The THRUSH Official and Leonard Brown were in the office discussing what to do about Kuryakin. "He should be allowed to die," Brown said, for the hundredth time.

The official sighed, "Yes, you have made that abundantly clear, Brown. And from what our nurse told us he is very close to doing so. The question is do we hasten his death by putting a bullet in him so we don't have to deal with him anymore or do we continue to let him waste away in that shit hole before tossing his carcass out onto the trash heap and let the bears take care of his rotting body?"

Brown smiled a particularly evil smile. "I say we butcher him like the pig that he is. String him up by his feet and cut his throat. Let his blood drain out of him."

The official looked at Brown hard. "Leonard, you have been singularly obsessed with referring to this man as a pig. I actually have a small amount of admiration for him. He's been UNCLE's number two agent for years and one doesn't get that kind of reputation without good reason. Mind you, I…"

The official's head of security rushed into the office. "Sir, our security appears to have been breached! I can't raise any of the patrolling guards on the radio. Our cameras show the security fencing has been compromised in at least three places."

"How the hell did that happen without you seeing it?" The official yelled. "Never mind. Gather the rest of the men and find the intruders and kill them. Oh…tell Rigby to go down to Kuryakin's cell and shoot the bastard. I bet they're here to rescue him. I don't know how…" Realization hit him. "That nurse! That bitch found a way to tell somebody about Kuryakin! Bring her here. You should find her near Kuryakin. I sent her down to check on him."

"Yes, sir!"

The UNCLE teams dispatched the patrolling guards with ease. The security was quite lax since no one expected any attacks at the isolated compound. Mark's team captured a couple of the guards. Pushing the guards ahead of them his team regrouped with Napoleon's.

"Look what we found, mate!" Mark pushed the prisoners towards Napoleon who grabbed the closest one and held his Walther to the man's head. "Today's your lucky day!" Napoleon spoke with a dangerously quiet voice. "You get to decide if you and your buddy are going to live and die."

"You can go suck eggs, mister. It's obvious you're UNCLE agents. We know you don't kill indiscriminately."

"Don't push your luck! You see a friend of mine has been an involuntary guest here and we've come to take him home." He ran the muzzle of his pistol down the man's face from his temple to his mouth. And then forced the muzzle into the man's mouth. "I am not in the mood to play games. If my friend makes it out alive then you will live. But if I find he's dead you will suffer the same fate, by the same means. Do I make myself clear?"

The guard's eyes widened with fear and nodded his head. Now your going to take my friend and his team to your boss while you," he pointed to the other guard, "are going to take me to where my friend is being held. Do I need," he looked at the second guard, "also to convince you of my sincerity?"

"N…no..!"

"Mark, you and your team go find the head honcho. Try to capture him alive, but don't hesitate to use force if necessary. Meanwhile, our little THRUSH friend here is going to take us to Illya."

Each team went in different directions.

Mark's team found their target first. They burst into the official's office and found both the him and Brown busily shredding papers. "Stop!" Mark yelled. Both men paused their hands still holding huge files.

"And who's going make us."

Without any further discussion Mark shot both of them with darts. After they succumbed to the powerful sleeping drugs, the UNCLE agents checked the men's pockets to look for identification. Brown's wallet contained a THRUSH identification card, his driver's license, and a small amount of cash. Mark frisked the other man and found absolutely nothing: no ID of any kind, no credit cards, no cash. They handcuffed their captors, and covered their mouth and eyes with tape before leaning them against the wall.

Mark sent one of his men to explore the area. Within minutes he came back emitting a low whistle. "You should see this place, Mark! This guy has a huge apartment, a suite actually. It's covered with wood paneling The living room has theater seats in it and a wide screen. The bedroom has a huge circular bed, the bathroom has a gold toilet and fixtures. There's a huge bathtub big enough for at least four people. Even the linens are monogrammed with gold thread!"

Mark called Napoleon on his communicator. "Napoleon? All is taken care of here. How goes it?"

"We're still on the move," Napoleon whispered. "Apparently, the cell is quite a ways deeper than the main level. I want radio silence from now on." He signed off.

A half hour ago, Emma was once again sent down to check on the prisoner. As she entered the cell there was no movement whatsoever from him. He was deathly still . She crouched down in the mud and gently cleared as much mud as she could from his neck. She held her stethoscope against his carotid artery and listened. Frowning, she moved the head to a different spot on his neck, said a little prayer, and listened again. There…yes, there! His pulse was disturbingly faint and slow, but by god there was a pulse. She sighed in relief. She sat in the mud and pulled Kuryakin's body into her arms. "You have to hang on! They're coming for you. Can you hear me? Your friends are coming, any minute now! Please…" she whispered.

Outside the open door of the cell, Emma heard the guard's phone ring. Rigby answered. "What?! Yes, sir! Gladly, sir!" He slammed the phone onto the receiver and pulled his pistol.

"Move out of the way, Miss."

Rigby had no inclination to step into the filthy cell. Instead, he raised his Lugar and took aim at Kuryakin.

"No!" Emma screamed as he took his shot. She threw herself across Kuryakin's body to protect him.

The same moment Rigby took his shot, Napoleon's team entered into the area. They saw him raise his arm, pistol in hand. Napoleon instinctively shot without aiming and hit the THRUSH agent in the neck, but not before Rigby got off his shot.

Oh no! Dear God, no! Napoleon raced to the open cell door. Before him he saw what appeared be a person completely encased in mud. Laying on top of him was a woman in a nurse's uniform. A huge red stain growing across her back. Both were quite still. Rigby's body blocked the doorway. Napoleon had the captured guard and one of his men drag the body out of the way. He gave his other agent the nod who turned and shot the guard with a dart. With both THRUSH men incapacitated the agents could turn their attention to what was going on in the cell.

One of the agents entered first and checked out the nurse, he looked at Napoleon and shook his head. She was beyond help. The two of them lifted her carefully and laid her down on the floor outside the cell. Napoleon reentered the cell, slipped in the mud and landed hard. Pushing himself out of the muck he leaned over the still body.

"Somebody get me some water! I saw some bottles on the other side of the desk."

A couple of bottles were thrown to him. He uncapped the first bottle and poured water over the prisoner's face using his handkerchief to wipe the mud away. As he washed the mud away blue eyes opened briefly before closing again. Napoleon's heart sang. There was absolutely no doubt that those were the eyes of Illya Kuryakin. "That's it. Come on, partner. Everything is going to be okay." He hoped those words would be true. Again he poured water on the cloth and wiped mud away. Once more the eyes opened and briefly focused on him. "Hey, Illya, we've come to take you home."

Illya's mouth moved forming the voiceless word, "Napoleon?"