"T'was the UNCLE Round Robin" Chapter 10 (Part 2)

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Napoleon hefted Illya over his shoulder with a grunt. As light as Kuryakin was, right now he was dead weight.

Rob led the way, carrying his torch and after some twists and turns they exited the tunnel somewhere outside of the castle, not far from Loch Awe.

“Now what?” Rob asked.

“I’m thinking.” Napoleon carefully lowered Illya to a bit of grass beside the water’s edge.

“Here hae some of this,” Rob said. He reached into his sporran, a type of leather pouch as kilts didn’t exactly have pockets. He pulled out a small flask, offering it to the American.

Napoleon refrained from commenting about a boy Rob’s age carrying such a thing. He took a quick, warming nip of what was possibly the best Scotch he’d ever tasted.

“Whoa, that hit the spot. Thanks. So is this the reason why you Scotsmen were able to go into battle while wearing only kilts.”

“Maybe,” Rob winked. “Have tae keep the nether regions warm somehow I suppose. I dinna touch it myself except for medicinal purposes when I’m hunting. If my mother ever found out…

“Listen Rob, I have to return to the castle and stop the missile from being launched. I need you to stay here with Illya. If I don’t come back, then I want you to hightail it to the other side of the loch to Sir Thomas Bean’s estate. Tell him Napoleon Solo sent you and fill him in on what’s happened. He’ll contact my boss Mr. Waverly and get help.”

“You want me to leave Illya?”

“If you have to, yes. He’d understand. Now do you understand me Rob?”

“Aye. Good luck Mr. Solo, and Godspeed.”

Napoleon headed back towards the castle, though he didn’t have the heart to tell Rob that his mother would most likely be killed. Yet he had a feeling the boy already suspected that.

Solo crept through to the courtyard and there in the tower that had been completed; strangely, the thing almost looked like the Eiffel tower. Attached to it with cables stood the missile, its white metal casing showing brightly in the waning light. Apparently it was the package the guard had said arrived.

He didn’t exactly have a solid plan at this point. Not having any explosives, he’d have to improvise. What else was new? Flying by the seat of his pants when it came to strategy was what he did, though not always with a successful result.

Napoleon ducked into the shadows as he heard the sound of footfalls coming towards him. It was a guard and as he came close enough, Solo stepped out of the darkness and karate chopped the man into oblivion.

He stripped him of his uniform and beret, and grabbing the THRUSH rifle, Napoleon sauntered out into the open.

Another guard passed him but stopped, turning to look at him.

“Damn, he’d been made already?” Napoleon swore under his breath.

“Hey buddy got a match, I’m going on a smoke break.”

Napoleon breathed a sigh of relief. “No sorry. Say I’m new, just came in. Where’s the armory? My gun doesn’t seem operating well, things keep jamming up. I need to get another one.”

“Oh it’s right over there,” the guard pointed across to a wooden door on the far side of the courtyard.

“Thanks pal,” Napoleon gave him a little salute, and turned, heading to where he'd been directed.

Amazingly the door was unlocked, and after finding the light switch, he grinned. His and Illya’s packs had been tossed in here, along with their Specials!

He quickly opened their black bags, pulling out the C-4 they’d brought along, as well as the detonators. At this point they were the only things he needed, and he discarded the rest of the contents.

Napoleon molded several blocks of the grey explosive putty together, and attached a detonator so he could just stick it onto the side of the rocket. It would be a huge explosion, to say the least.

Setting the timer to five minutes...it had to be fast. Hopefully he could get out in time.

One device would have to do as he couldn’t risk being spotted near the rocket.

After shutting off the light, he walked out with his rifle slung over his shoulder, looking like he was just one of the other guards, though he had his and Illya’s Specials tucked inside his blue jumpsuit. The explosive was in his hand, tucked behind his back.

Counting the guards, there looked to be a half dozen of the, with no sight of either Ecks or Wye. That made him more nervous as they could identify him and sound the alarm if they showed up.

Hopefully they were busy searching the castle for him and Illya. If they weren’t THRUSH, they might not have said anything as to him and Illya having gone missing.

Step by step he moved closer, until breathing a sigh of relief, he was next to the base of the rocket.  In one quick movement he shoved the block of C-4 against the metal, pushing it firmly into place.  The timer was now at four minutes and counting down.

Napoleon turned, and walking across the courtyard, he suddenly came face to face with Ecks and Wye.

“Taking a little stroll Solo?” You’re a naughty boy and didn’t go where you were supposed to,” Ecks whispered.

“Where’s Kuryakin?” Wye asked.

“Dead.”

“What a pity. And here I thought I was going to get a little payback for him stabbing me that one time,” Ecks said, clicking his tongue.

“Shame it was a wasted effort since you’re still alive.”

“But you won’t be Solo, now come along with us real nice like."

"So you didn't kill the guards like you said you would."

"Well, about that; you see we've been tossing around the idea about changing sides."

"Here it comes," Napoleon thought. "It was as he'd suspected."

"We think we're going to give you back to her Majesty," Ecks said. "She knows you've gone missing. We'll be the heroes finding you, and stopping you from ruining her plans."

"Oh so want to be part of the inner circle huh," Solo retorted. It was about all about the lure of power. He was nothing but a pawn in their little game. Time was ticking away and he knew he had to make his move. It was now or never.

"And why not?"Wye said." Maybe we're just a bit tired of just being paid lackeys. Don't you feel that way sometimes Mr. Solo?"

"You have a point there." Napoleon slipped off his THRUSH rifle still dangling on his shoulder by its strap and swung it like a baseball bat, slamming it into Eck’s head and knocking him out.

In his follow through, Napoleon spun round hitting Wye in the stomach, making the man double over. He karate chopped him and he collapsed as well.

"Sorry boys." Solo took off at a dead run, heading for the exit to the courtyard, but when nearly reaching it Napoleon was suddenly driven forward in pain. He’d been struck in the back by a bullet.

Lady Olivia stood there with a rifle in her hands, flashing a feral smile.

Solo stumbled to the ground. His left arm lying in front of him, and his wristwatch right withine his line of sight. Watching as the seconds ticked away; the bomb would be going off. It was the end for him as he knew the explosion would be massive.

*******

Robbie Stewart sat rocking Kuryakin in his arms, holding him in an attempt to keep the man warm. It had finally started to snow.

The boy looked up and spotted a big Scottish wildcat moving toward him, presumably no, hopefully the one he’d fed earlier.

“Fàilte dhuibh,” he greeted the animal in Scots Gaelic. “Do you remember me?”

The animal, known to be fierce, approached the boy, purring as it head butted Robbie’s leg, marking him with its scent no doubt.

“You accepted the hare from me, so might I ask a blessing of you?”

It purred even louder.

“T’is is nae for me. Please help ta heal this man if you can? He’s in a bad way, and might die. Mr. Solo has nae returned and I fear he’s failed at his task. Could you see ta possibly stopping that missile from launching and killing our Queen and the royal family in Sandringham? I know that’s a lot ta ask for the price a wee hare, but it’s real important.”

The animal backed away and Robbie swore it bowed to him. Seconds later, despite it snowing, a heavy fog appeared on the loch and as it rolled in he swore he saw someone walking towards him along the shore.

As the figure drew closer, he could see it was a woman with long black hair that hung down below her knees. She seemed to be nearly naked, though her sparkling body was wrapped in seaweed? Loch Awe was a freshwater lake so where did that come from and the lady as well?. Just as suddenly, she was wearing a long hooded cape.

“Hello young Stewart,” she spoke to him; her voice didn’t sound quite human.

He was surprised she knew his name.”Beg pardon Lady but you know me but I dinnae know you.”

“I am of the loch, and am here to help yew as yew begged a blessing from our wild friend.”

Robbie stuttered. “Are you a kelpie? He knew the mythical water horse could take human form as well as that of a horse. Legend warned never to ride the back of one, for once you got on, you could never get off and would be drowned in the water of the loch.”

“Dinnae worry laddie, no harm will come to ye,” she said.”The beastie to whom ye were kind asked me to help yew. T'was for others yew asked help and not for yerself. For that I will do what I can do, but nae more."

The wildcat disappeared as the kelpie approached Robbie and kneeling next to him, she placed her glistening hand on Illya’s head.

“He’s suffered greatly,” she whispered. “But all is not lost.”

She began to sing in Gaelic and her voice sounded oddly as if it were one of many. Rob thought he heard music, perhaps it was the music of the sith...the faery folk?

“Seinn an duan seo dhan Innis Àigh. An innish uaine as gile tràigh. Bidh sian air uairean a’ bagairt cruaidh rish ach seo mo luaidh-s bhith ann a’ tàmh…”

“Sing this song to the Happy Isle, the green isle of whitest sands, though storms at times threaten severely. Where do trees come into bloom sooner? Where does the thrush sing more sweetly on the tips of branches than in the Happy Isle. The most prized fish closest to the land, wishes to live about its shores…”

When the singing ended, Illya moaned and his eyes fluttered open.

“Who are you?” He struggled free of Robbie’s grasp.

The boy was momentarily distracted as thee kelpie had disappeared, and the fog as well. Just gone, like that.

“Oh...my name is Rob and your friend Napoleon asked me ta watch over you whilst he went ta stop the missile from being launched.”

Illya stood, feeling invigorated. His pain was completely gone, as apparently were all his wounds and bruises? He didn’t stop to ask how.

Though he was shirtless, and without shoes, wearing only his black trousers, he knew he had to find his partner.

“Your friend told me if he didn’t come back, ta leave you and head to Lord Bean’s ta get help from your boss Mr. Waverly. He said my mother was going ta launch that missile soon and he was going ta stop it. He’s been gone too long sir.

“Your mother?”

“Aye, I’m Robert...Rob Stewart, Lady Olivia’s son and I’m dead set against what she’s planning ta do. My mother is out of her mind and is completely mad."

Illya cocked his head at that bit of news…no argument there.

“Rob, you do as Mr. Solo told you to do. I need to head back to the castle to find and help him if I can.”

“Yes sir,” Robbie took off. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat, in complete amazement of what had happened. Not only were the legends about the Scottish tiger true, but the Kelpie as well.

The cold didn’t seem to matter to the Russian as he ran towards Kilchurn, and as he peeked in through the entrance to the courtyard, he spotted Napoleon laying on the ground.

A half-dozen Thrushies were charging in his direction but dashed right past Solo as they headed out of the castle courtyard in what looked like sheer panic.

Illya grabbed Napoleon, and dragged him outside just as a huge explosion went off.

The concussion knocked the Russian to the ground, and once he regained his senses, he lifted Solo to his feet and moved him away to find cover.

Napoleon looked up in complete surprise. “Illya? You’re okay?”

“Yes, but I do know know how,” Kuryakin actually smiled.

“The bomb, did it detonate? Solo whispered.

“It did indeed. The missile is destroyed along with anyone left inside the castle.”

Thinking of Lady Olivia, Ecks and Wye, Napoleon whispered only one word. “Good.”

He then passed out.

Translations:

Numpty:  is a stupid or ineffectual person.

Nae: no

Dinnae: do not

Caber: a roughly trimmed tree trunk used in the Scottish Highland sport of tossing the caber. It involves holding the caber upright and running forward to toss it so that it lands on the opposite end.

Sith: pronounced ‘shee’ the name for the faeries in Scotland. In ireland they’re ‘Sidhe.”