THE MILTON-FREEWATER AFFAIR

by ardavenport and tlneill

= = = Act 5 : "We're inspecting the drains . . . "

"Shhhh, somebody's coming!" Napoleon hissed. Illya froze. Bernie peered out to see who it might be.

"Bernie, what're you doing there?" An older woman with a flowered hat and a clashing flowered dress stood peering at the three. Illya moved to hide the bomb he was dissecting. Napoleon stood up out of the shadow of the stairway to address their visitor.

"Uh, h-hello Mrs. Carson." Bernie stammered.

"We're looking for drains," Napoleon stepped in with a smile.

"Drains?" the woman asked.

"Yes." Napoleon paused to take a breath of air and inspiration. "Ah, we're with the State Water Board. We're inspecting the drains for organic obstructions."

"That doesn't sound too pleasant," she said a little vacuously. "And you're helping them, Bernie? That's nice. Will I see you tonight at the game?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll be there," Bernie mumbled.

She left. Bernie looked like he was going to faint and Napoleon shrugged, mildly surprised that he'd gotten by with such a stupid story.

"OK, Illya, get going," Napoleon instructed.

Illya let his breath out and resumed work on the explosive. He clipped a wire, stopping the timer. "Are all the bombs this type?" he asked Bernie, straightening up from his crouched position and tossing the now harmless explosive to Napoleon.

"I don't know. They wouldn't let me watch. I was supposed to look out for anybody wandering around and warn them."

"They probably are," Napoleon guessed.

"I hope so," Illya stated. "It'll be easier. Lead on, MacDuff," he instructed Bernie.

The next bomb was hidden at the base of a propane tank at the local service station. Napoleon and Bernie kept the station manager distracted while Illya went to work. When his partner hadn't appeared after a reasonable length of time, Napoleon left the manager to Bernie and went back to have a look.

"What, not done yet?" he asked softly.

Illya ignored him, concentrating on tracing a wire. Napoleon fell silent, watching him. After a few more minutes, Illya snipped the wire and let out a heavy sigh.

"What took you so long?" Napoleon ventured.

"It was a different type," Illya snapped. He stood up and stretched, un-kinking his back, and stalked to the truck. Napoleon picked up the bomb and, waving Bernie over, put it in the back of the truck with the other one.

The three of them worked steadily throughout the morning. Illya's temper improved as it became apparent that Boom-Boom had only used three different detonator designs.

"That's the sixth one," Napoleon mentioned as they walked back to the truck with their latest prize. He leaned casually on the side of the truck. "And they've all been timers."

"They go faster that way." Illya put the device in back with the others while Bernie cringed. He'd been assured many times that they were harmless with their detonators disconnected, but his nervousness increased as the pile in the back of his truck grew bigger.

"How long would you say it would have taken you to disarm them all if you had placed them ?" Napoleon asked his partner.

"Well, if I hadn't had to figure out how to disarm the first few, about two hours. Why?"

"All these bombs have been set to go off at twelve-thirty."

Illya caught Napoleon's line of thought. "I see. They never intended to disarm them whether we'd given ourselves up or not."

Bernie seemed aghast. "They were going to blow up the town anyway," he said more as a statement of fact than a question.

"Did you expect them to turn off their little toys once they had us?" Illya asked the Thrush disgustedly. The Russian didn't really think much of their guide. He was the kind of fodder an organization like Thrush used for its fetch-and-carry work. His type joined either out of naivete or greed; once they were in, they were stuck.

People only left Thrush in a horizontal position. Those who didn't have the proper streak of cruelty to really enjoy their work were usually tossed aside, or sometimes used as infantry. Canon fodder for U.N.C.L.E. to shoot at.

Illya didn't particularly feel any guilt shooting at people who were trying to kill him, but he didn't like the idea of doing Thrush's dirty work for them. He especially didn't care for people who were too stupid or lazy to find out, before they joined, what kind of organization Thrush really was.

"I guess I should have expected it," Bernie admitted guiltily. "Grandma used to tell me stories about when she was active in Thrush. When she started out they wanted to take over the world quietly. Nobody was supposed to know that there was a secret society running things when it happened. But then it was taken over by people who wanted to take over the world openly, so everybody could see 'em do it. She got tired of it and came here after Grandpa Skinner and my folks were killed."

"So you took over the family business," Napoleon stated.

Bernie nodded. "I'm low-level enough they don't pay much attention to me." He looked at the two almost pleadingly.

"I know I'm not smart, Mr. Solo," he admitted. "But I'm smart enough to know when I'm in trouble. I'm not all that loyal to Thrush, I'll help you guys all I can. I don't want anything happening to Grandma or Charlotte."

"If we don't want anything happening to everybody in this town, we'd better get to the rest of those bombs," Illya reminded. He didn't like confessions.

Napoleon glanced at his watch. "We've got two and-a-half hours till noon. How many more bombs, Bernie?"

"Uh," Bernie paused, trying to count. "Six. And I've got to be back by eleven," Bernie said. "They're expecting me. I'm supposed to meet them behind the high school."

"They are not, however, expecting us," Napoleon pointed out.

"Until noon," Illya glanced at his partner. The American nodded. They would finish disarming the bombs, then arrive at the rendezvous- a storage barn outside of town—early.

"We'll have just enough time to make our appointment," Napoleon said. "Let's go."

= = = END Act 5