ACT IV: "Her Expense Account Must Rival Yours."

The cave was comfortably warm; the rock walls soaked up the fire’s heat and radiated it back over the pair of agents. Illya lay flat on his back, his useless left arm draped over his stomach, his awareness drifting in and out. Solo got little direction from his electronics wiz partner, and worked very carefully on the tag in the dim light. The device, once removed from its protective housing, could be compressed to fit the locket but the external planting of the device increased the danger of detection. Solo hoped that Kozlov didn’t open the pendant on a regular basis.  

Illya rolled his head in Solo’s direction and fought to keep his eyes open. “Where’s the girl?” His voice was soft.  

“She’s shopping with April.” That was all Napoleon was willing to tell his partner right now.  

The resulting chortle was short and weak, and the foggy blue eyes disappeared behind suddenly heavy lids. “April is worse than you.”  

Solo chuckled as he worked on attaching a shortened wire. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good.”  

“Her expense account must rival yours.” Illya tried to sit up, but only managed to raise his head a few inches from the floor. “I’m cold.”  

Napoleon immediately put down the device and checked his partner’s forehead. He felt warm. “Actually, you have a fever. You need to stay covered.” He made sure the bag was tucked in and couldn’t help but notice Illya’s shivering. Where the hell are you, Timmons? He thought. He glanced at his watch and saw he’d been gone almost three hours. Unconsciously he bit his lip and looked at Illya’s face.  

The poor lighting did nothing to help the shadows from looking like bruises on the pale Slavic features. Illya’s hair was a rumpled mess, and his cheeks hollow. Solo checked the pulse at his friend’s warm neck. It was racing.  

“The doctor will be here soon.” He checked the circulation in his partner’s left hand and was satisfied. Solo realized Illya hadn’t responded. “Illya?” He was unconscious. “Damn it,” Solo spit. “Where’s Timmons?” He forced his attention back on the device feeling quite useless.  

It was just shy an additional hour when Timmons, Slate and April returned, ice frozen to their hair and snow covering their coats.  

“It’s beginning to storm again,” Mark said as he brushed off. “April needs to get going. Is the tag ready?”  

“I have four dresses waiting in the car. Not a whole lot to choose from in town!”  

“Here,” Solo gave her the device. “Let me know when Kat’s ready to place the device. Get going.”  

“Well, good afternoon to you, too.” She said grumpily as she stashed the tag inside a small metal box that also contained tailor’s pins. “How’s Illya?”  

“Out cold and feverish. We need to get to work.” He made himself pause, and take a breath. Apologetically, he smiled at April. “He’ll be fine. Now can we get this over with?”  

April smiled back and threw a mock salute. “Piece of cake, captain. See ya in a while.” With one lingering look in Illya’s direction, she moved away and disappeared into the elements.  

“Get water boiling,” Timmons ordered as he stepped into the leading role.  

*************  

Kat had been pacing her room nervously for what seemed like days. Every time she heard a door slam or footsteps, she froze and listened carefully, wondering if her stepfather or April would arrive first.  

What if she got to Adrian ’s room too early? Or too late? Or what if he decided not to shower at all tonight? What if he walked in on her? Kat suspected he had a violent side to him that he kept out of her sight. She’d seen an occasional security man wince when her stepfather raised his voice sometimes, and she already knew the bite of his sharp tongue. Now she wondered if he carried guns. Or knives. Or poison! You’re being silly! She scolded herself. Calm down or you’ll ruin everything!  

At the point where she thought she would go mad, there was a rap on her door. She jumped and squeaked, “What? I mean, who is it?” She fought with her breathing to try and slow her heart. Lucya opened the door wide, and Kat felt herself smile crazily in relief at the sight of April standing behind her maid. “Oh! I’m so glad you made it!”  

April stepped around the old woman, her arms piled high with dresses. “Hello, Miss Katherine. Shall we begin?”  

“Oh, yes!” She turned her attention to the maid. “Thank you, Lucya. You may go now. Oh, wait.”  

Lucya paused in the doorway. “Yes, Miss?”  

“Um, is my stepfather home yet?”  

“Yes, miss, he’s just arrived and is in the study.”  

“Thank you,” Kat said warmly to her friend and thought, if you only knew what was going on!  Lucya closed the door quietly. Kat turned to April immediately. “I thought you’d never get here!”  

April laughed lightly in response. “Ah, the impatience of youth.” She dropped the dresses and motioned for Kat to be quiet. “I’ve brought four dresses, miss. Which one would you like to start with?” As she spoke, the agent walked around the room and checked ledges and behind pictures.  

Kat watched her, puzzled. April motioned for her to respond. “Ah, let’s see here.” What was she doing? April pointed to the dresses, and Kat tore her eyes from the woman to the bed and picked up the top dress. “This one looks good.” She looked up and saw April rolling her hands. Keep going. “But this one is nice too.” She ruffled the entire pile. Now the agent was looking at a small device in her hand. “Um, this is a nice color selection. Not too many ruffles.”  

“Okay, you can stop now.” The trim woman slipped the gadget into a pocket. “It’s clean in here.” Kat’s confused look made her laugh lightly. “Microphones,” she said softly. “We aren’t being monitored.”  

“Oh, my God. I hadn’t thought of that.” Kat sank onto the bed, shaken.  

“That’s what I’m her for.” The older woman smiled and picked up a dress. “I think this one is particularly yummy. I may take it home with me!”  

“ ‘Yummy’? ” Kat repeated slowly. She was actually talking clothes at a time like this?  

“Oh, yes.” April held it up to her chest and looked into Kat’s  small mirror. “This would be perfect.” She turned one way, then another and said cheerfully. “Come on, Kat. Lighten up! We have to wait until he’s in the shower anyway. When will that be, do you think?”  

With a shaky hand Kat picked up one of the dresses. It felt slinky and warm and . . . wonderful. She moved to stand next to the agent and held it up to her body. I’d never pick out a dress like this, but it is wonderfully decadent! “He has a cocktail, reads mail, and then showers before dinner.”  

“Creature of habit, huh? Where’s your mom?”  

“She’s in the kitchen directing the cook. She’s hands on that way.” Finally her nerves felt intact again because of the chatter and self admiration, and Kat realized that was April’s plan all along. She was good. “How’s Illya?”  

April’s lips pursed. “I don’t know. They were preparing to operate when I left.”  

The two women regarded their reflections in the mirror as they held the dresses up to their bodies. It made the idea of what was going on in the cave seem so unreal, just like the framed reflection before them.  

**************  

“How much left in the bag?” Timmons forehead was shiny with perspiration and furrowed in concentration. His eyes never left the field below him.  

“About half. A little under.” Mark was holding the i.v. fluid bag at Illya’s head and watching the patient’s breathing.  

The scene in the cave was straight out of a B-movie, Solo thought as he glanced nervously around. His jobs were to hand Timmons equipment and apply chloroform as needed to keep the patient unconscious. Even with the clean, white sheets over, under and around Illya glowing brightly in the light of strategically placed lanterns couldn’t cover the primitive setting of the cave. They were on their knees and the patient on the floor. There were no monitoring devices, no shiny appointments, sterile facilities or cute nurses. This was a cross between Ben Casey and Tarzan.  

Timmons had not been happy about the fever, but there was nothing he could do about it except inject antibiotics into the i.v. He’d swathed Illya with iodine, unwrapped some sterile scalpels, forceps and clamps, and then talked Solo through the anesthesia. Illya had come around during preparations but wasn’t aware of his surrounds. He’d mumbled a few incomprehensible words, struggled very little at the application of the chloroform, and dropped off easily enough. Solo felt a little guilty and moved on to the next step.  

The doctor continued to frown as he hunched his shoulders in concentration.  

“Isn’t this taking longer than you expected?” Solo asked. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the open, bloody hole in his partner’s upper back.  

“I haven’t located the bullet yet,” Timmons grunted. “It’s deeper than I thought and I have to avoid some sensitive areas. Forehead.”  

Solo wiped the perspiration away before it dripped into the cavity.  

“How do you know where to look? He was shot from the front.”  

Timmons's attention wasn’t diverted at all by the conversation. “It has to be here. It’s the only area that accounts for the paralysis. An x-ray would have been nice. Maybe we should have dragged one of those machines down here.”  

“Along with either a generator or the world’s longest extension cord. Why didn’t I think of that?”  

“Because you aren’t the doctor. I knew I should have been in charge of this debacle. Clamp.”  

Solo laughed. His back was killing him from bending over and he knew Timmons must be in worse shape. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, though, and a feeling of appreciation washed over the worried agent. 

“I feel something.” Timmons’ fingers slowed as he searched the opening. After a moment he froze, then carefully drew out the forceps. A metallic lump was clamped between the teeth. “Got it.” He dropped the item in a shallow cup and began to close.  

Solo and Slate’s shoulders relaxed and their faces brightened considerably.  

“It’s about time.” Mark growled good naturedly. “My arm was falling asleep.”  

Timmons had the wound closed in very short time, and was putting in the final stitches when Solo’s communicator beeped.  

“Solo here.”  

“Kat’s going in now, Napoleon. Kozlov’s in the shower, right on schedule.”  

“It’s about time something went right. Solo out.”  

*************

Wearing the satin gown she’d first picked up Kat made her way down the hall in her bare feet to the large master bedroom while holding the front hem up off the floor with both hands. She knew her stepfather usually left the ring and pendant on his dresser when he showered, so it should be easy enough to place the tag if only her hands weren’t shaking so much. She was glad of the handful of dress; it covered her trembling.  

She nodded at the sentry in the hall, now realizing that it was probably odd that someone was always posted on the upper floors. It had been this way as long as she could remember, but now that she knew the activities of Adrian Kozlov, the sentry seemed ominous and she felt practically naked in front of him.  

She slipped into the room and felt that her hands were awfully sweaty. She started to wipe her hands on the gown, thought better of that, and used the curtains instead. “I always hated that material,” she mumbled to calm her nerves.  

The dresser was across the room. She quickly crossed the space and picked up the pendant. She started to open it when a file on the dresser caught her eye. It was one of those black folders with the white bird symbol on the cover. Before she could stop herself, she picked it up and opened it.  

It was rows and rows of total nonsense. Numbers and words mixed together with odd symbols that she didn’t recognize. She realized it was a code. Something that needed to be in code must be important, she thought. Quickly, she took the top sheet and stuffed it down the front of her dress. She replaced the folder and turned her attention to the pendant.  

The sound of the bedroom door opening made her heart stop.  

“Katherine, my dear, what are you doing in here?” Viktoriya Kozlov’s voice was light and edged in curiosity.  

Kat spun around in surprise. The pendant swung brightly from her hand.  

“What are you doing with Adrian’s pendant?” Kat’s mother closed the door and moved toward her, smiling. “That dress in beautiful, but isn’t it a little revealing for a girl your age?”  

“Huh?” Kat blinked and looked down, forgetting completely about the dress. Her mind kicked into gear. “Um, I don’t think so, mother, but I came in there to look in your full length mirrors.” Relief washed over her. It was a plausible lie for her being in here, but what about the necklace? “I, ah, was using the mirrors and I saw the pendant and it struck me that I’ve never seen what’s inside.” She dropped her head and looked at the necklace so her mother couldn’t see her eyes. She knew her eyes always gave her away to her mother.

Viktoriya laughed and took the necklace. “I suppose it’s not snooping. It’s a picture of me. See?” Kat’s mother had popped open the locket and showed Kat the photo. “I gave it to him the day we married.”  

“Oh.” Kat was strangely disappointed. She’d expected something more diabolical. She gently took the necklace from her mother and turned away from her while she reached into her bra for the tag. She kept talking to distract her mother. “What’s for dinner?”  

As Viktoriya recited the menu, Kat retrieved the tag, positioned it in the locket and snapped it shut. Her mother had moved to the closet to change for dinner, so replacing the necklace was easy.

“I’m going to change, too.” With the butterflies in her stomach finally gone, Kat let out a breath of relief and crossed to the door.  

“Kat.” Her mother’s tone made her stop in her tracks. She turned slowly. “Please try on something else. For me?”  

The girl relaxed, and smiled. “Sure, mother.” When she finally made it to her room, her knees gave out and she collapsed on the bed. “I did it!”  

April smiled hugely. “Good girl,” and gave her a hug.  

“And I got this.” She pulled out the paper and handed it over to the surprised agent. April took it and frowned. The THRUSH symbol in the letter head was unmistakable.  

“Kat, you shouldn’t have done this. You could have been caught!” Agent Dancer was suddenly very angry, and her voice made that very clear.  

Kat was stunned. “But I was helping. . .”  

“You’ve done your job and we’re grateful, but this was way over the line. He’s going to miss this, and very soon I should think.” April’s eyes turned hard. She carefully slipped the slightly crinkled paper it in her  apron’s wide pocket. “We can’t put it back now. Kat, you have to listen to me.” Her voice softened at the struck look on the girl’s face. She put her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “You’re done. You’re out of it. You have to forget us now. When your stepfather finds this missing, you need to implicate me, understand? Tell them I was with you in the room.”  

“I . . . I can’t. There’s a guard in the hall. He’ll remember.”  

“Then tell them you left me alone for awhile. Put the blame on me. DO NOT try and explain the disappearance. You don’t know anything.”  

“All right, all right, but what about Illya? I need to know he’s okay.”  

“You don’t need to know anything.” April’s voice was sharp-edged sympathy as she gathered up the dresses. Kat slipped out of hers and into a robe, and held the dress out for April. She was terribly shaken by the woman’s  anger, and it showed clearly on her face even through the defiant expression she tried to display. April sighed. “We’ll try to get word to you, somehow. I have to get out of here and warn the others.” She hugged the dresses in close. “Thank you, Kat, but go back to your life. This is no business for a teenager, especially if you want to live to be an adult.”  

Katherine nodded miserably as the UNCLE agent let herself out of the room. She wondered if she’d ever hear from any of them again.

ACT V: "And We Have No Shame In Flying This Particular Coop."

April Dancer didn’t take the time to report in to the Solo. She dumped the dresses in the small car, quickly checked the area for sentries then moved into the riverbed, glad for the falling darkness and cloudy sky. Her breath puffed from her mouth like steam from a locomotive when she hustled into the cave, and her demeanor was just as bold with urgency.  

“We have to go now,” she said without preamble.  

The others were gathered around the fire still stowing the remains of the ‘surgical suite’. The blood on Dr. Timmons sleeves gave the female agent a moment’s pause but the calm expression on everyone’s faces put her at ease.  

“Why? We can inform headquarters from here that they can start tracking Kozlov.” Solo, struck by something in April’s posture, stood and came to her side.  

Meanwhile, she had pulled a paper from her pocket. “This is why. Kat got the tag planted, but took it upon herself to take this from her stepfather’s dresser.”  

Solo took the paper and frowned. Curious, Mark moved to his side and looked over his boss’ shoulder.  

“That’s a new code,” Mark commented.  

“Yes, it is.” Solo pointed to the top lines. “It’s a memo of some sort. This line looks like a date, followed by ‘To’ and ‘From’ lines. I think.”  

“New code but same old format,” Mark mused, frowning. “Who can break it around here?”  

Solo glanced to the still form under the sleeping bag at the far end of the cave. “Illya’s the best bet here, but if we get this to the office in Berlin there’s more staff.”  

April sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. “We have, at best, two hours before Kozlov realizes this is gone. We need to be out of here. But Napoleon, I’m worried about Katherine. She could be his first suspect, and as a result she could be in danger and he could find the tag tonight. I managed to place a bug in the main hallway of the house, so hopefully we can get a heads up if things start going south.”  

The new facts put a spin on their actions from this point and Solo quickly weighed what he knew with what he anticipated. Ideas came and went from his mind in quick procession as he decided on their course, which was tempered with a dash of Solo Luck.  

“I am going to assume that this paper contains at least some of the information we’re looking for with the tag. We are going to lay low in town and let Illya take a crack at this while we monitor Miss Tarasov and make sure she’s all right. If this paper is what we need, and if the tag isn’t discovered, we can remove it and insure the girl’s safety.”  

Mark whistled. “That assumption is a big gamble.”  

“Not as big as the gamble I’m taking that the tag won’t be found before we remove it.” Solo waved the paper. “Start packing. This area will be swarming with guards as soon as this is discovered missing, and we need to be safely tucked away so Illya can start working on it.”  

April glanced at the unconscious agent as she started to gather their things. “That’s also assuming he’ll wake up soon.”  

“I can nag him awake. It’s worked before.”  

Mark quickened his packing. “And I don’t want to be anywhere around when you do that. Just make sure all the breakables are out of his reach.”  

************    

Everyone was grateful for their Russian comrade’s slight build when it came to his extractions from the cave. Snow and darkness did nothing to make it easy. Dr. Timmons had the injured agent so tightly bound that Solo was reminded of another assignment where Illya had been wrapped like a mummy. At least this time it was the good guys’ doing, but the American was glad his partner was unconscious. Illya still wouldn’t be too happy about the situation.  

Fitting everyone in the ancient Lada was another challenge.  If the situation wasn’t so dire, this would be funny, Solo thought. Like stuffing college students in a phone booth. Again, the group was happy at the senseless state of the patient. Otherwise, he would never allow himself to be draped across the laps of two men with a drift of designer dresses piled on him because April wouldn’t allow them to be put on the floor. The car lumbered woefully through the blinding snowfall, the four cylinders doing their best for the American agent. April was constantly wiping fog from the interior window surfaces.  

“As long as his torso and neck are straight and supported, I’m happy.” For a doctor, Timmons was actually quite flexible and Solo was thankful for that. In the darkness of the car the feeble, dancing glow of a flash light was all the doctor and Mark had which to study the recovered bullet.  They were almost to the boarding house when Timmons announced, “There’s still a piece of the bullet in Kuryakin, somewhere. Agent Slate is sure this isn’t a complete slug.”  

“What does that mean?” April asked immediately, realizing her window wiping efforts only resulted in more fog from the exertion and was akin to sweeping sand from a beach.  

“That he could still lose the use of this arm. On the positive side, I’m satisfied that any internal bleeding has stopped.” The pleased sound of his voice did a little to put the others at ease.  

“That’s one good thing at least,” Solo grumbled as the car finally jerked to a stop in the parking area and wheezed into silence. He kicked his recalcitrant door open and felt strangely triumphant.  

Dancer and Timmons went ahead to prepare the room for Illya while Solo and Mark prepared to get past the clerk by using the ‘drunken-and-passed-out friend’ routine that was usually successful anywhere in the world. It was complicated by the one arm being snugly wrapped to Illya’s torso, but they managed to slip him by the bored clerk without a second glance and got him positioned on the better of the two small beds.  

April immediately began to fiddle with a tiny receiver pressed to her ear, and nodded sharply after a few minutes. “Got it. The bug in the hallway is working fine.” Meanwhile, Solo contacted Berlin to begin tracking the tag.  

That left the unconscious one.  Timmons was by his side monitoring his vitals and testing nerve reactions. He sighed loudly and rubbed his tired eyes. “I won’t know anymore until he’s awake.”  

“Let’s do it, then,” Solo decided.  

“Ah, I’m going to clear out to the other room so I can hear.” April got up and moved to leave.  

Mark joined her immediately. “And I’m going to clean up and help her. Partners. You know.”  

Solo couldn’t help but grin. He’d seen his own partner’s reputation clear a room before. “Chickens.”  

“And we have no shame in flying this particular coop. Later, mates!” The door clicked shamelessly shut on Mark’s heels.  

Dr. Timmons faced the CEA with a professional demeanor and waited for orders. He knew what was at stake and through the years with UNCLE, knew when to back off as a doctor and give lead to an agent. “I guess it’s no use to voice my objections.”  

Solo was well aware of the doctor’s position and appreciated his tractable stance. “Not really, no. Let’s wake him up. A girl’s safety may depend on it.”  

Timmons rifled through his small doctor’s bag and came up with a vial. Carefully, he drew out a small amount and injected it in the agent. “It’s a stimulant which will work to counteract the anesthesia. Talk to him.”  

Solo sat on a tiny patch of open mattress edge and patted Illya’s cheek. “Hey, Illya! Wake up! Come on, partner, we need you here.”  

First there was a facial twitch which morphed into a grimace, then a frown. Illya’s body shifted and his right arm felt automatically for his non-existent gun before his eyes were fully open. He groaned, blinked, and groaned again before his eyes stayed open. Solo could see the confusion in the pools of fuzzy blue, which slowly cleared then shadowed again with pain and recognition.  

“What did you do to me now?” He croaked, using his good arm to brush his hair from his forehead.  

“Not much. Just sliced you open like a Christmas turkey.  Where does it hurt?”  

Illya closed his eyes and covered them with his arm. “Ask me where it doesn’t hurt,” he mumbled.  

Solo pulled the arm down. “Illya, we need your brain. Can you see this?” He held the paper in front of his partner’s face.  

The blond agent scowled at the paper, tried to sit up and hissed in pain.  With Solo on one side and Timmons on the other, they were able to maneuver the agent into a sitting position while he punctuated the air with Russian expletives.  Solo recognized a few of the phrases, guessed at the rest and turned his eyes briefly to the doctor. “You know Russian slang?” He asked conversationally.  

“Better than I wish to at the moment,” Timmons grunted. “Remind me to school him on anatomy when he’s all healed.”  

“Oh,” Solo replied between his physical efforts, “I think I it’s best to let that sleeping dog lie, doc.”  

With flimsy pillows and folded blankets they were able to stabilize the Russian in a sitting position. Timmons noticed immediately the fresh blood that blossomed from the bandages, but Illya was too intent on the paper in front of him to care.  

“Let me get you something for the pain.”  

“Aspirin. Nothing more,” Illya growled automatically.  

Timmons opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut with the warning glance from Solo. “Aspirin it is,” he replied. He got the pills, gave them to his patient, and then motioned Solo to the side. “I need to evaluate his arm.”  

“Later,” Solo shot back. “Right now I want his full attention on that paper. Your job is to make sure he does just that. All else is secondary right now.” He met the doctor’s eyes and held them. “Understand?”  

The doctor pressed his lips together to keep his opinions to himself, and nodded silently. Experience had taught him when to back off, but he didn’t have to like it. He could see that his patient was doing an admirable job of concentrating on the paper through the pain he knew the man was feeling. UNCLE agents are simply a breed to themselves, he thought.  

After checking in with Berlin and Headquarters the CEA stationed himself next to the bed with notepad in hand. “What do you have so far?” he asked bravely.  

Illya grunted. “Optimist. I can barely see the print.” His voice was low so that only his friend would hear.  

“I have faith. I see this as a date and delivery headers. Am I right?”  

The two experienced agents put their heads together and worked steadily for nearly two hours. The Russian grew more pale and shaky and began to perspire, but pressed on. The American, knowing he was pushing his partner’s physical limits, kept the feeling of urgency to himself, and the doctor at bay. It was almost nine o’clock when April let herself in the room following a single knock.  

“I think there’s trouble. The staff sounds restless and they seem to be searching the house. I don’t like it, Napoleon, and Mark and I have come up with a way to get Kozlov off Kat’s scent. A permanent diversion.”

The lead agent left the bedside and spoke quickly and quietly with her. “We’re on an open line with Berlin cryptology and doing all we can in that area.” He thought for a moment. “What would you need for your diversion?” His eyes brightened at the thought.  

“The original code sheet,  a handwritten copy and one of the dresses.”  

“Easy enough. Are you going to tell me your plan?”  

Her eyes sparkled in mischief. “It’s rather complicated, but in essence, meet Kozlov’s new mole in UNCLE!” She threw her arms open and smiled evilly. “Me!”  

The only hitch was that the diversion couldn’t be fully implemented until Illya and Berlin broke the code. When they did so, Solo would call her on the communicator and give her the go-ahead.  

********  

Solo’s eyes were grainy and itchy from lack of sleep. He fortified himself by splashing cold water on his face then soaked a small towel to do the same for his fading partner. The task was taking its toll on Kuryakin; Solo could see his eyes growing glassier by the minute. The surgical wound finally stopped bleeding, but the pillows and wall were stained with the Russian’s blood. They had to hurry, but the CEA didn’t want to pressure his partner any more. Illya knew what was at stake.  

Mark and April had been sent away in the car to keep any of Kozlov’s snoops from zeroing in on them for the moment. The goons would soon search the hotel based on any information gained from the shop owner where April got the dresses. Luckily, it was after hours and that information would take time to get.  

Napoleon applied the cold cloth to Illya’s face, and he jerked awake, embarrassed. Solo could feel the heat of the pale skin and knew the fever had not abated. Timmons gave the patient another shot of antibiotics.  

“Come on, Illya, we’re running out of time.”  

“I know, I know. I can’t breathe.” He began to pick dispiritedly at the wrappings and Solo helped. Dr. Timmons also pitched in; Solo knew the doctor had been eager to check the injured arm, and wasn’t going to let this chance pass.  

As soon as the arm as free, the doctor grabbed the hand. “Do you feel this?” Carefully, he poked the Russian’s palm with his fingernail.  

Illya stared at it. “No,” he said slowly, and then more dangerously, “This can wait.” He tore his eyes from his hand, and looked to his partner. “What did Berlin say?”  

 Solo could see anger and resentment growing in the hot, blue eyes and knew his partner was upset and trying to deflect attention to keep his cool.  Solo doubted he would be successful for very long due to his depleted state. He repeated what the cryptologists had suggested in the last message; it was the fourth time he’d had to repeat the message, and his nerves were as tense as the air in the room. He felt like screaming. Timmons seemed oblivious to the fact that he was messing with a time bomb.  

 “How about this?” The doctor picked the skin on the back of the limp hand.  

Illya locked his burning eyes on the doctor and gave him a look that made Solo’s heart stop. The doctor must have had a death wish, because he didn’t back off.  In the next second, the sickly blond grabbed the doctor’s collar in a blinding move and held him firmly. His breath was short and gasping, his face red. “I said, go away.”  

Calmly, the doctor dropped his eyes. “Are you going to hit me?” he said after a moment. “Because if you do, you risk breaking those fingers. Look.”  

Taken aback but still fuming, Illya followed the doctor’s gaze as did Solo.  

“You’re making a fist!” Solo said in quiet amazement.  

“I think you’re going to be alright.” The doctor said softly. “Can I breathe now?”  

The patient looked up, surprised, and released the physician. “Certainly.” The one word carried away all the tension that had charged the room. “Can I get back to work now?” Illya’s voice was gruff, but the other two men could see relief in the blue eyes. “Napoleon, I have an idea. Tell Berlin to run a logarithmic progression starting with the second vowel of each grouping and apply it to the matrix they already have.” Now the Russian simply looked exhausted; he let his eyes slide shut and his body sag back against the wall.  Solo repeated the directions in the slim, silver pen.  

The seconds dragged past and the silence was deafening. It was finally broken by electronic chatter.  

“That’s it, partner! They got it going. It’ll take a few minutes to decode the whole page.”  

His words fell on deaf ears. Illya had finally given in to sleep and the doctor finally looked happy.

ACT VI: "And What If I Just Kill You Both?"

April Dancer, clad again in her dressmaker’s smock and carrying a large box, didn’t make it past the security at the gated driveway and hadn’t even been trying. She was immediately detained, searched, cuffed and escorted to another building up the road from the property and off the beaten path. She was secured in a small, windowless room that contained only two metal chairs and a solid metal table. She waited patiently for her interrogator, and was surprised to see Kozlov himself enter the room.  

His eyes were burning with anger. “We have the paper that was hidden in the dress box.”  

“Paper?” She said innocently while trying to appear frightened. “The dress was wrapped in paper, yes. What is wrong with that? You’re scaring me!”  

“Stop with the act, Miss Dancer. We know who you are as well your partner waiting at the airport. Mr. Slate, I believe? The snow storm that closed the airport must have put a crimp in your escape plans.” He leaned in close to her face. “Where are the other two?”  

April acted surprised. “What other two?”  

“The two you were seen with in at your hotel. The owner of the dress shop gave us the address.”  

“Oh.” She looked chastised. “Them. They left already.”  

“How? The airport is closed.” He wrapped his meaty fist around her neck. “Tell me or you die. We still have your partner.”  

“They don’t know anything!” April choked. “And if you kill either one of us you’ll have UNCLE agents crawling all over this place!”  

“When that code gets to your Headquarters, there will be agents all over this place anyway!” He yelled in her face, tightening his grip.  

“No! They won’t, trust me!” Her vision swam as her air was slowly cut off.  

There was a visible fight in Kozlov’s expression as he gained control of his anger. He released her neck with a grunt and stood quickly as if he didn’t trust himself not to kill her on the spot. “Don’t play with me, woman, or yours will be a slow and painful death.”  

April’s heart raced. She coughed to get her breath back. Then she sat up straight to try and emit an air of dignity. “I have a deal to make with you, Kozlov.”  

“And I supposed it involves setting you free?” He snarled.  

“Of course,” she smiled charmingly. “I’ll tell you what my mission was, and you’ll gladly set me free.”  

“Stupid girl! Your mission was to steal the meeting plans from my room!” He leaned in again. “And you were trying to return them so Thrush wouldn’t know the code was broken.”  

“Well, the second part is right. I was trying to return the plans.”  

He narrowed his eyes dangerously then without warning, backhanded the agent across the cheek, almost knocking her and the chair over.  

April saw stars. “B . . . but that wasn’t our mission.” Kozlov crossed his arms and glared at his captive while April adjusted her body into a comfortable position in the unyielding chair. “I was going to sell the plans, a copy, anyway, to the highest bidder outside UNCLE. THRUSH does have competition, you know, and they pay well.” She smiled confidently, her cheek throbbing painfully. “Very well.”  

It took a moment for that to sink in, but Kozlov’s snarl eventually turned into a grin, and then into a hearty laugh. “You’re trying to get me to believe that you are double crossing UNCLE? I’ve never heard of such a thing! That is . . . you have quite an imagination, young lady!”  

April put on a patient expression. “Oh, come on. You’ve heard of the Beldon Affair in Berlin . Everyone in Thrush has, I’m sure. Duplicity is not unknown in UNCLE.” She smiled. “Personally, I’ve discovered that UNCLE doesn’t pay enough to give me the things I really like. Clothes, for example; a girl needs to look her best, and I happen to like the best.”  

“And your partner?”  

“He like cars. Fast ones.”  

"You’re telling me you two are in this together?”  

Coyness overtook her expression. “Well. We’re in a lot of things together, but not necessarily this. I’ll make you a deal.”  

He laughed again. “Deal? All you have to bargain with is your freedom! What’s in it for me?”  

“The real reason I’m here, which was aimed at destroying you; that is, the reason UNCLE sent a team here to begin with. My taking the code was simply a side show for me only.” She sighed and fluttered her lashes. “You can have it back.”  

His smile lessened. “You are a cocky one, aren’t you? How can you be sure I won’t break you and your partner’s necks right now and blame it on a car accident? This storm makes driving quite hazardous, you know.”

April was suddenly all business. “Here’s the deal: As a show of good faith, I’ll tell you our real mission here. In return, you set me free and agree to buy information from me in the future.  Inside UNCLE information would certainly make you look good to the THRUSH Council, wouldn’t it? I’m out the sale of the code, but I get some guaranteed future income.  We both win.” April could see Kozlov’s mind starting to work.  Give a man a chance of power and he’ll grab for it every time, she thought happily.  

“And what if I just kill you both?”  

She smiled again, smugly confidant.  “Well, you’ll never be sure I’m telling the truth and you’ll never know why I’m really here. And that second part is what will sink you, believe me. When I tell you why I was really sent here, you’ll believe me when I say that the plans I took were merely an opportunity that presented itself to me.”  

Kozlov was quiet while he weighed the information and considered the deal.  

EPILOGUE : "Men Just Love Having Secrets, Don't They?"  

Solo tried to get comfortable in the reception area of the Medical wing in UNCLE, Berlin . Why does every waiting room in every medical building have such lousy furniture? He thought.  Fortunately, his wait was short as the surgeon appeared through a swinging door.  

“He’s fine. We found the shrapnel, repaired the damage and he’ll live to spy again,” he said shortly. "I commend Dr. Timmons on his bandaging. The broken rib could have punctured any number of internal organs. Mr. Kuryakin was lucky. " This doctor's speech was short, to the point, and left no room for discussion. He was obviously used to dealing with the many UNCLE patients as well as their partners. Solo hadn’t uttered a word, but stood with his mouth partially open.  He snapped it shut and wordlessly pointed at the gurney. The surgeon replied, “He’s going to room 210. Good day,” and disappeared through another swinging door.  

Solo could see a gurney and a small group of nursing staff begin to trail through the swinging door. A very weary looking Dr. Timmons brought up the rear of the little procession, and acknowledged Solo with a tired grin and a nod. "All safe and sound. Can't say the same for the nursing staff from this point out." He offered his hand. "I'm heading back to New York in about an hour. It was . . . interesting . . . working with you. 

They shook hands warmly. "Thanks, doc. It wasn't exactly what we planned, but it worked out, I'd say." 

"I'd say 'anytime', but I wouldn't mean it!" He laughed. "Good bye, Mr. Solo." Timmons left the hallway, peeling off the scrubs as he went. 

Solo stood back to allow the nursing staff and patient to pass. When the gurney slid past he could see that Illya’s eyes were closed, and assumed he was asleep. He fell back to follow, then heard a weak voice say, “When’s dinner? I’m starving.” The nurse’s answer faded as they moved away from the surprised CEA. Solo then chased them down the hall at a fast walk, but slowed to appreciate the nurse’s swaying figure beneath the uniform as she dealt with the cranky Russian.  He almost ran into April and Mark as they intercepted him at a cross-hallway.  

“Napoleon! How’s our patient?” April’s left cheek was just beginning to bloom into full bruise colors and her eye was puffy, but it didn’t keep the smile from her face.  

“He’s his old self again.”  

“Batten down the hatches, then!” Mark said cheerily.  His cheek sported bruises that matched his partner’s.  

“You can say that again,” April agreed. “Good. I told Kat he would be fine before we left.”  

Mark frowned. “How did you manage that?”  

“I told Kozlov that the purse that matches the dress was at the shop for Kat. The note was inside. By then, Kozlov had no reason to search the purse; I’d set myself straight with him, the greedy bastard.” She shook her head slowly and laughed. “Men just love having secrets, don’t they?”  

“I wouldn’t know.” Mark said instantly.  

“And I wouldn’t tell you if we did,” Solo followed up just as quickly.  

“Relax, boys. It was a rhetorical question.”  

When the little troop entered the hospital room, it was immediately quite crowded. The pretty nurse managed a scowl that was somewhat believable, but they waited her out. She left with a promise to the surly patient that she would bring food as soon as possible. “Don’t make him any grouchier than he already is,” she snapped as she left. An appreciative smile from the handsome Solo didn’t even soften her up.  

“Tell me,” Illya questioned from the bed. “How, exactly, did I get here? And is the girl all right? A short version. My head hurts.”  

April sat on the edge of the bed. “Shortly, here goes: Airplane. After the airport opened, of course. And the girl is fine, and she knows you are fine.”  

“And the coded paper was an itinerary for the next several months on Kozlov’s secret meetings with Thrush and others. Since the tag wasn’t needed anymore, April told him about it  to make her look good and keep Kat off the suspects list, if she was ever there. I’ll fill in all the blanks later,” Solo summed up. Illya just nodded and relaxed into the pillows with a sigh and closed his eyes.  

April patted Illya’s hands.  

“I felt that,” Illya said with a very tiny smile. “In both hands.”  

“Good. Then we’ll leave you alone.” She glanced at her watch. “I have a couple hours of good shopping left.”  

Illya shook his head ever so slightly.  

Mark rolled his eyes.  

Solo grinned crookedly and shot the cuff of his rumpled shirt. “Maybe I’ll join you.” He offered his arm to April and she took it happily. They grabbed their coats to go.  

“How long do you think it will take Kozlov to figure out the information I’m passing him is bad?” She asked the CEA. “Do you think Mr. Waverly will take into account the extra money I’m bringing in to UNCLE with I turn in my expense accounts? And how much bad information will it take before THRUSH  will have nothing to do with Kozlov anymore?”  

Solo sighed tiredly. “Don’t talk. Just shop.”  

April nodded agreeably. “I like the way you think, boss. Let’s go!”  

FINIS