Act VII: A Thrush In The Coop

At the first intersection in the road Solo pulled aside and waited, pretending to read a map. He heard the motorcycle before he saw it. The throaty growl became louder at an amazing rate. When the bike came into sight, he decelerated instantly. The rider was decked in full racing gear and being careful not to attract undue attention. By the time he crossed Solo's path his speed was substantially lower and he didn't give the agent a second glance. Solo tucked the map away and pulled his bike out from the crossroad. This was the only road to the small town nearby, and it made sense that another person would be on it at this point.

Solo kept a respectable distance as he followed the assassin. There was only one pub, and that's where he found the bike parked. The agent parked his bike next to it, dismounted and made an effort to look casual.

After leisurely removing his gloves and loosening his jacket he joined the afternoon crowd in the pub. Once his eyes to adjust to the darkness he spotted the rider immediately. Leathers were hard to miss. He was in a far corner talking with two others at a table. The cigarette smoke was heavy in the darkness of the interior, and Napoleon cursed the poor visibility. Finally, someone pushed the front door open and lingered, which allowed the light to filter its way to the back of the room. When Solo saw the dimly lit face sitting at the table, he was grateful for the haze and ducked his head.

The racer was talking to Devin Knight, a top Thrush man last known to be working out of Austria and well known for his stable of successful hit men. They had known that the Danzigs had a formidable power struggle ahead of them, but hadn't expected a preemptive strike. How Arthur Danzig responded would tell all; fall back and regroup, or all-out war?

The agent pushed thoughts of the future aside and focused on the immediate question of how the famous Danzig security got such a huge hole blown in it, and how this could possibly affect his undercover partner as well as the mission.

Napoleon casually finished his drink and left the pub. When he was clear, he pulled out his communicator.

"Open Channel D, overseas relay," he requested. After a few moments and a few clicks, the recognizable voice of his boss came over the waves.

"Mr. Solo? Is that you?" Mr. Waverly sounded flustered.

"Yes, sir," the agent responded.

"Good. I was just going to contact you. I have some information for you on Talia Inova," he began. Solo's eyebrows rose.

"Go ahead," Solo said.

"Since we want to know where Miss Inova has been since her days at University, I went through Mr. Kuryakin's file and located the last incident that both he and Miss Inova worked together. She disappeared right after that incident, which was the defection of a mathematician and his wife from Russia. The husband has since died so the records have been unsealed. The man's widow may be able to give you more details on the incident and where Miss Inova went after that. The woman, Sophia Transenburg, now lives in Paris."

"Transenburg?" Solo questioned. "That's the name they took after the defection?"

"Yes. It's oddness made her easy to locate, actually. Mr. Slate and Miss Dancer are in that area rounding up your assault team. One of them can contact her."

"Good idea, sir. I'll arrange that. And something else has come up. Marcus Danzig has just been assassinated."

"Is that so?" Solo could just picture the old man puffing furiously on his near-dead pipe as he mulled that one over. "Who was behind it?"

 "I followed the assassin to no other than Devin Knight. I see a coup in progress, and Illya's cover could be blown. Our phone tap alluded to that possibility. We need to know where Danzigs' investigators are. I'd like to send someone to the Ukraine to find out if the real Androv Inov has been discovered."

"Yes. That's a good idea. Split up Slate and Dancer. The assault team is assembled and waiting for insertion. They can delegate that job and split these new assignments."

"Yes sir. Consider it done. Solo out."            

+++++++++++++++++

Napoleon had reached April at precisely the moment she collapsed for the first break she'd had in days. Assembling an assault force was a major undertaking in itself. The fact that they had to be stealthy in treacherous terrain to surround a seemingly impregnable compound only complicated matters. She plucked the communicator from the breast pocket of her jumpsuit and opened it with a sigh.

"Dancer here."

"Hello, April. How's it going?"

"Napoleon! Do you have any idea what you've dumped on us? Leave it to you to test us to our limits."

"Well if you can't handle it…"

"I didn't say that, luv. You just don't give a girl time enough for outside pursuits, if you know what I mean. And Paris is so lovely in the spring!"

She heard a low chuckle on the other end. "As are the young men strolling on the Champs d'Elysee? You'll be glad to hear, though, that you will be able to take a break for a bit!'

Immediately suspicious, she frowned at the pen. "Why don't I like the sound of this?"

"My aren't we skeptical today. We need some information on a woman named Talia Inova."

April pursed her lips. "The woman that started this whole affair? What more do you need?"

"I need to know her motives. Why is she doing this? And, I'd just like to know what she's been doing since 1952. That's the last time Illya worked with her."

"OK, I'll bite. Where am I going?"

"Outside of Paris to interview a woman named Sophia Transenburg. She and her husband Mikhail defected in 1952 with Illya and Talia's help. That was the last case they worked together. Talia disappeared after that. Find out what happened."

"The inscrutable Mr. Kuryakin isn't telling?"

"Not only is he not telling, he's saying there's no need for us to know this information. I'm curious as to why."

"Me too. Consider it done."

"And April, time is of the essence. Associates of Devin Knight have just assassinated Marcus Danzig. There may be a mole in the Danzig compound. I need to know who we can trust." Solo gave her the last known address of the Transenburgs, and signed off to contact Slate.  

+++++++++  

Grimy with dirt and grunting with exertion, Mark Slate was never so happy to see a box of ammunition in his life because it was the last box he had to load. With that finally done he collapsed onto the bumper of the van, panting heavily. Next to him was a second panting agent that had been helping him.

"This is quite an assault force," the other agent breathed, wiping his brow.

"It's quite a target, so I understand. We have time for a cold one before I go." The warbling of his communicator interrupted that thought, and he rolled his eyes as he pulled the slim pen from his pocket. The other agent barked a short laugh and moved off. "Slate here," he said, wiping his grimy hands on his coveralls.

"Mark! How's it going?"

"The only good thing about this whole effort is that I get to empty the boxes at the bad guys eventually," he stated wearily. "What do you want now? A tank?"

Napoleon's low laugh emitted from the pen. "Good idea. I'll keep that in mind. Actually, I have a lighter chore for you. After the items are shipped I want you to take a side trip."

One eyebrow arched in curiosity as he eyed the pen. "I hope it's to a nice beach resort."

"Unless the Ukraine has a tropical beach I don't know about, I wouldn't count on it. Pack your parka."

A tired sigh escaped the Englishman. "Then what?"

"Marcus Danzig has just been assassinated. He had some investigators in the Ukraine trying to find the real Androv Inov. It seems a minion of Devin Knight’s managed to milk one of the investigators for information and contacted Danzig on a private line just before he was murdered."

"Devin Knight of Thrush assassin fame? So, Knight is following Danzig's boys. If he's trying to pull the rug out from under the Danzigs before they even get started, he's off to a stellar start."

"I think so, too. We have to make sure no one has found the real Androv and try to keep the lid on all this until we're sure the program is recovered or destroyed."

"I understand. I'll be off in a bit."

"Solo out."  

+++++++++++  

Napoleon slipped his communicator back in his pocket and chewed on his lip. With Devin Knight in the picture, difficult was now approaching impossible. Security was going to be practically impregnable in the Danzig arena, and there was still the possibility of a retaliatory strike. How far would the Danzigs go? Who was going to control the Odysseus program at the end of the week? Knight was a careful man; he rarely took chances. The possibility of a plant on the Danzig pay roll put Illya was squarely in danger. He mounted his motorcycle and raced back to the rocky outcropping. They had to move their makeshift base to a more remote spot and get in touch with his partner.  

++++++++  

Talia spent the next hour settling Monica. Illya managed to stay near her and keep an eye on the movements outside the house.  After the initial identification of Marcus' body, security moved in to clean up the mess.  Both Arthur and David refused to retire to the house until the remains had been secured and moved inside the compound for further arrangements. Then Illya surmised by the actions of the men that there was to be an impromptu meeting of security. 

Illya knew he had to find out what the Danzig's next move was going to be, and he had to find out in a hurry before the U.N.C.L.E. assault team began to assemble. With increased security and another entity now involved, the team would be easily spotted if they assembled where they had previously planned. He checked on Talia and found that Monica was in a drugged sleep in her arms. Talia motioned for him to go, and he slipped back to his room where he retrieved a tiny listening device from a set of cufflinks.

Bugging rooms anywhere in this house would be risky. Marcus had the best electronic screening devices, according to Talia, and they were used regularly. He weighed the device in his hand for a moment, and then replaced the cufflinks. Instead, he pulled out a conventional listening set that amounted to no more than a glorified stethoscope from the lining of his suitcase. The risk of being physically searched was less than the risk of being detected by a screening device. Even with the risks, he had to hear what was going on in at this meeting.

With the premise of getting something for Monica from the kitchen, Illya was able to pass through the gathering crowd downstairs virtually unnoticed. He picked up on the talk of the men and found out that the meeting would take place in Arthur's office. Illya recalled that the office was on the other end of the lower floor. He assembled a small tray of water, crackers and cheese then retreated upstairs.

The layout of the manor was clear in the agent's head. The rooms downstairs on either side of Arthur's office would be too risky.  Below was the basement containing the labs, which was a security setup he wasn't ready to hit quite yet. Marcus' private dressing room was above, next Monica's parlor. He deposited the tray with Talia and gave her a reassuring smile.

When he stepped back into the hall it was deathly quiet. He slipped down the hallway quickly and entered Monica's parlor without incident. As Illya inspected it he noted that the sickeningly sweet smell of the woman's perfume hung heavily in the air. After untangling the listening device he moved to the wall adjoining the dressing room and pressed it to the wall. He could hear footsteps padding about inside as well as murmurs of a pair of guards. He heard the door lock with a sharp click and retreating footsteps down the hallway.

Now was his chance. He poked his head out in the hall and saw the backs of the guards. Sliding down the hall he picked the lock to the dressing room, not really surprised at the ease of it. Marcus probably didn't keep any sensitive material here. He entered the huge closet after he deduced where the den below was situated, and lay on the floor under a long rack of hanging clothes. After peeling back the carpet he pressed the listening device to the bare floor.

The voices were very faint, and the agent had to reluctantly plug his free ear to hear and move the device around to find the best spot.

". . . it is.  We still have Solomon and Krinsky under watch. It wasn't them." Illya recognized the names of major Thrush players in the area. "If we . . . cancel. At least put it off until we … security." The agent only heard snatches of sentences because the speakers were walking around the room. It made hearing the entire conversation difficult. " . . . a day or two, sir." "It really is the best . . . Marcus would . . ."

"Marcus is not here now, is he?" Arthur Danzig's voice was very strong and clear. He must be sitting right under me, Illya thought. "Nothing changes until I say so. Now leave!" With a couple of respectful 'yes sirs' and a click of a door, the room became quiet. After a moment Illya heard the squeak of a chair followed by a cough. Figuring the program release was still on track for Thursday, he was just about to pack up and go when another noise caught his attention. He pressed the device harder to the floor and frowned in concentration.

 The all-powerful Arthur Danzig was crying.

Act VIII: The Tale Of Illya And Talia

Solo and Neiman quickly shut down the operation and disconnected the phone taps. They just made it to the secondary retreat when Danzig security forces began a sweep beyond the outer wall. The terrain was wild and thick and the guards were none too quiet as they thrashed their way around the perimeter. At one point they were less that a handful of meters from Neiman, on his way back from getting the last of the wiretapping equipment. He covered himself with leaves and shrubs, and heaved a sigh of relief when they continued past. As he retreated, he almost had a heart attack when he flushed a deer from her daytime resting spot.

"Wildlife," he grumbled as he clutched the butt of his Special. "They don't belong in the woods." When he related his story to Solo on his return, he didn't get much sympathy.

"What?" Solo replied, intent on studying the security squads with his binoculars. "You didn't tackle it and get us some fresh dinner?"

Neiman rolled his eyes. "I'm getting tired of field rations, too, but wrestling a deer isn't my idea of shopping."

Solo and Kuryakin had spoken late the previous night. Illya had relayed that the release date still looked to be on Thursday, but the status of the accompanying party was not confirmed. Supplies were still coming to the house and a lot of Thrush Council members were still scheduled to arrive Wednesday. Solo's signal to move in with the assault team would be very obvious; the computer lab would be blown to the sky. Illya and Talia would then head to the area of the rocky outcropping for pick up.

Although things seemed to be moving right on schedule, the agent was tense. The little voice in his head wouldn't be quiet. He hoped to hear from April and Mark soon; maybe that would help. And Illya's explosives had to be delivered to the house as soon as they arrived. When the Russian was armed and ready to go, he figured the deed was as good as done, and perhaps then the little voice would shut up.

For now, he could only hope and wait.  

++++++++++++  

"Mme. Transenburg?" April Dancer found the elderly woman tending her small garden behind the tidy house outside Paris. She'd tried the front door, and when no one answered decided to try the back. The sound of someone humming drew her to the white gate surrounding a gathering of glorious flowers and healthy green shrubs. When she stepped through the gate she felt enveloped by nature. "Mme. Transenburg?"

The woman straightened as much as she could and turned to the agent. Her startled eyes were wide for a moment, but a friendly sparkle soon replaced the surprise. "Oh! Oui? Je suis Mme. Transenburg."

April apologized in her perfect French. "I'm so sorry to startle you. My name is April Dancer." She cupped a perfect rose gently in her hand. "Your garden is beautiful."

"Thank you, dear. Here, let's sit under the plum tree. I need to get off my feet for a moment." The matronly lady indicated a bench under a tree festoon with delicate flowers. "Where are my manners? Can I get you something?"

 "No, I'm fine. Please." April motioned towards the bench and they both settled down. Mme. Transenburg let out a sigh and removed her gardening gloves.

"Well, April, was it?" The agent nodded. "What brings you to visit an old woman in her garden?"

"It's about you and Mr. Transenburg."

The woman's eyes lit up at the mention of her husband. "Oh, Mr. Transenburg, my Misha, has been dead for years," she said apologetically, placing her hand briefly on April's knee. "He was a wonderful man."

"I know and I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sure you miss him. I'm here to ask you about you're coming to France."

Mme. Transenburg looked momentarily confused and then frightened. "Who are you, again?" She asked tentatively.

"I don't mean to frighten you, Mme. I'm an agent with U.N.C.L.E., an international law enforcement agency. I believe you knew one of our agents. That's why I'm here."

"You must be mistaken," the woman said softly. April noticed her begin to fiddle with her hands in her lap. "I don't know any U.N.C.L.E. agents."

"Oh, Illya wasn't an agent then. He was, um, well, I guess the best term is freelancing, then. He became an agent later."

"I see, I see." Slowly, April saw a look of recollection enter her eyes. "Is he a blond boy? Thin?"

April laughed. "Well, he's still blond, yes. And I'd call him wiry. Blue eyes? He was a college student when you met him."

Mme. Transenburg smiled warmly. "Yes. So young. I remember him." Her eyes sparkled again. "Talia didn't want to talk about him very much."

"Talia Inova?" April wasn't expecting to hit pay dirt so soon. "She's why I'm here, actually."

The woman turned a suspicious eye on April. "I think I should look at your identification."

"Certainly." The agent pulled out her gold card and the woman peered at it closely.

"It looks to be in order. What exactly is it you want, my dear?" The suspicion hadn't dissipated completely, so April decided the best way to gain this woman's trust would be by quid pro quo: A trade of knowledge. Briefly, she ran down Illya's assignment, leaving out names and details, and how Talia had appeared from nowhere to enlist his help.

The woman laughed and any shred of suspicion left her eyes. "Oh, dear! That is so Talia. She has you all perplexed, doesn't she?" She patted April's hand with a soft chortle. "Your aren't the only one she's left in her wake. I love Talia dearly, but sometimes she just can't see the nose plainly on her face."       Now it was April's turn to look perplexed. "I will tell you what I know about Talia only because I want to see her happy. I don't want her to lose that young man again."

That's when Mme Transenburg began her tale to a now very curious April.  

++++++++++  

"It was the fall of 1952 and Misha, my husband, was very sick. He was working for the Russian government then on something to do with rocketry. His last remaining relative, his brother, had died a few months before and there was no one left on either side of our families as my parents had passed on when I was young. Our son left Russia two years earlier," her voice cracked, but she continued, "And we missed him so. Misha really missed him. Maybe he was thinking about the quality of life, or how life was so short, but he decided to defect as Rennie, our son, had. We had talked about it before; I only had him and Rennie, so I left it entirely up to Misha. He knew I'd follow him anywhere.

"We finally got in contact with Rennie and he arranged the whole thing. You see, Rennie is a mathematician just like his father and he knew what to offer another government. France jumped at the offer and it was set."

The woman's face had taken on a far away look as she recalled the events. "The night we left was cold, very cold. When the young couple came to our door I thought they were travelers looking for warmth. They were practically babies!"

April suppressed a burst of laughter and covered her mouth. She could clearly imagine the whole meeting.

"He was so professional, but his eyes had this inner fire; it was so difficult not to stare. And she was as delicate as a spring flower." She leaned down and plucked a yellow bloom and stroked the petals as she spoke. "They were both so warm and caring." April had a hard time connecting those two words with the Kuryakin she knew. "And they were so in love!"

The agent's jaw dropped; it was the last thing she'd expected. "In love?" she repeated.

"Oh, yes. The way they looked at each other, the way they talked. Always touching. Not blatant like the kids now a days; it was tender and respectful. You could see in their eyes how dedicated they were to each other." April was speechless. Mme. Transenburg was quiet for a moment, a soft smile on her aged lips as she continued. "They had every detail covered, every question answered before we ever left the house. When we started out that night I saw a light of hope in Misha's eyes that I thought was long gone."

"You left that night?" The woman nodded. April had dealt with her share of defectors and knew the work required to set it up. To swoop in and remove the subjects in the same night without any prior contact only showed how professional, prepared and qualified both Illya and Talia had to be for this kind of work. No wonder U.N.C.L.E. had noticed him. "Very efficient," she said, impressed.

"It took two days of travel to get out and there wasn't one hitch. It all went smoothly until the end." Mme. Transenburg seemed more puzzled than sad, and April's curiosity was piqued once again. "We talked a lot with them as we traveled. It soothed me and I felt the young man . . Illya?" April nodded. "Seemed to know that. He chatted with me constantly about my life and his, how he was looking forward to having a family. He was quite the conversationalist." Again, words Aril never connected with the agent she knew.

"And so was Talia, but I could see something in her eyes; something I couldn't pin down then, but realized later it must have been sadness." She studied the flower for a moment and April kept respectfully quiet as the woman gathered her thoughts. "She and Misha clicked instantly. They even favored each other. They could have been father and daughter. The whole affair, which should have been so terrifying, was more like a dream, a pleasant dream.

"When we got to the final train transfer, the one that would actually take us from Russia, the escort that was to stay with us from that point on couldn't be found. The crowds, the pressure; something finally went wrong.

"We almost missed the train. They got us on, though, at the very last second. Misha's heart was not strong, which was why he was so ill, and Talia practically carried him on the train and found seats for us. Then the train moved, and that was our last day in Russia."

"What about Talia? Did she get off the train?"

Mme. Transenburg raised her head and caught April's gaze. The old woman's eyes were aglow. "She didn't get off. She was supposed to, but didn't. She came with us all the way here and was like our daughter for nearly two years. Misha, Rennie and I loved her like family. Wonderful girl."

Again, April was stunned. "She just left? She never went back?"

The woman shook her head. "I could tell the decision broke her heart, but I had to concentrate on Misha. She never spoke of that young man again and I never pried. She must have had her reasons. I don't know what they were. She certainly wasn't the same after that. True, I'd only known her for a few days when we left, but something in her eyes was gone. She truly loved that young man. Deeply. And he loved her." She sighed.

 "What did Talia do after leaving Russia?"

"She worked in a lab and paid her way through post graduate school. Then she got work in Germany. When we last spoke, she said she was engaged. I don't recall his name, but she said she was happy."

"You didn't believe her?"

The woman smiled a knowing smile and folded her hands in her lap with the stem of the flower between them. "I was lucky to find my true love in my Misha. I believe it only happens once in a lifetime. I saw that kind of love in Talia and that young man. And like I said, it only happens once."

April felt a wave of understanding wash over her. The whole story was so tragic, and all the gaps they wondered about in Talia's life had been filled, as well as some of the mysterious Illya Kuryakin. There didn't seem to be anything nefarious in her motives to this point. Napoleon was going to be disappointed - or maybe not. April rose to her feet.

"Thank you, Mme Transenburg," she said politely, taking her hand. "You've been very helpful."

"If you see Talia, give her my love. And tell her she needs to visit."

"Certainly. I can find my way out."

The woman smiled and handed April the flower she'd been holding. "Take your time, dear. Enjoy the blossoms while they are here."

The agent nodded and smiled, then slowly strolled to the gate. She took the time to appreciate the heady fragrance of nature's offerings before heading to Germany to check Talia's past employment.

Act IX: "They Don't Know It's A Surprise Party."

The next days were an odd mix of routine and heightened tension. Illya made rounds daily and noted the changes in security. Being slight and considered sick and weak was a bonus, as the security teams deemed him a non-threat and basically ignored him. This allowed him to observe things undisturbed.

The first dinner after Marcus's death was surreal. The table was set for the regular number, but only Illya and Talia showed. They spoke in low voices and tried to ignore the tense atmosphere as they ate. If it weren't for the enormous table and empty place settings with ghosts seated there, they might have even enjoyed themselves; but between their memories of past, intimate dinners and the tense setting, they kept a respectable distance between them and sat on opposite sides of the table.

Talia had been taking care of Monica but soon was directed by David to join Pfitzer in the lab. The Program details had to be finished. This left the harried maid to keep the grieving widow in control. According to Talia, David was rarely in the lab now as he was overseeing the details of the program release as well as other family details.

Illya, meanwhile, volunteered to oversee the arrivals of both party and sympathy deliveries. Tonnie, the near-deaf butler, and the head cook were having a difficult time keeping up. The agent also wanted to keep his eye out for his special delivery.

Monica Danzig didn't handle the fact that she was a widow with any grace. She stumbled around the house in nothing but her robe, her hair wild and eyes bloodshot. Between alcohol and tranquilizers, she was finally corralled to her room where the sound of moaning could be heard in various octaves throughout the days.

The people Illya was most interested in watching were Arthur and David Danzig. As Saturday turned to Sunday and then to Monday, Arthur was seen less and less, becoming a veritable recluse and physically appearing to wilt. He was rarely outside his personal rooms since Marcus's death.

On the other hand, David seemed to be getting stronger and more vital. His eyes, which had on Illya's arrival a touch of sympathy to them, grew hard and more determined.  It appeared that David Danzig was coming into his own now that older brother Marcus was gone.

Monday afternoon brought a lull in deliveries from the village. Illya stood at the very window where they had learned of Marcus' murder, and considered a walk outside. He wanted to try and find exactly where his partner had relocated, but he changed his mind when he saw Talia coming down the stairs. Even tired, she looked beautiful. Illya stood at the bottom of the stairs to watch her. A weary smile touched her face when she saw him there.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi yourself," he replied, taking her hand when she reached the bottom. "You're tired."

"Yes, I am. But it will be over soon, won't it?" She sighed. "David called for me. I'll check with you later?"

 "Sure." Illya dropped her hand. As she moved down the hall, Tonnie appeared at his shoulder.

"Sir, one more delivery in the kitchen. I believe it's for you."

"Thank you, Tonnie," Illya replied loudly, and headed to the kitchen.

The cook was bustling around in a huff, and snapped at the agent when he entered. "I don't need personal deliveries in my kitchen! It's already in a mess!" Illya had to agree; party items were stacked everywhere, and she and her helper were working constantly to keep everything in order.

"I will get it out of the way right now," he said gently. The cook had taken a liking to the lean agent almost immediately. She immediately made it her mission to put some weight on him. Her eyes softened when he spoke; he was the only person in this house besides Miss Talia that bothered to treat her like a person.

"Just take your time, dear," she said in a more polite tone. "Those guards certainly make more difficult to accept a delivery."

Security looked over every box arriving in the house, and was now talking to the delivery boy just inside the door. "A bookstore? Why is a bookstore sending something here?"

"I don't know! I just do what I'm told." Illya recognized the voice of his partner immediately and suppressed a grin. He'd expected Mark. Napoleon, dressed in a deliveryman's uniform, leaned on a wheeled dolly loaded with a crate. One of the guards was trying to pry the crate open.

"Careful!" Illya barked. "There are rare books in there. Please do not damage them."

"This is yours?" The second guard growled. Illya hadn't received much respect from any of the guards since he'd arrived. Slight, sickly men didn't deserve much notice as far as they were concerned.

 "Yes. It's a gift for the Danzigs," Illya explained as he removed the top of the crate and pushed the loose packing material aside. Aged book spines became visible amongst the straw bits. "Something from my uncle's personal library for the Danzig library. It's a thank you for my being here."

The guards looked at each other and smirked. Solo looked at Illya from under his deliveryman's cap; his eyes sparkled in humor. It was a good thing they didn't know the kind of thank you the agent hand in mind and who, exactly, his uncle was.

"Fine. Take it up. We're ready for a break," the first guard said shortly. "Books. What a waste of space." The agents wheeled the crate off.

"You forgot to tell them it was a surprise," Solo said lowly as they left the kitchen.

"They don't know it's a surprise party. That's the beauty of all this," Illya replied, directing his partner up the stairs. He watched, amused, as Solo negotiated the stairs with the dolly and only grinned more when his partner glared at him.

"Don't over extend yourself," Solo growled sarcastically.

"I wasn't planning on it." Illya replied lightly as he examined his fingernails.

Once in Illya's room, the wheat-haired agent looked over the contents carefully. Solo surveyed the room. "Nice," he quipped. "Beats sleeping in the jungle out there."

"We all have our crosses to bear. Looks like everything is there. You better get out of here."

 "All right. Oh, my new location is about there," Solo said, pointing out the window. "We took over a nice, homey spot formerly occupied by some sort of large critter. I can only hope it isn't a bear."

"I doubt it. According to Danzig, there's only deer and other small game around here."

"Oh, well, that makes me feel much better." The sarcasm was not missed. Solo moved to the door with the dolly. "The assault team is assembling west of here. So far, so good. I saw some of Danzig's men installing things along the inner wall that you may want to check out. If they're putting in electronic sensors, then this may be the last time we can talk before Thursday."

"You know my signal. Lots of noise."

"We'll be watching." Something peeked out from under the bed and caught his attention. He leaned down and pulled it out: A security guard uniform! "Well aren't you a tricky Russian," Solo said with a gleam in his eye.

Illya shrugged a non-committal shrug. "They put me in charge of the incoming deliveries. Can I help it if some of the items were misdirected?"

"You'd better hide it better than that."

"Yes, mother."

Solo stuffed the item back under the bed. They went down the hall and out the kitchen door together, dodging the cook and her helper who hustled around other boxes. Solo made a loud, disparaging remark for the sake of the onlookers about the tip Illya slipped him and bounced away in a tattered box van.  

+++++++++++   

The funeral was the next morning, Tuesday. It was unusually chilly when daylight finally broke and Illya's walk found him chilled to the bone. He moved along the wall, checking his watch every few yards. The men Solo had seen were doing exactly what he'd suspected: There were now electronic sensors in the area. The Danzigs had boosted security to a new height. There really was no need for him to contact his partner, but it was good to know the extent of the security.

He arrived at the house in time to see a limo pull up to the front and disgorge a uniform-clad nurse. She was waiting in the foyer when the agent entered the house. The nurse had a pinched expression and tapped her foot impatiently. Talia made her appearance at the top of the stairs a moment later. She was dressed in a tasteful black shift and sweater, her hair up in an off-the-neck style that showed her elegant neck. The vision wasn't lost on the agent.

"Oh, hello," she addressed the nurse. "Mrs. Danzig is up here. Please," she motioned down the hall behind her. "Come on up."

"I'm Mrs. Deeds," the curmudgeon nurse snorted.

"May I help you?" Illya offered his arm, but the woman gave him a quick once over with her eyes.

"No. I'm not an invalid."

Illya suppressed a grin at the woman's snappishness and stepped out of her way. She marched up the stairs with purpose. Illya followed the nurse up the stairs at a respectable distance, and when he reached the top, followed the women to Monica Danzig's door.

Talia tapped respectfully on the door, which was opened by the harried maid. When she saw then nurse, relief washed over her face and she quickly stepped aside and let her in. By the time Illya reached Talia's side the maid had stepped out to the hall, shut the door and hurried off, mumbling to herself.

"They got Monica a nurse to accompany her to the funeral. I don't thinks it's going to be a pretty sight," Talia said.

"Unlike you," Illya replied, eyes sparkling.

"You cad!" Talia giggled. "Really, we should be more respectful of the event."

"I suppose you are correct. I guess I'd better get ready."

It wasn't much later when a line of black limos made their way through the gates, each one getting a thorough examination on arrival. There was a short memorial in the ballroom of the house with a very small number in attendance.

"Family only," Talia whispered. "And there's not much extended family left." Illya studied each face as he passed them to his seat, but was most taken by Monica Danzig.

The nurse had pulled her together quite well, but he could tell she was heavily sedated. The lively sparkle was gone from her eyes, replaced with a dull look. She swayed in her seat through the short eulogy by David. Arthur Danzig looked like a shadow of his normal self and allowed David to run the show.

By the time they arrived at the gravesite, the numbers had grown a bit. The nearby village had sent its representation, as well as Danzig business partners. Illya noted a face or two that regularly graced the business sections of papers worldwide, as well as a politician or two. It was a respectable crowd and the security was impressive. The whole affair went smoothly.

When it was over and the crowd mingled to give their condolences Illya noticed that Monica was lead away by the nurse to a waiting limo.

Talia also noticed and frowned. "That's odd. I thought she was going back with us. David?" She touched David's shoulder as he shook a hand with a serious looking man. He turned to her as soon as released the handshake.

"Yes, Talia? What is it?"

"Isn't Monica going back with us?" She asked.

David didn't answer right away. Instead he put his arm around her shoulders and said something in her ear in a hushed voice. Talia's eyes grew wide. David turned back to the reception line and Talia stepped back.

"What did he say?" Illya asked lowly, taking her elbow.

"It seems that Monica is joining Emily in Nice."

"What exactly is in Nice? Arthur mentioned doctors there."

"Emily is in a sanatorium. A mental hospital." Talia was shocked.

"It looks like the Danzig women are interfering with the family business," he commented.

Talia shot him a stern look and clamped her mouth shut. Taking the hint, Illya backed off. She joined her fiancé at his side.

After a short time Talia, David and Arthur got in a limo. Illya rode back with some of the house staff in a separate limo. The ride back was quiet, save for some sniffling from one young female. They arrived at the house in the early afternoon. As soon as Illya stepped into the how he instantly knew that something was wrong by the glance Talia gave him. She was scared.

David escorted her up the stairs and Illya followed at a respectable distance. He waited in his room, knowing she would come to him when she could. He scanned the room with his wristwatch just to be careful; it still was cleared for audio.

Nearly an hour passed before there was a tap on the door. He quickly let her in, and noted that she'd changed to casual clothes. "Illya, he's moved up the release."

"What?"

She pulled her hair back into a ponytail as she spoke. "I'm supposed to finish up with my part of the Program tonight and David is going over it tomorrow. The introduction and tour that was scheduled for tomorrow? The one for the Thrush Council? Well, that's all a front to launch the program. It wasn't supposed to get launched until the next day, Thursday, when more of the Thrush technical personnel arrive. Arthur doesn't want the technical staff on the property now. He wants full control immediately."

He gripped her shoulders. "When, Talia? Do you have an exact time?"

"Not exact, no. I know that the Council members arrive tomorrow around noon. There's a cocktail party to welcome them and their spouses late afternoon, then the Council and David meet in the conference room for a brief. That should take about a half hour or so. Then David plans on taking them to the computer lab and show them the set up."

"Is that when he's launching it?"

"Yes. He's launching it up right under their noses. I'm guessing eight o'clock?" She paced a small circle, wringing her hands. "He's angry and wants to prove something to them. It can't get launched, Illya! Every computer on that system will be exploited. The information that will be available to them is . . ." She was unable to finish the sentence. "The power they will have will be immeasurable. No one will be safe."

Illya's voice was calm as his mind raced. He pulled Talia into a quick hug. "I know, Talia. I'm well aware of what those men want. Then the program will be finished tomorrow?"

"Yes. I don't see a problem. I'll have to work most of the night, but yes."

"Then we'll just move things up, too. Don't worry. I just have to tell Napoleon. I already have everything I need."  

++++++++++++  

Napoleon Solo was bored and tired of waiting. Neiman kept track of the assault team assembly, and informed him of the progress. By noon Thursday, all of them should be here. "Slate and Dancer want to discuss details with you. They're in the village."

Solo made his way to the village to find the pair enjoying a hot meal.

"This beats that Russian food all to heck," Slate mumbled with a full mouth.

"What did you find out, April?" Solo asked, giving Slate a friendly slap on the back.

"It looks like Talia Inova is on the up and up, Napoleon." She said, wiping her fingers on a napkin. "Her work prior to meeting David Danzig checks out, as does her whereabouts after Illya." She told them the story relayed to her by Sophia Transenburg. When she finished, both Slate and Solo had a look of astonishment.

"Didn't know he had it in him," Mark said quietly.

"It certainly doesn't sound like the Illya we know," April replied.

Solo nodded thoughtfully. "But it does explain a lot about him, doesn't it?" He was quiet for a moment then leaned in closer. "Illya wanted this information kept private. I expect you to respect that."

"No problem," the agents agreed.

"Mark? What did you find?"

"I can tell you that strangers definitely stand out in that area of the country. When I finally got close to where I believe the real Androv Inov lives, I began to hear about 'the other two strangers'."

"Danzig's investigators?"

"Sounds like it. Anyway, they had been snooping around about the Inovas, but I don't know if they found them or not. It seems that they met up with an auto accident and wound up in the river. And with a river that cold, they couldn't have lasted long."

Solo frowned. "So, if we were lucky, what we heard on the phone tap was just a lure, and they didn't get any information from them at all."

Mark sucked some air between his teeth and looked doubtful. "Well, the problem is that only one body was found in the car. The other one has not been found."

They were quiet for a minute as they contemplated the possibilities. "So, one investigator was taken by the assassin, got away, or washed down river," April summed up. "He could show up here at any moment."

"Exactly."

 Solo chewed his lower lip. It wouldn't be good for Illya if he did return; they'd have to watch for him and risk exposure. It was a tough call. "So much for luck. We have a day and a half to watch for that investigator; we're too close now to have Illya's cover blown. I'll put Neiman on the watch. I have to admit, he's good at concealing himself."

They all knew that anything could change in day and a half and ruin the whole operation. The clock was now counting down.