"The You Don't Have a Partner Affair" Chapter 12

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Coming face to face with the enemy, especially the likes of Angelique La Chien, was the last thing Kuryakin wanted to deal with at the moment.  He was under a time constraint, having set things to detonate in order to blow up the facility, as well as having to deal with Napoleon not quite being up to speed. He truly had no idea when things would actually go 'boom.' He wasn't familiar with the systems running here and he only hoped the feedback loop he thought he created would eventually cause an explosion which would inturn set fire to the place.

There wasn’t even time to really discuss what either of them had truly experienced while under THRUSH’s latest spell-inducing endeavor.   True, the birds were seeking details from a specific mission as they seemed to want to know what information had been acquired during their last UNCLE assignment.

More specifically they wanted codes revealed during Illya’s nightmarish sessions, that’s what helped give the scheme away. Waverly and U.N.C.L.E. would already know said codes and therefore would not have been eager for Kuryakin to use them while filing his reports, especially codes were never involved with such a task.

Only those unfamiliar with the inner workings of the U.N.C.L.E. wouldn't know that. Yet what was it that was so important to whomever was doing this to him in regards to this last assignment, which could only have been described as routine….even mundane.

That was a moot point in the Russian’s mind now that he and Solo’s path to escape was blocked by none other than Angelique La Chien and another THRUSH lackey.

It was Napoleon who reacted to her first, taking the lead and hoping Illya would follow.

“There you are gorgeous!” He held his arms wide open as he moved towards her although he was teetering a bit; he seemingly ignored the gun in her hand.

”My beautiful wife, I was a little concerned as to what was going on. I was woken up on some sort of medical table by this Russian guy who I think is a Commie, and you were nowhere in sight. My heart rose in my throat thinking something had happened to you….are you all right?”

Angelique smiled, thanking her lucky stars Napoleon was still under the spell of Dabree’s infernal machine.

“Oh Napoleon darling, I was so afraid when I too woke up and you weren’t there.” She let him envelop her in his arms, believing he was still living in the reality the doctor had concocted.

As Solo wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck, he unbuttoned the top button of her lab coat and quickly pulled the jacket down over her shoulders, allowing it to act as a straight jacket of sorts. Such a position immobilized her arms and at the same time he was able to wrest the gun from her hand.

Kuryakin, watching the scenario unfold, lashed out like a cobra, slapping aside the arm of Angelique's compainion to one side while moving his left hand in the opposite direction as he snatchedthe weapon away. Illya immediately cocked his right arm and hit the man in the chin, knocking him out cold. It was all done in the blink of an eye.

Angelique didn’t resist, in fact she suddenly seemed rather docile considering she'd just been disarmed and restrained at the same time.

The gun she'd held was a class of weapon more often referred to as a 'Saturday Night Special', a compact mouse gun that belonged to a class of inexpensively made handguns with a barrel length of under three inches.

This one in particula was a .22 caliber. "Not a very potent weapon unless used at close range by a practiced hand, but it would have to do,'" Napoleon thought to himself as he donned the lab coat worn by Angelique’s fallen companion. Once finished he adjusted her lab coat, freeing her arms again. He expected a slap in the face, but instead she acted rather demurely.

“Cut the act Miss La Chien,” Illya said while aiming the Luger he'd acquired directly at her. “We know you have been trying to extract information from both of us, but to what purpose?"

She ignored the Russian as usual, and instead spoke directly to her lover.

“Darling, I was against this plan from the beginning, and I honestly do not know why they wanted some ridiculous information from you. You had obviously compromised THRUSH on your most recent endeavor, so why they wanted to know what you knew was pointless. You are always thorough, and there’s no doubt in my mind you got what you came for and had already reported it to your Mister Waverly.”

“You sound like someone stalling for time,” Illya hissed.” Ignore her Napoleon, she’d say and do anything to wriggle her way out of trouble. Let us go; tie her up and leave her here for her masters to deal with she and her failure."

“Oh no, Angelique is going to show us how to get out of this place. I’m sure she has a car nearby and we’ll have need of it.”

Illya groused as usual when it came to his partner’s way of always finding an excuse to let Angelique live, especially when he knew the bitch would kill Solo in the blink of an eye if she had to. Their sexual shenanigans were nothing more than games, and eventually in a game there had to be a winner. How Napoleon could ignore that fact was beyond the Russian’s comprehension.

“Fine!” Illya barked. “She comes, but she had better lead us to safety or her’s will be in question, this I promise.”

“Always charming, you insipid little Soviet,” Angelique spat back at him.

Together they left the room with the THRUSH femme fatale leading the way; the barrel of the Luger held firmly against her back by Kuryakin. Illya wasn’t quite sure if his partner would be capable of killing his lover if the need arose; better to take the possibility of making that choice from him, especially if Napoleon were not fully himself yet.

"Hey, your gun's bigger than my gun," Napoleon remarked with his usual quirky sense of humor showing through.

"Among other things." That's all Kuryakin said in response.

Of course Napoleon screwed up his face at that remark.

"Boys, now is not the time for a pissing contest,"Angelique said. That put a damper on their banter for now.

Oddly enough they passed no one as the proceeded down dimly lit corridor after corridor, making left turns and right turns that all seemed to be leading almost aimlessly along, and definitely not to an exit.

“Angelique if you are playing us, I swear you will die,” Illya whispered to her.

“Terpeniye dorogaya, (patience darling)," she answered him in Russian. "We are almost there."

Though Kuryakin did not know she spoke his language, nothing Angelique said or did surprised him.

Finally they were led to a door, which they slowly opened and it revealed what looked like a reception room with windows and another door leading to the outside world.

“Et voilà,” she said, this time speaking French. “I spoke the truth and here we are, your way to freedom. So are you going to take me with you or leave me here to suffer the consequences?”

Napoleon looked to his partner first and was given one of those threatening blue-eyed stares. Those of course had no effect on the American as he’d become all too accustomed to them.

“That act is getting old tovarisch, better find a new one.”

Without warning the door burst open and there stood Agnes Dabree with a sawed off scattergun in her hands.

“You traitorous creature!” She snarled at Angelique.

“No, you’re wrong. I was held at gunpoint. I am their prisoner! You must believe me."

Napoleon and Illya were momentarily stunned as they both thought Dabree was long dead, having fallen down an elevator shaft, but apparently not. In truth her body had gone missing, but it was assumed that no woman of her age could have survived such a drop. One of her minions had to have taken the corpse… *

“And here you are at gunpoint again my dear! I knew I couldn’t trust you, not with your feelings for Solo.  Now perhaps an overdue bill will be paid after all, enh Kuryakin? Revenge for my David?"

Illya aimed the pistol at Dabree as soon as he regained his wits, he reckoned that infernal machine with its virtual reality effects had altered his reaction time.

Before he could squeeze the trigger Doctor Dabree fired the shotgun, hitting both Kuryakin and Angelique. Both of them staggered backward before they dropped to the floor landing side by side, and leaving Solo alone to deal with it, and the not-so good doctor.

He looked down at their still bodies, small bright spots of blood seeping like little blossoms through the white of their clothing.

“Now Mister Solo, it’s back to the lab with you,” Dabree said in a demented sing-song voice.

”I’ll try a different approach this time, no more sex and softness for you. You'll tell me what I want to know.”  She stepped aside, and waving the gun, she indicated he walk ahead of her on their return journey.

Napoleon’s mind raced, holding up his arms above his head as he stepped into the corridor.  He was worried about Illya and Angelique of course, hoping neither of them were dead. Yet his mind raced as he asked himself an important question, ‘’Did Dabree fire both barrels of the scattergun, and even more importantly, how soon was this building going to blow to smithereens? It's not like his partner was able to set a timer..."

* "The Brain Killer Affair."

Comments

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Great follow-up. I love how Napoleon pretended to still be under the influence just to knock the gun out of her hand. Can't wait to see what the next group was going to do

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Got your internet going...good for you!

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Only when it feels like it

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Better than none at all! I'll be cut off from it tomorrow as my students are in competition at an Irish Fleadh. That'll be keeping me busy.