section7mfu | "Doing my job" for the Short Affair Challenge (Reply)

Challenge: The Short Affair

Prompt Word 1 - Grumble

Prompt Word 2 – Doubt

Prompt Colour – White

Author: mrua7

Title: “Doing my job”

As they exited the armored limousine both Solo and Kuryakin immediately scanned the area. It was a tense situation with so many dignitaries arriving and the agents needed to be on their toes to prevent any sort of incident. Just one could spell disaster.

It was beginning to snow, blanketing everything in white and it could have easily lured anyone into a sense of serenity.

Today, no one was feeling that way at all.

“It just had to snow,” Solo mumbled under his breath.

Kuryakin merely smiled as he shook his head. “We will be inside soon enough.”

Every agent in the security detail stepping from their cars in front of and to the rear of the limo were on edge. Still their presence added another eight sets of eyes to watch for any signs of danger.

Representatives from member nations of the U.N.C.L.E. had arrived already, while others in their vehicles, accompanied by their personal security teams queued up, waiting to disembark.

A special summit meeting of all member nations had been called to update their agreements with U.N.C.L.E. so that everyone would be on the same page, so to speak.

As each nation became a member certain terms were settled upon, some countries cajoled and wheedled conditions better than others. The Soviet Union in particular was now demanding more and more intelligence; other nations were beginning to follow suit when they became aware of the new Soviet stipulations.

U.N.C.L.E. would have to rein it all in before it became problematic; it would come to an end at today’s gathering.

Alexander Waverly was spearheading the meeting; he was a crafty old fox and a master at resolving near disastrous situations that arose on a daily basis. Still he’d have his work cut out for him this day, he had no doubt of that.

His way of thinking was to just soldier on and not permit himself to give into any demands. Certain representatives would no doubt grumble, and make a scene. He simply wouldn’t tolerate it.

Waverly could be as stubborn with the best of them, and since he held the upper hand, he was sure everyone would acquiesce to his way of seeing things.

If anyone threatened to withdraw, fine. They would lose all intelligence that U.N.C.L.E. provided. Granted they could recall their agents assigned to the Command, and that included Illya Kuryakin, though he suspected at this point in the game his Russian agent would choose to stay and not return home. If he did not do so, Kuryakin knew what would happen to him; returning meant interrogations and most likely death was sure to follow.

Solo finally gave the all clear, and signalled to his boss to exit the car.

The Old Man didn’t need any help as he prided himself on being quite hearty for someone his age. He’d once been an agent for Special Operations during the war and knew how to play the game.

As Waverly stepped out he looked at the flight of stairs leading to the hotel they’d selected for the meeting place. In hindsight it seemed a longer walk than he recalled. The hotel was one of the lesser known establishments in the city and this time of year it wasn’t filled with tourists. It was elegant enough and its layout suited their security needs.

Accounting was happy with the choice as the price was right…

That was the last thing on Waverly’s mind as he moved forward, his agents surrounding him.

Kuryakin looked up, spying a glint of metal from an open window across the street; he immediately saw a muzzle flash.

“Gun!” He shouted, at the same time diving at Waverly, hitting him with an ‘oof’ as he shoved the man back into the limo. Luckily the door was still open.

Illya was down, he’d taken the bullet and now blood was seeping from his wound, creating a red blossom in the snow. Solo rushed to his side.

“No, get him out of here! I will be all right...go!” The emotion in the Russian’s voice was something to which Solo was unaccustomed.

“Don’t you die on me!”

“Go! I will be fine!”

Napoleon climbed into the limo and as soon as he shut the door the driver hit the gas pedal; the tires screeched for a second as the car took off. Solo ordered the lead car of agents to accompany them, the others were to remain to cover the retreat and to see to Kuryakin.

Other limos were driving off, with their security people on foot running in every direction.

Seconds later there was an explosion and the rear U.N.C.L.E. car was demolished as it blew into the air in a fireball of red and orange. Luckily their people weren’t in it.

One of them dove on top of Illya, covering the wounded agent from the flying debris.

There were screams everywhere.

****

The heart monitor beeped steadily until Kuryakin’s blue eyes fluttered open; he was in Medical at headquarters, having gone through surgery to remove the bullet lodged in his side.

There was an obvious spike from the monitor and that sound woke Solo as he napped in a nearby chair. His eyes blinked a few times to focus, and as he saw his partner awake, and smiled as only Napoleon could.

“Hi there.”

“Hi there yourself. Is Mister Waverly all right?”

“Other than a few bruises, he is. You were none too gentle with him.”

“It was necessary to apply enough force to get him into the car. I would think he would understand.”

“He did and he’ll be visiting you shortly to thank you personally.

“Thanks are not necessary as I was merely doing my job.”

“Illya, you saved the man’s life at risk to your own…”

“My life does not matter. I am here to do a job regardless of the cost to me.”

“Will you cut the martyr crap, you’re a valued agent and a friend. Your life matters very much. Just think of how many people wouldn’t be alive if you weren’t around? Have you ever seen the film ‘It’s a wonderful life?”

“Yes, a man named George Bailey is shown by his guardian angel what his world would have been like without him.”

“Exactly.”

“Napoleon I do not believe in guardian angels.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“No I am not.” Illya winced as tried to stretch. “Please do not lecture me, you know how I feel and you will not change my mind.”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your shorts in a twist.”

“Napoleon, I am not wearing any, so how could they get in a twist?” Illya deadpanned.

That sent Solo into a fit of laughter, while his partner sat stone-faced.

When Napoleon finally stopped, taking a breath, he asked Illya one last question.

“Now how could you keep from laughing?”

“Because I was not trying to be funny, I was merely stating a fact.”

“Believe it or not tovarisch, at times you can be one funny guy.”