section7mfu | All's Well - What's My Line?

Lying on the hard ground, with his hands cuffed behind him, Napoleon Solo hoped his captors had finally accepted the truth. He knew he would be able to take further beatings, but it would be futile, as he honestly didn’t know where Illya was taking the package. The contents of the package, which he was also not privy to, were so sensitive, that seven couriers were being used. The only information each person was given, was a time, a destination and a means of identifying the next courier. There was only one man in the chain who knew the destination, and that was the last one. Solo and Kuryakin had been numbers three and four. Unfortunately, Napoleon had been spotted handing off the package to Illya, but it would seem the Russian had managed to elude them.

“I reckon he’s telling the truth,” Goon number one stated.

“Yeah,” Goon two agreed. “Besides, it’s been three hours. It’s probably too late to retrieve the package now.”

“So what do we do with him?”

Napoleon had lost count of the times he’d heard those words, and each time, they froze his heart. They could mean one of several things. The goons might decide to beat some more, just for the fun of it. Or, they might decide to hand him over to THRUSH Central. That option was possibly the worst. Then again, his captors might just to decide to kill him outright, or dump him somewhere and let him slowly expire. Of course, there was also the chance that they might just let him go, though it was highly doubtful.

“There was something outside that might suit our purpose.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It had taken Illya a several hours, and a fair amount of detective work, to finally pinpoint Napoleon’s general location. His investigations had led him to an extremely remote, and abandoned, farmhouse. Following a thorough search of the house, there was no sign of the American. Illya was almost ready to give up, when something caught his eye. Set slightly away from the house, he saw an ancient and dilapidated old well. It was almost hidden by the nature which was trying to reclaim it, but some of the over-growth showed signs of having recently been moved.

Illya ran to the well and looked down the shaft. Sure enough, at the bottom of the, thankfully not-too-deep well, was the crumpled form of Napoleon Solo.

“Napoleon! Are you alright? Napoleon!”

After a few seconds, in which Illya didn’t take a single breath, Solo finally stirred and looked up at his partner.

“Illya? Is this a well?”

“It certainly is, my friend,” the blond replied, trying not to let his relief show too much. “I’ll get the rope from the car.”

“My hands are behind me,” Napoleon told him. I won’t be able to climb.”

After making a loop at one end of the rope, Illya tied the other to his car. Napoleon climbed into the loop, and his partner pulled it tight. It was going to be uncomfortably painful for the stricken man, but Napoleon figured it was a small price to pay. There was nothing to use as a make shift pulley, so they could only hope that the rough edge of the well wouldn’t damage the rope. Illya voiced his concerns.

“Don’t worry, Tovarisch,” Napoleon assured him. “I’ve been dropped down here once, so a second time won’t be a problem.”

In the end, the concern was unnecessary. Illya took it very slowly, and eventually got Napoleon up and out.

“Can you walk?” he asked as he picked the cuffs from the American’s wrists.

“Just about,” Napoleon answered, as he tried to stretch the pain from his body. “Was the courier operation a success?”

“Yes,” Illya confirmed. “Waverly called and told be the package was delivered. So, I suppose that all’s w…”

“Don’t say it!” Solo warned.

“I was only going to say, all’s w…”

“I mean it, Kuryakin. If those words come out of your mouth, I’m dissolving this partnership.”

Waiting until Napoleon had limped far enough away, Illya grinned and called out:

“Vsyo khorosho, chto khorosho konchayetsya!”*

The end.

*All’s well that ends well.
Thank you to open_channel_d for the translation help.