"Yes sir, Mr. Kuryakin" for the #3 What if? Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

The prompt: What If... Illya was CEO and Napoleon the new recruit?

He’d heard a lot about this guy. Outstanding performance at Survival School, setting quite a few nearly unbreakable records, but not all; Napoleon Solo smiled to himself.

Solo had broken or matched enough of them to make Alexander Waverly to sit up and take notice, and now here he was finally at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters in New York city. It was where the creme de la creme of field agents were assigned.

After being stationed for a very brief stint in the London office, he’d finally ‘arrived.’ He was exactly where he wanted to be and thankfully so, as he couldn’t have take much more of Harry Beldon. He wondered how the hell the man was able to function as a successful spy, given his hedonistic and not very covert habits.

Not that Napoleon had any problems with Beldon and his beautiful ladies, but he was so indiscreet about it all.

There were other options besides London, like Paris or East Berlin, although Paris with all the mademoiselles had its appeal; New York was the place to be.

Having completed his orientation, New York's newest recruit was now scheduled to meet with his CEA, the Russian or more correctly the Soviet agent, Illya Kuryakin.

Seems that Mr. Waverly had agreed to accept this man Kuryakin as a field agent when the Soviet Union became a member nation of U.N.C.L.E. and the man quickly worked his way up the ladder to the position Chief Enforcement Agent. There was talk of him being the heir apparent to Mr. Waverly’s position of Continental Chief, whenever the day came that he retired.

Being a red blooded American Napoleon thought that a bit risky having a former Soviet spy in such a position of power... who knew if this Kuryakin fellow was a double agent or not?  Still he was sure UNCLE’S vetting process was thorough, and who was he to judge this Russky before he met him?

Napoleon reminded himself not to even contemplate using that term ever again, as one thing he’d heard about Illya Kuryakin was that he was a no nonsense sort of guy and a real hard nose.

Word was that he was a stickler for details as he was a bit of an egghead and even spent time in the labs of Section VIII; that was a place in which Napoleon had no interest in being. Still, the Russian had Section II running like a well oiled machine. Fear was the operative word Napoleon heard the most. Kuryakin was apparently one scary guy. He even had a nickname, the Ice Prince, still that all remained to be seen; rumors and reality were two different things.

Napoleon arrived at the CEA’s office a few minutes late in spite of his best efforts to be on time. Unfortunately there were just too many darned pretty women working here, as there had been in London as well.

Napoleon, exuded charm and even when he wasn’t trying, the ladies seemed to just flock to him and he to them. Oh yeah, he was going to enjoy being stationed here for sure.

The pneumatic doors to Kuryakin’s office opened with a quiet whoosh, allowing Solo to step inside. It was surprisingly small, filled with shelves loaded with books and files.

There in front of Napoleon, sans his suit jacket, stood a slightly built, shaggy haired blond.

He wasn’t wearing a tie and the top two buttons of his white shirt (that looked like it needed a good pressing) were open. He didn't look in the least bit scary, and seemed a bit on the small side.

Without looking up, Kuryakin spoke quite directly.

“In the future Mr.Solo you will be be on time for your scheduled meetings. I know that Mr. Beldon’s lackadaisical methods were acceptable in London, but here they are not in New York. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir, and I apologize for my tardiness.”

Finally a pair of icy blue eyes looked up at him, and gave Napoleon a case of the shivers. No one had ever done that to him before.

“I do not want apologies, I want you to be on time, see that it does not happen again; think of it as a warning not for my sake but for that of Mr. Waverly. He expects his agents here to behave in a professional manner at all times. Now let us get to work.”

“You have an assignment for me?” Napoleon smiled in anticipation.

That smile caught Kuryakin’s attention, and he suddenly had a feeling he was going to like this Solo. He of course had read his file; the man was good, a little unorthodox and improvisational, but still an agent with excellent potential. He’s heard the term Boy Scout mentioned in regards to this one, and that he seemed to exude eternal optimism. Nothing wrong with a positive attitude, still it remained to be seen how good a fit he would be here in New York.

“An assignment? No. I have just finished my weekly report summaries that need to be sorted and filed. They are in triplicate. The original white copy is Mr. Waverly’s. The golden rod is mine and the blue goes to File 40.”

“Isn’t that a job for one of the clericals?”

“Generally it is, but I want you to become familiar with our system here as it is quite well organized if I say so myself, and far superior to what goes on in London. Read the reports, see how they are composed so you know how to do write yours correctly, as well as how to file them. The agent field reports are identical and should be disbersed the same way as well as written in a timely when returning from an assignment."

Kuryakin handed him the first copy.

“It’s typed?”Napoleon blurted out.”Am I supposed to type my reports?”

“Mr. Solo, unless you have perfect penmanship, then typing is my preferred method. The secretaries can handle that for you as long as your notes are written legibly enough for the ladies to read them. I caution you, not to take advantage of their services as they have enough work to do already.”

“Yes sir Mr. Kuryakin.” Napoleon wasn’t feeling very happy at this point. This guy was making it sound more like a job than an adventure...which is a word that was used when he was recruited to U.N.C.L.E.

Napoleon took a chance to ease the tension. “Please, call me Napoleon?”

The Russian’s eyes met Solo’s and for a brief moment the man’s stoic demeanor softened.

“Why of course...Napoleon. No agent has been so audacious as to ask such a thing of me; you may call me Illya if you like.”

“Yes sir, I mean Illya. Say, do you like Chinese food?”

“Yes I do, why do you ask?”

“Oh I was going to have lunch this afternoon at ‘Chang’s.’ I hear it’s pretty good and not far from headquarters; I was wondering if you’d care to join me? You could acquaint me with the inner workings here in order to ....optimize my performance as an agent."

Kuryakin actually broke a small, crooked smile. This man was a bold one, and he found himself liking that. Yet for a brief second Illya felt uncomfortable that this man seemed to have discovered his one weakness and that was food.

Solo wasn’t here long enough to know that, so he was sure it had to be by sheer chance.

The man had a reputation for being quite amiable, especially with the ladies. Which was something that would have to be curtailed.

“Napoleon, I think I would like that very much. Chinese is far superior to the food they serve here in the Commissary. I am familiar with Chang’s and the menu there is quite good.”

Illya was again impressed as none of the other Section II agents had ever invited him out like this, not that he was here to make friends, but it was a nice and welcome change to his solitary existence.

Such a life was his own doing, as he chose not to fraternize with the other employees. His first handler while he was a junior agent with GRU once told him, ‘the less people know about you, the longer you will leave.’

That became his Cardinal rule, his mantra as it were; still having lunch with Solo would give him an opportunity to get to know his newest agent.

Kuryakin mostly occupied himself in the labs, where Mr. Waverly permitted him to indulge his scientific curiosity. He’d spend his free time listening to his collection of jazz records, or going to some of the jazz clubs in Greenwich Village. That was his life as an agent for the U.N.C.L.E. and he was fine with it.

As he looked across to Solo who had his nose buried in the reports, he had a feeling this fellow just might do well here…