Non-Challenge Fic: The Fifty-Millionth Frenchman Affair, 3/?

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: The Fifty-Millionth Frenchman Affair, chapter three
Summary: The search begins, and takes several twists for the worse.


By Lucky_Ladybug

Illya supposed he really shouldn’t have been surprised when he entered the bathroom for a late-night shower and found Mr. Ecks sitting on the counter. He gave the spirit a flat look. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your afterlife?”

Ecks shrugged. “Honestly, Kuryakin, I don’t want to be here. You told me I must be unable to rest in peace or I wouldn’t keep coming around. If I knew how to make it stop, I can assure you I would.”

“Well, whatever.” Illya started to pull off his turtleneck shirt. “I am going to take a shower.”

“Go right ahead,” Ecks returned with a blasé sweep of his arm.

“Are you planning to park there the entire time?” Illya asked.

“I’m not especially planning anything. It’s out of my control whether I stay or go.”

Unimpressed, Illya asked, “And what would you do if it wasn’t?”

“As I said, I have no interest in being here.” Ecks folded his arms. “If I was free to do as I please, I could certainly find better things to do than watch you wash up for the night.”

“I only wish I could arrange it for you,” Illya grunted as he finished disrobing and climbed into the tub. He pulled the shower curtain forward with a cold and metallic ching.

“Earth to Illya. Come in, Mr. Kuryakin.”

Illya snapped to attention as he nearly collided with Napoleon in the living room. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” he grumped.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last couple of minutes,” Napoleon retorted.

Illya sighed, reaching up to massage his forehead. “I am sorry, my friend. It was a strange night, to say the least.”

“Aha. More unwelcome dream-memories?” Napoleon deduced.

“Yes.” Illya headed for the door. “Have you heard anything new about the case?”

“Nothing.” Napoleon fell into step beside him. “I suppose that after breakfast we’ll split up and start looking for Ms. Cue at all the book and music stores we can manage.”

“Hooray,” Illya flatly intoned. “It will be a relief to find her and get this assignment over with.”

“I thought that would cheer you up,” Napoleon deadpanned. “Honestly, Illya, maybe if you just talk with Mr. Ecks, you can clear this whole thing up and you won’t have to act like it’s a visit to the dentist for the entire rest of the case.”

“Perhaps.” Illya stepped into the hall. “We shall see.”
****
Ecks and Wye were already in the dining room when Napoleon and Illya went down. Wye looked up as they approached, seeming fairly personable as he greeted the U.N.C.L.E. agents with, “Well, top of the morning to you both!”

“Thank you,” Napoleon said with a nod. He pulled out a chair and settled down, taking up the menu.

“Good morning,” Illya said with a cordial yet cool nod. He followed Napoleon’s lead, eager for breakfast.

Ecks set down his menu. “I hope you’re ready for a long day of searching, Kuryakin, because that’s liable to be the way of it.”

“I am ready to look for Ms. Cue,” Illya grunted. “What I am not entirely certain of is whether I am ready to look for her all day long with you.”

Ecks smirked. “Well, we’ll find out now, won’t we?”

“Yes,” said Illya. “We will.”

“Tell us,” Napoleon said suddenly, “if other members of your organization are alive and on the loose, would any of them be interested in locating Ms. Cue?”

“And if so, which ones would be the most dangerous,” Illya added.

Wye paused. “Those are fair questions,” he said, “but I don’t know the answers. Like we told you, she was gettin’ to the point where she regretted bein’ in the thing. She just didn’t know how to get out. Most of the organization suspected how she felt, even if they didn’t know for sure. If your Albert Sully hadn’t toppled it when he did, somebody probably would’ve been dispatched to eliminate her before too long.”

Ecks nodded in agreement. “Suppose that some other idiot like Mr. Pea wanted to start the organization again. I doubt Ms. Cue would be very high on their list of potential members.”

“But they might still want to cut her out of the picture,” Wye added. “Since she knew about the organization and how it operated, they wouldn’t want her to decide to turn state’s evidence and reveal all, like Mr. Waverly is hoping she will. That would kind of muddy up their hopes of startin’ the thing again.”

“I see,” Napoleon frowned. “And we know Mr. Pea, A.K.A. Harley of Peaceful Meadows, was indeed hoping to restart the organization.”

“And he knew approximately where Ms. Cue had escaped to,” Illya added. “What if all of his followers were not captured or killed at Peaceful Meadows?”

“In other words, what if he already sent assassins after her, eh?” Wye supplied.

“Exactly,” Napoleon nodded. “We may be in a race against time to find her before they do.”

Wye leaned back, carefully processing that suggestion. “Well, then,” he said at last, “we’d better make sure we don’t fail in the task. Just supposin’ that some of the others are alive and might want her dead, I’d say that any of them would be dangerous.” He paused. “But maybe Mr. Eff the most of any of ’em. He was one of them fanatics. Never liked him myself.”

“The feeling was mutual,” said Ecks. “Really, he never liked either one of us.”

“Mr. Arr was a bad sort as well,” Wye added. His voice darkened. “He’s one of Ecks’ contemporaries. A really nasty git.”

“Who hated Mr. Ecks, I presume,” Napoleon supplied. “I doubt you would sound so hateful otherwise.”

“You got that right,” Wye nodded.

“According to U.N.C.L.E.’s official records, they are both dead,” Illya said. “But that could very likely not be true.”

“We shall be forced to consider the possibility that it might not be,” Napoleon declared.

“Any one of them could be mixed up in this, except for Ms. Kay,” Wye said. “She was a spy for some French counterspy organization.”

“Yes, we know about her,” Napoleon nodded. “She’s on assignment in London right now, I believe.”

“Yeah, took up with some chap named Simon Templar,” Wye grunted. “But anyway.”
****
Breakfast was delicious but tense as the four spies discussed strategies and wondered what would happen on their search for Ms. Cue. They split up after the meal, each promising to contact the other group if they encountered anything the slightest bit strange. In their line of work, they couldn’t be too careful.

Illya certainly found it awkward and uncomfortable to be spending the day with Mr. Ecks as they searched the Hollywood area book and music stores. And although Ecks put on his usual cheeky air and seemed to take delight in teasing Illya off and on, he really seemed to be uncomfortable as well. Silence was more common between them than any conversation.

“What is it?” Illya asked at last at the end of the long and tiring search, as they were heading to downtown Los Angeles for the meet with the others.

“What’s what?” Ecks grunted.

“As much as you try, you don’t seem to be your usual obnoxious self,” Illya said flatly.

“I’m just tired, Kuryakin,” Ecks insisted. “Tired and frustrated after a long and fruitless day of searching. Not to mention that having your heart forcefully stopped takes a lot out of you. I almost died less than two days ago. I can’t be back at one hundred percent just yet.”

“That is all very believable,” Illya nodded. “Only it’s never a good idea to reveal to a spy other than your ally that you are currently in a weakened state of being.”

“A practice that I most certainly subscribe to,” Ecks sneered. “But right now we’re in that curious position of being allies, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Illya relented. “We are.”

“And in that case, it is a good idea to warn your companion of your current state of being.” Ecks slowed down, eyeing a building that they were approaching.

“Another bookstore,” Illya noted. “Perhaps we should go in and check it while we’re here.”

“Bertain’s Books,” Ecks read off the door. “That’s twice in as many days. It’s surely not that common of a name.”

Illya gave him a flat look. “Are you trying to tell me that my milquetoast double Phillipe Bertain owns this bookstore?”

Ecks shrugged. “Why don’t we go in and find out?” He hauled open the heavy door, causing a bell to jangle overhead as he stepped through.

Illya followed him in, looking around warily as he did.

“Mr. Bertain?” a female voice called. When no one answered, a young girl ran out from behind some shelves, regarding Illya with impatience. “Mr. Bertain!”

Illya pointed at himself in realization. “I? Miss, you are mistaken. I am not this Mr. Bertain.”

She scowled. “Please don’t play jokes, Mr. Bertain. I need to know where to shelve the sheet music.”

Ecks would have been amused at the mistaken identity, had the girl’s appearance not sent him reeling in surprise. “Cue!” he exclaimed.

She jumped a mile and looked to him, her eyes burning. “You! Instead of just trying to escape, you just tried to take over that organization for your own satisfaction and profit. And you faked your death to keep from paying the consequences of your actions!”

“You don’t seem that surprised to see him alive,” Illya tried to insert, but she ignored him.

“I didn’t really fake my death,” Ecks retorted. “This character stabbed me and left me for dead. Whatever Wye then told to Zed was only said to protect me. But look, Cue, you might be in danger. You need to come with us.”

“I’m not going with you!” Cue snapped. “I don’t trust you any more than I trust that Mr. Pea who found me before!”

Ecks flinched, actually looking hurt. “You trusted me once,” he said. “You liked both me and Wye. We’re part of this mission because we thought you’re be more likely to be at ease if we were along.”

“Miss,” Illya interrupted again, hurriedly taking out his card. “I am Illya Kuryakin of the U.N.C.L.E. My superior Mr. Waverly wants to find you and learn what you know of the organization you and Mr. Ecks here worked for.”

“I don’t trust you either, if you’re working with him!” Cue said, indicating Ecks. “You’re not welcome in here. Get out!” She pointed at the door.

“What is going on here?” a new voice joined the conversation. “This isn’t any way to treat customers, Ms. Rebecca.”

Illya stiffened in disbelieving amazement. It sounded like his own voice with a French accent.

“They’re not customers, Mr. Bertain!” Cue shot back. “But one of them looks like you!”

“What?!” Phillipe Bertain came out from around a shelf. “That’s ridiculous. It isn’t possible.” But then he caught sight of Illya and stared. “Oh. Oh, I see.”

It took a lot to visibly startle Illya. Right now, however, he was very visibly startled. He shook his head, trying to drag himself back to the present. “We mean no harm to your employee,” he said, trying not to think about how he was looking at himself. “We only wish to speak with her and turn her over to my superior at the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. She was formerly part of a dangerous extremist organization operating in Europe.”

That sent the color draining from Phillipe’s face. “I can’t believe that,” he stammered. “Ms. Rebecca has never shown any indication that she has such disturbing viewpoints.”

“I made a mistake.” Cue clenched her fists. “I didn’t really know what I was getting into when I joined them. I didn’t realize the kinds of things they did. Once I knew, I wanted to get out but didn’t know how.”

“And realizing that, Mr. Waverly hopes to be able to reduce your sentence if you cooperate with us,” Illya said.

“Is that what happened with you?” Cue pointed at Ecks. “Did you turn over all your knowledge in exchange for freedom?”

“No,” Ecks admitted. “Wye and I were considered dead, so there were never any warrants issued on us.”

“Well, bully for you.” Cue blinked back what almost looked like the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “I thought you were both dead. At first I thought you’d been caught trying to escape, but then I learned the full truth, that you were only trying to take over the organization with Zed. You didn’t really want out, like I did. I thought you did too.”

“I wanted out!” Ecks cried. “I never wanted in! But you know as well as I do that getting out just wasn’t possible. When Zed decided to take it over and give Wye and I higher positions if we helped him, I thought it was the only possible option. If we had succeeded, my intentions were to change everything I could about how the organization was run. No, it wouldn’t have been as good as getting out, but I thought it would be better than what we had!”

Illya stepped back and watched the heated conversation, frowning a bit to himself. He had never seen Ecks so emotional. Usually, like Illya, he was aloof and cold or sarcastic and mischievous. Illya wasn’t quite sure what to make of the strange British agent now.

Cue looked at Ecks for a long moment. Then, turning away, she focused on Illya. “Are you saying I’m under arrest now?”

“Basically, yes,” Illya replied. “But it’s for your own protection. You say that Mr. Pea found you. He may have wanted you dead and sent someone to kill you.”

“What?!” Phillipe gasped. “Oh no, Mr. Kuryakin. That cannot be allowed to happen. Please take her and keep her safe!”

“Thank you, Mr. Bertain, but I can take care of myself.” Cue turned away. “I was one of the elite alphabet agents too. I don’t need U.N.C.L.E.’s protection. And the organization is defunct now; you don’t need my information.”

“That isn’t true!” Illya protested. “Remnants of the organization still exist. Mr. Pea was trying to recreate it back in New York. We have just come from overthrowing his attempt. But just because he is gone doesn’t mean there couldn’t still be others of like mind. Your information may give us clues about how to stamp out every last particle of the organization.”

“And someone would end up dead for sure if I gave you what you wanted,” Cue retorted. “Those remnants would find me no matter where I went. But then it wouldn’t be my life on the line any longer; it would be my sister’s.”

Illya hadn’t expected that. “They threatened your sister?”

“That’s right,” Cue snapped. “I took her name as an alias hoping that if anything did go wrong, they’d come after me thinking I was her.”

“She took on a name similar to yours to go undercover at Mr. Pea’s gated community in an attempt to find you,” Ecks said.

Cue started. “What?!”

“And she almost did die during the battle we had with him,” Illya put in. “That didn’t have anything to do with you. But she wouldn’t have been in such a situation if she hadn’t been searching so desperately for you.”

“Then there’s really nothing I can do,” Cue whispered in dismay.

“Your sister is in U.N.C.L.E.’s custody now,” Illya told her. “She is quite safe for the moment.”

“What about when she’s no longer safe ‘for the moment’? Or worse, what if you have traitors in U.N.C.L.E.?” Cue’s eyes flashed.

“Most likely she will go into the Witness Protection Program,” Illya said. “If you come with us, you may be allowed to go with her.”

“Please go with them, Ms. Rebecca,” Phillipe pleaded. “It seems that it’s the best chance for both you and your sister.”

“Well, I don’t agree.” Abruptly Cue pulled a small ball out of her pocket and threw it right at Illya and Ecks.

Ecks caught it in his hand. “I remember your smokescreen tricks. You’re not going to pull another one now.”

Cue gave him a dark look. “I’m sorry I can’t trust you, Ecks. Or Wye either. I liked both of you. But you betrayed the organization for the wrong reasons and I can’t take the chance that you might be secretly working for the remnants now, on threat of death if you don’t cooperate.”

“I killed Mr. Pea!” Ecks cried in desperation, his patience lost. “He was going to kill Kuryakin’s partner and I shot him. He shot me in turn. I nearly died! Would any of that have happened if we were secretly working for Pea or any of the other remnants?”

“That’s true,” Illya said. “That is exactly what happened. You liked Mr. Ecks in the past. It is for your and your sister’s well-being that you trust him now and come with us.”

Cue frowned. “You could be right.” She hesitated, then finally nodded. “Alright, I’ll take a chance and go with you.”

“Oh good,” Phillipe said in relief. “I am sure you won’t regret it.”

“You may be in danger too,” Illya said, looking to him. “If there are assassins looking for her, they very likely know of this place and may come here asking for her.”

“Then I will say that you took her away and I do not know where,” Phillipe replied. “That is the truth; they will not be able to get anything more out of me.”

“These are vicious men; they might not leave you alive even if you don’t know anything,” Illya warned. “I’m going to call Mr. Waverly and relay the situation to him.”

“We also need to let Wye and Solo know what’s happened,” Ecks reminded him. “They’ll be waiting at the meeting place.”

“True,” Illya relented. “Alright, I’ll call Napoleon first and they can be coming here while I contact Mr. Waverly.”

Taking out his communicator, he attempted to make contact with Napoleon’s. But it only beeped without picking up. After several failed tries, Illya was badly troubled.

“Something’s wrong,” Ecks said fearfully, his stomach twisting. “I should try to reach Wye.”

“Do that,” Illya said. “But we may need to leave immediately. The assassins could have intercepted them and are now looking for us. They may be very near.”

Ecks turned away. Pulling out his own communication device, he dialed Wye’s number and waited worriedly for an answer. When there was at last a pick-up, Wye sounded gruff and occupied. “Ecks, where are you?” he demanded without so much as a Hello.

“We found Cue,” Ecks told him. “What’s going on, Wye? Why isn’t Solo answering Kuryakin?”

“We’re a little tied up at the moment,” Wye retorted. “If you’ve got Cue, get out of there right now! We’ll have to get in touch later and make a new meeting place.” Something crashed and Wye hissed in pain. “Oh, bloody . . .” The call disconnected in Ecks’ ear and No Signal flashed across the screen.

Ecks stared in horror. “Wye . . .” But he snapped to attention, shoving the device back in his pocket. “We have to do as he said and get out of here!” he ordered.

The door burst open, nearly tearing off its hinges as the bell jangled wildly overhead. A badly scarred agent Ecks recognized stood in the doorway, bearing his gun menacingly.

“Alright,” the man snarled, his voice rough and unfeeling. “My name is Arr. Ecks will remember me. Cue is coming with me and the rest of you are going to be dead.”