The Boo from UNCLE: Chapter 8

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They raced out of Waverly’s office; George and the women headed straight to the cafeteria while Illya, at Napoleon’s insistence, went back to the labs to see if he could get the miniature generator repaired while Napoleon made a beeline to Section III.  If what “Harry Beldon” and “Count Zark” said was true and the Old Man was indeed in Dr. Egret’s clutches, he would activate his homing device if he got a chance.  If Illya could get the power back on, if only for a few minutes, they might be able to locate his position, but Section III had to have his ring’s frequency pre – programmed so that no time would be wasted once the lights returned.

He stepped out of the stairwell and began walking briskly toward Section III’s offices.  Suddenly, the temperature dropped dramatically and he thought he heard something.  He stopped and swung his flashlight up and down the hallway while his gun hand pulled his weapon from his holster.  There was nothing.
 
A distinct growl came from behind him and he again pointed the flashlight in that direction.  This time, he saw a mist that glowed white and then a sickly shade of green.  Eyes began to appear, one set were adult height while another pair seemed to be knee high to the steadily forming apparition.  Recognition came to him just as the second ghost started to solidify.

“Hello, Mr. Solo.”

“Viktor Karmak*, as I live and you don’t breathe.”

“It’s nice to be remembered.  I hope you also remember my jaguar, Ving.  You murdered him as well.”

Napoleon glanced down as the now very real – looking, very there cat.  He still bore the scars on his arm where he had been bitten before he could dispatch Ving with a chisel.  The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he recalled how something had grabbed his arm and hurt it earlier in the evening and he inwardly cringed at the idea of those claws and teeth upon his body again.

Karmak stepped closer.  “Our hunt didn’t exactly go the way I planned it, but it appears that we have a chance for a do – over.”

Napoleon squeezed off a shot at Ving and though the animal or ghost or whatever it was flinched at the sound echoing in the hall, it was unharmed.

“That wasn’t very sporting, Mr. Solo,” Karmak tsk – tsked at him, “but fortunately for you, I still have a taste for the hunt.  You have fifteen minutes’ head start before I unleash my cat to track you down.”  He bend down and stroked the jaguar’s head tenderly.  “He has a vendetta against you, too.”   He began to fade away as did the animal.  “Remember, fifteen minutes,” he said and then he was gone.

Oh, Partner Mine, he thought as he continued on his way, Get that damned genny working!

“Slater!” he yelled as he entered Section III.**  “Where are you?”

“Back here!” came the answer.  Napoleon went back to the section’s surveillance room where Slater Gray, Number One, Section III was monitoring the camera screens.  “I don’t understand, Napoleon.  The phones are off and on and so are the cameras and even the communicators are iffy.  I’ve been getting sporadic reports of paranormal activity which I just can’t believe.  I think the combination of the blackout and Halloween has given people a massive attack of the willies.”

“It’s more THRUSH than paranormal, Slater; you’re right about that, but apparently, one of their crackpot scientists with a penchant for the supernatural has developed a way to utilize energy to make it seem like we’re being haunted.  I’ve run into some ‘ghosts,’ for lack of a better word, that I really didn’t want to see.”

“Nothing is showing up on the monitors.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.  Listen, this attack was just a diversion so that Mr. Waverly could be kidnapped.”

“What?  Who told you that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me, but I have reason to believe it’s true.  I need you to program a computer to pick up Mr. Waverly’s ring’s frequency.”

“I can do that, but the emergency power is weaker than usual so we really have no range.”

“Illya is working on restoring power as we speak.”  Or at least, I hope so, he thought.  “In the meantime, get a computer ready.”

“Okay,” Slater replied as he got up to go to the Computer Room.  He lifted the handset of the phone on the desk.  “Hey, got a dial tone!”

“Give it to me,” Napoleon said.  He immediately dialed Mr. Waverly’s house.

“Hello?  Alexander?”

His heart sank as Mrs. Waverly had just answered his unspoken question.  “No, Ma’am, it’s Napoleon Solo.  I’m sorry to be calling so late…”

“It’s fine, dear boy.  I thought you might be Alexander calling to let me know when he’s coming back home.”

“Oh?  You were awake when he left?”

“No, actually.  I must have been more tired than I thought.  I went pumpkin picking with the great – grands, you see.  I usually wake up when he gets out of bed, but I slept right through it tonight.”

“I’m sure he didn’t want to disturb you,” Napoleon said.  “He asked me to call and tell you not to worry, that he had to come back to the office for an emergency conference call and he should be home tomorrow.”

“Thank you for telling me, Napoleon.  I don’t mean to seem rude, but I’m still very tired…”

“I understand.  Goodnight, Mrs. Waverly,” he said before replacing the phone back in its cradle.  He prayed that his lie would become the truth soon.

Just then, he began to feel cold air and he heard snarling close by.  There was just enough light in the room to cast shadows everywhere and it seemed like they all moved when he began to inch his way out of the room backwards.  “Slater?  Slater!”

“What is it?” Gray demanded as he neared the CEA.  He pulled his weapon when he saw Napoleon with his.  He grabbed a flashlight and turned it on just in time to see an angry looking cat in a hunting position; low to the floor, teeth bared and moving closer, rear legs wiggling in preparation to pounce.  “Oh my God!” he screamed just as the animal, roaring, launched itself straight at Napoleon.

It seemed that everything slowed down: Both men began firing frantically at the animal when it flickered and was gone.  Just like that.  One second, it looked like certain death and the next, Napoleon and Slater were alone.

The rush of unused adrenaline caused both men to sag into chairs where they trembled for a few seconds before Slater managed to say, “What just happened?  I saw a leopard, I heard a leopard, I shot at a leopard!  It was there and then it just…wasn’t.  Am I going crazy?”

“If you are, all of UNCLE New York is going with you and for the record:  That was a jaguar named Ving or some kind of manifestation of Ving."

The CEA’s communicator began to trill and he answered.  “Solo.”

“It is I, Napoleon.  I was able to get the mini – generator to work again, but only for a moment.”

“Illya, my boy, whoever said ‘Timing is everything’ definitely had you in mind.”

“You will have to explain that to me later.  I think I might have solved the problem I am having with this thing.  Are you in Section III?”

“Yes and Slater has the tracer’s frequency programmed to work as soon as we get power.  Good luck.  Solo out.”  He disassembled his device and replaced it in his pocket.  “Seems like it’s up to Illya now,” he said to Slater.  “I feel like we and Mr. Waverly, are running out of time.”

*the villain in “The Deadly Quest Affair”
**my original character from my tale, “Like a Phoenix from Ashes”

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