section7mfu | A Moment of Relaxation (Reply)

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were in a nondescript brownstone in Park Slope, Brooklyn searching through the master bedroom of the THRUSH courier who was now lying dead downstairs on the kitchen floor. They had hoped to surprise and take him prisoner. Unfortunately, this particular bird had also been an experienced agent who refused to back down when confronted. A firefight had ensued and Illya had dispatched the man with a headshot.

Illya uncovered a wall safe behind a picture as Napoleon was furiously scooping documents he found in the man’s desk into a large plastic garbage bag. Working quickly, the Russian opened the safe and saw, among other things, a stack of papers. “Here, Napoleon,” he said as he passed the papers to his partner, “bag these, also. I am thinking that we have located all the documents he was to transport tomorrow. These other items all seem to be of a personal nature. I am going to take them as that will fit in with what I want the crew to do.”

“And what is that?”

“The crew will make it look like the courier has absconded with all the documents, perhaps to sell to the highest bidder. When he misses his rendezvous, THRUSH will send agents here and when they search, they will notice the lack of personal effects and hopefully, conclude they have been betrayed. Even if they eventually figure out he is dead, we will have already acted upon whatever knowledge UNCLE gleans from the papers.”

The CEA nodded tightly and kept working. “Smart Russian. I have one other place I want to check. You head downstairs and contact Mr. Waverly and a Clean – up Crew. I’ll be down in about ten minutes.”

Illya said, “Alright,” placed the things he discovered in a small brown bag before locking the safe and replacing the picture in front of it. He went to the ground floor where the kitchen was located, pulled his communicator and then, after putting it together, said, “Open Channel D, please, Priority One for Mr. Waverly.”

A few seconds passed until the voice of The Old Man came through strong and clear. “Yes, Mr. Kuryakin? Were you and Mr. Solo successful?”

“Our attempt to apprehend the man failed because he refused to surrender; he was shot to death. However, we found all the documents and as it turned out, all three of us had silencers on our weapons so the neighborhood was not alarmed. Sir, if you could have a Clean – up Crew report here as soon as possible, they would more than likely be finished before the next door neighbors return from work.”

“They will be there in an hour, Mr. Kuryakin. Please remain there to let them in and then, report to me with Mr. Solo. Waverly out.”

Illya put his device away and gazed out the window at the backyard. Intrigued, he unlocked the back door and entered the yard. There was a wooden bench just to the right of the door. The Russian sat down and took in the stones surrounded by cement patterned to look like sand swirling in wavy lines and concentric circles. What remained of the original grass and trees was also surrounded by the same patterned cement. Just beyond that was a small koi pond. This is very like a Chinese garden, he thought. He sat and breathed deeply as he focused on the lines and allowed his eyes to follow them. He felt himself coming down from the adrenaline rush the shootout and searching had caused.

He heard his partner coming down the stairs. “Illya?”

“Out here, Napoleon,” he called. When he was joined, he slid over to allow his partner to sit. “Mr. Waverly wants us to wait for the Clean – up Crew.” He looked around again. “Is this not beautiful? This space is supposed to evoke feelings of peace, reflection and a respite from the everyday.”

Napoleon opened his mouth to say something sarcastic about Russian souls, but Illya’s peaceful countenance made the words die in his throat. Instead, he turned his attention to the garden before him. The irony of appreciating this little urban oasis of introspection and calm while a dead body was lying in a pool of blood not twenty feet away was not lost on him. “Yes, it is beautiful here.”

“Like our meals and our rest, we must take our mental health breaks when we can, Napoleon. Apparently, this courier also knew this. It is not a bad thing to have a place of solitude where one can gather one’s thoughts.”

“I could do something like this on my terrace. Obviously, not this big and it would be a fountain rather than a pond. And your solitude would include me, of course.”

Illya rolled his eyes. “Oh, really?”

Napoleon laughed, “Well, it would be on my terrace, after all! I would let you use it and, as my best friend, you would let me meditate with you.”

Just then the blond’s communicator chirped. He spoke into it and stood up. “The Clean – up Crew is outside in an UNCLE taxi that we will use to go back to Headquarters. Come on, we can discuss what to put in your meditation garden.”

They walked through the kitchen, picked up the bags of documents they had gathered and left the house so that the crew could get started. They were feeling…relaxed.