The Big Queasy - Short Affair

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Prompts: regret, yellow

word count: 988
……………………

"You ain't nothin' but a yellow bellied coward, and I aim to kill you dead!"

The redhead smiled at the insult being hurled at her partner.  Mark Slate wasn't particularly worried that he was being singled out for the tirade their captor spewed like a mouthful of scalding coffee.

"I think you've been watching too many Westerns.  No one actually talks like that." April Dancer was working on the rope tangled around her wrist.  For a bad guy this fellow was inept at best.

"I, I… dang you anyway.  I have orders and…"  He stopped as the barrel end of Illya Kuryakin's Walther served as punctuation to his unfinished sentence.

"You were saying?" The accent startled the would be assassin.  He hadn't counted on someone finding them, definitely hadn't counted on being the one shot dead.

"I… I…" The exact words wouldn't come to him.  Truth be told, he was paralyzed with fear.  Illya tapped him on the should with his gun, maneuvering the man around until he was looking into cold blue eyes.  The expression sent a shiver up his spine.

"Who…?"  Illya smiled as April, now free of her bonds, assisted Mark with his.

"You stutter.  Perhaps a session with one of our people can help you with that."  Another shot of something cold and dreadful captured the man.  No amount of money was worth what he feared would be his future.  If he had a future, that is.

"I'm truly sorry about this.  The man who hired me…" Another false start.  That man had threatened to do awful things to him if he ever told anyone his identity.  Still, the blond holding the gun was a more immediate  problem.

"And you will have every opportunity to tell us exactly who that person is.  For now we have a car outside and you're going to get into it with us.  Do you have a problem with that?"  He slowly shook his head, afraid to speak and more afraid of having his life end on the spot he now occupied.

April and Mark watched with a degree of admiration and mutual fear.  How did the Russian manage to be that scary?  They had each remarked on it at various times, sometimes jokingly.  But at times like now they each admitted the unique qualities possessed by Kuryakin that cowed enemies and sometimes allies, simply by looking at them.  April secretly wished he would look at her with something less frightening in his eyes.

At Headquarters, the man whose name turned out to be Henry  Purdy was interrogated by Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin.  It was a hellish experience for someone whose only aim in life had been to collect as much money as possible for doing as little as possible.  He was cured of that now, having seen the proverbial light.  From now on he would walk the straight and narrow, assuming he ever got out of this place.

After conferring with Mr. Waverly, the four agents involved were equipped with enough information to pick up the rogue THRUSH who had compelled Henry to guard the captured agents.  Purdy decided he was less afraid of Hector Solidad than he was this gang in the steely walled halls of UNCLE HQ.  The question now was what would they do with him?

Two days after being escorted into a cell in the bowels of the building, Henry Purdy was brought before the venerable head of things, seated at the opposite side of the big round table.  Waverly considered the man, reviewed the information obtained from him and the possible scenarios in which some type of punishment might occur.  He fiddled with a pipe, something that caught Henry's attention and held him in a type of fear infused stupor, as though the pipe itself held the verdict for his crimes.

"Mister, uh… "

"Purdy sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Solo. Mister Purdy, you have caused some bit of trouble for my people.' That familiar chill went scurrying up Henry's spine again.

"However, you did give us valuable information with a minimum amount of coercion.' The Old Man smiled in that way he had, sure of his superior position at this moment.

"With that in mind, we are willing to send you back out into the world, on one condition."

Henry's blood went cold, his eyesight blurred slightly and his heart pounded unmercifully.

"Sir, are you certain that this is the wisest decision?"  Kuryakin spoke up brazenly, his cold stare chilling the air around his victim.

''I have given this considerable thought, and yes, it is my decision. Mr. Purdy, you are going to be in our employ now.  I expect you to listen and report. Do you understand?"

Henry went pale as a canvas sail. Regret was oozing from every pore.

"Uh… Listen? To what?"

"Why, to everything you hear, of course.  THRUSH considers you one of their own now, and I am willing to send you back to them on the condition that you report back to us whatever you hear or observe.  Otherwise…"  Waverly paused, the effect exactly as he had hoped.

"Otherwise?  Oh… otherwise…"  Henry saw it now.  He would be a lamb to the slaughter, a snitch.  He knew the 'otherwise' meant jail, and he didn't want to go to jail.

"I think you understand now.  So, will you work for us, and pretend to work for them?"

Henry looked around the table.  The Old Man was steely eyed, his bushy eyebrows like a feral animal waiting to pounce.  The blond… that familiar shiver would always accompany his image.  The dark haired agent, Solo… he almost looked sympathetic.  Henry thought he could work with him.

"Okay.  I'll do it, because truth be told, I'm more afraid of you than them.''

An unseen nod of agreement made its rounds as each of the men from UNCLE congratulated themselves on their new recruit.

Henry Purdy was in for a lot of sleepless nights.

Comments

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I must admit the idea of expanding on it did occur to me as soon as I'd finished. I'll file it away as a possibility ;)