At that moment, Illya's shoe-communicator bleeped. Napoleon, staring mutely at his partner for a moment, finally answered it.
"One minute, Guv, and we'll pick you up in the field behind the house. Being as we're in a chopper, we might attract a bit of attention, so you need to be prepared to run for it."
"We'll be there."
Napoleon signed off and handed the shoe back to Illya.
"You're going to need this. We move out. Now!"
Illya quickly put his shoe back on and followed as his partner started to pick his way round to the back of the house as inconspicuously as he could. Suddenly a commotion from behind and the sound of gunshots stopped them in their tracks, but only for a second.
"I think they've found our handiwork in the cells. RUN Illya!"
Forgetting all pretense at stealth, the two men ran as fast as they could, dodging bullets as they made their way across a wife flat lawn, bordered with as yet empty flowerbeds and small hedgerows. They made for the gate at the back in a straight line, ignoring fountains and flowerbeds, smashing their way through or across anything in their paths, bullets still raining down around them. Fortunately, a running man is much less accurate at aiming a gun than a man standing still. That, felt Napoleon, was their one advantage; as none of these THRUSHes seemed to realize that by standing still and aiming carefully, they might well have succeeded.
April was bringing the chopper down into the field as Napoleon and Illya raced towards it. Mark hung out of the doorway with a machine-gun and was firing warning rounds at the feet of the pursuers. The partners reached safety and April took off hurriedly and sped away, low across the fields.
None of the four said a word to each other until April landed the chopper once again on the UNCLE helipad. As the rotor blades slowed to a stop, the four stayed put, Mark and April twisting in their seats to face their colleagues.
"Well, Guv, that was short and sweet!"
Mark's reply was met with a stare from Illya and a single raised eyebrow from Napoleon.
"Thanks for being so quick off the mark you two." Napoleon complimented them, as the three of them watched Illya jump down from the chopper and stride away into the office without a second glance. April looked concerned.
"Are you both all right?"
Napoleon fingered the two bald patches on the side of his head and nodded.
"On the whole, I thought we were. I think Illya managed to get all the information he wanted, which is partly why we are back again so quickly. If I hadn't insisted on going along, he might have had more time to investigate. Although, without me as a distraction, there would have been a lot more opportunity for that Colonel to see through Illya's game. He was good though."
"So what is wrong with him? He's being very…I dunno, icy all of a sudden?"
Napoleon looked troubled.
"Just before we left, Illya said he had to run and grab some of his brother's papers from a cupboard or something in his room. When he came back, he was like this. He said something about having to leave UNCLE when all this is over, and he hasn't said another word since."
"He's discovered something." April commented thoughtfully. "Something devastating…or at least, important. Why would he throw away his career in UNCLE? Especially when it is not certain that he would be allowed to stay in America if he just leaves."
"Well whatever it is, it has to be something to do with his brother. I'll try and get him to talk to me, but you know Ilya. When it comes to the private stuff, he's tighter than a clam. Come on, they'll be waiting for us downstairs for debriefing. I want know what Illya found out."
The three agents left the chopper and followed their colleague to the helipad office building, where April signed the chopper back in. Downstairs they found one of the young secretaries waiting for them.
"Mr Tarasov's office please, for debriefing. Molovitski and Polokofiev are already waiting for you. Would you like coffee?"
They nodded and thanked her, and made their way to Tarasov's office. They found Illya already sitting waiting for them, his arms folded across his chest almost defensively. Napoleon sat beside his partner.
"Are you all right, my friend?" he asked softly, real concern in his eyes. Illya, intent on being determined and defensive, saw the worry in his partner's eyes and his heart melted. Napoleon saw, for just a brief moment, the grim façade crumble, and caught a glimpse of the vulnerable man beneath; then Illya looked away, and the moment was passed. When they were seated around the table, and the coffee had been delivered, Tarasov looked round at them.
Polokofiev and Molovitski, his two top agents. Active and intelligent, sometimes a little lacking in imagination at times, but thorough and efficient.
Mark Slate and April Dancer, two of Waverly's people from the New York office. To be sent here as backup for Solo and Kuryakin, they were clearly efficient and trustworthy agents, and they seemed to gel well; both with each other and with the two they were here to assist.
Napoleon Solo was the chief of section two in New York, and all set to take Waverly's place when the old man retired. That made him more or less the Number One section two agent of UNCLE worldwide, with Kuryakin the Number Two.
Tarasov recalled vividly the day these two had first met. Napoleon had blown a THRUSH plot wide open, but had gotten himself captured and tortured for his pains. Kuryakin had been the one eventually assigned to go in and get Solo out of there*. Things had initially been pretty tense between them. There was a reason why Tarasov had not told Kuryakin the identity of his new partner when he had been transferred to New York under Waverly's command. If he had known beforehand whom his new partner was going to be, it was a fair bet that he would have flatly refused to go. But go he did, and the two had become the very best pairing in the history of UNCLE. Despite their differences in personality and temperament and background, they gelled. Their successes were second to none.
To this day, Tarasov regretted that during his negotiations with Waverly, he had been unable to persuade the old man to let Solo transfer to Moscow instead of the other way round. It hadn't been for a lack of trying either. Waverly had been adamant though. Solo stays in New York, and Kuryakin was to transfer and join him, end of debate. Tarasov doubted whether there was any UNCLE agent anywhere in the world whom had not heard of Solo and Kuryakin by reputation. Of course, it naturally followed that a similar reputation had been built up by them within THRUSH as well. If Illya's deception had been discovered, there was no way he would ever have managed to get himself, never mind Solo out of there alive.
Looking at them now, Solo looked remarkably fresh and untouched, considering he had been expecting to be brutally tortured in there. Kuryakin on the other hand looked haggard and depressed. Under the circumstances that was understandable. He had initially learned about the death of his brother over a month ago, but circumstances had prevented him from being able to put the loss behind him and move on with his life. The death of Mikhail Stanislaus Alexeev Kuryakin was still stuck very much in the forefront of his mind. He smiled amiably at them, and gestured to Solo to begin the debriefing.
"Perhaps you would care to begin Mister Solo?"
Solo glanced at his partner's tense face, and could tell that he was going to find it difficult keeping himself in check if this took too long. He briefly described his incarceration and his partner's ingenuity, and then gestured to Illya to continue. After a pause to collect his thoughts, which looked like they had been elsewhere, Illya spoke up.
"I don't want to go into the hows and whys of our conversations in there sir, I just want to report the facts. Now, THRUSH central knows nothing about any memo or any kill contract or anything else. THRUSH have…or rather they had a KGB mole in that Old Mine Science Station. This mole was the one who informed the KGB of the location of the base, and it would have been this mole who found Mikhail's memo about me, and informed the KGB."
"So your murder was engineered by the KGB? How? Why would they want to involve themselves in something like this?"
"Sir," Illya reminded him wearily, "The KGB don't like having their people snatched out from under them, especially when they have invested lot into their education and training as they did me. They wouldn't assassinate me openly because to do so would be seen as traitorous. But they found a way to make it appear as though it had been done by THRUSH. The KGB Mole himself was never actually in that old mine, but had an informant of his or her own who was stationed there. This same KGB mole has more than one informant. The only way this could have been done was if this mole was in a position where he would have been able to get messages easily in and out of Russia, and around America without raising any suspicions. We realized that it must be someone of relative importance, stationed in the States but with access to the diplomatic core, but who has been there for a while and established connections of his own in the States, both within the Amercian branch of THRUSH, and also…"
"Also…?"
"Also within UNCLE."
Illya turned to Napoleon.
"You remember everywhere we went; we were met with Satrapys that had been pre-warned of our coming. That was the only way we could have had so much trouble and so many narrow escapes. They were warned of our coming and had time to prepare for us. The only explanation for that is a traitor within UNCLE… and it will have to be New York."
"So Mr. Waverly was right to make everyone believe that we are dead. This THRUSH/ KGB mole will believe we are dead too. That would be our only advantage." Solo replied. Tarasov shook his head.
"I disagree. I think that this KGB mole should be easily found now you know where to look. Someone with access to easy communications around America, and to and from Russia, with access to UNCLE as well? It would have to be someone at the Russian Embassy…wouldn't it?"
Illya looked up. His face grey.
"The Ambassador's aide. It's the Ambassador's aide. It was he who came to see me at UNCLE and told me that Mikhail was dead. He was also the one who told me about Mika's note, and the fact that he had wanted me dead. Impressing upon me how very much my brother had changed."
Mark shook his head.
"You know, it's one thing having to tell a bloke that his brother is dead, but why did he have to tell you about the letter? That seems to me to be a bit too cruel! You didn't need to know about that."
April slammed her hand on the table, making everyone jump.
"That's it!" she cried. "Mark, you've got it! I knew something didn't add up with all of this. If you tell Illya his brother, who has always been just like Ilya in every way, has been found dead in a THRUSH base, what would he do?"
Illya nodded.
"Go in and investigate why he was being kept prisoner by THRUSH. Take his body if I can and bury it myself."
"Exactly!" April replied, her eyes dancing. "They knew enough about Illya to know that he would never just let things rest there without investigating. And if Illya went, Solo would too, and their whole set-up might be exposed! But tell Illya about Mikhail's memo, and the chances are Illya would be sufficiently shattered to believe that his brother was evil, and the one responsible for everything that followed. Illya's death would then be engineered by him at the behest of the KGB, and no one would be any the wiser. It would all be put down to THRUSH by the request of Mikhail."
There was a long silence in the room. Everyone was convinced, but how on earth could they ever prove it? Illya frowned.
"Howard Moran…that THRUSH Colonel will guess by now that I am me and not Mikhail…considering the way I clobbered him. Which on reflection might have been unwise. If I had retained my deception as Mikhail I could possibly have gone to the Russian Embassy in America as Mikhail to give that aide a shock…"
Solo shook his head.
"They all know by now anyway that Mikhail was THRUSH. It wouldn't have worked for long. You'd have been locked up my friend. But your friend Moran knows what you know about all of this doesn't he?"
"Yes, of course."
"So will he be concerned about finding a THRUSH KGB informer?"
"Well he wasn't too worried about that. He was going to send me…I mean Mikhail to America disguised as me…I mean Illya, to try and find the mole…" Illya blinked and shook his head, a wry look on his face. Everyone laughed.
"Don't worry mate, we know what you mean." Mark assured him. "I suppose he would have been too excited at having nobbled the great Napoleon Solo to worry about moles and informers."
Illya nodded.
"That's why we had to speed things up and get out. Central were to come and pick up Napoleon within a couple of hours. Moran wanted his promotion. It is possible that to make up for losing Solo, he might try to find this KGB informer himself."
"Is it likely that he will succeed?" Molovitski asked. Illya shook his head doubtfully.
"He's not stupid in any way, but he has a one track mind. He sees only what he wants to see. The Ambassador's aide…if it is him…will see him coming a mile away and probably set him up. He'll be more of a liability than anything else."
"There might be a way we can use him to help ourselves though…" April put in thoughtfully. The others looked at her. She looked round at them.
"Well we still have to find this traitor in UNCLE New York. If we can capture this Colonel Moran and take him to New York as a prisoner, and leave him in the cells; let it be known that he is a THRUSH officer from Russia who knew Mikhail Kuryakin very well, but no more; we just wait and secretly watch. Possibly the mole will give himself away. Once we find the mole, he can tell us who his contact is."
Napoleon nodded.
"I vote that as Illya and I are still officially dead, that should be a job for you two. Go into that place you just got us out of, and capture him if you can and take him back to the States."
"And what are you going to do?" Mark asked. Napoleon glanced briefly at Illya.
"I think my partner has some ideas about that. We'll keep in touch with you through Mr. Tarasov…if that is all right with you, sir?"
Tarasov nodded. They had all noticed Illya's preoccupation.
"Whatever you are doing, make sure you equip yourselves first from the equipment store. Keep yourselves safe. All of you."
Outside the office, Mark and April decided to leave straight away on their new assignment, just in case THRUSH Central decided to whisk Moran off somewhere. The four friends said their goodbyes, and then Illya turned without another word and walked back down the corridor.
"Where are we going my friend? I know you have something in your mind. Would you like to tell me about it?"
"Since you have invited yourself along, Napoleon, I suppose I don't really have a choice. But the first place we are going is the commissary. I have not eaten for a hundred years."
As soon as he mentioned it, Napoleon realized how long it had been before either of them had eaten a proper meal.
"Good idea my friend. You can tell me what is going on whilst we are eating."
"What is going on?" Illya repeated innocently. Napoleon smiled.
"You found something among your brother's papers that affected you. Now because of what you said to me, it has affected me too. I need to know what it is, and why you think it means you have to leave UNCLE…leave me. I am your friend Illya, and whatever it is, I want to help you."
"What about our mission?"
"There's not a lot we can do from here my friend, until we hear one way or the other from Mark and April. Right now we are better off staying dead. So it would seem we have a day or two on our hands, and I think you have something or other that you need to look into. Am I right?"
Illya sighed and nodded. They reached the commissary and collected their meal, the day's special, and took seats at a small table near the wall. Before he started to eat, Illya reached into his inner pocket and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to his partner.
"Here, Napoleon. Everything you need to know is there in this letter. I found it among my brother's belongings. You perhaps should read it."
Napoleon took out the letter, and started to read.