section7mfu | January Song Story: Lost Love Found, Part II

Part I

The two men left the Commissary. “Napoleon, I will finish ‘my’ paperwork later, I have something that needs my attention in the Lab. Unless, of course, it needs to be done quickly. You know where it is if you wish to do it.”

“No, no, no. It can wait until you get back to the office. The Old Man doesn’t need that particular batch until tomorrow morning.”

“I find it absolutely astonishing how important reports suddenly become less important when I am not available to do them.”

“Snarky Russian! I have things to do, too. I’ll see you later.”

Napoleon picked up his phone as soon as he entered the office and dialed George Dennell’s extension. “Hi, it’s Napoleon. I need a favor. I want you to find someone for me. A woman…”

“Um, we’re not that kind of service…”

“Haha. I have to tell you, George, that I don’t have a lot of information for you to go on. The woman’s name is Anya. Approximately eight years ago, she was a waitress in a restaurant in Vladivostok in the USSR that was frequented by members of the Russian Navy’s submarine service. Dark haired, dark eyed, I’m guessing about five foot six. She is probably between the ages of twenty – eight to thirty years old now. The KGB sent her away. I think.” Napoleon could hear the sound of George’s pencil taking notes.

“You think? Not a lot to go on at all. When do you need this information?”

“Yesterday.”

“Napoleon!”

“ASAP, then. Don’t you have some friends in the CIA or something?”

“Definitely ‘or something.’ George went silent for a moment and the CEA could almost swear he could hear the gears of Dennell’s mind turning. “Listen, I have just the person for the job. I’ll put her on it. If anyone can do this quickly, she can. I’ll get back to you later on this afternoon with an update.”

Napoleon smiled broadly. “I knew I could count on you, George! One other thing: Don’t tell anyone about this task. Discretion is key.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Illya had returned from the Lab and was diligently, though disgruntledly, completing the CEA reports while Napoleon was marking time by re – reading Mission Reports from the Los Angeles office. When his phone rang, he picked up the handset as he spun his chair so that he was facing the wall. “Yes?”

“It’s George. I believe I have what you want. Do you want me to come to your office?”

“No, I’ll be there in a few moments. Thank you.” He spun back around, hung up and then stood and reached for his jacket. “My presence has been requested at an impromptu meeting. What time were you planning on leaving for the day?”

Illya looked ruefully at his desk. “It would appear that I have at least another forty – five minutes of work left.”

“Good. Idle hands and all that. Listen, don’t leave until I come back, all right?”

“I would not dream of it,” the Russian replied snidely, “You do know that you owe me more than just the lunch you bought?”

“I know, I know,” Napoleon replied as he walked out the door and headed to Section IV. I’m hoping I really have good news for you, moy droog.

When he arrived at George’s office, he was ushered in immediately by Dennell’s secretary. When he was seated she asked, “May I bring you gentlemen some coffee?”

At Napoleon’s headshake, George replied, “No, thanks, Jeannie, just hold my calls until Mr. Solo leaves.”

The CEA turned and watched appreciatively at Jeannie exited and closed the door behind her. “I need to come down here more often,” he mused aloud before facing George. “You were able to find something for me?”

George smiled as he handed over a large manila envelope. “Oh, yes. My resources and staff are quite good, but even I was shocked at how quickly this all came together. Maybe some of it can be attributed to the famous Solo Luck. As it turns out, there were only three restaurants in Vladivostok during the timeframe you gave me that had Navy clientele. Two of them have since closed, but the third one is where this Anya worked. Fortunately, the owner remembered her because her last name, Buryakova, is an uncommon one. He also remembered the KGB had something to do with her leaving so he wasn’t forthcoming after that. No matter. We were able to track her down to where she is right now. It’s all there.”

As George was speaking, Napoleon had pulled the envelope’s contents out and was perusing them. When he saw her address, his eyes widened and a smile grew on his face. “George, this is perfect! The next time we go out for drinks, they’re all on me! I’ll see you later, thanks again!”

As he hurried back to his office he was thinking, Illya is either going to kill me outright or be very happy I did this for him.

Illya was just putting the finishing touches on the last report when Napoleon returned. “Thank you for not making me wait for you. I am ready to go home.”

Napoleon put his hand on his partner’s shoulder to keep him in his chair. “Just a minute, Illya, I want to talk to you.” He went to his desk and sat. Now that he had the blond’s attention, he wasn’t quite sure how to begin. “Ah, ah, I’ve done something for you…”

“For me? What did you do?” He was stunned to see Napoleon’s face flush. “Napoleon, what did you do?”

“Well, I was thinking about you and Anya and how you two were separated years ago…” He could see the storm rising in the Russian’s eyes and began to speak faster. “Anyway, I asked George Dennell to track her down and he did and she’s here, Illya! In America, in New York, in Brighton Beach!”

The string of Russian curses, epithets and name – calling he had formed died in Illya’s throat when Napoleon’s words sank into his consciousness. “Anya? Is here? How is that even possible?”

“Well, as near as George’s sources could tell, the KGB only told Anya the best thing for her would be to stay away from you. There was no detention, no Siberia; just a very stern warning that she took to heart. So much so, that she left Vladivostok and eventually found her way to Brooklyn.” He gave Illya the envelope George had given him. “It’s all in there, Illya: Her address, even her phone number. She’s still single, too.”

Illya hadn’t even realized that he had stood when Napoleon had started talking, but now he slumped onto his desk. His mind was a swirl of emotions; anger, happiness, shock, sadness. “Why are you telling me this, Napoleon?” he asked quietly. “It is not like I can declare my love and ask her to marry me. Did you do this to hurt me? Why would you do this?”

“Illya, I swear to you that I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you. I did this because I know what it’s like to lose someone you truly love when you weren’t able to say goodbye. Brianna walked out our apartment door to go food shopping and that was the last time I saw her alive. My last words to her were, ‘Don’t forget to pick up toilet paper.’ I would give anything to have the chance you have now. A chance to say a proper goodbye, to have closure.”

“You assume too much, Napoleon. What is done is done. I do not need closure.”

“Well, maybe Anya does.” The CEA stood and put on his coat. “It’s late and I want to go home. You do what you want. Maybe I do assume too much, moy droog, but what I did, I did because I care about you. So, sue me.”