Better Red Than Stupid - Short Affair 10/5

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Prompts:  red, degrade
Once again I'm over by a bit.

"You must waste no time once the subject is within your control. Degrade him, cause him to suffer  self doubt and lack of confidence. Humiliation is the ultimate aim."

The man speaking was reaching an almost fever pitch as he extolled the virtues of demoralizing interrogation methods.  Napoleon Solo had no stomach for it, this wasn't his style, nor would it ever be.  He wondered at having been sent here at all by Mr. Waverly.

Illya Kuryakin was similarly inclined regarding interrogation.  He had been trained to bully and manipulate as well, and by the best; yet a thread of compassion for the pitiful and disenfranchised colored his reaction, even when in the presence of some of THRUSH's most evil perpetrators.  That didn't require humiliation, and his demeanor took on the cool and detached delivery that he had also learned at the hands of his Soviet Masters.  Compassion was something he was born with, the attitude he owed to his former employers.

"Do you really expect Mr. Waverly to approve of this type of interrogation?"  Illya was wondering how Napoleon was reacting.

"No, but I do wonder why we're here.  This fellow is an FBI specialist, and our being here is by invitation.  I guess the point is more of a courtesy visit than anything."

"Hello there.  You seem to have something more important than the information I'm sharing.  Would you care to let the rest of us in on it?"  Napoleon started to speak, but was interrupted by the austere man at the podium.

"No, not you, your friend there… the one with the Red flag on his lapel."  Illya absent mindedly started to look down and then, as a murmur of subdued laughter reached his ears, he realized the show was about to take a dangerous turn.

"Ah yes, I see you understand now.  Please, come up here and we shall give a demonstration, you and I."  Napoleon put his hand on his friend's wrist, intending to stop him.  Illya's look told him to let go.

"Be careful up there tovarisch."  Illya merely shrugged, then straightened and walked up to the front of the room.

"Ah yes, Mr. Kuryakin.  We have the lone Soviet agent that roams the corridors of UNCLE Northwest, all without any supervision or doubt cast his way.  We here at the FBI are slightly less trusting of Soviet spies, but that is another story."  He smiled, a knowing and slightly crooked expression that made Napoleon's skin crawl.  So this was the reason for the invitation, to get Illya under the thumb of this joker.  Napoleon almost felt sorry for the man as he watched his friend's cool  demeanor, the beginning of his own interrogation session.

"So Mr. Kuryakin, what is your agenda at the U.N.C.L.E.?  I assume you have one, since you are here and you are Russian." Smugness emanated from the man, and all he had done was ask a stupid question of Waverly's number two man.

Illya smiled slightly, his eyes boring into the other man until there was an almost undetectable flinch.

"I assume that you are not completely ignorant of the purpose of my assignment.  I can also assume, based on this ineffective demonstration you have given us, that apart from your experience with thugs and the occasional office worker who has inadvertently sent semi-vital information along a virtually worthless conduit of misinformation and bureaucratic hangers on…' He paused momentarily, noted the slight change in the other man's bearing, the increase of shallow breaths.

''…that you have little chance for advancement and are hoping to somehow break me in front of this assembly, thereby collecting the kudos and recognition necessary for some minor attention to your work."  No response.

"Furthermore, I can gather from your appearance, your rather feeble attempt to look professional in spite of mismatched socks and a poorly ironed shirt (you're missing a button, by the way), that you are a single man who, under other circumstances, might allow yourself to feel jealous of someone, such as myself, who regularly courts danger and the occasional beautiful woman.  I have a career that is bounded by an oath to UNCLE, by a mission to control the forces of evil that endanger the world, your world Mr….I apologize, for I have misplaced your name."  The man was transfixed, almost unable to speak.

"Umm, it is ah… Jenkins.  Martin Jenkins… Do you had have a file on me or something?"  The intensity of his presentation was gone now, he only had curiosity as to how Illya could know things about him without having met him before.

"I am an agent of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement Mr. Jenkins.  It is my job to pay attention and then piece together the clues.  Yes I am a Soviet citizen, but I work for UNCLE.  Whether I adhere to the politics of my country is irrelevant to the successful completion of my assignments.  I do not measure other people's political affiliations, nor do I offer up mine."

The room was silent and then a single pair of hands clapping, then another and another until the room was filled with applause.  Illya smiled without looking smug, turned and shook Jenkins' hand and walked back to his chair.  Sitting down beside Napoleon, the two men from UNCLE decided they didn't need any more of this seminar and stood up to leave.  As they did so Jenkins spoke.

"Ah, Mr. Kuryakin, I.. um… well, please accept my apology.  And perhaps we could sit down and compare interrogation techniques at a later date."  Illya had to respond, he'd have Mr. Waverly to contend with if he was anything less than professional.

"Thank you Mr. Jenkins.  I should be happy to do that,  please feel free to call my office.  I  am quite confident  you have the number among your notes."  With that he turned and followed Napoleon out of the room.  Once past the doors Napoleon had to ask about what had just happened.

"Did you pick up all of that by just watching the man?  I was impressed, so I'm sure they were as well."  Illya reached into his pocket and produced a dossier of sorts written in a small notebook.  Mr. Waverly had given it  to Illya earlier in the day at Headquarters.

"This, my friend, came in very handy today.  I am not going to speculate on what Mr. Waverly had in mind, but he definitely knew what we would face today.  I shall have to thank him for the heads up."  Napoleon whistled as he thumbed through the little notebook; all of the things Illya had mentioned were there.

"Sly old fox… and you, such a sneaky Russian."

"Yes, well one should always know one's adversary.  I believe Mr. Waverly was just looking out for his own."

Each man considered the confrontation on FBI soil, the advantage provided by their boss as he conjectured about the probable reasons for the invitation to participate.  Napoleon wondered about leadership and responsibility, Illya considered the fragile nature of his tenure in America.

Neither man slept much that night.

Comments

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Thanks, I've seen too many new shows on television with the new season ;) Lots of FBI and such going on.