Emma Stanford had spoken a couple more times with UNCLE headquarters since that early morning phone call with Mr. Waverly. It was 2:25 AM her time when she made the call. She knew that if she were caught she'd be killed. She had only worked for THRUSH about six months. When she applied for the job as a nurse she had no idea what the organization was about. She just knew that finally she had a chance to put her nursing degree to work. It didn't take her long to discover the kind of people that made up the organization, but by then it was too late for her to quit.
When she was called upon to assess the condition of that poor man stuck in that miserable shit hole they called solitary confinement, she was appalled that anyone could be treated in such a way. How he had managed to stay alive was anybody's guess. He was so caked in filth and mud it was anyone's guess as to the color of his hair or skin. She guessed he must have been fair skinned judging by his blue eyes she could see when he finally opened them. The poor man was nothing but skin and bones. Essentially, he was starving. When she tried to take his temperature his mouth was lined with mud from eating whatever food he got off of the ground. He was so dehydrated that he didn't produce enough saliva or get enough water to wash his mouth out. She tried to take his temperature rectally but that was even worse. She desperately wanted to remove the shackles. He had lost so much weight she wondered if she could just slip them over his wrists, however with the guards just outside of the door she knew it was a bad idea.
It was obvious to her that he had a strong will to live. But it was just as obvious he was rapidly fading away and losing the fight to stay alive. She had heard her superiors saying the man was an UNCLE agent. She knew about the United Command for Law and Enforcement. She had a distant cousin who worked as a police officer in New York City and told her about the semi secrete organization. Emma had called her cousin before calling UNCLE to see if he had a contact number she could use. Fortunately, with his help, she was able to get through to the person in command at UNCLE.
During one of the conversations she had with the head man at UNCLE she told them of a large grassy area in a valley near town where the helicopters could land and where the four wheeled vehicles could be picked up. By that time the people from New York were already on their way. She was told that their Lear jet should be landing in Boise about ten o'clock in the morning Eastern Standard time which was eight o'clock her time. It was their goal to be in place to invade the satrapy by eleven o'clock Mountain Standard time. Mr. Waverly asked if she could wait for them at an appointed rendezvous spot and show them the best way to approach their target. She couldn't. Emma was afraid that if she didn't show up for work someone might become suspicious of her absence. Instead she agreed to draw a map sketching out the rooms and guard locations, seal it in an envelope, and leave it with a friend of hers who was a waitress at a nearby restaurant. She told Mr. Waverly that his agents should ask for Kelley who would then give them the envelope. After completing her task, Emma left for the satrapy trying to hide her anxiety and pretend it was just another day.
The Lear jet landed right on time and within fifteen minutes all six agents had loaded their gear into the waiting helicopters. Napoleon lead one group of three while Mark Slate lead the other group. Two medics rode in the medical helicopter. Based on their conversation with Mr. Waverly and his description of the state of the patient, the two medics tried to anticipate what supplies they needed to have ready when they received him. No doubt the man would be severely dehydrated and malnourished so saline solutions mixed with 10 percent dextrose were readied as were bandages and other paraphernalia that might be needed.
The flight from Boise to the appointed rendezvous spot was one and half hours. Each team made preliminary plans during the flight realizing, though, that they might have to make changes once they saw Emma's map. By ten o'clock, the helicopters had landed. The extraction team piled into the four wheel drive vehicles. Napoleon directed the pilot and medics to standby.
"But when one of us calls you, you get in that bird and haul ass up to the satrapy. We know that the prisoner (Napoleon was reluctant to mention Illya's name in case it wasn't him) is in bad shape but we don't know how bad. It is a matter of his life or death, and critical that he is transported without delay."
"Of course, Napoleon. We'll be listening for your call. Now go get him, and…" he clapped Napoleon on the shoulder, "good luck."
Within a half hour the extraction team picked up the map left for them. They studied it quickly before piling back into their vehicles and driving north. It took another twenty minutes to reach where they wanted to leave their vehicles and another hour for the teams to navigate their way up to the satrapy's perimeter. Napoleon kept looking at his watch frustrated how much time had passed to get to this point. Was Illya still alive? What if the man they came to rescue wasn't Illya? No matter, they had a job to do and there was no time to dwell on the "what ifs". Hang in there, my friend. We're coming!
Napoleon raised his communicator to his mouth and said one word. "Go!"