The Gibb Says Uncle Affair
by Gale Force
Part 5.
That night happened to be a slow news night, not only in Norfolk, Virginia but around the USA, and so the News of the Weird segment was picked up and eventually shown across the country.
(Despite its name, it was not news so much as a gossip column, and so in-depth research and correct facts were not required...they ran with what they had...)
The host of the segment, with a photo of Ducky spotlighted over his shoulder said:
"And, in a fascinating bit of news out of Norfolk, Dr. Donald Mallard, chief medical examiner for the Navy, is involved in a mystery of his own today. He was scheduled to attend the week-long Medical Technology conference being held in Norfolk, but after two days he has vanished from his hotel room, leaving behind no evidence that he'd ever existed..."
"Except the bill," chimed in his-co-host, a beautiful blonde with a supercilious smile.
"Yes, Cathy," smirked the host. "It seems Dr. Mallard has decided to fly south for the winter."
Of all those who saw that segment, several reacted in their own particular way.
1. KUCHENKO
Gregori Kuchenko had looked at the card that Ducky had given him as soon as he had returned home.
Doctor Donald Mallard
Chief Medical Examiner
Naval Criminal Investigative Service
with an email and a phone number.
Typical of Kuryakin to have established a new identity in a similar field to that which UNCLE had once inhabited....but medical examiner? That didn't suit the Russian's style somehow.
Nevertheless, Kuchenko had intended to find some way to get in touch with him...and now, just a few hours later, Kuryakin had been spirited away from his hotel room.
Kuchenko ran his fingers through the tufts of what remained of his hair. Damn THRUSH. Damn them! They had followed him to the game, saw his accidental meeting with the man, and decided to take steps. He had sealed Kuryakin's doom.
But how could he know? He had needed help, he had tried to make it seem accidental...
Kuchenko punched a fist into his other hand. The question was..had they kidnapped Kuryakin because it had seemed that he, Kuchenko, had known him, or had be been kidnapped because someone else also recognized him as Kuryakin?
Either way, what did this mean for him?
2. SOLO
Even though the glass panes dividing the racquetball court from the hallway were extremely thick, the sound of the little rubber ball hitting the four walls managed to penetrate.
Within one of the rooms, a man and two women were playing racquetball. The man, although he was seventy-five, looked like he was sixty or even younger. He still had a full head of hair, although most of it was steel grey their were thick strands of black still remaining. His face, deeply tanned, was also deeply lined with age, but the skin under the chin was firm and he retained his classic good looks.
Even the most dedicated athlete will see weight shift into his midsection as he ages, but Napoleon Solo had maintained his strength and fitness since the day he retired from UNCLE, and was within a few pounds of his fighting weight.
Not that he fought anyone these days... except his daughter and grand-daughter who had no pity on an old man and ran him all over the court. (Solo had taught his children well - his daughter, in her late 30s (for he had married late and had been careful to not sire a child while still an agent of UNCLE) and her grand-daughter, in her early teens) and they were in great shape themselves.)
After their hour was up, Solo went into the locker room to shower and change. Their was a TV in each of the four corners of the room, each one tuned to a different sport channel.
Crisply dressed in black slacks and shirt, Solo carried his gym bag out into the lobby, and settled down to wait for his womenfolk. Although neither one obsessed about her appearance, they typically took an extra ten minutes in the locker room after one of their games. He didn't mind it... he'd people watch if any people walked by..
It was late at night...later than they normally played...and they were due to meet his wife at a restaurant in 45 minutes...
No one walked by. With a sigh, Napoleon glanced at the TV set that was constantly on. And froze, as he saw a photo of Ilya Kuryakin on the screen.
The TV set was normally muted. Napoleon lunged for remote control, just in time to hear the words, "Dr. Mallard has decided to fly south for the winter."
Mallard? Mallard? What the hell were they talking about?
It had been many years since Napoleon had seen Ilya - they had gone their separate ways after the dissolution of UNCLE. They'd gotten together once, about 15 years after the fact...and Ilya had established a career as a fashion designer and gone by the name of Vanya. But after that one affair, they'd gone their separate ways again. Oh, they'd exchanged Christmas cards, the occasional postcard, but that was it. They'd each created new lives for themselves and the old lives just didn't fit any more.
"Ready, dad?"
Napoleon looked up into the face of his daughter - beautiful, strong, confident...knowing him as a computer guru. And his grand-daughter. Equally strong, equally beautiful...with a sadness in her eyes that she always attempted to hide. She was married to a Army man, a Ranger, who was currently serving an extended tour in Iraq..after a honeymoon and three months of marriage.
Despite himself, Napoleon couldn't help but harbor a bit of resentment toward the man. He himself had put his life on the line every day, back when he'd been an UNCLE agent, and knowing that, he'd never made a commitment to a woman. He hadn't deprived himself, to be sure, but he'd never come even close to falling in love...or worse, having a woman fall in love with him...
But Michael Phillips, his grand-daughter's husband, had had no such qualms...
Well...that was enough of that kind of thinking...Phillips was a good man and would be a great son-in-law...
"Sure, let's go," Napoleon said.
They didn't know him as Napoleon Solo, of course, but rather as Nicholas Selby...just as Ilya Kuryakin had changed his name to Ilya Vanya...rather a quaint conceit, Napoleon had thought when he'd first heard about it... but it was a helluva lot better than Mallard.
After the family dinner was completed, Napoleon dropped daughter and grand-daughter off at their home (grand-daughter had moved in with her mother when her husband shipped out), then drove with his wife back to their own luxurious-but-tasteful house on the outskirts of Silicon Valley.
"I saw something on the news I want to check, darling, so I'm going to spend some time in my office," Napoleon told his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She smiled at him and headed to the living room to settle down with a book.
Napoleon pulled up the website for the News of the Weird, and replayed that night's installment.
Dr. Donald Mallard, he mused. What in the world would Ilya be doing posing as a doctor in the Navy, he wondered. Or worse...a medical examiner. Someone who cut up dead bodies. That certainly didn't sound like Ilya's cup of tea. Yet that was him, in that photo....
And something was going on....
Napoleon did some web research on Dr. Donald Mallard...and discovered that as usual the News of the Weird wouldn't know a fact if it came up and bit them. Mallard wasn't a Navy man...he was attached to NCIS - the Naval Criminal Investigation Service. That sounded more reasonable.
Napoleon pulled out his cellphone and dialed the number of the airport where he kept his private jet. (As the president and CEO of a major software company, Napoleon believed in traveling in style). He filed a flight plan for the next morning - destination - Norfolk, Virginia.
3. MARCOVITCH
Juliana Marcovitch brushed her long, red hair. Marcovitch gave her hair 100 strokes a side, each night.
As she brushed, her emerald green eyes focused on the TV set, reflected in the mirror in front of her.
Marcovitch was the Eastern Seaboard contact for the resurgent THRUSH organization. As such, whenever they had teams out in the field, part of her duties was to scan the various media for any news of interest to the various satraps around the world.
There was too much media for one person, however, and to this end, she employed people who did nothing but watch television news all day and quantify all the data on a given day, and other people who did similar work with newspapers - both print and online.
But as any THRUSH agent, low-level or otherwise, knows, failure is not tolerated. So in addition to compiling her employees's work, she also TIVOd the news on a variety of stations and "spot-checked" some of the media herself
Thus it was that her bathroom television was set to the local news channel, and she too saw the report on the disappearance of Dr. Donald Mallard.
Marcovitch duped the segment from the TIVO onto her computer, converted it into a digital file, and sent it via email to Sapphire. She had already, previously, informed Sapphire that her orders regarding the acquisition of Dr. Mallard had been carried out.
4. SAPPHIRE
When Sapphire received the video from Marcovitch, she watched it with creased forehead and pursed lips.
Obviously, Carlton Forbes was a man with a literal mind. Or...perhaps it was Marcovitch who had the literal mind. She hadn't actually meant for Kuryakin to appear to have "disappeared" from his hotel room - with no trace of him remaining. She'd just meant he was to be picked up with no muss or fuss.
Because of the method of his removal, more questions were no doubt being raised than was necessary. There should have been signs of a struggle in the room, perhaps a pool of blood, maybe even a body to suggest that Kuryakin had killed someone and was now on the run...
Well...there was a certain elegance about Forbes' method, to be sure.
Sapphire ran the video clip again.
That face..that was definitely Ilya Kuryakin's face. Still...
She texted a messaged to Marcovitch. "Send me the prisoner's fingerprints."
Hitting send, she snapped off her cellphone, then turned her mind to the more important matters of the final preparations for Project Polaris.
Revenge was a dish best served cold, and she had plenty of time to deal with Ilya Kuryakin.