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section7mfu2019-10-20 11:30 am
The Seven Deadly Sins Affair: LUST
Lust is a psychological force producing intense wanting or longing for an object, or circumstance fulfilling the emotion. Lust can take any form such as the lust for sexuality, love, money or power. It can take such mundane forms as the lust for food as distinct from the need for food.
Illya was angry, the angriest his partner had ever seen him. It was rare for the Russian lose his composure, but in this case it wasn’t unwarranted.
Napoleon was angry too, but his ire was tempered and under control.
Kuryakin stomped, strode back and forth, his hands waving in the air as he raged.
“THRUSH are beyond animals! They enter an area and wipe out the indigenous population...innocents who never did anything wrong in their lives. Men, women...children. How could they do this to babies?”
Napoleon knew of his partner’s childhood, how he and his family suffered under the Nazi invasion of Kiev. He lost everyone, including a baby sister. He presumed Illya’s reaction to the death of so many innocents at the hands of THRUSH had triggered something visceral.
Illya hadn’t shared much information about his past; it was too personal, too crushing.
Solo only discovered how Illya’s baby sister died during the war at the hands of German soldiers who had blown up the family home while the little girl hiding alone in the attic.
Illya was only eight or nine when it happened, and he was devastated by it and he carried the pain to it this day.
It was during an assignment when Kuryakin had been heavily drugged that he began to hallucinate and relive that fateful day.*
He spoke to his dead sister, filled with the guilt of having left her alone to go look for food. A child himself, he was the provider and protector for her...Katiya.
Napoleon was sure that traumatic event from Illya’s childhood was in the back of his mind, and in part the reason why he was reacting so emotionally.
That was a giveaway right there as Illya Kuryakin always kept his emotions in check, closeting them away. It was a protection mechanism perhaps, but not today.
“Illya, you need to stop. Take a deep breath and calm down. I need your head here with me, capisce?”
Kuryakin froze, he squared his shoulders and took that deep breath, exhaling slowly.
“I apologize for my outburst; it will not happen again.”
“Will you please stop that? It’s all right to feel things Illya. That proves you’re human, you can empathize with their pain and suffering, but right now I need you to keep your cool and help me go after the bastards that did this.”
“Yes, that we will do. In my mind they are already dead men.”
Napoleon sighed; at least Illya was calm.
“Just keep your focus on the task at hand.”
The Russian quietly nodded, but still looked down at the bodies strewn everywhere. Who knew what THRUSH had used on them, they were nothing but human guinea pigs in another one of their cruel experiments.
For a moment Illya’s eyes welled up. Visions of the multitudes of people he saw die while in the concentration camp outside Kiev always haunted his sleep, but now these were not memories, these were more victims of genocide; more gypsies murdered. In a way they were his people, being part gypsy himself.
“When will this end Napoleon?”
“I wish I could answer that. Right now it’s you and me; we’re here to stop it from happening again in this little part of the world. We’ll keep fighting until these maniacs are eradicated.”
“They never will be, do you not understand Napoleon? One is eliminated and another is standing in the wings ready to step up and start it all over again. Stalin, Hitler and countless other maniacs ordering the deaths of millions of people in Europe, Africa, the Middle East, India, China, the United States...everywhere. People who were the wrong religion, the wrong color, the wrong ethnicity, wrong political beliefs. How can we fight against such blind prejudice? Their lust for power is insatiable.”
“Tovarisch, we fight one at a time. We fight the good fight, and if we fall there’s others ready to step up and take our place too. You can’t let this get to you; I know it’s hard. It’s hard for me too.”
Napoleon clapped his partner on the shoulder and suddenly pulled Kuryakin into a bear hug.
“Thank you my friend,” Illya wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
They waited until dark, and that’s when they made their move on house THRUSH had selected to use as their satrapy. There were no guards posted as they were over confidant, having killed everyone in the immediate area; it was presumed no one of any significance would be around.
Without entering, the UNCLE agents set explosives at all four sides of the house at the base of the foundation.
They barred the doors, blocking the exit so no one could escape, and disappearing into the darkness, they readied themselves for some very big explosions.
Illya kept track of the time on his wristwatch and counted down in Russian.
“Desyat', devyat', vosem', sem', shest', pyat', chetyre, tri, dva, odin.”
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The huge explosives went off like clockwork, blowing the structure to smithereens. What was left went up in flames; no one survived, that was obvious.
It wasn’t the UNCLE way not to give fair warning to allow people to evacuate, but to Napoleon and Illya, in this case, the end justified the means.
As they moved in to survey the destruction, Napoleon carefully watched his partner. Illya was quiet, reserved and said nothing.
“How do you feel tovarisch?”
“Unsettled, but I will be all right. We do what we must, go where we are told and do as we are told.”
“Illya we’re not automatons; may I remind that you and I bend the rules time and again. We just did here.”
“Yes,” Illya nodded, we do quite often, but still…”
“No buts Illya. We broke the rules today and it was for a good reason. Maybe it’ll send THRUSH a message that UNCLE doesn’t mess around anymore.”
“There might be consequences to our actions, and I do not mean for us. THRUSH may seek revenge...Napoleon we may have just started a war.”
“Illya my friend, the war started the day THRUSH began its quest to conquer mankind. If you recall their history that began back in 1901 under the name of Krafthaus, but eventually they became the Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and Subjugation of Humanity.”**
“Yes I know, in 1919, Napoleon, but the U.N.C.L.E. did not come into being until 1946, so THRUSH has had quite a bit of time to gain their foothold around the globe.”
“I know, hey Illya I never said this was going to be easy.”
“A truism if ever I heard one,” Illya finally smiled.
Napoleon contacted headquarters in New York, informing Waverly of the outcome. The Old Man said nothing untoward and Solo sensed his boss was pleased.
He supposed a bit of revenge now and then wasn’t beneath Alexander Waverly; he’d seen his fair share in the field as a British Intelligence agent and understood the game.
“Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to wait until one of our crews arrive for clean up. Some sort of chemical explosion as it were, that will have to do as the reason for the death of the local Roma population.”
“Sir, isn’t it about time the world was told about THRUSH and what they do?” Napoleon asked.
“I’m afraid that might create even more panic. People in the states already have their nerves frayed by the fear of nuclear war with the Soviet Union. Telling them there is a organization that wants to murder innocents to suit their purposes...I think not. The memory of Pearl Harbor is an open wound. The horrors of Hitler and his ilk are too fresh in people’s minds. Europe still hasn’t fully recovered from the war. No Mister Solo, telling the world of the existence of THRUSH would be ill-advised.”
“Yes sir.”
“Contact me when you are done there; I may have another assignment for you.”
“Sir would it be possible to have a few days off. This assignment was pretty hard on Mister Kuryakin,” Napoleon lowered his voice and made sure his partner was out of ear shot.
”It brought back a lot of bad memories for him seeing all these innocents killed, especially the children.”
“I’m not in the habit of coddling my agents, but very well. Let me know where you will be staying. Waverly out.”
Kuryakin walked up behind him. “You know I heard what you told him about me.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Not really. I know you are looking out for my best interests.”
“Good, then how about we head to Rome. Good food, beautiful women and moonlit nights.”
“I think it is supposed to rain.”
“Illya, just go with it for once, will you?”
“I did not say no.”
In truth Illya had spectres on his mind, not the ones from his childhood, but those of the men here that he and Napoleon had in essence, executed. Would they haunt his dreams as well?”
Only time would tell…
After getting a hotel room they headed out for dinner, avoiding the trappings of the Via Veneto, they found a nice out of the way restaurant favored by the locals.
They ordered antipasto, Bucatini Amatriciana...a thick sort of thick spaghetti with guanciale, pecorino romano cheese, white wine, San Marzano tomatoes, black pepper, and chili. The main course was Saltimbocca a la Romana made with pounded veal, prosciutto, and sage. The meat was stuffed, rolled up and cooked in white wine and butter. It was all accompanied by a lovely bottle of chianti. To end the meal there was cannoli and cappuccino.
Kuryakin left the restaurant alone as Napoleon, after flirting with the waitress, had possibly found a paramour for the evening.
It was nearing the end of October, but the temperature made for a comfortable evening and Illya opted to stroll back to their hotel.
He became aware of a steady click click click sound coming from behind him as he headed down the street; he suspected someone might be following him, so he stopped.
Reaching into his jacket, he took hold of his gun while simultaneously dropping a book of matches to the ground.
This gave him the excuse to turn and begin to crouch as he pretended to reach for it, enabling him to see who it was.
To his surprise, it was an old lady helping herself to walk with a cane.
He grabbed the matches, and nodded to her.
“Buonasera signora.” He said good evening to her.
“Young man,” she spoke English, with a British accent,”I wonder if you could point me in the right direction? I’m looking for…”
Unexpectedly, the Russian felt a sharp pain in his leg; she’d jabbed him with the tip of her cane.
He felt light headed and in a matter of seconds Illya collapsed to the sidewalk.
* ref to “Bayushki bayu” and ''Beginnings”
** UNCLE Chronology
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