Sorry this chapter took so long to come, but here we are at last. I do not own our boys, only the new characters.

Moran and Fyodor led Illya to a large estate on the outskirts of Moscow, overlooking the beautiful countryside. Illya resisted the impulse to gape as they approached. He remembered this place well as having once belonged to an impoverished Russian Count and his family whom had been discredited just after the war and sent to the Gulag. He couldn't help wondering whether Mika had been here? He swallowed down an unexpected lump and forced a grin on his face.

"Does this mean I can get out of these UNCLE rags now?"

Moran laughed.

"Everything is as you left it, MK. Go easy on the hot water for now, we're trying not to cause too much disruption with the civil authorities until we need to. We don't want to give them cause to send the KGB in here after all."

Illya shrugged.

"Why would they bother? Besides, give me a few weeks in a well-equipped lab I'm sure I can come up with a way to guarantee hot water without worrying about bills or authorities."

Moran looked at him in surprise.

"I forget sometimes that you're a scientist. You think you can?"

"Of course." Illya replied carelessly. "When can I start to interrogate my prisoner?"

"My prisoner now."

"Oh?"

"Yes, you captured him, but got yourself surrounded by UNCLE agents. You would be dead if it weren't for me."

Illya laughed dangerously; his eyes gleaming. He stared penetratingly at Moran. Fyodor gulped visibly.

"The last man who underestimated me did not live to regret it, Colonel. I suggest that you do not make the same mistake." Illya said acidly.

"I outrank you in THRUSH."

"I am a dead man, remember?" Illya reminded him. "What can you do to me? Napoleon Solo here has seen what I am capable of. Why do you think I was chased by four agents instead of just one or two? I could kill you both right here in two seconds flat, then walk inside the house and your people will obey me. THRUSH central will rush through my promotion as a matter of urgency and I will be controller of this sector in less than twenty-four hours. That is, if I wish it. However, I am neither vindictive nor ambitious. I am, however, eager to get to know our pretty friend here. Especially since my dear brother is no longer around to sweep in and rescue him."

Moran had paled slightly. He had forgotten these past few weeks just how intimidating Mikhail Kuryakin could be when he was riled. That was one of the things that made him so popular with Central Command of course. He had a habit of getting his own way. He frowned.

Illya gestured to Fyodor.

"Get Solo somewhere safe and secure. Blindfold him and put him in a straight-jacket. Put chains on his feet. Check on him every three hours in case he needs to relieve nature. I don't want this place to start stinking because of him. I will be taking a shower. Come and find me. I shall want a quick word with our prisoner once you have him settled."

Twenty minutes later, Napoleon Solo sat hunched on a bare mattress, listening to the silence around him and the occasional plop! plop! Plop! of something dripping nearby. His eyes were covered over by a bandage that encompassed his entire head, bar his mouth and nose. The chances of his searching the cell for an escape route was impossible without the use of his eyes. This could only have been Illya's doing. THRUSH did not have quite the imagination to come up with an idea like this. He was quite effectively prevented from removing the bandage by the straight-jacket he was now strapped up tightly in. His feet too had been hobbled with large heavy irons connected together by a short chain so that he could walk, but only in very small pigeon-like steps. He could only hope that THRUSH would not start to take lessons from his ingenious partner.

He awakened with a start, as he heard his name called. It was Illya, but in a tone he had never heard his partner use. He remembered swiftly that this was supposed to be Mikhail Kuryakin, a sworn enemy, and he screwed up his face in disgust.

"Enjoying our hospitality, Solo?" the voice called.

"Impressed by the five-star luxury. Less impressed by the cockroaches that crawl around this place."

"Keep your mouth shut!" Came another voice. Solo did not recognize the voice, but he recognized the sound of the cocking of a gun and sneered.

"You brought a little playmate with you did you? Too chicken to come face me alone? Even with me trussed up like this you need a man with a gun to protect you?"

"You will come to regret saying that, Solo!"

A moment later, Solo was sent reeling, as one of his `visitors' swiftly kicked him in the chin. He fell backwards on to the mattress and crashed the back of his head against the wall…and blacked out.

Colonel Moran glanced up from his three-course breakfast and nodded as Fyodor knocked on his door and then entered, bringing the young blond Russian with him.

"Aah! Kuryakin! Sit and join me. You must be famished!"

Illya actually was famished, but he had no trouble knowing what his brother's response would be to a spread like this. He screwed his nose up and shook his head.

"Thank you Howard, but you know how I feel about that! Some bread and a little cheese will do."

"At least have hot toast rather than plain bread, my dear boy." The man replied. Illya took a slice of toast, refused more and poured himself a generous measure of vodka. He sat at the table and watched the older man eating. Fyodor stood behind Moran, leaning against the wall. Moran looked up as he tackled a thick slice of bacon.

"You look hungry, boy. Are you sure you won't have some?"

"Eat like a king while my fellow countrymen are in need and want? This is not why I joined the rebels, or why I joined THRUSH. I will not discuss this again."

"How come it took you so long to get here? I gave you long enough for your shower. I've been waiting for you for over thirty minutes now."

Illya turned an icy glare on him. Moran raised an eyebrow in enquiry. Illya's glare softened as his mouth twitched in suppressed humour.

"I went dancing."

Moran nodded almost absently. He flicked a finger in Fyodor's direction. Fyodor took a step forward.

"We went to speak to the prisoner, Colonel."

"I see. And what did our friends talk about?"

"They exchanged insults, and Kuryakin here kicked the UNCLE man in the face so hard he was out for the count."

"You kicked him in the face? A man unable to retaliate except with his mouth?"

"Of course. He called me a coward."

"You are going to have to learn to control that temper of yours, MK. You've been told about that before. You do it to the wrong person and you could end up in very serious trouble."

"Perhaps. My brother was a good little boy who always obeyed orders and controlled himself and where did it get him? He still ended up on a cold slab in an UNCLE morgue. Sometimes it's better to go with your gut."

"You know MK, either you will go too far with the wrong person one day and end up with your entrails spread across the countryside, or you will end up the Chief of THRUSH. I would not like to bet which it will be."

"Chief of course…although I'd sooner get back to my science projects. Howard, there is something else I want to get to the bottom of too. Who was it that took my operation out of my hands and killed my brother before I was ready for it? Whoever is responsible killed a year's planning and ruined a month's work and how much further are we? A few paltry items of information that will be outmoded in a week or so."

"Was it central command who sent you on this mission to infiltrate UNCLE?"

"No, I informed them I would be doing so, and I believe I left behind a memorandum stating that the best way for it to work successfully would be for my brother to be put out of the way for good. Someone acted on it without consulting or even informing me. Maybe someone from THRUSH central, maybe someone who found the paper in the file where I left it, or possibly one of you?"

"Who had access to it?"

"Anyone at the Old Mine Base. Any member of the KGB who found…" Sudden realization hit Illya, and his voice dried up suddenly. Moran saw his face visibly whiten. Illya had realized something. He was not acting. Moran was watching him strangely.

"The KGB?"

Illya got up from his seat and paced across the room and back, genuinely concerned. Moran watched him, puzzled.

"What were you saying about the KGB?"

Illya came back to the table and leant both hands on it, talking earnestly.

"The KGB were the ones who destroyed our base at that old mine, Colonel. It was a message from the KGB to the UNCLE office in Moscow that was passed on to New York that a certain Mikhail Kuryakin was found among the dead. At the time they had no way of knowing that it was Illya."

Illya stood up and resumed his pacing.

"At the time he disappeared, I turned up in New York and took his place. Now, how did they find out about that place? There is no way it was detectable from outside. I designed the security features myself. I was its' chief, remember? Someone inside found that memorandum in my files and informed the KGB. Was it a plot to kill me and destroy our base? Or a plot to murder my brother that someone took advantage of?"

Moran stopped his pacing and stared at him.

"As far as the KGB are concerned Mk, you died when that satrapy was destroyed; Illya died in that explosion in America along with Solo."

"So which of us was the murder victim, and which of us the side-effect?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does, Howard. Whoever it was gave away the location of a THRUSH base to the enemy. The person who found and revealed that memo was probably someone working on the base. They will be dead now along with everyone else. But they must have been in contact with someone from outside the base who set up the murders of Illya and Solo."

"Couldn't it have been your brother who sent that message?"

"No. Security blanketing blocks all radio messages. Even those sneaky ones that UNCLE uses. Even our own people had to leave the security umbrella before they could send out any kind of message."

"Why would the KGB want to kill your brother, MK? I thought he was supposed to be one of them."

"He was, but those guys hold grudges. They don't like to let their people go. KGB training costs money and time and effort, and reportedly Illya was one of their best. They weren't happy when they were ordered to release him to UNCLE. The KGB are actually not the issue here anyway, Howard. They fail, they'll leave well alone. I'm concerned with the possibility of a member of THRUSH being a KGB informer. If that is so, then who knows where we could be before long?"

Moran nodded slowly. He was beginning to see where Mikhail was coming from, but how had he worked all that out so quickly? He struggled to focus on the main problem.

"So we're looking for someone…a member of THRUSH who was not assigned to the old mine science station, but who had a contact there? And someone who had or has a contact within the KGB. How do we go about finding out who that is? It could be one of many people."

Illya shook his head.

"The traitor contacted the KGB, but also must have either had a contact in the United States, or be resident in the States. Because whoever it was set up or arranged to set up those traps for Solo and Illya. The fact that I was the one who nearly got killed each time is neither here nor there. The fact is, someone has it in for both THRUSH and UNCLE. Did you know that Napoleon Solo and my brother were New York's top UNCLE agents?"

"That wouldn't destroy UNCLE…but I suppose it would be a place to start. So who would be in a good position to have contacts in both the United States and in Russia?"

Napoleon Solo was lying on the bare mattress in his cell where he had landed. His hands were wrapped around himself inside the straight-jacket, so he had no use of them, and he longed to rub his head. He had cracked his skull against the cell wall when someone…presumably Illya…kicked him, and he now had a headache the size of Mount Fuji. It felt as though it was bleeding. Although he was in a lot of pain, he was not feeling dizzy or nauseous, so there was no concussion at least.

He wondered how Illya was getting on in his investigations. This was not the sort of place to want to hang around for too long…one tended to end up dead. He did not have to wonder for very long. Within an hour of awakening with a mountainous headache, the door opened again and he heard two sets of footsteps enter the room, before the door clanged shut again.

"Is that the coward come back to gloat?" he crowed with as much disgust in his voice as he could. Illya lowered his eyebrows and aimed a hefty kick at Napoleon's left kneecap that made him grunt in pain and collapse to the floor. Moran's voice raised, cutting off anything his angry companion might have been about to say.

"Stop it you two. All right, Kuryakin, I have him covered. Why don't you remove the blindfold for now. I like to look into a man's eyes when he lies to me."

Illya grinned and pulled away the bands covering Napoleon's eyes. He saw Illya had showered and changed now, into black trousers, black shirt, black jacket and black cravat. His hair was slicked back and he looked extremely dapper…if all in black.

"All right Solo, enough of the insults for the time being. Suffice it to say I hate you as much as you hate me."

"You killed my partner!" Solo muttered. Illya grabbed his chin and looked deep into his eyes.

"Actually, Napoleon Solo, no, I did not. UNCLE and THRUSH have a common enemy. There is no way the Soviet government could have known anything about our base in that old mine where Illya died, so how did they find out about it? At the same time, about the time he was killed, I was with you in America, pretending to be him, and we were consistently being hit by bad luck. I say someone was informing on us… And I don't mean me!"

Napoleon stared at him.

"You mean…we were being set up? Are you sure it wasn't you?"

"Of course I am you fool! We have worked out that we have a very dangerous man to find… someone who is working undercover for the KGB, who is playing both ends against the middle. This person has a spy within THRUSH and also a spy within UNCLE as well."

Napoleon frowned.

"Are you sure you've not been drinking too much vodka?"

Moran lashed out with his fist and caught Napoleon across the left cheek.

"Careful. MK thinks we can use you. One more word out of line and I will kill you regardless of what he thinks. I assume you care about the future of UNCLE?"

"Enough not to trust any member of THRUSH."

"Fine. MK, you tell him, but prevaricate."

Illya proceeded to swiftly recount to Napoleon the gist of the conversation he and Howard Moran had had earlier. Napoleon recognized his partner speaking, rather than his alter ego. He furrowed his brow.

"All right, you want me to think of someone who has ready access to contacts both in the States and here? Someone with an ear within THRUSH and the KGB and UNCLE, both sides of the world? I know Illya could have come up with a most obvious answer quickly enough, if only he weren't dead. I could tell you but it will cost you dearly."

"You have nothing to bargain with, American!" Illya snarled.

"Fine!" Napoleon shuffled back to his bunk and lay down on it, closing his eyes. His head was throbbing. Illya turned to Moran who was huffing impatiently. He gestured for the man to follow him outside the cell. Once outside, he turned back to the Colonel and spoke in a low voice.

"You know what he will ask for don't you?"

"You think he knows anything?"

"Of course not, but I think he can hazard a good guess though. Face it Howard, if you are looking for someone in the States, he is probably your best hope. He knows people over there. Our information on him says that his grandfathers were men of high rank. He has often mixed with people of high rank. He can find your mole for you…and I am sure he will, but only to protect UNCLE and innocent civilians. But if you let him go, you won't get him back."

"I could always send you along with him, MK. I trust you to be able to get him back here."

Illya laughed

"I could do that, but only if I can remain awake twenty-four hours a day every day for as long as this thing takes to sort out. As soon as I fall asleep what's to stop him smashing me over the head with something or tossing me off a balcony?"

"What about both you and Fyodor to watch him?"

"Do you trust Fyodor, Howard? Honestly?"

Howard smiled slightly.

"Actually, the man is an incompetent idiot. But I believe he is trustworthy."

"Well I don't."

"No, you never did trust him did you, boy? So, what do you suggest we do?"

Illya smiled.

"Let him escape, and he'll do our work for us."

"Just like that?"

"Well, we can make it look good…make it believable. Remove his restraints so he can eat and forget to strap him tight enough so that he can get himself free. If he is sufficiently…chastised first…"

Moran smiled.

"You were always pretty good at disguises, MK, I could send you after him to keep an eye on him."

"So you could…Do you want to feed him and fail to tie him afterward, or do you want me to send Fyodor?"

"No my dear Mikhail Stanislaus Kuryakin. I think you should do it…you have a gift for that kind of subterfuge. Take Fyodor as a witness."

Illya smiled hollowly, and reached for his whip.

*for more, see my stories "The I have your back affair" and "Chasing Rainbows"