Three Little Explosions, All In a Row... PicFic Tuesday

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

“All of you now pay attention, carefully. After...”

mumbling, whispering...

“Chyort, will you please settle down and be quiet. Mr. Waverly asked me to give you a demonstration in explosives techniques for a new compound and I am attempting to do as I was asked.” Illya Kuryakin spoke firmly. “If you do not pay attention and be cooperative, well I am sure it will not look good in your permanent records after I make my report to Section I.”

The Russian smiled to himself, as that comment got their complete attention.



They were at a remote location out in New Jersey, part of Naval Weapons Station Earle, a United States Navy base located along the bayshore. Its distinguishing feature was a 2.9-mile pier in Sandy Hook Bay where ammunition was loaded and unloaded from warships at a safe distance from heavily-populated areas.

The Station was divided into two sections: Mainside, and the Waterfront Area, which included a pier complex on Sandy Hook Bay, located in the Leonardo section of Middletown Township.The areas were connected by Normandy Road, a 15-mile military road and rail line, patrolled regularly by MP’s; access to the area was by special permit only. Any unauthorized trespassers were immediately arrested and sent off for interrogation and possible prison.

There at a remote target range site, U.N.C.L.E. was given access to work. Outdoor training at the moment for their newest Section III agents over and above what they’d received at Survival Island, in this case it was for a tutorial involving new weapons developed by Section VIII.

There were times the target range and test labs at headquarters were not enough, and simulations under natural weather conditions were important in keeping agents at their best. The sun, clouds, wind and rain could all affect the outcome of a single shot, or an explosion.

This practice site was conveniently located not far from headquarters in New York, as opposed to the island in the South Pacific where all agents received their main field training. The naval base was easily accessible across the bay via an U.N.C.L.E boat that could be docked at the pier at the Leonardo site. From there the agents would receive their security clearance and be taken by a 2½ ton deuce and a half truck to the target range.


Today the number two agent of Section II was working with a new compound developed by Research and Development, and planned to demonstrate its capabilities, if this class ever settled down.

“Why do we need to do this Mr. Kuryakin? We just finished our training. We had a whole class on demolitions at Survival Island.”  

“Not with this type of explosive,” Illya answered patiently.

This was a compound seized from T.H.R.U.S.H. and after  R & D had their way with it, they manipulated it to convert from a liquid to a gel-like explosive upon impact.  It could be loaded into a standard hollow point bullet, and sealed with wax. The improved version was much more stable than the original formula, yet it was still quite dangerous.
.

In Illya’s early days, new agents kept their mouths closed and listened. Their lives depended on it.  This group seemed a bit brash...well Napoleon was brash, but at least he had the brains and experience to back up his bravura. The Russian doubted that was the case with this group.

The one named Kowalczyk, he was an agent Illya needed to keep an eye on.  He was smart, but cocky, but it was the kind of cockiness that could get a man killed. It was one thing to be sure of oneself, but to be blinded by it was another.  To Illya, Ken Kowalczyk seemed as blind as a bat, and there was something about the man that made his nerves tingle....maybe it was just because he was a durak_idiot, or was it something else?

“All of you please step forward and observe the proper manner in which to prepare your ammunition.” Illya directed them for his demonstration.

The group of six men and one woman gathered in a small circle around the table that had been set up. A row of the hollow tip bullets were lined up, as Illya took a small glass vial of clear liquid out of a foam rubber lined box.  

“This is formula XYZ. It is highly volatile and must be handled with great care, not unlike the old unstable substance known as nitroglycerine.”  

“Nice name,” Kowalczyk cracked a smart remark. “They couldn’t come up with a better one?”

“Mr. Kowalczyk, the name is what it is, now no more interruptions.

He carefully opened the bottle, and producing an eyedropper, he placed a few drops of the liquid in each of the tips of the bullets. After replacing the vial in its box and closing it, Illya took a small stick of sealing wax, lit the wick with a butane lighter and let a few drops fall over each of the bullets, covering the tips with it.

“Once they have been sealed the casing protects and buffers the compound, allowing it to be handled with ease.

Illya picked up one of the bullets. “Think fast,” he said, tossing it to Kowalczyk.  The man caught it easily, as he and the others recovered from their collective gasp.

“But what if he’d dropped it Mr. Kuryakin,” Agent Harker asked, still recuperating from her initial shock of seeing the round tossed.  She was a pretty thing, and Illya mused, thinking his partner would make a beeline for her as soon as he returned from Canada.

“Nothing would have happened as there would not have been sufficient velocity and it is a soft grassy surface beneath our feet. Still the odds are pretty high that a round would not fall in a precise enough manner to bust a primer. But, it could and does sometimes happen. You always have to respect arms, ammunition, and explosives. They are totally unpredictable. You could probably throw a round at a rock a thousand times and never duplicate the same throw, but it only takes the precise trajectory and force for it to go off once.”

Illya picked up his UNCLE carbine from the table, loading three rounds into his clip and sliding it into place.

“Follow me please and I will demonstrate just how lethal these rounds can be.”

The group of greenhorns followed him past a target range toward a dilapidated building that had been obviously used for live fire, as the walls were riddled with bullet holes.

“Stay behind me please.” Illya raised his rifle, looking through the scope and fired three rounds at the roof of the small structure. Then lowering his weapon, he took a quick peek at his wristwatch.

“Ha, you missed,” Kowalczyk taunted.

Illya’s nostrils flared as he squeezed his lips tightly, refraining from saying anything he would regret. He did not like this Kowalczyk in the least and would make a point of discussing this new recruit with Mr. Waverly.

“Watch and learn...three, two, one.” He pointed at the building. BOOM!  A second later, another explosion, then a third, all cascading one after the other.”

The Russian of course, enamored of his explosives, gave a smile of satisfaction; in the back of his mind, he was wishing this had been a T.H.R.U.S.H. satrap.

“Why didn’t they go off on impact?” One of the agents asked.

“Because it is formulated to go off with exposure to air as well as...”

Before he could finish, Kowalczyk interrupted. “Why didn’t it explode when it was exposed to air when you were putting it into the bullet tips with the eyedropper.”

“If you had let me finish...Mr. Kowalczyk,” Illya said with impatience in his voice. “The heat generated by the impact of the bullet against the surface...otherwise known as friction, is also part of the catalyst. That is why the compound must be handled carefully, if a drop falls on the floor it would explode with enough force to drive you back against a wall and possibly kill you.  Now, the compound when it becomes exposed and experiences friction, immediately coagulates into a gel, adhering to the surface the bullet struck. As you saw, there was approximately a ten second delay before it exploded.”

Illya was happy not to hear a smart-mouthed retort.

“Now back to the table, each of you will have a turn at setting up your rounds.  You, Mr. Kowalczyk, will be first.” Illya decided to get him out of the way, that way he hoped there would be no more annoying remarks until his turn came.

Illya and the others watch as the cocky Kowalczyk used the eyedropper, putting the explosive liquid into his rounds, sealing them and loading them into his clip and as the last step, shoved it in place with a click.

They walked again to the practice target, but suddenly Kowalczyk turned, aiming the carbine at Kuryakin, stopping the Russian and the others dead in their tracks.

“Thank you for giving us back our formula,” he sneered.

“Us?” Agent Harker asked nervously.

“T.H.R.U.S.H. my dear,”Illya said. “So you finally managed to infiltrate us again. It will do you no good.”

“Kuryakin, I hate your know-it-all Russkie guts. T.H.R.U.S.H. will probably give me a medal and a promotion for finally getting rid of you and getting back a new and improved version of our formula.”

Illya, still holding his own carbine, boldly pointed it at the man. He was the only one armed besides Kowalczyk, as the other agents weapons were all lined up on the table and not within reach.

“Ha, no way Kuryakin, you can’t bluff me. You only loaded the three rounds.”

“Cocky to the end, are you not.” Illya smiled, instantly letting go three shots in succession, hitting Kowalczyk squarely in the chest. “DOWN!” He yelled to the others, shielding them as the T.H.R.U.S.H. infiltrator disintegrated into nasty pieces as the rounds exploded.

The mole had no idea that Illya had three additional explosive bullets previously loaded in the clip. He was the only one remaining standing and was covered in blood and debris, as he calmly turned to the trainees.

“I neglected to tell you that body heat speeds up the explosive properties and cuts down the detonation time to nil. I think our class is concluded for today,” he added, wiping his face with his handkerchief. “Miss Harker, if you would please contact headquarters and put it in a request for a clean up crew, as well as a change of clothing for me? Thank you.”

The response to Illya’s cool demeanor was a round of applause, making him blush, just a little...