"The Lost Flight" Part 7- The Conclusion

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Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Drop your weapon!” The order was given and Illya complied immediately. Bending over slightly and laying his Special by his foot, he shoved it forward, away from himself.

“You are Comrade Captain Illya Kuryakin?” An officer...a Lieutenant asked.

What was the point in lying? “Da, I am he.”

“And you are Mrs. Alexander Waverly and these are your grandchildren?”

“Da,” Estelle replied.

The officer immediately spoke into a handheld radio.

“Yes sir. We have them and they are unharmed. Yes KGB got here ahead of us, but it seems Comrade Captain Kuryakin was able to dispatch them. They too seem to be unharmed, and are merely unconscious. Yes sir we will see to them as well. Out.”

Estelle, with the children still clinging to her skirts grabbed Illya’s hand as well as Pavel’s. She assumed they were still about to die.

The Lieutenant saluted them.

“Madam, you the children and Comrade Kuryakin will be escorted to the Finnish-Soviet border without delay. And Comrade Colonel-General Vladimirovich sends you his greetings, Comrade Kuryakin.”

That brought a brief smile to Illya’s lips as well as a sigh of relief. Apparently the GRU hadn’t forgotten him.

“And what of our friend Pavel Andreivich?” Estelle asked.” He must not be harmed. He came to our aid like a good Soviet citizen.”

“I assure you Madam, Comrade Andreivich will be shown the gratitude of the Soviet people. It is not everyday that our Premier orders a rescue for several foreign nationals on Soviet soil. You must be important and therefore Comrade Andreivich will be rewarded for his service to our country.”

“Nikita Khrushchev himself?” Thomas blurted out.

“Apparently so,” his grandmother smiled.

They said their goodbyes to Pavel, and as he bid Estelle farewell his slipped something into her hand. It was the photograph of him as a young priest.

“Remember me dear lady. I fear our paths will never cross again.Having somewhere to go is home, having someone to love is family...having both is a blessing. May your life be filled with many blessings."

“God bless you as well Pavel Andreivich. Thank you for saving us,” she said before she and the children were whisked out the door.

Kuryakin was the last to say farewell to the former priest, kissing the man on one cheek then the other as he thanked Pavel for his generosity and courage.

“Tell me Illya Nickovich... in Kyiv, did you ever know a priest named Father Demya?”

Illya’s widened eyes gave away his surprise. “Yes I knew him as a child; he was a very good man.”

“What happened to him? Do you know?”

“I do not know for sure. After St. Andrews’s Church was closed he fled the city but he did spend his last night in Kyiv with my family before he left. It was a long time ago; I was only seven or eight at the time but he said something about going to Hortitsa, the home of the Zaporochian Cossacks. He planned to seek refuge there as he told my family he was born Cossack. I do not know if he survived the war to make it there.* May I ask how you know of him?”

“We went to seminary together and were ordained into priesthood at  same time.”

“Thank you for telling me this.”

It was an unexpected connection to his former life and family that this brief encounter with Pavel Andreivich gave Kuryakin. He would be forever grateful to the man for it as well as for helping to save their lives at the risk of his own.

“Come Comrade we must go,” the Lieutenant said.

“What of KGB agents?” Illya whispered to the man.

“They will be sent home with their tails between their legs, though I think gulag may be in their future. Now if I may assist you Comrade? My brother is blind so I know what to do.” He took hold of Illya’s hand and placed it on his arm, leading him out to where their vehicles waited.

Everyone was wrapped in blankets and made comfortable for the long drive to the border crossing at Svetogorsk in the Vyborgsky District of Leningrad Oblast. It was located only 1 kilometer from the border with Finland and 5 kilometers from the Finnish town of Imatra.

There at the crossing waited Napoleon Solo and his team. They’d finally managed to pinpoint the location of the signal from Illya’s communicator, and that information was given to the Soviet.

The bodies of the pilot, co-pilot and Edmé MacDougall had already been recovered, and now the UNCLE agents anxiously awaited the arrival of the Waverlys and Kuryakin.

Apparently the two men masquerading as UNCLE pilots were identified as members of T.H.R.U.S.H. so that answered who was at the bottom of it all. The question that had to remain unanswered was where the Learjet was being taken. There were no satraps that the Command was aware of within Soviet territory...yet.

They might just leave that up to Colonel-General Vladimirovich, and the GRU to discover for now.

At the Finland side of the border several ambulances were waiting to take the Waverly’s and Kuryakin for medical clearance and treatment in Imatra if needed. Even if uninjured, they all still needed to be examined as they’d been in a plane crash.

As soon as Napoleon saw his partner being helped to cross the border by Mrs. Waverly and the children, he knew something was terribly wrong, and went immediately to Illya’s side as soon as they were on the Finland side.

“So what sort of trouble did you get yourself into now Tovarisch?” He tried to keep the tone of voice upbeat.

“Napoleon? I am quite pleased to hear your voice.”

“Hear… not happy so see me?”

“Therein lies the problem as at the moment  I am as blind as the proverbial bat. Mrs. Waverly seems to think it is only temporary. It was caused from a head injury when the plane crashed, but that remains to be seen...no pun intended.”

“What happened?”

“Mrs. Waverly and the children were apparently being kidnapped and I was just along for the ride, so to speak. The pilot and copilot were not our agents. Dare I suggest they were THRUSH moles?”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head. The pilots were a pair of birds all right. Where they were taking you is being thoroughly investigated. I’m so relieved you and the Waverly’s are all right...well for the most part.”

“As am I my friend.”

They were transported to the hospital in Imatra and once examined by the doctors the Waverlys were given a clean bill of health.

It was confirmed that Illya’s blindness was indeed temporary, due to a swelling of the optic nerves.  He was treated with antibiotics for a mild infection in his shoulder wound, as well given as anti-inflammatory medication.

Though he wasn’t happy about it, Illya spent the night in the hospital. The next morning, he was able to see light and shadows, much to the relief of all. He was responding well to his medication and compliments were given to whomever had treated him previously.

Arrangements were made for Solo and his team to escort the family and Illya to Rovaniemi. There would be a Christmas eve reunion for the Waverly family after all.

That evening, they all sat at a rather large dinner table in Alexander Waverly’s suite in the hotel, the Old Man raised his glass. He wished everyone a Happy Christmas, and gave thanks to God for the return of his family and one of his best agents.

“I’ll second that sir,” Napoleon said.

They drank up, with everyone ready to dig into the Christmas goose that had been specially prepared for them.

“Alexander, might I say grace?” Estelle asked.

“Why of course my dear, please do.”

She held out her hands, asking everyone at the table to join hands. Illya being able to see even better, took his partner’s hand in his left hand, and gingerly reached over taking little Susan’s hand in his.

“Dear Lord we thank you on the eve of Your Son’s birth for this bounty. Bless us each and everyone but please bless and watch over Father Pavel Andreivich. Keep him safe dear God, and please bless Colonel-General Vladimirovich as well as Premier Nikita Khrushchev. Give them your wisdom and guidance in their decisions that we might have peace in the world.”

Alexander’s bushy brows raised at that last bit.  “Amen to that my dear. Now shall we start the feast? “

He raised the carving knife and fork, ready to carve the crisp goose.

“Look Grandad. Look at the sky!” Susan pointed to the window. “Look at the colors!”

“That’s the Aurora Borealis, “ he smiled, “also known as the northern lights. He was thrilled the children could see it after all, and wondered if there had been a bit of Divine Intervention for all this to have happened.

“May we go have a look Grandad?” Thomas asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Illya can you see it, come with me?” Susan asked. She took his hand, not really giving him much of a choice.

He could make out the beautiful colors, though things were still a bit blurry, he could make out their being reflected in the river and he lights prompted him to speak.

“Sometimes it begins as a glow of red on the northern horizon, ominously suggesting a great fire dragon called the Ognenniy Zmey. “ He suddenly realized that was not quite an appropriate legend as the dragon was said  to seduce women when their husbands were away.

“The colors can gradually change to a curtain of violet-white, or greenish-yellow extending from east to west as they unfold like a luminous cloth across the sky; sometimes as a vast multitude of gigantic flaming swords furiously slashing at the heavens; sometimes as a flowing crown with long undulating colored streamers fanning downward and outward.” Illya hands became quite animated as he spoke.

“How beautiful Mr. Kuryakin,” Estelle Waverly smiled. “Now come all of you before you’re dinner gets cold.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Illya half smiled. He made it back to his chair, unassisted.

“Gee I didn’t know you had it in you tovarisch,” Napoleon leaned over towards his partner. “That was a gorgeous description of the northern lights.”

“I merely described what I have seen in the past.”

“Still, I think there’s a bit of a poet inside you Illya Kuryakin.”

“Oh that?  It is merely the soul of a true Russian coming out, I suppose.”

“A soul, tovarisch?” Napoleon grinned. Maybe his Godless Russian partner wasn’t so Godless at all.

Kuryakin ignored what Solo said and tucked into his dinner.

The conversation was at a minimum as everyone enjoyed the delicious food. Finally as the plates were cleared by the hotel staff, Mr. Waverly looked at his wristwatch. It was nearly time.

The double doors opened and in walked a man with a great white beard. He was wearing a long blue velvet robe and matching cap. Slung over his shoulder was a large bag overflowing with wrapped presents. He stepped forward, leaning on an old walking stick, one with the face of a bearded man carved into it

“Ho Ho Ho! Hyvää joulua!” He called out,  first in Finnish and then in Russian.“Kho-kho-kho! Schastlivogo Rozhdestva!” Pausing for a second, he then spoke two words in English. “Hoppy Kriost-mos.”

It was Father Pavel!

“Santa!” Susan squealed.”See, I told you he was Santa Claus Illya!”

Kuryakin smiled, recalling that he’d told Susan otherwise when they first met Father Pavel, and saw his red sled drawn by reindeer. For a split second Illya’s heart leapt, and was filled with the awe of a child. Could he be Grandfather Christmas?

“No,” he shook his head, but for the brief moment it was nice to have thought it.

Mrs.Waverly drew a white hankie trimmed with lace from the sleeve of her dress and quickly dabbed her eyes with it.

“Thank you Alexander.”

Waverly blushed ever so slightly. “My darling, I can’t take full credit. It was actually Mr. Solo’s idea. My part however was a telephone call to Mr. Khrushchev.”

He hadn’t really expected Nikita Khrushchev to be willing to let go a Soviet citizen so easily, especially since Andreivich had been a priest overlooked by the purges of the Orthodox clergy. He knew he would owe Khrushchev on this one.

“Amazingly the Premier granted Father Pavel his personal permission to emigrate to Finland and even had him flown via helicopter to the border crossing. There our men and representatives of the government of Finland were waiting for him with open arms.”

Napoleon chimed in. ”Here he’ll be allowed to be a priest again and be able to minister to the many Russians who fled here in order to practice their faith. After having given his home and animals to someone in need the good Father has arrived just in time for Christmas.” Solo winked.

“Well done gentlemen,” Estelle raised her glass.

“Hear hear. God bless us everyone,” Napoleon said as he observed his partner wipe away a tear from eye.

“Getting all choked up tovarisch?”

Illya sat up straight, perhaps embarrassed he’d been caught in an emotional moment.

“No, there was merely something in my eye, a bit of dust perhaps.”

“Yeah, right,” Napoleon mumbled. He leaned over again, and getting Illya to raise his glass, he clinked his to it with a ‘ding.’

“As I said,” he whispered,”God bless us everyone…

Finis