"The Lost Flight" part 6

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,

Susan began to cry.

“Now now sweetheart it’ll be all right,” her grandmother tried to comfort her.

“Stoi!” Illya barked. “Say in Russian and do not coddle her Evgeniya! Remember children do not speak, and if you must then only yes or no answers in Russian. Understand?”

“Da...Papa,” the children chimed in together.

There was a loud pounding at the door.

“Coming, coming!” Pavel called out. He grabbed a walking stick, one with the face of a bearded man carved into it, and hunched over, pretending to be frail.

He opened the door seeing three men dressed in black coats and hats. They bore the insignia of the KGB on their lapels.

“How may I help you?”

The men said nothing as they muscled their way past him.

“Papers!” One of them demanded of the old man.

“We are but simple peasants sir. We have no papers as we have not left our homes here, and never will. We have never even had the need to apply for permit from selsoviet. Our passports are stored in their offices many miles from here.”

A selsoviet was a rural administrative division of a district that included one or several smaller rural localities. People could not move outside their area of residence without the permission of selsoviet.

One of the agents pulled out a black leather notebook, and began scribbling away in it.

“Gentlemen, may I offer you some warm food on this cold day?” Pavel tried deflecting their attention.

“This is church, what are you doing here?”

“I live here. It is my home, though it was once church. As you can see there is no religious imagery. I have lived here for many years.”

“Your name?”

“Pavel Andreievich, sir.” It was written in the black book.

One of the other men walked over to the table, picking up one of the dumplings and popped it in his mouth.

He looked at the children, smiling at them, and softened his tone of voice. It oozed insincerity as he spoke to them.

“No tears little girl, there is nothing to fear. We only need some questions answered. Now what are your names?”

They looked to Illya, and though he couldn’t see them, he knew what they were thinking; he’d ordered them not to speak after all.

Best to intervene. “Beg pardon sir but who are you that you are speaking to my children?”

“I am Major Vasiliev of KGB, and your name?”

“I am Illya Kershakov, this is my mother Evgeniya Kershakova. My daughter’s name is Syuzanna, and my son is Toma. Their mother Ekaterina, is dead.”

“What is wrong with you Kershakov, why do you not blink?”

“I am blind Comrade Major. I lost my sight recently due to an illness.”

The KGB agent waved his hand in front of Illya’s eyes; seeing no reaction, he was satisfied the blond was being truthful about his infirmity.

“These people have a different name from you Pavel Andreievich; why are they here?” The third agent demanded.

“They are my neighbors and guests. With Illya Kershakov being blind he was not able to adequately prepare for winter. They have come to stay with me until the spring. They even brought their cow with them to give milk to help me while here. If you like I can take you to the barn to see her; she is a fine cow. In the barn I also keep my two reindeer as well as a few chickens. We have to be very self sufficient here on the isthmus.”

The Major listened impatiently, and finally got to the crux of the matter.

“Yesterday a plane crashed not far from here. Did you not go to check on it?”

“Sir,” Pavel bowed his head.” I am old man, nearly snowed in with a babushka, two small children and a blind man. I do not leave my home or them in the midst of a snowstorm. It is not safe to do so.”

“And no strangers came seeking your assistance?”

“No sir. You three are the first people we have seen since the start of winter. Now please may I at least give you some hot tea?”

“No old man! Stop trying to be so accommodating!” The Major shouted.

He strutted around looking over the place before ordering his men to search.

They pulled everything apart, opening cabinets, tossing blankets, ripping the pillows and mattresses, tossing them to the floor, but of course they found nothing.

It seemed the Major was annoyed but momentarily satisfied, but when he moved back next to Illya, he staring at him intently.

“Stand up Illya Kershakov! I find it odd that when we investigated the downed plane, we found among other things, suitcases containing American made clothing; a woman’s clothes, children’s clothing and a clothing for a slightly built man such as yourself.”

Illya stood up, gripping the edge of the table white knuckled with his left hand.

“Comrade Major, I do not know what your are talking about. Our home is here and we have never been away from it.”

“You grew up here?”

“No Comrade Major,”Illya answered contritely.”I grew up in Moskva.”

“Really?” The Major shoved Illya, forcing him to fall backwards, landing on his bottom. The KGB officer grabbed Kuryakin’s foot, examining his boot.

“Then tell my why you are wearing a pair of American made combat boots...Comrade Kershakov, if that is truly your name?”

One of the other agents grabbed the children by their arms, wrenching them from the bench and pulling both to his side. There was no need for a threat, as Illya understood what the man was planning when he heard Susan and Thomas shriek with fear.

Kuryakin carefully rose to his feet, holding onto the back of the chair to steady himself. Squaring his shoulders, though it hurt, Illya proudly raised his chin. He had to tell them the truth, otherwise they might hurt Mrs. Waverly and the children, Pavel too. Though his solution was no guarantee that wouldn’t happen, he had to try.

“I am Captain Illya Nickovich Kuryakin of GRU. I was sent by my superiors to serve on behalf of the Soviet People to United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. I am now stationed in New York...America. I have served the Soviet People with honor in the name of ...mother Russia. It was my plane that crashed.”

“Kuryakin? I know that name,”  Vasiliev burst out laughing. “You are the traitor! Capturing you will indeed be a feather in my cap. I will be given a promotion for this. Now Kuryakin, who are this woman and children?”

“There is no need to involve them. These people are innocent and merely took me in out of the kindness of their hearts.”

Mrs. Waverly stepped forward. There was no way she was going to let Illya be taken.

“I am Mrs. Estelle Waverly, wife of Alexander Waverly the head of  U.N.C.L.E. My husband happens to be a friend of the Chief of the Directorate of the GRU, Colonel-General Korabelniko Vladimirovich, and is is also an acquaintance of your Premier, Mr. Khrushchev.”

The Major let out a belly laugh. “Do you think you can frighten me old woman! No one knows you are here, of that I am sure. You will have simply disappeared, and no one will ever know whatever happened to you.”

The Major turned to his men.” Take the old ones and the children out back and shoot them.”

Susan and Thomas began to scream, clinging to their grandmother’s skirt.

“Please, not the children? “ Estelle begged.

Illya lashed out with his foot, kicking the Major in the stomach. Taking his cue from the man’s grunt that he’d doubled over; Kuryakin karate chopped Vasiliev, sending the man unconscious to the floor.

“Illya!” Thomas yelled. “Catch!” The boy tossed the UNCLE agent his gun. The boy had it hidden beneath his sweater, tucked into his trousers. “Nine o’clock and three o’clock!”

“Pffft Pffft!” The gun was fired with uncanny accuracy, hitting the remaining KGB agents and they too dropped to the floor, hit with sleep darts, but not before Pavel gave them each a clout in the head with his walking stick, just for good measure.

“You did it! That was amazing!” Thomas shouted, but that brief moment of triumph quickly passed as Soviet Soldiers suddenly burst through the door, aiming their rifles at everyone.

* ref. Zaporoche

Part 7- the conclusion

Comments

[katb357.livejournal.com]

This is the cliffie of all cliffies!! Aaaggghhh!!! Loving it! Can't wait for more!!!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Wow! Thank you! The cliffies were actually not intentional. I wrote the story as a whole then had to go back and divide into chapters so I could post here.

This chapter was supposed to have been a tad longer but for some reason LJ kept telling me the file was too long.

I added the bit removed onto tomorrow's chapter. Hopefully I won't have to divide that one as well.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I'm going to have to grab hold of Frodo Samwise (my teddy bear), for the rest of this story. I'm genuinely afraid for them all. Keep up the excellent work.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Hang onto Samwise, you never know what's coming next!

Thank you and really glad you're getting into this story!

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

Woah - aaaaggghhhh - have to wait until tomorrow.......

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Sorry, yep. Just remember good things come to those who wait.

Thank you!

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

ARGH! Post faster, Woman! It went from bad to good to bad in the blink of an eye. My nerves are shot and my fingernails chewed to nubs.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Mwaaaa haaa haaa haaaaal Wear gloves or dip your fingers in castor oil so you won't bite the nails. Oh and have a nice glass of wine to relax. "D
thank you! More tomorrow!

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Yikes! Do they even make castor oil anymore?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Sure they do. :P