The Boo from UNCLE - Chapter 9

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

The generator sat stubbornly inactive in spite of all evidence that told Illya it should be working right now. He had spoken the truth to Napoleon a moment ago; he thought he knew what the problem was, he just didn't know what could be causing it. His earlier attempts at fixing it suggested that the power was being drained the instant it was generated, though he had no idea by what...or whom.

Still, causes could wait until later, right now it was more important that they get the power back up. Right now he was operating on the hypothesis that the power was being drawn away, and he was willing to bet that with the proper shielding he could protect the generator from whatever was happening. Of course, there was still the possibility that the power would be sucked out later down the line, but as long as they had enough time to track Mr Waverly's homing device that wasn't important.

As he remembered there was a new type of shielding they had been working on in the lab to block radio transmissions. There should be enough to surround the generator.

He hurried to the lab, only to find a crude barricade erected across the door. Hmmm. Evidently not everyone had found their way to the cafeteria. It would perhaps be wiser to call out before approaching. “Hello?”

A metal spar sprang out of the barricade, narrowly missing his head.

He sighed. “Itis I, Illya Kuryakin. Let me in.”

There was a pause and then he heard Dr Baitman's quavering voice. “Kuryakin? What's going on? What's happening?”

An excellent question. He decided to stick to the immediate. “I need the shield panels Dr Montgomery was working on in order to restore the power. I am coming in.”

He shoved his way past the barricade with little effort. Dr Baitman was standing there with a broken glass flask in his hand, thrusting it out in front of him threateningly. For once, surprisingly, he actually looked pleased to see Illya – or at any rate, relieved.

“Itis you,” he said.

“Yes,” Illya agreed, limping swiftly towards Dr Montgomery's room.

Baitman followed close on his heels. “I saw...I thought I saw...” He broke off, mopping his brow. “There's no such thing as ghosts.”

“No, but THRUSH seem determined to make us think otherwise,” he said absently, gathering up the panels. A dozen should be enough. “Here,” he said, thrusting half of them into Baitman's arms. Since he was here he might as well make himself useful. “Come with me.”

To his mild surprise, Baitman did so without so much as a murmur of protest. Normally he would have expected some sort of diatribe on the high-handed ways of Section II. “What did you see?” he asked, curious as to what could have made the man so afraid.

“What I thought I saw,” Baitman corrected him with a hint of his usual disdain. “Evidently it was a trick of some kind. Some sort of electro-magnetic resonance no doubt. But his voice...the things he said...” He shuddered.

Beginning to haul panels into place around the generator, Illya tried to be patient. “The thingswho said?”

“Riley.” Baitman's voice was a whisper. “I doubt you remember him, but he used to be my friend. Or at least I thought he was. We joined at the same time – UNCLE, I mean, we joined UNCLE. I didn't know he was THRUSH. Icouldn't have known.” His tone was pleading. Unconvinced.

Illya paused for a second, turning to look at the man. They might not get along but he'd never had any cause to doubt the scientist's loyalty. “Riley deceived everyone,” he said matter-of-factly. “You could not have known.” But clearly Baitman had been carrying this guilt and self-doubt for a long time.

And that raised an interesting point. He frowned as he worked, thinking furiously. If this was a THRUSH trick then it would have needed a lot of inside knowledge to pull off. All the spectres he had seen had sounded as he remembered them, and they had known things regarding the manners of their deaths that could surely have only been gleaned from UNCLE files. And whatever was the mechanism for the power drain and the 'ghosts' would also surely have had to be planted inside headquarters. Mr Waverly was the priority, but there was more investigating to be done here.

He rubbed absently at the bump on his head, the headache a nagging background note as he stood back and looked at the now shielded generator. “Let us hope this works, “he remarked, reaching for the switch.

He was stopped by a sharp intake of breath from beside him. Instantly he turned his head to see Baitman staring wildly past him, his face pale, his mouth quivering. Ah. He spun round in time to see the sickly green figure forming into the shape of a woman, primly dressed and genteel, a patient little smile on her face as she gazed at him.

Mother Fear.

“Hello, there dear,” she crooned. “It's been a long time, hasn't it?”

Almost out of his control, heart hammering in his chest, his hand slammed into the switch. The generator kicked into life immediately with a loud humming noise, the main lights sprang to life, and the shape thatabsolutely wasn't Mother Fear crackled and disappeared into nothing.

He took a deep breath. And another. “Well, that appears to have worked,” he said steadily.

“Yes indeed,” Baitman agreed hoarsely. “I told you ghosts aren't real.”

Or perhaps ghosts just didn't like too much light. No. No, he shook his head, drawing out his communicator. “Napoleon? I have got the generator working again.”

A long moment passed without any response. Then, “You'd betterget up here. Right now”

Comments

[yumyumpm.livejournal.com]

Excellent chapter. Now we have Mother Fear to fear. Illya is right, someone on the inside is helping, but who? He doesn't seem to think it's Dr. Baitman in spite of his being friends with Riley.