C'est La Vie - chapter 5

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Part 1
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Illya and Napoleon ushered Nicolette through the halls of UNCLE Headquarters, not stopping to answer any questions or respond to the many stares they were receiving.  Word had not yet gone out about Sir John’s death, but many of the agents and personnel had become well acquainted with the affable Solo in recent weeks; it would not come as a surprise when the announcement of his ascendency to the top position was announced.

Janice Friday was waiting for the trio as they entered the office of Sir John Raleigh.

"Oh, Mr. Solo, I can't believe this, I…

Napoleon embraced the young woman, a glimmer of memory as he let his mind go backward to so many times when the news of fallen agents would reach the personnel in New York. Losing Sir John would be hard for many; he had been well liked.

"Janice, we have pressing concerns still. I need all you can give us on Gervaise Ravel. She was part of two affairs in the mid-sixties, along with her partner Harold Bufferton. Find out where she's been for the past twenty years and who she is affiliated with currently.'

Napoleon stopped and looked into the teary eyes of Janice Friday.

"We will find the people who killed Sir John, I promise you that."

Janice nodded her head, looked around at Illya and Nicolette and then left to pursue her new Chief's directives.

Nicolette was slightly awestruck by the surroundings and the command that Napoleon had taken of the situation. For just a sliver of a moment she forgot what they had just been through. It did not last, though.

"Illya … Dad …"

And that was all she got out before collapsing into Illya's arms, smothering him with her tears and grief. Napoleon's heart sank with its own grief at the scene, wondered how his friend would endure yet another loss for the sake of his life in the Command.

"It's all right, my girl… we'll make it through this. I'm here, I'll always be here for you … ssshhhh…"

The two stood with their arms around each other, silent consolations and shared grief creating a bond that neither could have predicted.

Napoleon stood by for a few minutes longer, interrupting only when the urgency of the situation began to beg attention from all involved.

"Illya, we need to get down to business. I'm sorry…"

Illya gave his daughter one last embrace, kissing her on the forehead as he was transitioning his attention back to his partner.

"Yes, and I think Nicolette should be taken …"

The girl was grieving, but she wasn't yet numb.

"I'm not going anywhere that you aren't. Just pretend I'm not here if you need to, just a piece of furniture or a picture on the wall, but I'm not leaving you."

She was emphatic, and so completely Kuryakin that both men in the room were left speechless. Illya had spoken nearly the exact same words to Marion on their first meeting. How was this girl so much like him?

"All right, young lady. I'll allow it for now, and only so long as it is safe for you to be with me. Do you understand?'

The look on her face was non-committal.

"Nicolette, I won't lose both of you… I can't."

That she understood. Nicolette nodded her agreement to Illya's terms.

Napoleon watched the two of them, wondering at the astounding events of the past year, of Marion and this girl… And now he was back at UNCLE, and not just back. Napoleon Solo was assuming the role for which he had been groomed so many years ago, by the only man who could have foreseen the need for this. Alexander Waverly had let Solo go, finally, but had never really thought of him as gone. The old man knew that one day, for some unforeseen reason, his two top men would come back and reclaim their rightful places in the organization that he had built; would re-envision the dream to which he had dedicated his life and career.

Napoleon sensed it now, felt Waverly's presence in this room. It didn't matter that it wasn't the same room, with the same round desk. The spirit of the man lived within the ideals of the organization.

"I think our old friend is here with us, tovarisch. I can feel him, sense his approval of our being back here again."

Illya wasn't convinced of it, but he wouldn't argue. Right now the only thing that mattered was catching Gervaise Ravel and making her pay for what she had done tonight. Revenge wasn't something to which the murderess could claim sole rights.

"Perhaps my friend, perhaps he is. Was any action taken immediately upon this being reported? We need a dragnet over the entire city and even into New Jersey. All ports, Kennedy and La Guardia …"

Janice Friday walked into the room and finished Illya's train of thought.

"I have a description of Gervaise Ravel on all law enforcement channels, and there is an APB. We have agents at all airports, and we're checking on seagoing vessels as well as monitoring turnpikes. If she's in a moving vehicle of any description, we'll find her.'

The pert secretary looked now at Illya and Nicolette, realizing for the first time the distinct resemblance between the two.

"I am so sorry for … your loss tonight. We all, here at headquarters…"

Kuryakin had never been good at this type of thing, nor was he now.

"Thank you, and for all of your efforts here … tonight. Sir John was a good man, he will be missed."

It was not enough, and it was trite and redundant. A good man? What an insufficient epitaph for a man who died needlessly and at the hand of a traitor.

"Thank you, Mr. Kuryakin. Find her. Find Gervaise Ravel. Make her sorry for what she's done."

Napoleon put his arm around her shoulder, his sense of chivalry never more apparent than in these types of situations.

"We will, Janice. Now, what do you have for us?"

A deep breath and Janice fired off the information she had been able to gather on the woman in question.

"First of all, we do have a security tape of Sir John's office. There is an encounter on it with a woman, although her face is hidden. The crime is committed right there, on camera. He was speaking with her one minute and the next she drew a gun and shot him. The tape shows that there is a silencer on her weapon, although for the life of me I can't understand how she was able to bring it into headquarters."

Napoleon and Illya exchanged looks that bespoke years of silent communication between the two.

"She didn't. She somehow managed to take possession of the gun from inside the building. Someone is working with her; someone within UNCLE."

Illya stood with his eyes cast downward, seeing once again the stark silhouette of a gunman against the lights of an oncoming train; a girl and then the shot that killed her instead of Kuryakin. It was the same, always the same.

"How quickly can you get background on every employee of this office? We don't have much time, and security is only as effective as our ability to provide it for each other. We are the targets, I have no doubt."

Napoleon looked at his partner, knew that he was correct in his analysis of the situation. Gervaise Ravel wanted a revenge for which she had waited and planned for nearly twenty years. Killing Sir John was just the first step in punishing the organization responsible for killing Harold Bufferton and stopping their plans so many years before. She could not, however, have anticipated that Napoleon Solo would be the man to take Sir John's place.

"I want a total lockdown here; from this moment on no one leaves or comes into Headquarters. Also, find out who left the building immediately before and after Sir John was killed, who had any interaction with Gervaise …''

Napoleon looked again to Illya, asking for anything else that needed attention.

"Phone records. I want to look at the phone records for the past twenty-four hours."

The room had taken on a buzzing quality, tangible electricity in the air that was new to Janice Friday. These two would be a formidable pair, she could sense it.

"Yes sir, I'm on it. Mr. Kuryakin, if you'll come with me I will take you to communications and let you start on that log."

The Russian felt a wave of déjà vu coming on as he remembered the times spent in the old communications room at the old headquarters. Something about this new place made him uneasy, a feeling he trusted was also bothering his partner.

"The first thing you ought to do, Napoleon, is lobby to get us back into the old UNCLE HQ. This one doesn't seem properly equipped to fight back the forces of evil."

On a night that held too many heartaches, it was somehow comforting to hear Illya grouse about his surroundings. Napoleon felt the room suddenly warm to their presence.

"I'll consider it, tovarisch. For now, let's get to work and find Gervaise Ravel."

And so it began.


chapter 6