire for more. Almost like I'm addicted after sharing just one joint."
"So you are saying if I said you should go jump off a 5 story building you might do it?" Cruz asked.
"No. Nothing so drastic," he replied.
"Do you still feel like you are under the influence of whatever substance you were exposed to now?"
Javier scratched the side of his face as if the 2 day beard growth was making him itchy. "I don't think so but I don't know for sure."
"Where is this marijuana now?" Cruz asked.
"I gave it to Dr. Webber in the lab."
Cruz nodded. "I'll check in with him and I'd like to get some blood samples from you to see if you are still carrying it in your system." He wrote down a few notes and at the same time asked, "You say Agent Kuryakin may be exposed to this substance as well?"
Javier swallowed and then cleared his throat. "Yes. I believe so."
"I'll have to get him in here for some blood samples as well. Anyone else?" he asked.
"A number of the students. Kuryakin knows more of them than I do."
Cruz puckered his lips as he thought about this. "We'll have to set up some kind of cover to get blood samples from them. The more we can analyze, the more accurate our results can be." He jotted a few more notes. "I'll have to call Waverly on this."
"Waverly isn't here," Javier remarked.
"Of course. I mean Mr. Solo. He's in charge at the moment."
"I'm on my way there next. I can report if you like." Javier wasn't looking forward to that but it had to be done.
"Yes. Well we will both have to speak to Mr. Solo eventually." Cruz put down his pen. "First lets go draw some blood and get things started."
"Miss Rogers," Napoleon called through the intercom. "When Mr. Kuryakin calls in for his next report I want him to come in and report in person."
"Yes Mr. Solo. I'll contact the communications room right away," she said, sensing trouble ahead. "Anything else, sir?" she asked.
"Has Nancy completed her statement yet?" he replied.
"I'm just typing it up now."
Napoleon took a deep breath. "See to it that I get a copy right away."
"Yes, sir."
After cutting off the intercom, Napoleon sat back in his seat, thinking about what to do with the information he'd just been given. It looked more and more like he'd been right all along and Illya was not ready for the field. It was still a mystery as to why Waverly felt it prudent to put his partner back on active duty again. Especially without a familiar agent as back up.
Napoleon picked up the folder on the College Recruitment Affair and in a new section he began to make some notes. He paused to think carefully about each comment. It had to be accurate and devoid of personal and emotional inflection. As he wrote he found that he truly had to respect Waverly's talent for putting things in concise prose reflecting each detail of a case.
There had to be a way to put this in a way that the old man would see the prudence of pulling Illya from field duty. There were plenty of things that a talented scientific mind like Illya's could keep more than busy with. Placed full time in the lab would strengthen the blond man's skills and the sky would be the limit as to what he would come up with in terms of weapons and breakthroughs in THRUSH counter active agents against drugs and explosives.
The thought of Illya dying in the field bothered him more than anything. The knowledge that Illya had value elsewhere in UNCLE and, although he'd never admit it out loud to anyone, the value Illya had to him as well. Napoleon knew he couldn't bear it if what he saw as inevitable, Illya meeting his demise out there, ever happened.
Reading over his entries, Napoleon paused with his elbow on the desk and his head resting on his hand. It amazed him how Waverly, someone he admired and respected, could be so blatantly wrong about having Illya on this mission.
Napoleon found himself so totally absorbed with misgivings regarding this assignment that he totally lost track of time. An annoying buzzing began to interrupt his internal thoughts and after a while he found himself scrunching up his face at the irritating sound.
He looked at the phone panel and suddenly realized he was being paged. Quickly Napoleon sat up and cleared his throat which he could feel was strained from the clenched jaw. Then he pushed the reply button.
"Yes...ech hem, Yes Miss Rogers?"
"Mr. Solo. I thought perhaps you had gone out via the back office," she said. Then she got right to the point. "I have Mr. Javier Ponce here. He'd like to give you a verbal report."
"Ponce?" Napoleon frowned. Ponce was supposed to be in the field with Illya, not hanging around at headquarters. "Send him in. See that we aren't interrupted," he instructed.
The huge wall doorway slid open and the slender Hispanic man entered Napoleon's presence. With a stern expression, Napoleon gestured to the chair across the table from him. The size of the office was intimidating enough but filled with Napoleon's scowl it was positively ominous.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Solo," Javier said, trying to sound bravely neutral.
"So Mr. Ponce. Report. I assume you are here and not in the field for a good reason," Napoleon said sounding as official as possible.
Javier nodded, unsure of whether he should actually sit down or if it had merely been an indication of where he should remain standing. "Yes, Mr. Solo," he replied while absent-mindedly rubbing the bandage over the spot where the needles withdrew his blood. "I brought in samples of marijuana to be analyzed. Mr. Kuryakin and I felt it may be contaminated or infused with a drug of some kind."
Napoleon dark-eyed gaze intensified. "And your reasoning for this is-?" he asked.
"Well...uh..." Javier began trying to figure out how to say that he and Illya suspected this because they ended up in bed again.
"Spit it out," Napoleon said, growing impatient. Just being in Javier Ponce's presence and knowing that Illya had a tryst with the man ate at his insides.
"Mr. Kuryakin," Javier explained keeping things on an official level, "and I had the marijuana in our possession. Johnny asked Illya...Mr. Kuryakin to take it back to the apartment with him after school yesterday."
"So if you thought it was tainted yesterday why didn't you bring it in then?"
Javier shook his head. "We weren't sure at the time." Javier looked as if he wasn't positive that was a lie or not but carried on with the report. "We thought we should sample it and then we got to talking. I think it affects will power and the power of suggestion."
Napoleon frowned. "What makes you think that?"
"Our conversation took a strange turn and we..."
"You what?" Napoleon said growing impatient.
Javier swallowed and decided to put it bluntly. "Illya and I ended up in bed together. He didn't leave till just before class today."
Napoleon was silent and just stared at him for a few moments as the burning under his collar rose slowly. He finally spoke, almost silently at first. "Are you telling me the two of you smoked drugs together when unnecessary, then hopped into the sack together, spent the entire night together, and nearly blew his cover by delaying him on his scheduled destinations?"
Javier thought about it and nodded that it could be construed that way. "Yes, sir. That is why I brought the drugs in for testing. I reported to Dr. Cruz in Medical. He drew blood for testing and he wants to get samples drawn from Ill...er Mr. Kuryakin and the students, too."
Napoleon calmly sat down and pressed the intercom. "Miss Rogers. Have communications page Mr. Kuryakin and get him to report into UNCLE Headquarters STAT," he said emphasizing the urgency of his order. Then he terminated the connection and looked back up at Javier Ponce. "I want you to go to an office. Fill out a complete detailed report and then I want you to go pack up your things and get on the next flight to Puerto Rico." Napoleon's tone was cold and barely short of threatening. "Consider yourself lucky if I don't make notations in your permanent record about this."
"But what about Illya's... er... Mr. Kuryakin's backup?" Javier asked.
Each time Javier Ponce referred to Napoleon's partner in the familiar it aggravated him more. "That is not your concern any longer," Napoleon growled. "I suggest you leave now and get that report written before I decide to have you escorted out!"
It was probably the better part of valor, and swallowing his pride, that enabled Javier to turn and walk away while he still had a slight respect for Solo.
Napoleon slammed his hand on the intercom again as the door opened to allow Ponce to leave. "Lisa! Get Illya Kuryakin in here now!"
If Illya had been in his right mind, he would have stormed to Stillwell's office and interrogated the man until he learned how a college professor heard about a story that he'd never told anyone-not even his adopted family. Illya was most definitely not in his right mind right now. A THRUSH agent could be stepping on his heels and he wouldn't notice. His mind twisted and twirled, thoughts, fears, and memories long buried bounced around in a mental tornado.
How had Stillwell learned of what happened to Illya at Baba Yar? He hadn't made purposeful eye contact or acted like he knew the boy whose experience he related was sitting right in his class. Yet he knew details that could have been found in only one place. The only way anyone could have learned about that traumatic experience was to have read it in a diary that just recently popped back up and he knew was in the hands of Alexander Waverly.
He had to get that diary. Now. Mission or no mission, he simply couldn't wait any longer.
Illya's pen went off several times while he aimlessly walked, but in his present state of mind, he ignored it. If it was Napoleon, he'd know something was wrong and would demand to know why. Then Illya would have to lie to him, something he didn't like to do.
He suddenly found himself in front of the apartment he shared with Olaf and the others. At least part of his brain was still on the job. The rest of his brain was another story. He went inside to lay down on his bed to think. He would need a plan.
He'd no sooner opened the door to his bedroom when the apartment's phone rang. He left it for someone else to answer. It wasn't for him so he really didn't care if it never got picked up.
A minute later his bedroom door flew open. "Hey, man," boomed Olaf. "Phone call for ya."
Illya raised an eyebrow. "Me? Are you sure?"
"Yep. It's that Mexican guy you hang out with. Says it's important."
Mexican guy? What Mexican guy? Illya thought of the men of Mexican descent at headquarters. Only a couple and neither had a reason to call him. Confused-not too hard in his present state of mind-he went to pick it up. "Hello?" he asked warily.
"Illya! I'm glad I caught you."
Javier. Of course. "Oh, hello, Javier." He switched to Russian. He knew none of his roommates spoke it but Javier did. "Did you take that sample in?"
"Si, and let me tell you I wish I hadn't."
"Why? What happened?" His heartbeat sped up with concern for his friend.
The Puerto Rican agent laughed bitterly. "Not much, mi amigo. Only the fact that I am no longer on the mission with you."
Illya blinked. "What? What do you mean?"
"I had to report to Napoleon again when I dropped off the marijuana sample. I told him we suspected something in the weed because we both felt we were acting a bit out of character. I don't think he really cared so much that we'd partaken in the grass. He blew his top when he asked for specifics, though. I had to tell him we'd slept together again. He read me the riot act, told me how unprofessional we were both being by indulging in sex while on a mission, then yanked me off the assignment."
Illya scowled. "Wait a minute. He called us unprofessional?" he snarled, his anger at Napoleon spiking. This coming from the man who filled every single free moment of a mission with a liaison with one woman or another.
Javier paused, then blurted out angrily, "Look, Illya, you'll always be my amigo, but I sure don't like to be used to make someone else jealous."
Illya's eyebrow shot up. "What are you talking about?"
"It's obvious there's something going on between you and Napoleon. I mean, he turns positively green with jealousy whenever he sees us just walking or talking together."
Illya's grit his teeth. "There's nothing between Napoleon and I." Not anymore. Napoleon couldn't seem to accept that it was over, though. "I'll talk to him and get you put back on."
"Forget it, amigo. I'm about to board a plane back to Puerto Rico. He told Lisa to book me on the very next flight and a Section 3 Hijo de puta drove me straight to the airport. Said he'd ship my stuff to me from the apartment."
In the background Illya heard an announcement that the flight to Puerto Rico was boarding.
"I have to go, Illya. I just wanted to warn you so Solo can't blindside you with all this."
Illya unclenched his jaw long enough to say, "Thank you, Javier. I'm sure I'll see you again sometime."
Javier's chuckle sounded less strained this time. "If you and only you ever come to Puerto Rico, give me a call. If Napoleon is with you, forget I exist, okay?"
"Of course. Have a good flight." He hung up, anger replacing some of the confusion and fear from before. Napoleon had better have a damned good reason for taking Javier off the assignment.
He wanted to storm down to headquarters and give Napoleon a piece of his mind. He had to keep his priorities straight, though. Unfortunately, that meant his assignment and his talk with Napoleon would have to wait until he could go for that diary.
No time for a detailed, well thought out plan. He would just have to fall back on some old but effective methods. He would pose as a repairman of some kind and break into Waverly's home. No one thought twice when they saw someone in what looked like an official uniform mucking about in a neighbor's backyard.
His pen went off again and he silenced it. Now that he knew for sure it was Napoleon and why he was calling, he didn't feel badly about ignoring it. Diary first. He'd deal with his partner and the fallout from his and Javier's sexual relationship later.
He hopped the subway to the station that would put him closest to headquarters. Since he had a hand in the security measures there, he knew how to get through them. He didn't, however, have a key so he would have to pick the lock. If he blew it with one of their gadgets, Security would know it was someone from the inside.
Once in headquarters, he headed straight for the wardrobe department thinking of everything he would need to throw together a fast disguise.
Fear gripped Napoleon more each time Illya's communicator went unanswered. Maybe he'd acted a bit too hastily when he'd sent Ponce packing. Now Illya could be in trouble and he had no backup. All he wanted to do was run down to that damned campus and find his partner but he couldn't because he was chained to this damned DESK!
He slammed a hand down and jumped out of his chair and stalked to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup. He didn't really want it but he needed something to do. Something to keep his mind off of what might be happening to Illya.
He was an idiot for taking Ponce off the assignment without replacing him with someone else first. He did exactly what he'd gotten so angry at Waverly about. Left Illya out there with no one to watch his back and keep him safe.
"Damn it!" he snarled, angry at himself more than anything. He'd let his jealousy make a rookie mistake and Illya was out there paying for it. That was it. He simply couldn't sit here and do nothing. He called down to Communications. "Has Kuryakin's distress beacon has been activated?" he barked with impatience.
"Let me check." A pause. "No beacon and it doesn't appear to be inoperative."
Napoleon's fear for his friend spiked. "Let me know the moment he calls in."
"Yes, sir."
He hung up the phone and shoved his chair back. That was the last straw. Napoleon was going to go find his friend. He stopped at Lisa's desk on his way out. "Is Johnson in the building?" he asked. Johnson was the next senior agent after Illya so he could take over for the moment.
Lisa looked at her check-in board. "Afraid not."
Napoleon's jaw clenched. "Who is the most senior agent here right now."
"That would be Illya."
Solo's heart dropped into his shoes. When it came back up it beat with a fury Napoleon had never before experienced. "Illya's here?"
"According to my board he checked in about thirty minutes ago. Want me to find him?"
"Yes," Napoleon ground out. "And when you do, send Security down to escort him to me."
Lisa stared at him wide-eyed. "Uh, yes, sir."
He spun on his heel and stalked back into his office to plot what kind of hell he would bring down on Illya's infuriating blond head.
A few minutes later, Lisa entered the office. Her expression was a combination of regret, concern, and even a little fear that would have been humorous if Napoleon didn't know she was about to give him some unwelcome news.
"We didn't find Illya before he left," she said. "Wardrobe says he grabbed a serviceman's uniform before he left. He also checked out one of the service vans but didn't tell anyone where he was going or what he was doing."
He wanted to lash out at her. To berate her for letting him get away. He swallowed his ire knowing it wasn't directed at her and that giving her the anger he had towards Illya would do nothing more than alienate her. He gave Lisa a tight smile. "If he returns, have him cuffed and brought up here. Otherwise, have a couple of agents masquerade as police officers and wait for him at his college apartment in case he shows up there. Have them arrest him on drug charges. Send a couple of agents to his regular apartment, too. He'll have to show up sooner or later."
Her eyes widened at the net he was throwing out for one agent. "Uh, yes, sir." She left quickly, wariness now added to the mix in her expression.
Illya took a roundabout way to Waverly's neighborhood. He'd heard of the manhunt going on for him at headquarters and managed to slip away before Napoleon could catch up with him. Just in case he hadn't gotten away as clean as he thought, he made sure no one followed him before heading for his destination.
The early October evening was crisp with crunchy leaves lining the roadway of the old neighborhood. A damp chill hinted that the Indian summer was over and Fall took hold with both hands. The driveway leading to Waverly's home was lined with hedges and decorative brickwork. Most of the blossoms in the flower beds looked brown and wilted and would soon be dug under for next years plantings.
He parked in front of Waverly's home, a well-maintained, older Victorian house. English ivy crept up the sides of the house and what was left of the roses graced the area in front of the porch. It was a lovely old home, one he'd been to many times as Alice, Waverly's wife, had made it her goal to fatten him up. He felt a pang of nostalgia and sorrow at the thought of Waverly's now dead wife. He thought he might have felt as sad at her passing as her husband.
He took a deep breath, grabbed his tool bag and a clipboard, and headed for the back of the house. To any neighbors, he would look like a repairman doing his job. He stopped at the electric box and bypassed the security easily, disabling alarms and setting the cameras into a loop. The hardest part was doing it in such a way it wouldn't show as a breach back at headquarters. Luckily, since he'd helped design the system, it wasn't hard to circumvent it. Napoleon's CEA duties had to do with the agents themselves-scheduling, evaluations and the like. The main duty of Number 2 of Section 2 was to oversee the security of Waverly's home. The head of Security took care of the day-to-day scheduling, but it was Illya's responsibility to okay everything. Because of his science background, he had taken it a step beyond and designed the system himself.
Security now off, he opened the gate of the privacy fence and slipped in. Alice's hand could be seen here in the explosion of flowers. Roses dominated the mix, the plants all arranged to create a pleasing aesthetic. Interspaced with trinkets and photographs, Alice turned the opulent house to a truly comfortable home.
The only barrier he had now was the lock on the door. He knew it was a very good one, chosen specifically because of how difficult it was to pick. Again, his work on this particular home aided him. When they chose this lock, he'd seen it as a challenge-and good spycraft-to learn how to open it with more mundane means than their usual zapping. Never knew when one would have only a wire or hairpin to get a lock open.
He had more than that this time and he pulled out his lockpicks and got to work. It took him almost five minutes to disengage the locks. Far too long. He'd need to practice on it again. He slipped inside and relocked it behind him. Now he just had to find the damned diary.
The kitchen brought another wave of nostalgia as he remembered helping Alice prepare the meals she made her husband invite his Russian agent to partake in. It was always so warm and inviting. It looked a bit different now, many of Alice's homey touches no longer in evidence. What was once a cozy kitchen where you could snack on homemade cookies right off the counter was now more of a servant's work zone. Alice no longer lived here.
He pushed the sorrow down into that part of himself where he imprisoned such things and brought his mind back to the task at hand. He needed to find that diary and he only had . .. . he looked at his watch . . . an hour and three minutes to do it. They had a random schedule of actual security checks. He didn't set the schedule himself but he had to sign off on it every week so he knew what it was.
The most logical place for Waverly to put the book was in his safe. With his intimate knowledge of the Waverly home, he made a beeline for the den. He disabled the secondary alarm on the painting that covered the safe before swinging the large Francis Bacon original on its hidden hinges. Waverly knew the artist personally and the man had painted this specifically for him.
Luckily, for this task Illya was able to use one of their gadgets to help him figure out the combination. Even so it took him almost thirty-five minutes to get it opened. He sighed in relief when it finally clicked and unlocked. He opened it, deliberately not looking at any of the no-doubt sensitive and/or personal documents inside. He carefully searched for the tattered old book he remembered writing into almost every night.
He ruthlessly swallowed a moan of dismay when he didn't find it. He didn't have time to worry about where the damned thing wasn't. He had to move fast to find out where it WAS. He made sure the contents looked undisturbed then closed and relocked the safe before moving the painting back.
He sped through the house, again being careful not to leave anything out of place, checking everywhere he thought it might be. Bedside tables, locked desk-that one was easy to manipulate-absolutely everywhere he could think of.
Nothing. No surprise. The chances of Waverly leaving something like that anywhere but locked up tightly in his safe was very slim. Where the hell was it? Another glance at his watch. Time was up. No time to think about it now. He left the way he'd come in, relocked everything, and re-engaged the security systems. Everything back the way it was when he started, he jumped in the van and drove off with only four minutes to spare.
The drive back to headquarters gave him some time to ponder the only other place Waverly might have hidden the diary. Only one place more secure than the safe at the house. A place almost impossible to get into, at least for him. More likely he could fly to the moon easier than he could get into Waverly's bank safety deposit box.
Napoleon sent a man over to Javier Ponce's little barren apartment near the campus to make sure he was gone and collect the UNCLE equipment as well as the few personal belongings left behind. All was reported well in that regard. There was no sign of Illya.
Propping one elbow on the desk and placing his chin in his palm, Napoleon wondered what Illya would be doing with a service man's uniform. It must have something to do with the mission, he thought, or why would he have taken it? What disturbed him was that Illya didn't report what he was up to. That made it impossible to arrange to have back up available. He almost regretted sending Ponce away early. Almost, but not quite.
Angrily, Napoleon slammed his hand down on the intercom.
The sound was audible to Lisa even without the speaker on her desk. "Uh... Yes, Mr. Solo?" she replied after the initial fright.
"Illya hasn't reported in yet, has he?" Napoleon stated more than asked.
"No, sir. Nothing. And he isn't answering the page we're putting out." she replied. "Do you want me to send out some agents to find him?"
Napoleon was about to say yes but then took a breath and thought maybe he was too anxious about it. Of course he was anxious about it! He had to cool his impulses, though, before someone started to notice. Lisa may already have come to some conclusions. He needed to nip that in the bud. "No. But have him report to me directly when he comes back. If I'm not here, call me right away."
"Yes sir. Where can I reach you?" she inquired, pen in hand.
"Home and then out to dinner. I have a promise to keep," he said. "I'll be available by communicator regardless."
Lisa made a note for herself and bid him good night.
Neither man spent a relaxing night.
Napoleon kept his date with Nancy, a lovely lady dressed to lure any red blooded American into bed. Used to taking advantage of the opportunities presented to him, the suave, dashing agent had full intention of having a romantic dinner and then spending a fun night of sexual adventure in a woman's bed. Unfortunately, with his mind preoccupied with the situation of Illya's bizarre field behavior, he found the food unappetizing, the company unbearable, and the thought of sex that evening terrifying. He knew in his present state of mind that he wouldn't be able to perform. He took a deep breath and tried to make a go of an already bad evening.
Illya was relieved that Napoleon had already left by the time he sneaked in with the van to return it. Although he took back the UNCLE van, he signed it in with the garage attendant, Joey, and asked him to send the uniform back to wardrobe. He and Napoleon did that sort of thing all the time so Joey wouldn't think a thing of it. Thad way, he avoided going into the building and any standing order Napoleon may have left in regards to him. He took a taxi back to the campus grounds and walked over to the apartment building.
"Psst!"
Illya looked around for the loud hissing sound. In the darkness he could see a hulking figure behind the thick pine near the street sign. He whispered back, "Olaf?"
"Dima. Come here," the big Swede said as quietly as his naturally loud voice would let him. "Hurry," he said waving him over as if getting out of sight was important.
Illya looked around and dashed over cautiously. "What is it? Why are you out here?"
The big fellow's hand grasped him by the shoulder and pulled him into the hidden recess of the bushes. "You are in trouble man," he said. "The police were here looking for you. They took your things."
"What? Why?" Illya asked.
"Dima, my man. They must think you've been selling stuff. Drugs maybe." Olaf looked around again and then ducked down and whispered some more. "Johnny said you had the stuff."
The marijuana. He'd left it in his desk at headquarters. "Uh. I did," he said, thinking up a quick excuse. They shouldn't be smoking the stuff, anyway. "I think you may be right. I... I had to curb it." he said.
"Curb it?" Olaf said, confused.
"Uh... you know. Throw it in the side of the road."
"Oh. You mean ditched it. Got yah," he replied. "That was probably a good idea. But you can't stay here now. We could all get expelled if the dean finds out. I'm sorry, man."
"I understand. I'll get my things," he told him without complaint.
"Nothing there, man. Like I said, cops took everything."
Illya nodded. "I'll look after things. You and the others keep out of it." He thought about Johnny. What if something happened? He felt Johnny might need a friend and Illya was the only one he truly had right now. What if the boy needed to get hold of him? "Do me a favor, Olaf." He pulled a little notebook and pen from his book bag and wrote down his home phone number. "Give this to Johnny. Tell him to call me if he needs me."
Olaf looked confused but took the paper. He stared at it and then shrugged before pushing it into his jeans pocket. "Sure, man. You can count on me."
Illya hoped so. That was the best he could do for now. "Thank you. I see you later," he said. With a little wave goodbye, he hurried away
The music was nice and the wine was excellent. Napoleon politely listened as Nancy made small talk through the meal. After dessert he indulged her wish to go dancing but feigned a headache and begged her pardon for ending the night early. Being the wealthy playboy reputation type, he got her some flowers and called a cab, which he paid for, to take her home. He gave her an appreciative, but noncommittal, kiss to say goodnight as he saw her on her way. Then he had the valet get his car and he drove by Illya's apartment on the way home.
It was dark with no sign of life as Napoleon parked around the corner and watched the apartment from a distance. He waited and hoped to see a light come on or find Illya walking along the street on his way home. For over an hour he sat there until the chilly October night forced him to start the engine to warm up. Eventually he decided that Illya couldn't avoid him forever and tomorrow morning at UNCLE would be the inevitable face to face. The minute his erstwhile partner found out his apartment was cleared out, even he would get it through his stubborn head that the mission was over and it was time for all good little spies to come in from the cold.
Napoleon pulled his coat up tighter around his neck and drove away despondently.