"A T.H.R.U.S.H. and his fez are seldom parted" Chapter 9

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                                         

Illya woke up as he was being dragged down a dimly lit corridor, and though he valiantly pulled at his captors arms to free himself, he was too weak to succeed. He was brought into another room, no doubt for interrogation, and handcuffed against a stripped down skeletal mattress spring that was leaning against a wall.

He knew what that meant and mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

The guard sliced Illya’s shirt away from him, leaving his sweat covered torso exposed and the simple wrappings Napoleon had put on the Russian’s bloody arms came off as well.

From his struggles, the wounds on his arms had begun to bleed again...

There he stayed for what seemed like an eternity...a typical interrogation technique; keep the subject waiting;  let the anticipation and fear of the unknown build the anxiety.

Yet somehow the only thing bothering Illya Kuryakin more at the moment, was the fact that his nose was itching and he couldn’t scratch it.  It was most annoying.

The pain emanating from his arms and ribs had settled in to a nagging dullness, one that he had become accustomed to now. He’d suffered worse and this discomfort did not rank high on his list. What was to come though, most certainly would.

The door finally opened, and in swaggered Colonel Zakhrov, alone.  There was no need for guards as his subject was secured.

A moment later two men did appear, obviously prisoners, and Illya assumed they were ‘functionaries; each of them, carrying buckets of water as well as a car battery with jumper cables.

“Tak chto ya, nakonets, dobratʹsya do polozhil ruki na vas, Kuryakin . Vy predatelʹskoy sobaki_So I finally get to put my hands on you, Kuryakin. You traitorous dog.”

Illya glared at him with disdain, saying nothing.

Without warning the Colonel slammed his fist into Illya’s stomach, receiving only a grunt as his response, that and a few gasps as the U.N.C.L.E. agent tried to catch his breath.

“So let us dispense with the pleasantries, why not just tell me where the Triad codes are for our T.H.R.U.S.H. friends and then I can send  Mr. Solo on his way. Soviet Union has no quarrel with him.

“Right to his death, I am sure.” Illya snickered. “I can honestly tell you that I do not know where the codes are at this moment in time. I have no clue.”

“Fine, if that is the way you wish to play the game Comrade...”

Zakarov gestured to one of his men, and a bucket of water was dumped over Illya’s head.

To Kuryakin, for a brief moment, it felt quite refreshing. He tried to swallow some of it was the water trickled down his face, wetting his parched lips.

“What no soap?” He quipped. “Again I must voice my dissatisfaction with your establishment.”

“I have heard that about you, always with the smart remarks. We will see if you are as bold in a few minutes.”  Zakhrov donned a rubber glove, and grabbed the jumper cables, clamping one to the bed frame.

He hesitated, watching Illya’s eyes follow him and finally attached the other clip to the battery post; smiling as his fellow Russian writhed from the current now coursing through his body.

Kuryakin’s muscles went into spastic contraction, his teeth gritted uncontrollably, but still he made no sound.

The connection was broken, and Illya gasped for air as his muscles twitched.

“Should -have- brought a bigger battery,” he struggled to get out the words.

Zakhrov repeated the procedure again and again until Illya, unable to stand it any longer, passed out.

“Bring in the physician,” the Russian officer ordered.

“You think you can outlast me enh?” Zakhrov said, though he knew the prisoner couldn’t hear him.

The good doctor walked in; his demeanor one of trepidation, not knowing what he would face.

“Dr. Akinjide, revive the prisoner.” The Russian’s voice was cold as ice. To him, Illya Kuryakin wasn’t a man, he was merely a thing, a traitor to extract information from, and nothing more.

“Yes Colonel.” He took a small paper capsule from his medical bag, holding it under Illya’s nose and snapping it. Ammonium carbonate, better known as smelling salts; once the fumes were inhaled through the nose, the mucous membrane become irritated, causing the lungs to fill with air while there is rapid breathing, reviving the unconscious person.

Illya coughed several times, until his eyes opened, permitting the doctor to see the pain within them. Without Zakhrov’s notice, Akinjide leaned forward, checking Illya’s pupils, and at the same time secretly injected him with morphine. That at least might help the unfortunate man through the torture session, if the Colonel didn’t end up killing him.

The doctor was forced to watch as the same abuse was repeated over and over on the slight blond;  each time he was ordered to revive the man.

Zakhrov took his knife from its sheath hanging from his belt. As Illya’s head drifted forward, and the Colonel grabbed it, taking it by a fistful of hair and lifting it to look into Kuryakins eyes.

Illya stared back at him cross-eyed until the knife came closer, and the Colonel jabbed it into his cheek. At this point the pain receptors in his body were on fire, and at this moment one more attempt at torturing him, really made no difference.

The agents breathing was ragged, and whatever strength he had left was diminishing as he tried to resist whatever Zakhrov dished out. Illya hissed a defiant retort back at the Colonel.

“Vy ne vyigrayete . Vashi dobryye nikogda ne delayet v kontse_ you will not win. Your kind never does in the end. It is you who are the traitor to our homeland. You bring shame to it…” Illya’s head bobbled, and he passed out again.

.

“I think he cannot take much more, “ Akinjide warned as he listened to Illya’s heart with a stethoscope.  Though it was was strong, and surprisingly regular, the doctor lied. This man apparently had the constitution of an ox...

Zakhrov cursed in frustration. After having no success at breaking Kuryakin, he was returned to the cell with his partner. The process with Solo would start again in the morning, and the Colonel was sure the condition of Kuryakin would help influence the sentimental  American into revealing the location of the codes.

A pair of guards entered the room, removing the limp body of their fellow Russian and taking him back to his cell.

.

An hour later, Napoleon looked up as the cell door again opened and the doctor he’d met on the lorry entered, his black medical bag in hand.

“Hello, remember me Mr. Solo?”

“Dr. Akinjide, good to see you again. Can you help my friend here? He’s in pretty bad shape.”

“As are you, but yes, I am here to look in on your companion. I am supposed to report back on his condition.

Illya lay huddled on the bunk, sweating profusely, yet shivering at the same time. The morphine was wearing off, and a fever had set in as the dog bites on his arms had quickly become infected. He was in shock and not doing well.

“This is not good,” the doctor said, examining the wounds. “I do not have much in the way of antibiotics as the General has made me use most of my supply to treat him and his lackeys.  I have only a few doses left, but will give them to your friend in hopes they will help until we can get you both out of here.”

“We?” Napoleon whispered.

“Yes, you see I am with MI6, though I am a real physician as well. Do you know where these Triad codes are, the ones they are speaking about?”

Napoleon became suspicious, thinking the man was a plant of sorts. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious, do not tell me if you do know.  I have a plan to get you out of here, if you want to risk it, I can help you escape before you break under Zakhrov’s questioning. Are these codes that important that they are worth your life and that of this man?”

“Yes they are. His name is Illya, Illya Kuryakin. He’s my partner and my best friend. The truth is, I really don’t know where the codes are,” Napoleon smiled, sensing  the doctor might be legitimate.

“What about you Mr. Kuryakin?”

Illya shook his head no, not willing to reveal the truth. He’d said nothing to Napoleon about what he’d done at the British embassy, but now wondered if this doctor was indeed the inside man the Ambassador had spoken about.

“I am truuuthful whennn I say I dooo not know where they are.” His speech was slurred and slow.

“Have yooou been to the Britisssh Am-bass-ador’s office….the em-bas-sy here in Warri?”

“I most certainly have.” The doctor proceeded to describe the room in detail as well as the location of the wall safe, where the Ambassador had secured Illya’s package to include with their courier delivery to England. Akinjide also gave a very precise description of the headquarters of MI6, right down to the ridiculous porcelain bull dog  with the Union Jack on its back that “M” kept on his desk, there in his office.  It apparently was something passed on to each director, and had been given to the agency by Churchill, it had become sort of a good luck charm, as it were.

Kuryakin trembled, as he nodded to his partner. He’d been to the British Intelligence building while stationed at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters in London. That knowledge let  him decide Akinjide was the real deal.

“So what’s this plan?”Napoleon asked.

“I will at one point inject you both with a drug that will simulate death.  The bodies of those who have died are taken by lorry to a pit not far from here and simply dumped, leaving them to the carrion, and other wildlife.

“Annnnd, howww are weee to be reee-vived?” Illya barely managed to get out the words.

“The drug’s effects last less than an hour;  if they take longer than that to load you onto the truck,  you might come to and be discovered.”

“That’s a chance I think we’re willing to take. Right tovarisch?”

Illya again nodded in agreement, but coughed violently, curling up into a fetal position as he held his side where his ribs were broken.

“What about you Doctor? How will you get out?” Solo asked.

“My job was to get in, and I will remain here to gather information for my government as well as the United Nations. Eventually Akinbade will release me, as we have it planned for a relative of his to have a medical emergency; the General, of course, will send me to help, and it is then I will effect my escape.”

Still, Napoleon didn’t like the idea of the doctor being left behind, but he was a fellow agent and had an assignment to complete; it was all part of the game, whether he liked it or not.

He reached out his hand, offering it to the man. “Thanks for your help. Good luck to you then. Maybe we can catch up with each other after this is all over and have a drink or two and exchange war stories.”

The doctor shook his hand, “I will look forward to that, and God speed to the two of you as well. Always glad to be of service and help fellow agents.”   He looked over at Illya, finding him asleep  and that was the best thing for the Russian at the moment.

“If our plan succeeds Mr. Solo, you must go to this address. There you will meet a man named Saleem. He is one of us and you must say these words to him. “Is there a doctor in the house? Rain must be on the way, as my big toe hurts.” He had Solo repeat the phrases back to him.

Napoleon raised an eyebrow, along with a smile at the pass code, and he wondered, thinking back on the Commands passwords, why they always had to do with the weather? He suddenly found it amusing seemed to be a recurring theme in the spy world...

The cell door creaked open, with guards entering to take Napoleon and the doctor to Zakhrov’s torture chamber. The Colonel had apparently upped his timetable, not willing to wait until morning.

.

Napoleon was dragged into the room and made to stand in the middle of Zakhrov’s chamber of horrors, his hands bound behind his back. Suffering from his own injuries, he swayed, trying to keep himself erect.

“Let us get down to brass tacks as you American say, Mr.Solo. If you do not tell me where the codes are, then I will have no recourse but to continue using my skills on your partner. You know he will die if I do so.”

“I know that, so does he. Dying is part of our job. Eventually it happens.” Napoleon sneered at him.

“Well until I work on your partner, no need ignoring you as well.”

Zakhrov again pulled his knife from its  sheath, still stained with the blood of Kuryakin. He ran the razor-sharp blade down along the Americans bicep, slicing through his shirt to the skin, creating a blossom of blood in the cloth.

Napoleon broke into a sweat, fighting the pain; not wanting to give the Colonel any satisfaction, but finally passing out, though not really, as that was what he wanted the man to think.

“Go to Kuryakin, make sure he is still alive and have him brought here, “ Zakhrov ordered the doctor. “Though if he’s dead... he’s dead. One less traitor for KGB to hunt down, “ he chuckled. His plan was to torture Illya in front of Napoleon, and surely that would break the American. He would want to save his friend in spite of his declarations about dying.

Looking to Solo, he instructed the doctor to check him before leaving to go to the partner.

Akinjide did as he was told and leaned forward, shining a small penlight into Napoleon’s eyes, and at the same time, he secretly injected Solo’s arm it with a clear liquid.

Napoleon would play his part for as long as the drug allowed him to, knowing that it was the one which would soon simulate death.

The U.N.C.L.E. agent let his eyes flutter open, pretending he was barely conscious.

“Now off with you Doctor, check on my traitor and be quick about it,” the Colonel snarled, snapping his fingers.

“Now the real suffering begins Mr. Solo…”

Comments

[svetlanacat4.livejournal.com]

This is a great, scaring chapter, my friend...
Waiting impatientlt for chap 10...

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Mwaaa haaa haaa, my work was successful then. Yes, wanted it to be very scarey. Chapter 10 on Monday. We're getting close to the end my friend. Thanks for the comment! :D

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Another good chapter. (I hope you'll excuse me skio-ing - that's a cross of skim and skip - the torture scenes.) With a good and canonesque plot development.

I should think weather's pretty important to Secrion One sort of spies.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

No problem, I know a few people who prefer to skip over the torture scenes. I don't do them that often anymore, but when I do them....well they're powerful. (still I try not to get too graphic) Thanks for the comment. Chapter 10 will probably post on Monday! Hugs to you and Samantha!

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

They're certainly well written!

Thanks. Hugs all round to Clan Marian, and have a good week end.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Same to you too! :D

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This is just perfectly wonderful. Just enough suffering by our tough and brave agents to know that eventually they're going to get even with the bad guys.
Now we're the ones who shall suffer as we wait...

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Hee heee, yes, angst a plenty. Will see what happens if the escape goes as planned. Thanks for commenting, and don't suffer too much. Remember, patience is a virtue. "D

[pactnmmt.livejournal.com]

MONDAY? You are going to make us wait 'till Monday!?! Seriously, I am truly enjoying this and am still on the edge of my seat. Nicely done!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Sorry, yep Monday. Song Story posts tomorrow, then Monday/Tuesday is Picfic, and Wednesday 'A little Drabble do ya...:" I don't want to double post on the site if I can help it, just want to let every challenge/story or chapter have it's space...

Final chapter should be ready for Thursday. So hang in there, I know IK and NS have to...

Thanks so much for the comment! A lot more edge of the seat moments to come.