Flight Risk - PicFic 11/26

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

As two men stood staring up at the façade of the old bank building, another pair of eyes observed their activities.  Keenly aware of what the THRUSH duo had in mind, Napoleon Solo was compelled nonetheless to let their little plan go forward.

The communicator warbled its tune as UNCLE’s top agent casually removed it from his pocket, stilling the noise as he popped up the receiver.

“Solo; how may I be of assistance?”

“Very cute.  What is happening there?”  The Russian’s stern response indicated his lack of appreciation for his own vantage point.

“Meet any new birds up on your perch, Illya?”  The smirk was nearly visible through the indrawn breath he did not disguise.

“If that was intended to be a pun it remains unappreciated, Napoleon.  Do you still have Davis and Tyne in view?”  Napoleon grinned in spite of his partner’s foul mood.  Someone had to take the rooftop position, they just hadn’t planned on it being alongside a colony of carrier pigeons.  Anyway, Kuryakin’s wardrobe was more easily replaced should there be any … residual grime.  Napoleon was wearing a new suit.

“No puns, just seems as though there are birds everywhere.  Speaking of…’ The two THRUSH were on the move and Napoleon felt certain they would now be entering the bank.

“They’re going in, and I’m right behind them. Solo out.”

Napoleon closed the little device and returned it to the interior pocket of his suit jacket, shot his cuffs for effect and crossed the street at a brisk pace.  He would follow the men inside the bank and still retain some distance, unwilling to tip his hand at the onset.

Illya’s view of the building allowed him to watch as his partner followed their prey into the old bank building.  He had noted the date on the side, above a window that was curiously open and inviting to whatever might fly into it.  The idle thought that one of these pigeons had been inside that window was quickly abandoned as he concentrated on keeping watch over the next phase of this operation.

“Open Channel D, Solo is inside the bank. Do we have everyone in place?”

“Yes, Mr. Kuryakin.  Keene and Ayres are inside now.  Do you see any other THRUSH from your position?”  Alexander Waverly was intent on letting this play out according to whatever THRUSH had in mind.  It was obvious that the bank was a target, but to what end was uncertain.  The two being followed were high ranking chiefs within the Hierarchy, not normally dispatched for something as mundane as surveillance or, possibly in this case, an actual commission of a crime.  Only a chance sighting of the two had alerted UNCLE that something was brewing.

Illya scanned the street for more of the opposition, watched as two more pair of UNCLE agents approached the building, ready to spring into action should they be needed.

“No sir, the only people out here are our own.  If Davis and Tyne are planning on robbing this bank it seems they will do it alone.”  The Russian was perplexed with this entire scheme.  The THRUSH chiefs had no backup that he had been able to identify; had walked the entire distance here rather than hailing a taxi when they emerged from a restaurant twelve blocks away.  Nothing about it was typical of THRUSH; it was too simple.

“I dare say they are not going to merely rob the bank, Mr. Kuryakin.  There is some other plot afoot, and that is what we must ascertain before it is a fait accompli. Wavelry out.”

“Yes sir…” But Waverly was gone as Illya spoke into the air, his eyes riveted now to the window beneath the inscribed date AD 1927.
“What the…”

Inside the bank, Napoleon made eye contact with his two agents while they each in turn followed the path of the THRUSH.  Davis, the taller of the two, headed for a teller’s window while his companion found a seat near a large desk.  Tyne was a squat fellow with a peculiarly small head made more remarkable for a thick patch of bright red hair.  Where Davis was rather elegant in some respects, Tyne gave the appearance of someone in pursuit of Darwin’s theories of evolution; on the cusp as it were.

As Solo observed the two men he wondered yet again at the types of people drawn to THRUSH, shuddering involuntarily at the many ways in which they could all conspire to ruin the world.

What were these two up to?  And why here, in this bank?

Illya was on the move.  He had seen enough to know that the real plot had nothing to do with Davis and Tyne.  Slipping out of the small window beneath the date inscription was a man dressed in a jumpsuit of some sort, made of a material that seemed to reflect the sunshine that was streaming down on this cloudless day.  As the agent watched in amazement the figure had proceeded to climb the wall as though in defiance of gravity.  In a split second the scientific mind of Kuryakin surmised that the suit had some type of suction element that would allow the wearer of it to scale a building; it was ingenious and potentially dastardly if what appeared to be happening was truly the case.
Napoleon’s communicator chimed with an imagined urgency that only Illya could manufacture.  He answered it quickly to avoid any additional attention from listening ears.

“What is it? I’m not exactly…”

“It’s on the roof, Napoleon.  The object is on the roof, and there is a man climbing onto it as we speak.”  Illya was breathless as he ran into the bank lobby, passing his partner as he did so.  There was no point in trying to be secretive now, the important thing was to stop the man on the roof of the building.

“What are you doing?” Napoleon fell in behind his partner as the blond headed into a waiting elevator car.  David and Tyne, the erstwhile THRUSH chiefs watched and then made a move to thwart the progress of the UNCLE agents.  Immediately Keene and Ayres appeared at their sides, disabling the two who had previously been the object of this scene.

The elevator doors closed and Illya began to explain what he had seen to his befuddled friend.  Napoleon was gaping open mouthed at the description of a man climbing the building with nothing more than his suit to hold him in place.  Illya’s description made it clear that there were no ropes or harnesses, merely the clothing that must have something built into it that would suction it to the surface of the building.

“That is nearly unbelievable, except that we’re dealing with THRUSH… I guess there really is no end to what these people will risk in order to … ‘  Solo looked at Illya as the floors continued to go past them in order.  “What is it, exactly, that he’s after?”  to that question Illya could only conjecture what might be an answer.

“There is a very tall antennae on the top of this building.  I believe it is possible that money is wired from the bank to other establishments, and that the plan is to capture the device and subvert the transmission into a THRUSH held account.  It is deviously clever, although the risk to this individual seems somehow excessive compared to simply stealing the money.  It is, however, THRUSH, and therefore no amount of excess can be ignored.”
That bit of narration lasted to the top floor, and the pair raced for the stairs, still hoping to beat their bank robber.  It required climbing an additional two flights before they burst through the rooftop door at exactly the same moment their intrepid suction-cup suited opponent was climbing over the edge of the roof.

“Hold it right there!” Napoleon had his gun aimed at the suited intruder; holding his hands up it was plainly visible that the entire length of the suit was row upon row of suction cups, just as Illya had thought it would be.

The UNCLE agents approached the slender young man, appreciative of the stunt he had pulled and still wary of any sudden moves that might come from him.  He was eyeing the antennae, something that made Illya consider that there was more to come; this wasn’t as simple as catching the fellow and taking him away.

“What are you waiting for?  What is it that you are here to do?”  Instinctively the Russian knew there was an answer to his question that would be both mind boggling and impressive.  THRUSH was nothing if not inventive.

At that moment the antennae began to tremble and hum.  The suited man twitched involuntarily before he was suddenly jerked mercilessly towards the humming metal.  Napoleon’s gun flew from his hand, colliding with the antennae as Illya dove for it to try and stop it from reacting to the obvious electrical impulse that carried it.
“Get down, Napoleon!”  Illya took cover behind a concrete barrier, pulling Solo down as he did so.  The man in the suit was not as fortunate, catching a current of electricity that shot him back over the edge he had just traveled.  The diminishing sound of his scream was heard beyond the sizzle of electricity that the antennae exuded, and then it was perfectly still.

“What was that?”  Napoleon’s new suit was covered in black soot, a strange byproduct of the electrical storm that had been created on this rooftop.
Illya shook his head.  Even in his most erudite moments, he had a difficult time trying to discern the workings of THRUSH.  Whatever had prompted the mini-storm on this roof and blown away the suction-cup suited climbing man would remain a mystery until the labs could fully investigate the mystery.

“I am a loss, my friend.  Whatever scheme was concocted for stealing via this terminal has been a disastrous failure, especially for that fellow down there.”  He motioned towards the direction where the victim had fallen.

The door to the roof opened to reveal the other two UNCLE agents, David Keene and Phil Ayres.  They took one look at Napoleon’s ruined suit, puzzled over the cause but unwilling to inquire.

“We have our Thrushies in custody, Napoleon.  Something made the lights go out momentarily downstairs and they tried to make a run for it.  When we caught up with them they seemed a little shaken, started jabbering about a spider man climbing the building…”  Ayres broke off as Keene jumped into the conversation.

“Say, some guy took a header off this building.  He must be the guy they were talking about, has on a strange suit…”  The look on Illya’s face gave him pause. “What?  He climbed the building in that?”

All four men stood silently, wondering what would make a person take that sort of chance.

“All right, let’s clean this up and get back to headquarters.  We have reports to write.”  Napoleon took one last look across the now barren rooftop, catching Illya’s eye as he did so. Crazy.  People do incredibly crazy things for what?  Money?

“Perhaps the suit is salvageable, Napoleon.”  Illya knew his friend would rather not have to report yet another ruined garment.

“Well, it’s at least in better shape than the one that fellow is wearing…’ The chagrined CEA indicated the direction of the unfortunate man in the street.  “Is this the craziest thing we’ve encountered, or is the world getting weirder by the day?”

The Russian took a deep breath, unprepared for the gust of smoky air he inhaled.  Coughing from the unexpected congestion, he sputtered slightly before answering Napoleon’s question with a shrug of his shoulders.  Wordlessly he clapped his friend on the back and directed him towards the open door, following the other agents back down the stairs and to the waiting elevator.

Crazy.  And weird.  What a way to spend one’s life.

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