section7mfu | The Yesterday Affair

After the abruptness of Illya’s display, his quick turnaround made Napoleon wonder just what the history was between the two Russians. Illya’s previous life, the part of it that pre-dated UNCLE, was as mysterious as the man himself. What people didn’t know about the blond far outweighed the volume that might be written based on available information.

Illya sat back down and commenced to eating, a sheepish expression the only residue of the outburst of a few minutes ago. Katya resumed her duties as hostess as though nothing had happened. Only Napoleon appeared to be affected by it, concern for his partner and his emotional state now playing into the mission they must complete. It was difficult to discern whether Katya would distract or diffuse, but she definitely had some kind of influence over Illya.

“So, I guess you must have been expecting me to ask, but…’

Napoleon raised an eyebrow and was met by a matching expression on Illya’s face.

“Just how is it that you two know each other? And Katya, how long have you been with UNCLE?”

Katya looked at Illya before speaking, rightly assuming that he would not give up the details so easily.

“I am only here as a clerk for the Soviet consulate. As such, I am lent periodically to various tasks, and occasionally… ‘

Napoleon and Illya were both boring into her with two different sets of eyes that were equally penetrating.

“… Well, actually… this is my first time. Comrade Professor Rabinovich is not actually defecting. He is no longer safe from THRUSH here in his own country, nor anywhere in the East.”

Each agent looked from the woman telling this story and back to the other. Another bit of information missing from their file on this mission it seemed, and they were hearing it from a rookie whose regular job was typing up reports for the Soviet ambassador.

“Gee, that’s just great isn’t it Illya? I wonder what else we don’t know about this assignment.”

Illya scowled at this new development. His earlier concerns about Katya’s suitability for this role returned, and no amount of persuasion on her part would make him relent now.

“Katya, how is it that the Soviets are willing to give up the professor? Are you telling me that they actually volunteered you to UNCLE in order to help get him out of the country?”

Napoleon was disbelieving of this scenario, although he hesitated to express his mistrust of a Soviet plot. THRUSH being too much for the Russians just seemed… outlandish.

Katya pursed her lips together, she didn’t want another outburst from Illya. And now Napoleon was looking at her the same way as the blond.

“I am not entirely certain that I understand your …ummm… objections. My superiors have told me to help UNCLE get the professor out of the country, and that is what I am doing. THRUSH has tried twice to kidnap him, and now it is believed that UNCLE can protect him best, somewhere in the West. Why do you question me as though I am not on your side?”

This spy business was perhaps not what she wanted after all. It seemed as though both men were now angry with her.

Illya ran his hands through his hair; a seething frustration with the situation had ruined his appetite.

“Where are we meeting Professor Rabinovich?”

“Near here, at the old train station. It is mostly deserted now, and he will be there at six o’clock. We are to take my car, pick him up and continue on to the border.”

Napoleon and Illya exchanged looks that betrayed a sudden mistrust of the situation. The Soviets didn’t let valuable intellectuals just wander into the West.

“What does Rabinovich look like, Katya? You do know him on sight, don’t you?”

The woman was unsure of herself now, their scrutiny was beginning to weaken her previous enthusiasm for this gambit. What if she had been used as bait; surely her superiors were aware of the history she and Illya shared. The government knew everything about its citizens, especially those in its employ.

“I have never met him. I was told that he would be wearing a blue hat, with a green feather like the one I had…’

She looked from one face to the other, reading something she didn’t quite understand in their expressions.

“It is a trap?”

Illya couldn’t grasp how this had happened. Their orders had come from Waverly. Napoleon was equally perplexed, and was opening his communicator to contact headquarters when a knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

“Do not answer it, Katya. We cannot be certain who saw us come in your house.”

“I can look through the little peephole. Perhaps it is only a neighbor.”

She didn’t really believe that, but insisted on going to look. Illya was at her side, gun drawn and ready for trouble.

Napoleon was speaking with Mr. Waverly in a matter of minutes as the other two went to the door.

“Mr. Solo, what do you have to report?”

“Sir, we are suspicious of the circumstances. Our contact, Katya, is an old friend of Illya’s, something that came as quite a surprise. She also does not know the professor personally, and has only a pre-arranged signal to identify him.”

“Ah, yes… the blue hat with the green feather. That was my idea, actually. Too absurd to be overlooked, and I assumed that you would question it.”

Napoleon was a little surprised at that, but continued on, wanting to verify as much as possible.

“That is, uh, very much what we wondered about, sir. Katya tells us that the Soviets do not feel capable of adequately protecting the professor. Is that true?”

A short pause was enough to make Napoleon concerned. He was watching Illya and Katya approach the door, hoping that it wouldn’t be trouble.

“Mr. Solo, that is entirely true. I can’t explain it, nor do I wish to express doubt as to their motives. We are here to assist those in need and further the cause of peaceful coexistence. I have no reason to doubt this situation, so please do proceed as directed. Is there anything else?”

Napoleon was watching the front door, saw Illya withdraw his hand from the holster beneath his jacket.

“Ah, no… no sir. We will go and fetch our professor and continue on with the plan, just as directed. Thank you sir. Solo out.”

Illya and Katya stepped back as she opened the door and let in a man in a long black trench coat. He looked just like agents from the KGB were expected to look, and Napoleon watched in fascinated wonder as he reached out and embraced Illya, both men pressing kisses in the distinctly European fashion, one on each cheek. Katya clasped her hands together and smiled, then received her own hug and kisses from the stranger.

When Illya turned around to face Napoleon, he was greeted by a confused expression, something that quickly disappeared to be replaced by the Solo Smile.

“Illya, is there anything you’d like to tell me, tovarisch?”

The three who now faced the lone American all wore grins, something that made Napoleon wonder if this was some type of Russian parlor game; kiss an agent, any agent…

“Napoleon Solo, may I introduce…”

PART 4