agent_april

November 15th Affair

Tue, 15 Nov 2005 07:18:20 GMT

This is a short piece out of my discarded story ideas file. I had to celebrate November 15th somehow.

Cousin April in Alaska

The November 15th Affair

The room's stillness was shattered by blaring music from the clock radio on the table. A pillow went flying across the room and hit the target, muffling but not muting the sound. A minute or so later, a blond head peered out from under the bed covers and glared at the offending appliance.

“Napoleon and his Christmas gifts. I think I'll become a pagan!” Illya grumbled as he reached the clock and silenced it.

He heard a chuckle from the other room.

“Why, Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin, you don't appreciate my generosity?” Solo ducked as another pillow went past his head.

“I would appreciate it a great deal more if it wasn't so loud.” Illya said, yawning.

“I thought you might appreciate a jump start this morning, Tovarisch.” Solo picked up a pink bakery box from the table. “Chocolate croissants,” he said, “and their best French Roast.” “After all, we do need more stimulants as we get older.”

“Speak for yourself, ancient one.” Illya retorted. “I hoped you wouldn't remember.”

“Oh, I couldn't forget your birthday.”Solo laughed. “How many other excuses can I use to break in to your apartment?”

Illya grabbed a robe to put on over his blue silk boxers, a previous year's gift from his partner, and headed toward the galley kitchen. The smell of strong coffee soon filled the room. He sat some plates and cups on the bar.

“Seriously, Napoleon.” Illya said, “Thanks.” He picked up a croissant and bit into it. “Mmm.”

“So. Guess I should go get dressed for work.”

“Actually,” Solo said, putting down a croissant, “Take your time. Leave has been approved for the day by the head of Section 2.”

“Guess it helps to know people in authority.” Illya said, smiling.

Solo continued. “I took the liberty of making reservations for lunch at the Russian Tea Room at 1:00 if that's OK.”

“As long as you're paying, partner.”

“Of course. I invited April, and JoAnna from the Lab to join us. I've noticed the way you two have been looking at each other.”

“Napoleon!” “We are only colleagues.”

“Perhaps, but I don't see any problem with having lunch together.” Solo grinned.

“All right, all right.” Illya raised his hands in mock surrender. “Now can I get dressed?”

Solo left his partner to enjoy his morning of leisure. Illya showered and went out to cruise his favorite local bookstore.

When lunchtime arrived, Illya got out of the taxi at the Russian Tea Room. The snap in the air was invigorating. Everyone else had already arrived. Solo looked his usual dapper self in a dark blue suit and overcoat. April was bundled into a long coat and was rubbing her hands together for warmth. JoAnna gave Illya a charming smile as he took her arm to go inside.

The place had not changed since Kuryakin's last visit. The deep red walls set off the shine of the antique samovars and sparkling chandeliers. JoAnna's green eyes also sparkled as she took in the surroundings. Lunch was lovely, with Solo sparing no expense. Caviar, blinis with smoked salmon, and even a traditional birthday pie to end the meal.

The four caught up on the latest office gossip, and Illya told them about the treasures he had found on his shopping expedition that morning. Too soon, however, they had to move along. JoAnna was expected back at HQ, and Napoleon and April had paperwork awaiting them as well. They parted company outside and Illya headed back to his apartment, basking in the warmth of friendship.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ILLYA K!!!

Part Two of New Story

Tue, 25 Oct 2005 18:45:07 GMT

Hi Everyone.

Here's Part Two of the story. It hasn't been fully betaed with all the changes, but I think it's OK.
Probably a PG rating for parts of this. Male/Female sex, nothing graphic.

Hope you enjoy it.

April

“It appears to be a very strong hypnotic, similar to the benzodiazines, but at a higher strength. It would also cause anterograde amnesia – inhibition of memory.” Carson said, looking at the reports in front of him.

“I can vouch for that. I don’t have a clue what happened.” Illya said.
Carson went on. “ That’s a combination of the drug’s effect and the hypnotic conditioning done while you were under its’ influence. It induces something similar to a hypnotic trance, but it bypasses the mental defenses. I’m sure you know that an individual cannot be hypnotized against his will.”

“Right. We are also counter-conditioned against such manipulation.” Napoleon added.

“Well, it seems our friends have found a way around that safeguard. By taking the will out of the equation, they can create unquestioned obedience.”

“That’s a truly frightening thought. Can it be counteracted?”

“I hope so, Illya.” The three sat in silence for a moment. “My plan is to put you back in a hypnotic state and try to access your memory and counteract the programming.”

Carson opened the black bag he had placed on the counter when he returned to the room. He pulled out some vials and syringes along with a metronome.

“ I’m going to use some of the same procedures you’re used to for pre-mission programming. I’m also going to give you something to relax you, which will help you reach a deeper state.”

“Any questions, before we start?”

“No. I just want this over with. Do whatever you need to do. I’m no good to UNCLE or Napoleon like this."

Napoleon started to protest from the corner, but Carson stopped him with a look.

“Illya. I hear you, but you need to hear me. I will not do anything to harm you, and I will not push you past where I think it’s safe to take you.”

“Understood.”

“We’re going to start with the drugs. This is to calm you down, to make it easier to access your subconscious.” He filled a syringe with a clear liquid. This will just mellow you out. Takes about 15 minutes.”

Illya felt a twinge of recognition. “I just had a major deja-vu moment, John.”

“Interesting.” He injected the liquid into the vein. Illya felt the head rush and closed his eyes. “Just relax and don’t fight it.”
After giving the Valium a few minutes to take effect, Carson begin the procedure.

“Illya. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel?”

“Sleepy. Mel-low.” he chuckled.

“Good.”

He asked Solo to remove the restraints. Illya stretched and then settled back into the chair.

Carson started the small metronome at a fast rate. The steady click filled the quiet room.

“Illya. I want you to focus on the sound of the metronome.”

He began to adjust the speed and slow the device. “Let yourself relax as the beat slows.”

“Imagine you are walking down a set of stone steps. Feel the warmth under your feet from the stones. They feel so warm and comforting.” he continued in a gentle monotone.

“Can you feel it, Illya?”

“Yes. Warm.”

“Good. Just keep listening. Walking down, going deeper with each step. Deeper, more relaxed.” He slowed the metronome further.

“It’s so relaxing. You keep going deeper, getting more and more relaxed as you walk down. It feels so good, so warm, so relaxing.”

“Now, you are coming to the end of the steps. You step off onto a green lawn. Feel the grass under your feet. Soft, relaxing. Sit down on the lawn now. Just enjoy the softness of the grass. Feel the sun on your face. Just soak it in and relax.”

Carson took a closer look and saw that Illya’s breathing was slow and regular. He checked his pulse rate, which had also slowed.
He continued. “Now, I want you to notice your left arm. Let it become light, so light it won’t stay down. Just like you have a balloon on a string tied to it.” Illya’s arm floated upward and hung in the air.

“Very good, Illya.” You can let your arm go back down now.”

Carson looked to where he knew the surveillance camera was located. “Can you check with Communications to be sure the monitoring on this room is working correctly? I need to be sure we are getting this.” When the guard verified all equipment was operating, he walked back over and sat down beside the bed.

“Illya. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to take you back to another time now. You are completely safe here. I’m right beside you. I want to go back to the first day you went to work in the lab at Nice. Can you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“Who did you work with?”

“Danielle.”

Carson led Illya through the events of the day.

“Let’s move on to the next day.”

“I worked in the Clinic, taking blood samples.”

“Anything different?” Carson prompted. “Different people? Different routine?”

“Subjects. Strange reactions. No fear. That afternoon... they had a visitor from Central. M.. Marcia.”

“Tell me about her.”

Illya hesitated. “Red head, nice umm... curves.”

Napoleon smiled to himself.

“Danielle introduced her to everyone. Cold. All business. I thought she might have recognized me, but they just went off to a meeting.”

“And the rest of the day?”

Illya thought for a moment. “Danielle called me to the office.” His body stiffened. Solo took a quick step closer.

“It’s OK, Illya. You aren’t really there. Just tell me what happened.” Carson said gently.

“They were waiting. Marcia *did* know me. I tried to fight ... too many of them.”

Illya put up his hands, as if trying to defend himself. “No...” He finally slumped back in the chair, still trembling. Napoleon had come in close and was hovering on the opposite side from Carson. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch Illya's shoulder in reassurance.

Carson caught the small movement and spoke softly. “Napoleon. We have to let this take its course. I have to know what happened before I can counteract it.” He stepped in closer to Illya.

“Illya. I want you to come back to the present now. I want you to remember everything you just told me. I want you to remember this place so you can return here when I ask you to. When I count to three, you will be fully awake. 1... beginning to wake up 2.... waking up now, rested and refreshed 3.”

He snapped his fingers and Illya opened his eyes.

“You OK?” Napoleon said, peering into the blue eyes.

“Chyort!” He pounded his fist on the bed. “I gave them everything they wanted.”

“Illya. You couldn’t have done anything different. We weren’t prepared for this.”

“Tell that to Armand's family in Nice.”

“Illya. You *are* helping us fight this. We won’t know the damage until we finish debriefing you completely.”

“Then let’s finish this.” Illya said.

“No. Not now.” Carson said. “You need to rest. We will continue this later.”

Illya reluctantly agreed. The emotional impact of reliving what happened, along with the tranquilizer, had taken its toll. He was soon asleep. Solo covered him with a blanket and sat down beside Carson.

“How are we doing? Really.”

“I think we’re doing very well, Napoleon. I’ve been able to access his memory, which is the first step in counteracting the programming. Later this evening, I want to debrief you to compare this information to what you recall. Why don’t you go get some rest. I'll have them find you in the agent's quarters in a few hours. I’ll be here a while.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that. I need to update Waverly – unless you were planning to?”

“That’s fine.”

Carson waited for Napoleon to leave the room before he rebuckled the restraints in place. Kuryakin seemed calmer, but there were no guarantees, and he knew what the man was capable of.
&&&&&
Solo went to the commissary after briefing Waverly. Did the man sleep at HQ? He ate a sandwich without tasting it and drank more coffee with extra sugar. He walked on to the agent's quarters and finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

Two hours later he grabbed the telephone jangling on the bedside table. The staff had learned from painful experience that this was the safest way to wake a Section 2 agent.

Solo returned to the isolation ward. Illya was still sleeping, although he noted the restraints were back. Carson was drinking a cup of coffee while looking through a stack of papers.

“Did you get some rest?”

“A little, while I was waiting for these to come back.”

He handed a stack of the papers to Solo, who sat down at a small table. “I had our last session transcribed. If you're ready we can start going through it.”

Solo began reading the record of what Illya had told them. “I can corroborate most of what's here. I recall Illya mentioning Danielle; she was the lab supervisor. He did call me that second night to inform me he was working late. It seemed a bit strange at the time, but I assumed he just couldn't talk because of the situation. I checked out the Clinic myself, and it looked legit, except most of the traffic was research subjects.”

“How about the 'people looking strange' comment?”

“Illya did mention the subjects not being nervous about the blood draws. Wait.. he told me he saw a woman he did a blood sample from at the market, and she didn't even acknowledge being there.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. I ... gave him a hard time about her thinking he was some kind of a psycho who chatted up women over vegetables. It just didn't seem that big a deal at the time.”

“Any mention of this Marcia from Central?”

“No. Just Diamond the Director he interviewed with, and the lower level staff.”

They were interrupted by a voice from across the room.

“What time is dinner around here?”

After Illya finished a sandwich and coffee, Carson began the process again.

He was able to determine that UNCLE’s pre-mission programming had held. The information that Kuryakin had given up was carefully constructed to seem genuine. Even this was not easily revealed, as the operatives were programmed to guard it as they would other sensitive information. Carson was also able to remove the trigger phrase Diamond had implanted, Zoothera naevia.

Illya was able to give details of the plan Thrush had put in motion. His programming had ordered him to free Michael Farraday from UNCLE custody and deliver him back to Thrush.

The lab had been sacrificed to UNCLE as part of the Thrush plan. They would be able to move the operation to a new, hidden location by the time Illya had completed his programmed actions.

Solo sat quietly, listening to his partner calmly relay this information.

When the group took another break, Solo walked down to the Detention cells. Through the one way glass he watched Michael Farraday. Everything within him wanted to take revenge on this man who had given Thrush the ability to invade his partner’s mind. He saw his own reflection in the glass and a plan began to take shape. “You haven’t won yet, you bastard.” he said coldly as he walked away.
&&&&&
“I'm still not convinced this is the best option, Mr. Solo.” Waverly said as the two conferred with Carson.

“Most of the staff were captured in France. I'm not sure the new crew even knows Farraday that well. Besides, I’ve bluffed my way through these situations before. You can't deny the resemblance is there.”

Waverly looked at the picture on the desk. Indeed, he had to admit, the man could have been Solo, with the addition of the graying hair and the designer glasses.

“Sir. This also gives us an opportunity to find the new location of the lab. If Thrush has something this powerful, we have to neutralize it.”

“Dr. Carson.” Waverly said, fingering his unlit pipe. “You have managed to break Mr. Kuryakin's programming. Do we have any proactive defense against this drug?”

“Actually, we do have something.” He removed a small item from his pocket. “This is a very small reservoir of a chemical that should blunt the effect of the drug at least somewhat. The lab is formulating a way to place it in a cover to go over a back tooth.”
&&&&&
Two hours later, Solo was ready. Farraday had been moved to a secure location outside Headquarters. Solo had acquired his eyeglass frames and the lab had doctored his hair and appearance to match the Thrush chief. Napoleon waited in the Isolation ward with Illya.
Dr. Tower came in, carrying a tray covered with a cloth. Solo looked up when the door opened. “Gifts from the lab guys.” Tower said. “It’s a transmitter. Sub q – under the skin.” He took out what looked like a syringe. “Shouldn’t be noticeable on inspection.”

“What’s the range?” Solo asked.

“About the same as a standard device.”

“Where do they want to put it?” Solo looked a bit queasy. Needles were not his favorite thing, even in friendly hands.

“They suggest either under the arm, or the lower back. Your choice.”

Solo stretched out on his stomach on the bed in the cell.

“I tend to be ticklish”, he joked weakly.

“I can second that.” Illya chuckled.

Tower rolled up the back of his shirt and prepped the area with alcohol. “OK, Napoleon. Just try to relax.” He inserted the needle under the skin and depressed the plunger. “All done.” Napoleon released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thanks, Dr.”

Tower also handed them the tooth caps which were quickly installed.

“Ready, partner?” Napoleon said.

“Anything to get out of here.” Illya said. “No offense, John.”

Illya picked up the telephone and called the number he had been given.

“I have located Mr. Farraday. Yes. I will proceed to that location immediately.”

He turned to Napoleon and repeated the address. “The pickup is all set.”

They walked quickly back down the corridor. They reached the garage entrance and took Illya’s car. Napoleon crouched in the back seat while Illya drove out past the guard.

A black sedan was waiting when they arrived.

&&&&&

Illya pulled up behind the other car and the two agents got out. Illya stood immobile beside the car.

Solo surveyed the scene. A redhead with “nice curves” in spades sashayed across to meet them. Marcia, I presume?

“Michael, darling, how lovely to have you back.” Wish I'd known *this* a little sooner.

“Marcia. You came to meet me.” He leaned in close to the redhead and kissed her on the cheek. She pulled him into a passionate embrace and whispered in his ear. “I have a special surprise for you, my dear.”

“I can’t wait.” This was getting interesting really fast.

Marcia noticed Illya standing by the small car. She pointed with a manicured nail. “You. Front seat.” Illya gave Napoleon a quick questioning look and got in the car.

Napoleon rode in silence beside Marcia. The car pulled up to an elegant brownstone in an affluent neighborhood. Thrush must be paying well these days. The driver jumped out to open the car door. Napoleon got out and stretched, then extended a hand to Marcia. “Thank you, darling. You’re such a gentleman.” she purred. She turned to the driver.

“That will be all. We will call later this morning when we are ready for pickup.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He got in back in the car and pulled away.

Marcia took Napoleon’s arm. “Shall we?” They entered the lobby together and took the elevator up to the penthouse. Marcia unlocked the door and they entered the apartment. Napoleon tried to scope out the room without being too obvious. It was a huge open room with windows on the far wall overlooking the city lights. The decor was modern with white angular furniture and red and black accent pieces.

“Sit down and relax. I made up a little midnight snack for us. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into what Napoleon assumed was the kitchen. He sat down on the couch. He was getting tired, but he knew he had to keep his wits about him. This was most definitely enemy territory, no matter how well furnished. Marcia returned pushing a small serving cart.

“I tried to pick some goodies I thought you would be missing during your stay with our friends at UNCLE.” The silver tray held shrimp, caviar and black bread, some assorted cheese and fruit, and some small dessert pastries. A bottle of champagne was in an ice bucket.

“This certainly does beat UNCLE’s food.” Napoleon said. “Their champagne was a lousy vintage, as well.”

Marcia laughed. “Well, we’re all done with that. And, soon, with that insufferable Russian, as well.” Illya, do you have to piss off every Thrush you meet?

Napoleon picked up a shrimp and took a bite. “So, what *is* your plan for the infamous Mr. Kuryakin?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Darling, must we talk about him right now? I can think of much more enjoyable topics.”

He reached to open the champagne. “So can I, my dear.”

The two clinked glasses. Marcia turned on some soft music. Johnny Mathis. Napoleon put his arm around Marcia’s shoulder as they sat together on the couch. She got up a few minutes later. She went through the door on the other end of the suite. Napoleon looked up when the door opened again. Marcia stood there in an emerald green low cut nightgown. She had let her hair down from the French twist and it came to her shoulders in waves. “I know I missed this.” Napoleon said as she came across the room. It was only partly an act. She was a strikingly beautiful woman.

She took the champagne flute from Napoleon’s hand and sat it on the table. He took her hand and brought her around to sit on his lap. He gently fondled her breast through the satin of the gown while she started unbuttoning his shirt. She leaned in and nuzzled his neck. “I love Chanel No 5.” he whispered. “I know.”

“Shall we move to somewhere more comfortable?” she purred.

They headed to the bedroom. She had turned down the lights except for some candles. They caught the highlights in her auburn hair. Marcia led Napoleon to the side of the bed. She started to undo his belt. He finished and draped his pants over a chair in the corner. He sat down on the bed. The emerald gown slipped to the floor and Marcia ran her hands down her body. Oh, the sacrifices I make for UNCLE.

Marcia leaned in and kissed him again. He went with her as she pushed him back onto the satin sheets. She moved farther up and he tongued her nipples and felt them harden. She kissed down his chest and belly until she reached his silk boxers, which she gently slid down and removed.

“Now, whatever shall we do?” she purred.

Later, Napoleon opened his eyes when Marcia spoke. “Happy, dear?”
“Ecstatic.” he replied.

She had pulled on a silk robe. She walked into the other room and returned with two glasses of champagne. Napoleon sat up and took the glass offered. “Thank you, dear.”
She kissed him again. “Mmm, that was lovely. I missed you.”

He drained the glass and sat it on the bedside table. He started to get up and his head spun. He heard Marcia’s throaty laugh as he fell into blackness. “Sweet dreams, Mr. Solo.”
&&&&&

Illya stood beside his car. He turned slightly to watch the interaction between his partner and Marcia. Well, there's waaaay more going on there than we knew about.

He was jolted back to attention when he noticed her pointing at him. This was definitely not part of the plan. He walked over and got in the front seat of the car.

They rode in silence to a brownstone in a nice part of town. Napoleon and Marcia went into the building and the car drove on. After a few minutes the car reached a small medical clinic. The driver came around and opened the door and motioned for Illya to follow.

They entered the building, which looked like any other clinic. Illya was hustled off to a an examining room and locked in. He took stock of the surroundings. They weren't too concerned about him right now, which was good. He hoped Napoleon was doing OK with the red head.

He was beginning to get seriously bored when he heard the door being unlocked. Two typical Thrushmen came in with guns drawn.

“On your feet, blondie.” one of them snarled.

He was roughly pushed against the wall and handcuffed.

Guess maybe I know how Napoleon is doing.

&&&&&

Solo awoke with a headache, as expected. He was lying on a cot in a cell, his hands handcuffed securely behind his back. From the numbness in his shoulders, he had been that way for a while. Marcia entered the room, followed by a guard with a Thrush rifle. Her hair was pulled back into a French twist again. Although she was wearing a Thrush jumpsuit, she obviously employed a good tailor, as it had been skillfully altered to fit her curves.

“Sorry I had to downgrade your accommodations.” Marcia laughed coldly.

“I was going to call the concierge, but I couldn’t find the phone.” he pulled himself to a sitting position and stared at her.
“Michael was right. Your arrogance is amazing. You actually thought you could impersonate him. We have been lovers for years. Just your scars gave you away. Not to mention the fact he happens to be allergic to shrimp.” It wasn't even that great a shrimp. The cocktail sauce was lousy.

“Take him next door. Get someone to help you. I’m not taking any chances.” The two left the room. The guard returned a moment later with another man following. They pulled Solo to his feet and moved him to another room down the hall. This was a larger, well lit room. Solo did not resist as his wrists were attached to a metal bar hanging from the ceiling. One of the pair hoisted the bar upwards so his feet were barely touching the floor. They then attached his ankles to rings embedded in the floor. After checking that all the restraints were secure, the two left the room. Solo took a moment to look around. This room was a medical suite, with white cabinets and metal counter tops.

A few minutes later, Marcia returned. The guards took places at the back of the room. She stalked over and looked Solo up and down as he hung from the ceiling. Her head reached his shoulder. She looked up into his dark eyes and frowned. She motioned to the guards.

“This will not work.” Marcia said. She moved away and spoke to the two. They loosened the chains holding the bar from the ceiling, allowing Solo’s arms to come down for a moment. One of the men pushed him down so he was kneeling on the floor. His arms were then pulled back up , and the two found some chain and secured his knees down to the floor as well. “Thank you gentlemen,” the woman said . Solo did not meet her eyes. She placed a hand under his chin and tipped his head back. “Much better. I must say, there is something about a man on his knees...” She laughed throatily.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Solo?”

“Sorry. I prefer equality in my relationships, thank you.”

“Exploring dominance and submission can be an interesting diversion. Unfortunately, we have more pressing business to attend to.” Her
voice picked up a hard edge. “Let’s get on with it, shall we? First, where is Michael being held?”

“Sorry. I’m not allowed to tell you that. My contract is very definite on that point.”

“Somehow I didn’t think it would be that easy. Gentlemen, let’s see if you can soften up Mr. Solo a bit.” Marcia ran a hand across Solo’s cheek and went over and sat down.

The two guards came back across the room. One came behind Solo and pulled his head back by the hair, while the other punched him in the solar plexus. He groaned and tried to curl up with no success. After a few more body blows they moved on to the face. Marcia finally called them off when Solo was semi-conscious and bleeding from his mouth and nose.

Solo was awakened by a glass of ice water thrown in his face. The same two guards from earlier were standing there. “Don’t you guys ever take a break? I’d check with my union if I were you.”

Marcia walked back across the room.

“You know what I want, and then we can be done with all this. I’m not unreasonable. Just give me something to work with.”

“I think you know my answer.” Solo said softly.

“Yes, of course.” she sneered. “Duty, honor, loyalty. All those idealistic platitudes. But, what do they really get you in the end? Your penthouse apartment, the custom Jag, the Brooks Brothers wardrobe? Haven’t you ever considered what more there is out there? Power.
Influence. A man like you – a powerful, charismatic, driven man – could have so much more than the pittance you settle for.”

“Isn’t ‘Come away with me and we will rule the world’ a bit of a cliché?”

“It doesn’t have to be. I could offer you a great deal.” she purred.

Solo considered his response for a moment. Sharing his physical revulsion at her proposition was probably not the best choice considering the situation. At least, he thought, Angelique didn’t insult him by even seriously suggesting he would ever change sides.

“I am .. ah .. flattered.” he said thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, I do believe in those “idealistic platitudes” as you put it. I’m not interested in changing sides. I also wonder what your friend Michael would think about this development.”

“Fine. We shall have to move on to other methods.” He heard the clicking of her heels on the tile floor, and then felt a sting on the back of his neck and dropped into oblivion.
&&&&&
Napoleon awoke with a headache. Again. He looked around and recognized he was still in the medical suite. At least, he thought, he wasn’t suspended from the bar at the moment. The reclining chair he was strapped to was actually fairly comfortable. He noted an IV line had been placed in his arm. There were a few advantages to being unconscious, he decided.

The door slid open and Marcia entered, followed by a dark haired man in a white coat. Must be Diamond, Napoleon thought, remembering Illya’s description. Marcia came over and ran a hand across his cheek.

“ How are we this morning? Tired? Hungry?”

“Fine.” Thanks for the reminder.

She stalked back across the room and punched a button on the intercom. “Get Kuryakin in here.”

“Your partner’s arrival is fortuitous for our purposes. I’ve read a great deal on your relationship with your Russian comrade. Your Mr. Waverly is a fool. He should have split you two up long ago. You obviously have lost your professional objectivity with respect to each other.” she said.

“I should think our effectiveness would be obvious to Thrush.” Solo said coldly.

“Perhaps.” Marcia replied. “It is also your greatest vulnerability.”

Solo pondered her statement. He had in his most private moments asked the same question of himself. Would he make the same decisions again if the life at stake was someone other than Illya’s? He had also seen Illya close to leaving the partnership over the same issue. Perhaps another heart to heart was in order – after a large bottle of iced vodka and some aged Scotch. He steeled his mind back to the present. This wasn’t the time for vulnerability.

The sound of the door opening relieved him of the need to answer Marcia’s last statement. Illya was dragged through the door into the room. Solo could see from the damage to his partner and the guards it had not been an easy trip. Illya was shackled to the ceiling bar and glared at Marcia.

“Mr. Kuryakin. How nice of you to join us.” Marcia said. “Your comrade here has been rather tight-lipped during our conversations. Perhaps your presence will help loosen his tongue. I know how fond you are of each other.” Illya looked at Napoleon with a quizzical expression. Solo shrugged. “Don’t ask me. The lady obviously has us confused with someone else.”

She stood in front of Illya.

“It appears our friends at UNCLE have managed to counteract your programming. I need to know how.”

Illya gave her a glacial stare. She slapped him across the face. Napoleon winced in sympathy.

“We’re analyzing your blood now. John, let’s make sure of things.”

He stepped in front of Illya. “Zoothera naevia.”

Illya looked at him blandly. “The varied Thrush. I’m not really much of a birdwatcher.”

Marcia clenched her fists and released them. Napoleon could see she was trying to keep control.

“Gentlemen, I think Mr. Kuryakin could use some encouragement.” The two men moved in with obvious pleasure. Illya tried to brace for what he knew was coming, but the setup made it almost impossible. They were methodical in their approach and Illya was soon hanging limp in the restraints.

Marcia came back over and lifted Illya’s chin with a manicured nail. He refused to look at her. She pinched his earlobe until he opened his eyes.

“Much better. Now, how did they get you back?”

Illya shook his head.

“Fine. Then we will be forced to move on to Phase 2.”

“John, you may begin. I think you will find this very interesting, Illya. You will be able to see how your partner reacts to our procedure.”

Napoleon saw a flash of fear cross Illya’s eyes. “Don’t worry about it, partner. I’m more hard headed than even you are.”
He bit down hard on the fake tooth as Diamond approached.

&&&&&

Illya watched as Diamond closed in on Napoleon. Memories of the lab in Nice came back as he relived his own experience.

Diamond again chose to begin with the Valium. Illya could see Napoleon's eyes begin to glaze over, and he slumped back in the chair.
Solo played along as Diamond carried out the procedure. The questions were answered with the information they had previously decided upon. After Solo had given her the location where Farraday was being held by UNCLE, Marcia turned to Illya with a smile that made his blood run cold.

“Now comes the interesting part, Mr. Kuryakin. Dr. Diamond is going to instruct your partner to kill you. We will then send him back to your superiors. He will believe you died trying to prevent him from being given our new drug. At a later date, we will trigger his programming and he will free Michael. At that point, we will cause him to remember what really happened here. From what I know of your relationship, I don’t think he will be able to psychologically survive the knowledge that he took your life. Even if he does, he will certainly be of no further use to UNCLE.”

Illya pushed down the panic that gripped his mind. He steadied his nerves and spoke in a voice he hoped was calm. “UNCLE stopped me. This won’t succeed.”

Diamond spoke from behind him. “We believe that the only reason UNCLE was able to stop you was because of your close relationship with Mr. Solo. Your death will eliminate that problem. It will also serve us, by explaining any behavioral abnormalities Mr. Solo may exhibit.”
“Let’s get on with it.” Marcia said sharply.

Diamond moved back over in front of Solo.

“Napoleon. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“I have a job for you. Then you can have a nice long rest.”

“Ok.”

“I’m going to undo the restraints, and take out the IV line. You are not to move until I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Illya watched as his partner was freed from the lines and restraints. Solo sat motionless. He hoped John Carson knew what he was doing. Dying at the hand of his partner was not something he wanted to consider. Marcia was right on one thing – Napoleon would never recover from that knowledge.

Diamond spoke once again. “Napoleon. I want you to stand up and walk over here.”

Solo slowly moved across the room to stand with Diamond in front of Illya. The guards had moved forward to flank Solo. Diamond reached out his hand to the man on his left. “Your weapon, please.” The man handed it over.

Diamond placed the gun in Solo’s hand. “Do you know what this is, Napoleon?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to shoot Mr. Kuryakin in the heart. You will then return the gun to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Illya watched as his partner and best friend stared at him blankly. Napoleon took a step backward and raised the gun. At least if this was the way it was going to end, it would be quick.

Solo took a deep breath. Then, all hell broke loose. He turned and took out the guard who still had his weapon. The second guard leaped toward him, and a stiff arm to the throat put him on the ground.

Marcia ran out the door in the confusion. Solo grabbed a pair of handcuffs off the belt of one of the guards and secured Diamond to a chair. He then quickly released Illya from the bar.

“Remind me I owe John Carson a case of vodka, partner.” Illya joked weakly.

Outside the door, there were suddenly the sounds of gunfire and people shouting. Illya picked up a sidearm, and the two headed out to join the fray. Before they could reach the door, it was thrown open. The two agents moved back out of the line of sight.

“We’re clear.” Branson said, noting the guards on the floor. “Mr. Solo?”

“We’re here.” Solo affirmed. “Thanks for the rescue party. We were beginning to get a little concerned.”

“Your talent for understatement is amazing, Napoleon.” Illya said. “How did you get in here?”

“Came in through the front door.” Branson said. “Looks like Thrush didn't have time to get much security in here yet. Our group came straight for you guys using Solo's tracking device. But, it looks like you had things under control already.”

Branson’s communicator warbled. “Yes. Good work.” “Well, it looks like we’re about done here. The van’s parked outside.”

“Thanks. I think we’ll take you up on that.” Illya said as the two walked out, leaning on each other for support.
** ** ** **
“So, I think that about wraps it up, gentlemen. It’s nice to have you back and not in the infirmary for a change.” Waverly said.

“We agree, Sir.” Solo said, leaning back in his chair.

“Sir.” Illya said. “Any information from the higher ranking Thrush personnel?”

“We are working on the Director, of course.” Waverly said. “However, the woman escaped – what was her name?”

“Marcia.” Solo said. “Believe me, I won’t forget that name. She’s a real piece of work. At least, Angelique has some useful qual...” He stopped when he saw the glare coming from Illya.

“As long as nothing urgent comes in, take a couple of days to rest after you finish your paperwork.” Waverly continued, looking pointedly at Solo.

“Thank you, Sir.” Illya said with a slight smirk.

The two made their way out of the Chief’s office and down the hall.

Napoleon didn’t get far before he was distracted by a Nordic looking blond with a dazzling smile. Illya rolled his eyes and walked on,
leaving his partner perched on the edge of her desk.

Napoleon strode into the office a couple of minutes later.

“How about some dinner, Tovarisch?” Napoleon asked. “It’s on me. There’s a new Italian place I want to try. Calamari, Lasagna, Cannoli?”

“What, Miss Scandinavia turned you down?”

“It’s Ilsa, and apparently she has a boyfriend.”

“Sorry Napoleon, but I can’t tonight.” I have to get to the store and pick up a few things. “JoAnna’s coming over. I’m making a soufflé.”

Napoleon sank dramatically into his chair and sighed heavily.

“What?”

“I just don’t know if my ego can handle being turned down by two stunning blondes within half an hour.”

Illya blew him a kiss and walked out the door, humming.

New Story

Mon, 24 Oct 2005 03:13:21 GMT

This is part one of a new story I'm working on. It is actually part of a longer story I am editing.
Thank you to my lovely Beta, Di. Any comments are appreciated.

Cousin April in Alaska

Tap... Tap Tap... Tap... Tap Tap...

Napoleon Solo stared at the report form in front of him on the desk. He kept unconsciously tapping out a rhythm with his pen.

He glanced up as the door to his office slid open. He smiled as Illya walked through the door. The secretarial pool would be happy today. They loved seeing his blond partner in his white shirt and black leather shoulder holster, although Napoleon would never tell him that. He was oblivious to such things, which made the blue-eyed Russian all the more desirable to the female staff.

Kuryakin pulled up a chair backwards and sat down across the desk. He squinted to make out the writing on the report upside down.

LOCATION: Thrush lab, Nice France

OUTCOME: Lab shut down; majority of staff apprehended; blood samples from test subjects obtained.

CASUALTIES: One local agent killed, two seriously wounded. Two Thrush operatives killed.

FOLLOW UP:

Solo stopped writing and cradled his chin in his palm. This was the reason he had delayed completing the report. He knew something had been wrong with Illya during the mission in Nice. But what? And more importantly, was it relevant to the mission?

Napoleon decided the direct approach was the best option. “Illya. I’m concerned about you. You seemed, well, off your game in Nice.”

“Napoleon. We had this conversation already. I assure you, I am fine.”

“I would still feel better if you had a medical work-up.”

Kuryakin crossed his arms. “It’s not necessary. Of course, you *are* the CEA, so that is your prerogative if you want to make it an order.”

Great, Solo thought. The last thing I want to do is pull rank on Illya.

“If that’s what it takes. It is part of my responsibility as the CEA, and your partner.”
“Fine. Can we get this over with so I can get back to work?”

Solo picked up the telephone. “George? I need you to do a full workup on Illya. No, just a precaution after the last mission. Can you get to it right away? Great. Thanks.”

He turned to Illya. “ Go now and they can get it taken care of.”

Kuryakin stood and left the room without another word.

&&&&&

Illya proceeded to the lab. He submitted to the poking and prodding and blood-letting and was on his way in an hour. He started to go back up and say goodnight to Napoleon, but decided to go home instead. It served him right for forcing him to go through this. He knew he had been distracted in Nice, but it was nothing a little rest wouldn’t fix.

He reached his apartment and disarmed the security system. He heated up some soup and ate it with dark, thick bread. He turned on the stereo and settled in on the couch. He had just started to enjoy Oscar Peterson's artistry on the piano when the telephone rang. He ignored it the first time, assuming it was Napoleon. If it was important, they could use the communicator. The second time the phone rang, he decided to answer it.

“Hello.” He suddenly stiffened. “Yes.” He listened intently for a few moments. “I understand.” He hung up the phone and shook his head as if to clear it. Finishing the tea, Illya went to bed and slept soundly until morning.
&&&&&

The following morning, Solo entered Headquarters through Del Floria’s. The pretty brunette pinned on his badge and brushed a piece of fuzz off his lapel.

“Mr. Waverly wants to see you immediately.”

“Thank you.” Solo replied. “Is Illya here yet?” He had hoped to see his partner this morning. Maybe he *had* been a bit heavy handed last night. Well, maybe it was a new assignment. That would take Illya’s mind off yesterday.

He detoured past the lab and saw his partner already ensconced with a glass of tea and a technical journal.

“Morning.” Illya looked up, a bit impatiently it seemed.

“Everything go all right last night?”

“All your requested tests were carried out. Thanks for not including a psych workup.”

Solo was certain the temperature must have dropped a few degrees.

“I'm heading up to see the Old Man. Coming?”

“I wasn't invited.”

“Ok. Catch you later.”

Solo beat a retreat through the door. He had known his partner to hold a grudge, but this was a bit more than the usual.
&&&&&

“Yes, Sir.” Solo said as he took his normal seat.

“Mr. Solo. Dr. Tower has just brought me the results of Mr. Kuryakin’s examination. It seems your instincts were correct.”

“How so?”

“His blood shows traces of the same compounds we found in the samples he brought out of the lab. They also found bruising that could be consistent with placement of an IV line.”

“Damn. Thrush must have gotten to him in the Lab in Nice.”

“ I have John Carson coming in to consult. He’s UNCLE’s top psychiatrist. In the meantime, I have no choice but to remove Mr. Kuryakin from active duty and place him under house arrest.”

“Sir?” Solo felt like he'd been gut-punched. “This is Illya we’re talking about.”

“I realize that, Mr. Solo. I also have been told that Mr. Kuryakin was inquiring this morning regarding the location where Michael Farraday is being held.”

“Farraday?” Solo questioned. “But why would he need... it can't be.”

“I don't want to believe it, either. However, until we get some answers, I cannot see another course of action.”

Solo fought to maintain his composure. Illya needed him. He also knew Waverly would shut him out in a minute if he thought he'd lost his objectivity.

Solo swallowed hard. “I understand. I’d like to break it to Illya myself. I think he'll respond better to me than to a security team.”

Waverly filled and tamped his pipe with more care than usual. “We need you to help us reach him, Mr. Solo.”

“I will, Sir.” Solo left the room.

He detoured into the men’s room down the hall from his office in Operations. Splashing cold water in his face, he stared at the reflection in the mirror. How was Illya going to take this? His loyalty had been questioned before, due to his nationality. But, to be accused by the very organization he had devoted his service, even his life to? And with no means to defend himself. Maybe so, but he would have the support of his friend and partner. Solo swore that.

Solo returned to the small office and picked up the telephone. He took a deep breath and called the lab. Illya came in carrying another technical journal. He pushed his dark rimmed glasses up and glanced at the clock. “So, do we have a new assignment, or am I going to have time to work in the lab for a few days?”

I wish it were that simple, Napoleon thought. “ Waverly has the results of your medical tests and we need to discuss them.”

“Medical? What’s going on?” Illya said warily.

“I don’t know. The old man just asked me to come get you.” He hated lying, but the truth would be on the table soon enough.

Illya put away his glasses and slapped the journal on the desk. “This isn’t what I need right now.” He turned and stalked out the door at a brisk pace. Napoleon had to hustle to catch up. They reached Waverly’s office together.

&&&&&

Illya stopped and took a deep breath to compose himself.
Lisa exchanged a look with Napoleon and waved them into the office.

The door slid open. Illya entered and stopped short. George Tower was seated at Waverly’s right. The two agents flanking the door he recognized as security staff from Section V. They were relaxed but attentive, and their attention was definitely focused on him. Napoleon entered and stayed in the background.

“Pardon me.” Illya said in a controlled tone, “but could someone tell me what’s going on here?”

Waverly took control of the situation. “Please sit down Mr. Kuryakin.” Illya did so, stiffly. “As I assume Mr. Solo has told you, we have the results of your lab work.”

“Yes.” Tell me something I don't know.

“The results indicate you may have been compromised during the mission in Nice.” Waverly stated flatly.

“Compromised? What do you mean?” Illya could feel the quaver in his voice and tried to still himself.

“Illya.” Tower explained the lab’s findings. Napoleon moved in and sat down beside him.

“It’s OK, Tovarisch. We’re going to figure this out.” he said softly. Illya turned and looked into the dark eyes. I need you to be here for me.

Waverly cleared his throat. “We have our best people coming in to deal with this situation. Until we have an answer, however, I’m afraid I must ask for your weapon and identification, Mr. Kuryakin. You are relieved of duty until further notice.”
Illya's hand shook as he carefully removed his Special and lay it on the desk in front of him. The white K stood out against the black finish of the stock. He pulled out the case containing his ID and laid it down as well. He reached to remove the yellow badge from his lapel. Napoleon stopped him with a gesture.

“You’ll need that to get through the building.”

“Of course.”

“I hope you understand this is temporary, Illya.” Tower said, clearly uncomfortable. “As soon as we get some answers you’ll be back to normal status.”

Waverly spoke again. “Mr. Solo. You and these gentlemen will escort Mr. Kuryakin to the isolation ward. Dr. Carson will meet you there to begin his evaluation.”

“Isolation? You’re keeping me here?” Illya stood up as he tried desperately to close his mind to the tide of panic that was rising inside him. The two Section V agents snapped to attention and unholstered their Specials. Napoleon raised a hand.

“It’s OK, gentlemen. Give us a minute, please.” Illya felt Solo's hand firmly on his arm; he also noted his partner was carefully staying out of the line of fire. “I think you should sit down, unless you want to be flat on your back and unconscious.”

“No.” Illya said. His mind kept telling him he had to get out of this place. To get home. “There's no reason for this. I need to get home.”

Illya jerked his arm free of Solo's grasp and made a move toward the doorway.

“Illya. Listen to me. We're trying to help you.” Solo moved a step closer to Illya, who backed up toward the door.

“Mr. Kuryakin.” The commanding tone of Waverly's voice was enough to break his concentration. That was all the Section V men needed to put him on the ground and hold him there.

“Napoleon... You can't let them do this!”
&&&&&

They moved in silence through the grey halls to the isolation ward of the detention block.

The metal doors slid open silently to reveal a monitoring station manned by a young clean-cut agent. A blond man rose from a side chair to greet them. He was older, about Napoleon’s height and dressed casually in a polo shirt and khakis.

“Mr. Solo. I’m John Carson.” He extended a hand.

“If you will follow me, please.” Carson gestured and started down the hallway. He stopped at a door on the right and placed his hand on a panel beside it. The door slid open and they pushed the gurney inside. The room was utilitarian, but comfortable, with a single bed on one wall and a recliner and side table in the corner. A door led to a private bath.

“Shall we sit down?” Carson said. “Alexander – Mr. Waverly – asked me to over see this case personally, Mr. Solo.”

“Napoleon, please.”

“Thank you. Please call me John. First, can you tell me what happened here? I was expecting him to come in voluntarily .”

So was I, Napoleon thought. “George had to sedate him in Waverly's office. When he found out we were keeping him here, he panicked and made a run for the door.”

“Interesting.”

Oh, here we go. I hate these psych guys. Never come out and tell you what they're really thinking.

“If you can help me here, I think we should get him moved and restrained. We're likely to have a repeat performance when he comes to.”

The two men shifted Kuryakin's limp form to the recliner. Solo gently removed the leather holster and placed it on the table. Carson handed him a set of padded restraints. He stood, rooted to the floor, examining them for a moment.

“You OK, Napoleon?” He looked up to see concern on Carson's face.

“Yes.” he said quickly. What am I doing? This is my partner. I'm supposed to get him *out* of these type situations. This is UNCLE HQ, for God's sake. I sure hope someone knows what they're doing.

The cuffs were placed on Illya's wrists and ankles, and a heavy strap secured his chest to the chair.

“I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't necessary, Napoleon.”

“I understand that.” And, you are not the one who's going to have to work with him when this is over. I hope.

Carson checked Illya's pulse. “I’m just getting ready to go over Dr. Tower’s reports in detail.” Plucking the yellow badge from Illya's shirt, he placed it in his pocket. Solo knew that Carson was still trying to read his reactions and kept his face impassive. “If you will excuse me, I’m going back to the lab to start analyzing the data we have. The agent at the desk is monitoring the room if you need anything.”

Solo looked at Illya after the door slid closed behind Carson. He dragged a chair across the room and sat down. The tension of the last few minutes was fading, quickly replaced by exhaustion. He gently ran a hand across Illya's cheek.

“What the hell did they do to you?” And why didn't I do something sooner? He clenched his fist and slammed it down on his leg. I knew something was up when you had to work late. You never gave me any details on what was going on.

He spoke a bit more loudly. “Could I get some coffee in here, please?” It was going to be a long night, and this was only the beginning. He sat back down and closed his eyes.
&&&&&
Illya awoke slowly. His mind was still cloudy from the sedative, and he felt a bit nauseated. He ran a mental check through his body and determined he was restrained, although not painfully so. He opened his eyes and saw Napoleon sitting beside him in a chair, sleeping with his chin on his chest. What the hell? Where was he?

“Napoleon?” he whispered.

The dark head jerked up and Solo was instantly alert. “Illya. You're awake. Are you OK?”

“What's going on?”

“We think Thrush might have given you a mind control drug while you were working at the lab in Nice. You panicked when Waverly told you we were bringing you to medical, and George had to knock you out.”

The memories started to return. He remembered being in Waverly's office and then being flattened by two big Section V guys. He couldn't exactly remember why. He did remember Napoleon standing there, looking at him, doing nothing. *Nothing.*

“That's ridiculous, Napoleon. I don't remember anything out of the ordinary. I just need to go home and rest. If you will be so kind as to get me out of these restraints.” Good. That was nice and calm. No emotion.

“I'm sorry, partner. I can't do that. John Carson will be back shortly and we will get to the bottom of this.”

“Carson?” Illya snapped. “The shrink? You know how I - we - feel about those guys. They just want to waste everyone's time talking. I'm telling you, I am fine.”

“If that's the case, then dinner's on me when you get out of here. For now, you can't leave without Waverly's OK.”

to be continued ...