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section7mfu2013-11-01 08:32 am
" A T.H.R.U.S.H. and his fez are seldom parted" ~chapter 11 Conclusion
Link to chapter 1: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/412363.html
2: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/412573.html
3. http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/413043.html
4. http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/416697.html
5. http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/419604.html
6. http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/420127.html
7 http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/420871.html
8. http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/424095.html
9. http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/426087.html
10.http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/431697.html
It was just past sunset as Napoleon, Illya and the British agent Saleem arrived at the camp. All was quiet, and they remained hidden, observing from their vantage point, this time farther away than Illya had been when he was set upon by the dogs.
It was surprisingly quiet, with only the periodic sound of a bird...or was it a monkey coming from the trees in the distance. Even the insects seemed to have become silent.
That did not bode well to the agents, thinking mother nature was somehow betraying their presence.
They shook off the feeling, as they had a job to do and were determined to finish it to the bitter end.
Watching the guards as they passed, timing their movements; they waited to see when they would change shifts or again if there were any blind spots.
There were several opportunities that would allow them to approach unseen to plant their explosives at several key points along the fence posts where the explosions would bring them down as well as the main guard tower.
The detonations would create openings for the prisoners to escape, and there was no doubt they would immediately take advantage of the situation, and that would add to the chaos. That multi-purposed distraction was exactly what they Napoleon and Illya needed.
The agents, in the confusion, would make their way into the camp, find the doctor and take care of their other business, and that was eliminating General Akinbade and the Russian Colonel.
Illya wanted Zakhrov for himself, though it was no surprise to the American. Once Kuryakin made up his mind, it would be impossible to convince him otherwise. The General would be left to Napoleon while Saleem would get Dr. Akinjide out, whether he liked it or not.
The majority of the housing for the prisoners were simply canvas tents, with only a few buildings housing the General and his staff, Zakhrov’s torture chambers and barracks for the guards.
The explosions would be well underway in destroying the compound, prisoners would escape...there would no need for the doctor to remain there. He could still report on the conditions, after the fact. What he had to say might help direct the U.N. deal with any other attempts at the fledgling Nigerian government at creating more of these evil camps, as well as put the Soviets on notice as to non-interference.
.
Napoleon and Illya split up, making their way in the darkness to the designated targets while, avoiding the spotlights and the patrols.
Illya froze for a moment, hearing guard dogs barking in the distance, but eased as he heard the sound begin to fade.
He set plenty of C-4 on the supports for the main guard tower, and along several of the metal fence posts. The explosions would be strong enough to clear a path, although the concertina wire at the top of the fence might be problematic.
Kuryakin checked his watch, setting the timers and knowing his partner was hopefully doing the same. A few seconds off in the detonations was immaterial, just as long as they went off in sequence.
He continued to crawl in the dirt on his belly, ignoring the pain that still jabbed at him from his ribs as he headed to the tower; ducking his head as a spotlight cut through the darkness above his head.
Illya packed the grey blocks of C-4 on two of the four large wooden posts that supported the tower. The timer on these would go off first, followed by the fencing.
In all there would be six explosions. He took a deep breath, as he shimmied to a safe position and waited there for the bombs to do their thing.
Seconds later there was a massive explosion, toppling the tower. The remnants of which burst into flames. The guards within were sent toppling below, screaming as their bodies were engulfed in flames.
Cascading as planned, the explosives along the fence line went off...BOOM-BOOM- BOOM! Illya counted them...four? A few seconds later he smiled as the fifth one exploded.
As hoped for, the prisoners charged the openings in the fencing, ignoring the gunshots of the guards as they fired into the throngs. Some fell to their deaths, but many more made it safely past the fence, disappearing into the fire-lit night to their freedom.
The agents were on their feet in an instant, charging into the crowds and making a beeline for the white washed buildings.
Napoleon returned to the office he’d first been brought to, finding Akinbade rifling through his desk, tossing papers in a metal trash can where he was burning it all.
“Hiding the evidence General?” Solo stood in the doorway, his gun pointed at the man.
Akinbade made a move for the pistol lying beside him on the top of the desk.
“Unh uh…” Solo smiled, waving the barrel of his gun. “On second thought, go ahead and try. It would really make my day.”
The General did just that, though he never made it, as he fell forward hitting the desk before his dead body dropped to the floor. Napoleon stood there, smoke drifting from the barrel of his Walther… He didn’t like killing a man, but with this one was willing to make an exception. Sighing; he knew, no matter how many of these bastards were eliminated, there’d always would be another one to step up to the plate.
That was why he and the Command were here, to stop lunatics like this one, and Napoleon planned to just keep doing that, no matter what it took.
Saleem stepped up behind him; his presence making the American spin, instinctively pointing his gun at the man.
“Whoa!” He called out, “It’s me!” Beside him stood the doctor.
“Good to see you alive and well Mr. Solo, though I am a bit distressed by your entrance,” Dr. Akinjide smiled. “My work is not done here but I must admit, I am pleased to see this place going up in flames.”
The smell of smoke filled the air while the three men set more charges around the building. They met no resistance, and as they were about to detonate the doctor called for a moment.
“Please wait, there is something I need here.”
He gathered up the unburned remnants of the Generals private files, putting them in a folder and tucking them under his arm.
“This is what I need to document the atrocities committed by this government and its lackeys.”
“Fine Doc, but we need to get out of here and find Illya,” Napoleon warned, pointing at his watch. “The timers are set, so lets go...post haste.”
Saleem and Napoleon moved with caution as they stepped out of the building, the doctor bringing up the rear, now armed with Akinbade’s pistol.
The compound was still in pandemonium, though the guards were beginning to abandon their posts. Some of the prisoners had cornered the men and were using anything they could to attack the men, beating them to death.
The flames had leaped to the tents now, playing leapfrog as they jumped along each row of canvas shelters.
The agents and the doctor headed toward building three; Napoleon concerned for his partner taking on the Colonel. Illya was still weak from his torture sessions, but was grimly determined to deal with his countryman.
Kuryakin entered Zakhrov’s inner sanctum, seeing several prisoners locked in their cells. After a few minutes of searching for the keys, he found them in a desk drawer. The guards had abandoned their posts, though he found that surprising. In his experience, Soviet soldiers rarely did that, as it was an instant death sentence to do so. Still here, in the ensuing disorder, who was there to know they’d shirked their duty.
He helped the men to their feet, telling them as best he could to flee, as he was lacking the words in Yoruba.
“So you have returned from the dead,” the chilling voice of the Colonel spoke from the door of the cell, standing behind Kuryakin.
“Yes I have been known to do that, ” Illya quipped.
Noting his countryman was wearing clean clothes, and looking a little refreshed, Zakhrov made a presumtive leap in logic as to who was at the bottom of Kuryakin’s survival.
“I think it is safe to assume the good doctor was responsible for your ressurection. I will make sure he pays for his betrayal...as will you. Say your prayers, if you do that anachronistic thing Kuryakin…”
He raised his gun, aiming it at Illya, but just at that moment, one of the other prisoners in the cell suddenly coughed loudly gasping for air, distracting the Colonel for the split second that Illya needed.
Diving forward with teeth gritted in determination and, aiming at the man’s midsection, Illya slammed into him; the two of them flying out into the corridor and crashing against the wall.
They grappled for control of Zakhrovs handgun, and though the man was bigger than Illya, he was unprepared for how strong the U.N.C.L.E. agent was.
Kuryakin had a grip on the man’s wrist with both his hands, and twisting it, using the weight of his body, he pulled Zakhrov’s hand at a painful angle.
The Colonel, sensing he was losing, began punching Illya in the kidney with his other hand, and one of the blows manage to hit the injured ribs.
Illya released his grip, crumpling to the floor in a agonized scream, gasping for breath.
“You lose, dog,” Zakhrov snarled, standing erect and taking aim at Illya’s head with his Tokarev.
“Proshchaniye Illya Nickovich_farewell Illya Nickovich,” he laughed.
“I will see you in hell,” Illya moaned, closing his eyes when he heard the hammer cock on Zakhrov’s gun.
His body jerked as the shot was fired...but suddenly realized he felt nothing, other than the gnawing pain in his ribs. Illya opened his eyes to see the Colonel’s body sliding down the wall, leaving a bloody smear on the white washed wall.
Behind him stood Napoleon Solo…
“Come on buddy, let’s blow this joint,” the American smiled, offering his hand to his partner, and helping him up from the floor.
The final charges were planted, and the four men headed out into the burning compound, now mostly empty of the living. There were a few bodies scattered about... guards and a few unfortunate prisoners. It was a small price to pay to free the many. The bodies of the T.H.R.U.S.H. minions were among them, and a gust of wind blew blew up a whirwind of dust, continuing to feed the flames.
“By the way chum,” Napoleon asked as he and his partner walked slowly together,“You never did tell me where you hid the codes?”
“I did not hide them,”Illya barely broke a smile as he explained what he’d done with them.
“Hmm, clever Russian,” Napoleon grabbed hold of the man’s shoulder, managing a congratulatory squeeze as he steadied him.
A red fez suddenly blew in front of them on the ground and Napoleon picked it up, placing it on his head, modeling it with a smile as he pulled a pair of eyeglasses from his pocket, having forgotten they’d been tucked there in case he’d needed a disguise.
“Nice souvenir,” Illya commented.
“Yes, it is, these are hard to come by as we both know, because…”
The blurted out in unison, “A Thrush and his fez are seldom parted.” For some reason, that sent them into a bout of uncontrolled laughter.
“Feels good to laugh chum.”
“Yes it does,” Illya agreed.”We did good today, though it is just a small part of the greater picture.”
“One piece of the puzzle at a time, if that’s what it takes. Shall we head home partner mine?” Napoleon grinned.
“The word ‘home’ never sounded so good my friend,” Illya said as the four men headed to where the two motor bikes remained hidden in the bush.
Illya’s hand blocked his partner from slipping onto the drivers seat. “I drive this time. I do not want you getting us lost, and easy where you grab...my ribs, remember?”
Solo smiled, carefully wrapping his arms around his friends waist. The American opened his mouth to give a retort, but stopped himself. Enough banter for now... He obediently climbed on the back of the bike behind Illya.
“Home James,” Napoleon smiled, waving his arm as if he were leading a wagon train.
“With pleasure, my friend.”
Saleem, with the doctor on his motorbike traveled behind them, following the U.N.C.L.E. agent off into the darkness; the night sky still red from the burning camp.
There was one last explosion in the distance behind them as building number three was finally blown to smithereens.
The agents were unaware they were being watched though, as a lone bloodied figure had crawled from the structure just before it went up in a blaze of glory.
“I will have my vengeance,” Colonel Zakhrov quietly swore before he collapsed in the middle of the compound...
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A wonderful story, my friend. Thanks for it... and for the hint ...
“I will have my vengeance,”
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Good for Illya, unlocking the cells; and for Akinjide, remembering to collect evidence.
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