Self-Defence - Short Affair - June 17th

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Prompts - Plate / Hostage / Black
Word Count - 956

The story is below the cut, but you can also go to AO3 by clicking the pic.



Holding a hand up as a warning to the other person in the room to stay quiet, Illya went to answer the knock on the door. Although he was expecting it, anyone arriving at the safe house had to be treated with distrust until proven to be harmless. Standing on the doorstep was an U.N.C.L.E. agent dressed as a fast food delivery boy. He offered Illya a coded greeting before handing over the bag of food.

“You are late,” Illya stated.

It was another code phrase. In reality he was asking if the agent has seen anything suspicious.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” the agent replied. “I was unable to park in my usual spot because there is a car in it.”

He cut his eyes to the left to indicate where Illya should look. While making a big play of paying for the food, the Russian surreptitiously glanced where indicated and saw a large black sedan. Although it was getting dark, he could just about make out two people sitting inside.

As soon as the agent left, Illya went back in. He handed the food to the young woman he was guarding.

“Find some plates while I go around the house and close the curtains.”

“You have no right to keep me here,” yelled Jacqui Cairns, dropping the bag onto the table. “You’re treating me like a hostage.”

Illya sighed, but he fully understood how she felt. Miss Cairns was the twenty year old daughter of prominent Thrush financier, who had decided he wanted to be free of the nefarious group. In return for passing over information, Mr Cairns had demanded that his daughter be kept safe until he could organise a permanent escape for them. Rather than fly directly to New York, Miss Cairns was being escorted there, by various agents, using several methods of transport. Kuryakin was the last agent in the chain and he had opted to keep her at a safe house in New Jersey for one night, before taking her on to Headquarters.

“You are here for your protection,” Illya explained once again. “Tomorrow you will be back with your father.”

“You’re keeping me against my will, in a place I don’t know. That would suggest ‘hostage’ to me.”

“More like ‘prisoner’, which you also are not,” the agent replied, calmly. “Plus, were you a hostage, you would be tied to the chair and gagged. Please stop fighting me and dish out the food.”

Jacqui relented slightly and did as he asked, while he went around checking locks and closing curtains. Along the way, he called HQ to ask for a back-up team. He couldn’t be certain the watchers would try anything, but he preferred to be safe. He arrived back in the kitchen to find Jacqui had laid the table and was sharing out the food.

“I’m sorry, Mr Kuryakin,” she said, with contrition. “I know Daddy just wants me safe, I’m just little frustrated at all this cloak and dagger stuff. Although, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“You are?” Illya asked, as he stuffed kung pao chicken into his mouth.

“After my Mom was murdered, Daddy insisted that I learn self-defence,” Jacqui told him. “I know karate, judo, aikido, and taekwondo.”

Illya smiled. “In that case, I will rely on you to save me should the need arise.”

“Are we likely to be discovered here?”

The Russian weighed up whether to tell Jacqui the truth or not. In the end he decided she should know what could happen. With her martial arts training, she probably could defend herself quite well. He told her about the car parked up the street, and reassured her that back-up was on its way. No sooner had he finished speaking there was a knock on the door.

“Is that the back-up?”

“Possibly, but I do not think so. Stay out of sight of the door.”

Making his way to the door, Illya slipped his gun from its holster and released the safety. He pulled the door open fully and aimed his gun at whoever was standing there. Unfortunately, the man on the outside was standing close enough to smash his fist straight into Illya’s face.

Falling to floor, Illya was vaguely aware of the man, followed by another, stepping over him. As he desperately tried to regain his senses, and climb to his feet, he could hear Jacqui screaming in the kitchen. There was a lot of banging and crashing going on and, finally managing to stand up, Illya snatched up his gun and went to rescue his charge.

He found Jacqui sitting on a chair with her arms folded, while her two assailants lay insensible on the floor.

“Miss Cairns, I need to request a very large favour from you.”

“Oh?”

“Please, for the sake of my reputation, and my sanity, do not tell anyone that this happened this way,” he said. “If my partner were to learn that you subdued these men, and more or less saved my life, I would not hear the last of it.”

“Indeed you won’t, Tovarisch.”

Illya turned slowly to face the grin of Napoleon Solo.

“How much?”

“How much what?” Solo asked innocently.

“How much to keep this between us?”

“I shall have to think about that,” Napoleon told him, his grin getting wider. “In the mean-time, I think it’s time to reunite Miss Cairns with her father. I’m sure I’ll have come up with something by then. Of course, Miss Cairns may want to broadcast her heroics.”

Illya looked to the young woman, and deployed his famous puppy-dog expression. As usual, it worked like a charm.

“Don’t worry, Mr Kuryakin,” she told him. “Your secret is safe with me.”


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