Napoleon Solo turned over in his bed for the hundredth time. He had been plagued with insomnia since the Los Alamos Affair. Often it was the continuous guilt that permeated every fiber of his being that kept him awake. Intellectually, he knew that Illya's death was not his fault however, emotionally he couldn't shake the notion that it was by his hand the fatal wound was delivered. The past few nights his dreams were haunted by the image of Illya wasting away from the poison as he stood helplessly by unable to provide comfort or care for his friend. Not for the first time, Napoleon woke in a cold sweat, his partner's name on his lips.
He glanced at his clock, 4:30 AM. He decided it was a wasted effort to try and go back to sleep. Sighing, he threw the covers back. Sliding his feet into his slippers, he found his robe where he had left it at the foot of the bed and slipped it on. He didn't bother turning on a light. The ambient light from the street below was enough for him to make his way through the living room and into the kitchen where he placed the percolator on the stove's burner, found a mug and measured out the sugar and cream. He usually preferred his coffee black, but he had consumed so much of it over the last month, or was it a month and half - he was beginning to lose track of time - that he found his stomach wasn't able to handle strong coffee anymore.
He leaned against the counter listening to the chugging sound of the percolator as the water began to warm and bubble through the filter basket full of coffee grounds. His mind backtracked through the events of the last month. Mr. Ridenour had been incarcerated and was waiting trial for his part in having his daughter kidnapped, conspiring to blow up the labs, and albeit for a very short time absconding with the three million dollars.
Napoleon was able to identify the FBI agents who ambushed them on that lonely New Mexican road. They were consequently arrested for assault on international crime officers and their association with THRUSH. It didn't take much for Solo to remember the nasty comments the THRUSH agents made to his partner about being clumsy in the cactus. The only way they would know that is if the FBI agents had told them. Once apprehended they sang like birds.
Then there was the matter how Leonard Brown knew about the two UNCLE agents working on their fencing. Neither Napoleon nor Illya had mentioned their fencing sessions to anyone. The only person who knew was the physical fitness director of the UNCLE gymnasium, Gus Crowley. It didn't take much persuasion for him to spill the beans about his association with the THRUSH organization in New York. Alexander Waverly dealt with the man personally. Napoleon hadn't seen him since.
As for Leonard Brown, he simply had disappeared. Waverly assigned his best researchers to look into the man's history and after weeks of poring through newspaper articles, documents, and discussions with the Soviet government nothing could be found. It was as if neither the man, or his father, had ever existed.
With the exception of Brown's disappearance, Napoleon was comforted with the knowledge that most of the loose ends had been taken care of, but there was still the matter of Illya's death. There hadn't been any chatter on the THRUSH airwaves regarding his death. Napoleon had thought that they would be crowing from the highest levels that UNCLE's number 2 agent had been dealt with and was no longer a threat. Napoleon approached Mr. Waverly about returning to the Jemez Mountains area to recover his partner's body and the Old Man allowed him to do so. Taking a team of nine agents with him, he was able to locate the THRUSH complex. A thorough search was made but the complex had been cleared out. Of course, they didn't find any sign of Illya's corpse. "I'm sorry, mate," Mark placed his hand on Napoleon's shoulder. "There is just no sign that anybody was ever here, including Illya."
Napoleon swallowed hard, "I know Mark. And truthfully, I'm not surprised. That bastard, Brown, bragged how they were going to ship the body to THRUSH Central and make a research project out of him." He looked up to see April approaching. Not wanting to dwell on the matter or endure her sympathy, he raised his voice and ordered the search team, "Alright, folks. Let's get packed and back to New York. We're not doing any good here. They all walked back to their vehicles about a half mile from the cave complex. One of the agents approached Napoleon with a blasting box hooked up with wires. "Napoleon, I thought you may want to be the one to blow this place up since you're the one who has a personal connection to it." He handed the plunger to Napoleon.
Not sure that he really wanted to, he took the plunger anyway and screwed it into the blaster. "Thanks, Rob."
The team took cover behind the vehicles. Napoleon pulled the plunger up, put both hands down on it and whispered, "This one's for you, Illya," and pushed the plunger down hard.
Napoleon was pulled back to the present by the smell of the coffee brewing. He looked at the transparent top of the percolator. The coffee had taken on a rich brown color indicating it was ready. He turned the burner off, poured the steaming liquid into the mug and stirred, mixing it in with the milk and sugar before pulling the spoon out and placing it in the sink. He checked his watch, 5:00 AM. Carrying his mug to the kitchen table, he sat contemplating what he needed to get done for the day. He hadn't taken more than a few sips when his communicator warbled from the bedroom. He rushed into the bedroom and opened the communicator. "Solo, here."
Mr. Waverly's voice answered back. "Mr. Solo, you need to come to headquarters immediately."
"Of course, sir. May I ask what's up?"
"We just received the strangest communication over one of our public phone lines from a small town in Idaho. We're not quite sure how authentic it is, but we may just have a lead as to Mr. Kuryakin's whereabouts."
Napoleon closed his eyes. He he had hoped for this day but at the same time dreaded it. His voice subdued, "Yes, sir. Thank you sir. I'll be there soon."
"Mr. Solo. I don't want to get your hopes up but it may just be that Mr. Kuryakin is alive."