Diamene swore viciously when word reached her that Solo and Kuryakin were out of reach of Irae and that the London office of their organization had misplaced them. The General raised an eyebrow as she deposited the receiver with a thump into the receptacle.
"You should treat my equipment with more respect," he pointed out.
That got an arch look. "But my dear, I always treat your … equipment … with respect," she pointed out with a smile.
The General sighed. "Incorrigible," he produced in English, his r's rolling dramatically. His laugh spoiled the effect somewhat. "So, what is the problem?"
"Solo and Kuryakin … not coming here," she made certain to assure him.
"I am still affecting repairs from their last visit, not, of course, that I blame them for the fire. Life becomes … exciting when they visit." He continued to look expectant.
"They were to go on vacation, they are in London instead and now neither my people nor theirs have any idea where they are. It was not Irae's fault. The timing of the flight precluded her getting on board. She will be there soon enough, but they are missing already." She sounded just a bit petulant about that situation.
"You wish to go? They were, after all, helpful in retrieving your cousin and in seeing that the family is settled in the U.S."
"You're not mad about that are you?" She asked as she twined her arms around his neck and held him close.
"As a member of the government, I am dutifully distressed that our people chose to leave the country and seek asylum in that decadent, sybaritic country. As the local … supervisor, I am not happy that the population of the area, already low, is seeking to move elsewhere. As a friend, I am glad they are no longer here. It was not safe, especially since my superiors choose to welcome this THRUSH with open arms. I do not trust them. Not only because of the madwoman with whom we dealt, my delicious blonde beauty." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her so close they were in danger of becoming one entity. He dropped a kiss on her head, her cheek and then sought out her lips. For a while there were only sighs, and sounds of contentment.
"You are concerned," he continued as they settled on the deep cushioned sofa with her on his lap.
"If two men are going to Jamaica, how do they get on a flight to England and ultimately to … what was it? Blackpool? There is nothing there besides a tower that emulates the Eiffel and an international airport."
The General chuckled. "Surely, if there is such an airport, there must be something there to attract people. "
"You don't suppose those stupid people that Crane worked for have an outpost there?"
"You make it sound like a frontier, my delight. Surely this place is more civilized than that. Crane is dead. Her notes burned with her. How would someone else carry … on … blood samples. But they were free of the virus," he objected to his own analysis.
"They no longer showed symptoms, my General." She made the words very possessive. "But that does not mean cure. Some viruses and bacteria can live in a host for a very, very long time. If they were not cured completely …" She kissed him deeply and stood. "Sorry. I must make certain this is not a problem for us as well. "
"Go. I will be here when you return. Or soon thereafter."
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Half an hour of rhythmic rocking down the road later, Illya had the last of the ropes off his ankles, Napoleon untied and the groggy agent sitting up and frowning at him. He explained what he had deciphered of the situation.
Napoleon nodded, then shook his head vigorously to get rid of the fuzzy brain issue. The windows in the back door were mesh reinforced, thus probably unbreakable without a gun to shatter the glass. The pallets they slept on were surprisingly comfortable. The interior of the van was empty of anything that might hurt them, but also of anything that might help them escape. Neither man recalled getting to sleep, but neither was wearing the travel rumpled clothing from the flight.
"Someone doesn't want us unduly inconvenienced, except for the abduction," he observed dryly.
"Probably did not expect us to awaken." Illya looked out the back windows. "It's about noon? Perhaps. We arrived at the hotel shortly after 1am local time. If it is noon now, how long have we been on the road?"
"Too long. We're probably almost wherever it is they want us … whoever they are." Outside the van, the sound of other traffic was picking up. "So do we see where we're going? Or do we leave?"
Illya tried the handle to the doors. The door popped open quietly. "This is too easy," he intoned and widened the opening to see late model English vehicles around them. "There should be a light or a stop sign soon." The van slowed as he spoke. "The odds of escape are good."
"The odds of finding out what's going on are better if we let them take us there."
"The odds are best if you let us help," a woman said just on the other side of the opening. "Mr. Kuryakin?" Del Cowl looked up at him with a friendly smile. "Glad to see you're in one piece. I'm Del Cowl from the London office." As though the accent didn't give that away. My partner's talking to the driver. Apparently, they thought you were secured." The laugh in her voice was obviously aimed at the clueless THRUSH operatives rather than the two men in the back of the van.
"Miss Cowl," Napoleon nodded. He was aware that other offices had followed Waverly's lead in placing female agents in the field. He sized up the lady as he climbed to his feet. Medium height, midnight dark hair with golden glints in the sun, friendly amber eyes that he suspected might not stay friendly and a mouth that begged to be kissed … some other time. He swayed on his feet and sat down again. "I hate to say this, but I think I'll be the observer on this one. How are you feeling?" he asked Illya, the frown on his face conveying more than the words.
"I am fine."
Del saw the concern in the smaller man's face. The synergy between the two was becoming clear as she watched the silent interplay. She knew the rules, agents were not supposed to be involved; not as lovers, not as friends. Yet it was obvious there were ties between these two that transcended partnership. She recognized them as closer to home as well. Damn. So that was the secret to survival. A feline grin curved her mouth for a moment as she hauled herself into the back of the van. "You join Oxblood, my partner. Crawford Oxblood. " She saw them exchange a look. "Yeah. What was his mum thinking? Don't let the shifting accents throw you. I'll keep Mr. Solo company until we get where we're going."
Dr. Heron turned from the monitoring station where she was listening to the conversation between the agents. Excellent. Quite excellent. "Although I 'm thinking more Cowboy two step than waltz, darlings," she muttered to herself with a smile.