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section7mfuPart 1
Napoleon Solo was a man of action, so waiting for his partner to complete the mission was doing nothing for his nerves. His unease grew when the power to the complex was restored before Illya had exited and returned to their vehicle. When the building began to be rocked by a series of explosions, Napoleon’s panic levels went off the scale.
With his breath held, he desperately scanned all the possible exits for any sign of Illya. From the planning session, Napoleon knew that the Russian had decided to set the charges off in a cascade, allowing five seconds between each one. Illya’s innate paranoia meant he had allowed for some running time should he get held up along the way. As each charge blew, with no sign of his partner emerging, Napoleon’s heart sank lower.
Finally, after what seemed like decades, a door was flung open and two men tumbled out. The shorter man was clearly trying to escape the grasp of the other. Solo watched on as Illya gained the upper hand and knocked his assailant out with a well-placed chop to the neck. As his partner began to run away from the building, Napoleon let go a deep sigh of relief. He was just taking his next intake of breath when the wall exploded outwards and enveloped Illya.
Solo didn’t hesitate for a moment, and ran at full speed towards his fallen colleague. Upon reaching the devastation, he initially thought he would have to dig to find his friend. Luckily, the light from the nearby flames illuminated a mop of blond hair; Illya’s hat having been blown off in the blast. Napoleon moved aside the debris which was covering his partner, who was lying face down. He carefully rolled him over and was overjoyed to find he was breathing. The joy was short-lived when he noticed a jagged bone poking through Illya’s sweater. It would be obvious to anybody that his collar bone was quite badly broken. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, Napoleon lifted his partner up into a cradling carry, and moved him as quickly as possible to the car. There was no time for finesse, and it was too dangerous to bring an ambulance to them. Napoleon would have to get Illya to a hospital himself.
He had to drive for twenty minutes before he found what he was looking for. Throughout the journey, Napoleon kept up a soothing litany of calming words. He told himself they were for Illya, but as the Russian was unconscious, and unable to hear him, he knew it was more for himself. He pulled to a gentle stop outside the entrance of the hospital and, ignoring protests from a security guard, he lifted Illya from the car and took him inside.
He was immediately swamped by medical staff, who took the injured man from him. Napoleon tried to follow them into the room they’d gone into, but was stopped by a nurse.
“Please wait out here, Sir,” she said in her practiced calm tone. “I will let you know what is happening. Now could you tell me your friend’s name?”
“Illya Nickovitch Kuryakin,” Napoleon supplied, trying to look past the nurse.
“Say that again,” called the doctor from inside the room.
“Illya Nickovitch Kuryakin,” Solo repeated.
“Absolutely not!” the doctor stated, before ordering the rest of the staff to stand down. “I’m not saving the life of a damned commie.”
“He is an agent of the U.N.C.L.E.,” Napoleon told him, pulling his ID out. “As am I.”
“I don’t care who he is. As the Chief of this hospital, I’m not allowing him to be treated. You’ll have to take him elsewhere.”
“You have to be kidding!”
Solo could understand the doctor’s attitude, but he didn’t have to like it. Illya was bleeding heavily, and probably wouldn’t survive the trip to another hospital. He fished his wallet from his pocket and offered all the money in it.
“You’ll get paid by our agency anyway, but maybe this will help grease the wheels.”
“Please Dr Hawkes,” begged the nurse who had stopped Napoleon from entering. “Does it really matter? There is a man in need of medical help.”
“No!” Hawkes snapped. “Get him out of here!”
“In that case,” said Napoleon in a very low and dangerous voice. “Perhaps this will persuade you.”
In a swift, smooth movement, he slid his special from his holster and aimed it at the doctor.
To be continued.
Napoleon Solo was a man of action, so waiting for his partner to complete the mission was doing nothing for his nerves. His unease grew when the power to the complex was restored before Illya had exited and returned to their vehicle. When the building began to be rocked by a series of explosions, Napoleon’s panic levels went off the scale.
With his breath held, he desperately scanned all the possible exits for any sign of Illya. From the planning session, Napoleon knew that the Russian had decided to set the charges off in a cascade, allowing five seconds between each one. Illya’s innate paranoia meant he had allowed for some running time should he get held up along the way. As each charge blew, with no sign of his partner emerging, Napoleon’s heart sank lower.
Finally, after what seemed like decades, a door was flung open and two men tumbled out. The shorter man was clearly trying to escape the grasp of the other. Solo watched on as Illya gained the upper hand and knocked his assailant out with a well-placed chop to the neck. As his partner began to run away from the building, Napoleon let go a deep sigh of relief. He was just taking his next intake of breath when the wall exploded outwards and enveloped Illya.
Solo didn’t hesitate for a moment, and ran at full speed towards his fallen colleague. Upon reaching the devastation, he initially thought he would have to dig to find his friend. Luckily, the light from the nearby flames illuminated a mop of blond hair; Illya’s hat having been blown off in the blast. Napoleon moved aside the debris which was covering his partner, who was lying face down. He carefully rolled him over and was overjoyed to find he was breathing. The joy was short-lived when he noticed a jagged bone poking through Illya’s sweater. It would be obvious to anybody that his collar bone was quite badly broken. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, Napoleon lifted his partner up into a cradling carry, and moved him as quickly as possible to the car. There was no time for finesse, and it was too dangerous to bring an ambulance to them. Napoleon would have to get Illya to a hospital himself.
He had to drive for twenty minutes before he found what he was looking for. Throughout the journey, Napoleon kept up a soothing litany of calming words. He told himself they were for Illya, but as the Russian was unconscious, and unable to hear him, he knew it was more for himself. He pulled to a gentle stop outside the entrance of the hospital and, ignoring protests from a security guard, he lifted Illya from the car and took him inside.
He was immediately swamped by medical staff, who took the injured man from him. Napoleon tried to follow them into the room they’d gone into, but was stopped by a nurse.
“Please wait out here, Sir,” she said in her practiced calm tone. “I will let you know what is happening. Now could you tell me your friend’s name?”
“Illya Nickovitch Kuryakin,” Napoleon supplied, trying to look past the nurse.
“Say that again,” called the doctor from inside the room.
“Illya Nickovitch Kuryakin,” Solo repeated.
“Absolutely not!” the doctor stated, before ordering the rest of the staff to stand down. “I’m not saving the life of a damned commie.”
“He is an agent of the U.N.C.L.E.,” Napoleon told him, pulling his ID out. “As am I.”
“I don’t care who he is. As the Chief of this hospital, I’m not allowing him to be treated. You’ll have to take him elsewhere.”
“You have to be kidding!”
Solo could understand the doctor’s attitude, but he didn’t have to like it. Illya was bleeding heavily, and probably wouldn’t survive the trip to another hospital. He fished his wallet from his pocket and offered all the money in it.
“You’ll get paid by our agency anyway, but maybe this will help grease the wheels.”
“Please Dr Hawkes,” begged the nurse who had stopped Napoleon from entering. “Does it really matter? There is a man in need of medical help.”
“No!” Hawkes snapped. “Get him out of here!”
“In that case,” said Napoleon in a very low and dangerous voice. “Perhaps this will persuade you.”
In a swift, smooth movement, he slid his special from his holster and aimed it at the doctor.
To be continued.
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