Chapter Seventeen

Once More Unto The Breach

April listened at her door, but the noises from downstairs did not penetrate this far up. Frustrated, she sat on the bed and waited…for all of five minutes. Finally, she heard Jackson at her door, and then the door was open.

"Did you bring Si indoors? Did he try to fight you?"

Jackson shook his head, his eyes narrowing in distaste.

"He begged to see you. He says he came because he is desperate to get you back. When I told him you were finished with him, he began to cry!"

April's eyes opened wide in surprise, then her mouth twitched.

"What do you want to do with him? What would they do with him?"

"Kill him of course. Especially now."

April studied Jackson's averted face closely.

"You don't want to kill him do you? You're not that type."

He shook his head.

"Too much killing already in this world. But he needs to be silenced. Killing is one way of guaranteeing his silence. I'll do it if I have to."

"But the rest of the people in this house…they've all gone off to this function thing haven't they? They don't have to know Si was here. You could scare him and send him off. I told you, he's a coward at heart. A typical bully, but I don't want to see him killed. Besides, what could he tell anyone? That I came round being nosy and you offered me a job?"

Jackson grabbed April's arm slightly more roughly than usual.

"Why on earth would you think everyone has gone? Leave the house almost empty? We have plenty of men to guard the house and the grounds, mark my words. Now, according to this Si, you know a good deal more about what is going on here than you let on when they first picked you up. If he's right, you might just find yourself at the wrong end of a gun."

April frowned.

"I warned you all about Si. He'll do what he can to get the heat off himself. I'm just a harmless masseuse trying very hard to avoid being his girlfriend. Even Si is harmless really. He's a sort of fixit man, that's all. If there is someone with the idea that something illegal is being done in this house, or from here, and they want more information, perhaps for blackmail purposes, Si is the one they go to. He has…contacts…you know? All over the place."

"Like you? A spy of some sort?"

"A spy? Me? Are you serious? Jackson why are you suddenly so suspicious of me?"

Jackson grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her firmly, although not too roughly into the drawing room. There, tied securely to a ring bolt embedded in the ceiling, was Mark.

"I just don't know which of you I believe."

April stared at Mark with an expression of exasperation on her face.

"Si, what the hell are you doing here? I thought I had managed to get away from you, and yet here you turn up again. Can't you ever take no for an answer? Now you've got this chump wondering which of us to trust! Couldn't you have come up with anything more original than a Plummer? Now we're both stuck in this mausoleum, and Uncle Alex is going to have to go to the ball on his own. He was relying on you for a lift! When is he expecting you to pick him up?"

Mark lowered his eyes, secretly rejoicing at his partner's acting ability. The least he could do was try to play his part convincingly.

"In one hour I think…sorry babe, but you love me. I know you do. Why would you stay here?"

April let out a breath and glanced at Jackson who was looking rather annoyed at her calling him a chump.

"I didn't actually get any choice…Jackson, why don't you go to see Uncle Alex instead of us?"

"Uncle Alex? What are you two going on about? Something is going on here, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

He turned to the table and picked up the telephone receiver.

April glanced quickly at her partner and nodded her head a fraction. He smiled and winked. The next moment, April's left leg raised high and kicked the telephone receiver out of his hand. She followed quickly with a low, sweeping kick with her right leg that swept him off his feet and brought him to the floor with a bump!

"What the hell…?"

With a sweet smile, April removed a tiny vial from inside her blouse and removing the stopper, waved it under his nose. Within seconds, he was snoring gently.

"Mark, fancy choosing that particular sewage outlet! No one would have got suspicious if you had chosen the main sewer!"

"Sorry!" he grinned. "Where is Uncle Alex going this evening? Does he know?"

"To the Embassy Ball...and no, I don't suppose for a second that he does."

He nodded appreciatively.

"Well done you! A THRUSH presence eh?"

She nodded.

"Teeming with THRUSH. We need to get some of our own there, and I ought to go too, without my disguise of course. You could probably go safely enough…no one would recognize you in your tux after that dirty old outfit you have on there. You've smelled sweeter, partner!"

Mark laughed.

"And our THRUSH friend?"

"I'll tell you on the way."

Swiftly April untied her partner, and whilst Mark set about tying up Jackson and heaving him over his shoulder, April removed her communicator from its hiding place in her bra.

"Open Channel D. Section two to section one."

"Channel D open…." There was a pause, then Waverly's voice came across the receiver.

"Waverly here."

"Agent Dancer sir. We need a team to secure this house, sir. It's a THRUSH base masquerading as a private residence. They have several enterprises going on here sir, one of them I suspect is the gun-running that appeared in the report. There is a more pressing matter though sir; all the primary members of this base are attending tonight's' Embassy ball. There are several security types dotted around the grounds. The young woman called Olivia Del Paglio, the one we have been specifically watching for, sir, is acting as a hostess at the ball."

"How interesting! Very well, I will get some section two and three agents to your location immediately. How soon can you get back here?"

"Leaving now sir, with a prisoner."

"I will have Invitations for you by the time you get here…which Embassy, but the way?"

April frowned. How come she didn't know that? Waverly gathered as much from her pause.

"I will look into it. Report to me as soon as you arrive."

April signed off and sighed. Mark grinned at her.

"Can't win everything, partner. This chap will know. We'll get him to cough up, never fear."

"I hope so." April replied dejectedly as they left the building. "I really hope so."

Leaving the grounds was not quite the issue they had been expecting. Finding the gate controls was not difficult, so Mark marched straight out of the house, down the driveway and through the opened gate whistling cheerfully and boldly. A moment later, he had collected his car and driven it up to the front door. Together they heaved the unconscious Jackson into the back of the car and drove quietly away. By the time the security guards realized the subterfuge, the pair were well away with their charge.

Jackson was lying cozily in the back of Mark's car still sleeping peacefully. April sat hunched in the passenger seat as her partner streaked through the streets of Long Island, heading back to headquarters. He glanced sideways at her.

"Talk to me."

"I'm all right."

"No you're not. Tell Uncle Mark."

She sighed softly.

"I was just thinking I could do with a nice holiday about now, somewhere warm but not too hot, where no one can find me and bother me with their silly problems."

"Long day?"

"Long week! First my heart broke when Napoleon and Illya died, but then I was…upset because they were alive and put me through all of that emotion. Now my heart is breaking again for Napoleon's sake and for mine because of Illya…you realize if he succeeds in doing…whatever it is he is doing in Russia right now, UNCLE is going to lose him. And now I am angry at myself for not getting all the information we need."

"Emotional rollercoaster, eh? Look kiddo, you were a prisoner in that place weren't you? More or less?"

"Hmmm." April conceded gloomily. Mark grinned at his partner.

"Waverly wanted you out today regardless of what you did or did not find out, so that part has been a success."

"Bully for you!" April harrumphed. Mark laughed aloud.

"April love, why are you so gloomy? You found out for certain that that place is THRUSH, you found out that they are definitely up to something, you found out that all the top brass will be at a posh `do' of some kind, and we have a prisoner to boot! Without you we would have been no further on than we were when we got back from Russia! Moran still hasn't said a word and no one has yet gone in to see him. The only one who has been anywhere near him is catering."

April stared at her partner. He caught her gaze and frowned for a second, then he too realized what was in her mind.

"The caterers?"

She nodded.

"Prisoners receive their food always the same way by the same person. The Section 6 officer assigned to the prisoners' meals. Catering contact section 6 when the prisoners' trolley is ready for delivery and section 6 always send down the same person to deliver it. Always the same person…Open the hatch, slide the tray through and relock the hatch before the prisoner can retrieve it the other side. Collecting the trays, the same thing happens in reverse."

"The only one who has ever and could ever go near the cells without being suspicious."

"We had better look again at those tapes, Mark."

MFU MFU MFU MFU

Illya spent the next few hours silent and glowering, refusing to emerge from his black fit except for a scowl and a snarl. Even Napoleon had little success in persuading his partner to respond, and when he did it was with an impatient gesture.

Napoleon had witnessed Illya's moodiness before of course, but he had never before felt the trepidation he now experienced at the thought of interrupting his friend's thoughts. If asked he would have been hard put to say whether this behaviour was Illya being himself, or Illya being Mikhail. Either way, he had become a frightening individual, even to Napoleon who was closer to Illya than anyone else living. Glancing round the carriage, Napoleon's eyes fell upon the young woman who had been sitting on Illya's knee when he first came in. She smiled at him.

"So, how come I've not heard a word out of you? Do you have a name?"

Napoleon nodded and spelled out his name using sign language. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Sign language? Sorry but I never learned it. You appear to read lips very well for a deaf man though."

Napoleon made some simple gestures to convey the fact that he wasn't deaf. The girl appeared to understand.

"You're not deaf at all? But you can't speak? Too bad. What was it, an injury or something?"

Napoleon shook his head and shrugged. She smiled.

"Shame. A face like that could make a girl weak at the knees…especially with a nice speaking voice. Can't you try? Try to say something aloud."

Napoleon opened his mouth, then shrugged and closed it again, hoping the girl would get the message. Illya was clearly feeling his partner's awkwardness. He looked round and visibly nudged his partner.

"Leave him be will you?" he said to the girl, a little sharply. "He's been through things you will never understand. He used to talk once, but he's not spoken a word since the war. Nagging him is never going to help."

"Sorry."

Napoleon smiled shyly at her, deliberately flirting with her with his eyes, and she blushed and giggled. Illya rolled his eyes and returned to staring out of the window. He secretly hoped Napoleon would control himself this time. Who knew what he might forget in the heat of passion?

Napoleon too was aware of the danger, and he contented himself with smiling at the girl with his eyes but before it could get any further, he closed them and snoozed.

The next thing he knew; someone had given him a gentle kick in the leg.

"Wake up sleeping beauty! We're almost back in Moscow."

Napoleon rubbed his eyes and looked around. The young woman and the two men whom had been sharing their carriage were gone. Illya was looking down at him, his expression sad, although Napoleon was relieved to see the angry scowl was missing from his partner.

"Hello" he signed briefly. The side of Illya's mouth raised in a brief smile.

"You're finding it a struggle aren't you?" He said softly. Napoleon nodded Illya squeezed his elbow briefly.

"I do appreciate it, really."

Napoleon raised a single eyebrow and Illya read the unasked question easily.

"You think I would sooner be on my own? Napoleon, you…I…" Illya's voice broke and he had to take a deep breath before trying again.

"Napoleon, you think that because I never tell you about my past I don't trust you with it? I never tell you because some of it is hard enough to think about. Almost impossible to talk about. It has nothing to do with not trusting you. My friend, you are the only family I have left. If I have to face anything else…Napoleon, I thought I wanted to do this alone, but if you give up on me now…" Illya left the sentence unfinished and turned away. Napoleon was touched, and stuck in his disguise, wholly unable to express himself. He was oddly reassured though. He wasn't wasting his time here after all. Illya had been decidedly chilly when they first set out, because he had firmly believed this was his own task to complete; but he had changed his mind.

He smiled to himself. Perhaps Illya was enjoying watching Napoleon enduring the discomfort of wearing a fat suit, dealing with the heat, and the make-up and the extra weight he was carrying around; to say nothing of the change in the way he was viewed by many of the women; and this persona, playing a mute man, he was unable to even use his charm to beat them down. On the female stakes, perhaps Illya felt slightly at an advantage now?

No, that's unfair, he chided himself. Napoleon was aware of the staff back at headquarters who would happily pass on a date with Napoleon Solo at the chance of a date with the Russian. Although Napoleon was unwilling to admit it frankly to himself, if Illya had been the type to romance all the women, Napoleon would have had a tough fight on his hands competing. He was suddenly aware that Illya was watching him curiously.

"What are you smirking about?"

Napoleon glanced down at his hands, then back at his friend. No way could he tell Illya what he had been thinking these past few minutes. He simply smiled and raised his hands to reply in sign language.

"Just thinking Illya, I hope you never change!"

Illya smiled briefly.

"Come along my friend. Time to rejoin our birdy friends."

MFU MFU MFU MFU

Alexander Waverly frowned at his two agents as they finished their verbal report. They could almost see the cogs turning inside his head. He leaned across his console and started to flip switches and press buttons, then he glanced up at the monitor.

"The visual on Agent Whitehead from the day Mr. Moran first arrived."

They watched the scenario play out smoothly as it had day after day with a dozen other prisoners. Nothing seemed amiss. Nothing obvious amiss. There was no sign of contact either verbal or otherwise between the agent and the prisoner, the food on its tray went through the hatch smoothly. Suddenly, Mark leaned forward.

"April, rewind that last part again for 'us!"

April complied, wondering what her partner had noticed. Once again they watched the tray being lifted from the trolley and placed in the open hatchway.

"There, did you see that?"

"What have you noticed?" Waverly asked him, peering hard at the screen. Mark clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"The napkin, did you see that?"

April frowned.

"So he put the napkin on the tray? What of it? The prisoner is entitled to one table napkin with his meal."

"Yes luv, but wouldn't the napkin be placed on the tray along with the food? Isn't it the custom to put your plastic cutlery on your napkin? So why did Agent Whitehead put another one on the tray before he put the tray through the hatch?"

The three watched the footage again carefully, and then hurried on to view other occasions. They found that just once a day, sometimes it was the evening meal, sometimes breakfast, but once every day the same thing happened. Just before sliding the food tray through the hatch for the prisoner to retrieve, Whitehead placed something white and square on the tray, presumably a table napkin; or at least, something that was meant to resemble one. April and Mark's eyes met and April nodded.

"Best we check I suppose. What about a security spot check? One of us be there watching when the prisoners' food tray is being prepared and laid out?"

Mark agreed.

"We had better make it a system wide check though partner, otherwise the staff down in catering might start to think they are under suspicion."

Waverly pressed his intercom button.

"Miss Rogers, we are ready for you now."

The door opened and Mr. Waverly's assistant Lisa Rogers came in with a thin file in her hands. She handed it to her boss and smiling at the two waiting agents, she left. Waverly opened the file.

"According to this, two of the Embassies are holding events this evening. The French and the Russian. Which do you favour as the most likely?"

"The French are a possible…but as my dad would've said, `An improbable possible'!" Mark said with a grin. "My bet would be on the Russian."

April frowned.

"We think Russian because…it was…er…our friend's belief that the traitors inside UNCLE and inside THRUSH have a contact in the Russian Embassy. It does seem most likely, but is it possible, even remotely, that this contact might be with one of the other embassies?"

"It's possible, but remember this person at the embassy had to have a contact within a THRUSH satrap in the middle of the Soviet Union. French connections are unlikely."

Waverly allowed the two to discuss the points for a moment or two before clearing hi throat and declaring an end to it.

"So thanks to the work you two have done, we have three possibilities to follow up…possibly connected and possibly not. We have to investigate the food tray going in to Moran; That fellow Jackson you brought in is being interrogated as we speak, so we need to find out what they come up with; and last but certainly not least, we need to make sure there is an undercover UNCLE presence at the Russian Embassy ball. I have here two invitations to the ball…" He smirked and cleared his throat. "The catch is, as the person who issued them is a very old friend, I have no alternative but to take one of the invitations myself. So Miss Dancer, perhaps you will do me the honour of joining me at the Russian Embassy Ball this evening? We'll see what we can discover between us."

"Yes sir." April replied throwing her partner a sympathetic look. What else could she say? Mark sniffed and grinned gamely.

"Very well, I'll undertake the system-wide security check of the building. Maybe I can come up with something concrete."

Waverly shook his head.

"Oh no, no, no Mr. Slate! We can brief Section Three under `Need To Know', and let them do the security sweep. I have a better job for you."

"Oh, yes sir?" Mark said brightly, secretly guessing what was coming next. One hour later, in the office he shared with his partner, he looked at himself in the mirror and cringed.

"I look like a damned penguin, April!"

April giggled at his unhappy expression. The full, high-class waiter, complete with crisp white shirt, black bow tie, waistcoat, smart straight black trousers and impeccable white apron around his waist that reached almost to his knees.

"Are you good at balancing full trays of food and drink in one hand without dropping or spilling anything? You may find you have to pass through every doorway backwards!"

Mark glared at her.

"Yeah, whilst you're having fun! What are you wearing by the way?"

April reached up and peeled off her face mask with its long fair hair.

"Not this anyway! I'm going to take a shower now, and sort my hair out...I'm going to wear this! Mr. Waverly sent out for it."

April opened the door of her cupboard and removed a ball gown in a clear plastic covering for her partner to look at. He stared.

"Wow!" was all he was able to say.

The dress was stunning. A strapless dress made with layers and layers of light peacock blue tulle, gleaming sequins painstakingly sewn into the bodice and around the lower part of the flowing skirts. The colour was the perfect balance for April's hair. Mark found he could not wait to see her wearing it.

"You could hide a machete beneath those skirts partner!" he commented, "But you might have a problem if you have to get into a fight!"

April grinned at him as she grabbed her bathrobe, her make-up bag and her ball gown and paused at the door.

"I think wearing a dress like this Mark, fighting will be the least of my worries. I've never worn anything quite this showy before. How on earth do I use the powder room wearing a dress this big?"

Mark chuckled.

"Can't help you there luv! You'll have to let me know how you get on later. I have to go in five minutes. Waiting staff have to be there very early. Look out for me."

April blew him a kiss.

"Catch you later. Give me a wink if you recognize me."

MFU MFU MFU MFU

Once again, Napoleon and Illya found themselves outside the large house in Moscow, where only a day or two earlier, Mark and April had affected a very efficient rescue. Now they were about to head back into the proverbial lion's den. Only this time they had no safety net. There was no Mark or April to rescue them if they got into trouble. The would have only themselves and their own ingenuity. Napoleon glanced at his partner.

"How do you want me to play this?" he signed, "This is your game."

"I am Mikhail, and I am fuming about the removal of my daughter without my express permission. Actually I am angry! You've guessed that they've taken her to try and control me haven't you?"

Napoleon nodded.

"I gathered that much. So am I angry along with you? Am I to be comforting?"

Illya considered.

"I think both…but you are also my unofficial protector I think. I have you to back me up with your fists if necessary. I think you can look imposing, even under all that padding…excellent, partner. I would say, rather than risk shouting out, if you need to attract my attention in a hurry, whistle loudly."

Napoleon nodded. As he followed his partner through the gates, a stray quote ran through his mind, Shakespeare's Henry V, act III, scene I "Once more unto the breach dear friends…"

Napoleon smiled grimly and hurried after Illya. Once more, unto the breach indeed…