The Twelve Days, Day 5 for the 12 Days of Christmas

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Day 5

The day held no more promise than the one that had just passed. The pilot, Jerry, had been out for hours. Whatever he was dosed with got into his system and stayed there.

Napoleon and Illya spent the day roaming their cell like caged animals. The communicators were gone, as were their weapons and some obvious tools that were known to Thrush. Both agents had decided it was indeed their frequent enemy that had brought them here. The mystery now was in their solitude.

Sleep would not settle easily on Napoleon. Illya, he knew, had been asleep several times, waking only to respond to noises. Jerry, who had finally awakened at around three o’clock, dropped back off by eight. There had been no food delivered, and water was limited to a jug that Illya had discovered near the door. Taking a chance on it, he gave in to thirst and swallowed some, was relieved that it was simply water.

Napoleon figured it was past midnight now, his internal clock ticking off the hours since sunset, which must have been around four thirty. This was some situation; Hi-jacked and then left without any guards, without food or … a clue.

“Why aren’t you sleeping Napoleon?”

The Russian burr was thicker than usual. Lack of sleep and food might have been contributing to that.

“I don’t know, I’m just not sleepy. This is a peculiar situation, don’t you think? I mean, they take us off our jet in a manner we still haven’t quite figured out, and then leave us here without any food or… it’s just strange. Especially for Thrush. They usually want to sit around and gloat over their accomplishments.”

Illya yawned and stretched out from the position he’d been in. The floor didn’t offer much in comfort, but the Russian had learned to sleep whenever he could.

“They brought us down with some type of radar interference. We did land, but they were waiting for us. We both ended up with bumps on our heads and injected with something. I found a needle mark on my arm, and I am beginning to remember some of the events. Aren’t you?”

Napoleon stared into the darkness, looking for that spark of blond hair that always managed to catch a ray of light.

“They knew about us before we ever got on the jet? How? We only just found out about this mission right before we left.”

“I have no idea. But I believe we have stayed here quite long enough. I am ready to leave, now that I have had my beauty sleep.”

Napoleon knew that Illya was grinning. He was ready as well.

“Wake up Jerry!’’

The befuddled pilot was still groggy. Unlike the two agents, this man was unaccustomed to having his system plied with serums and sedatives.

“Right… where are we?”

Illya started to answer when he heard something moving outside the cell door. As odd as this room was, it still had the obligatory bars that separated the prisoners from the hallway on the other side. What Illya saw amused him.

“How odd.”

“What is it Illya?”

“Pheasants. Five pheasants.”

Napoleon joined Illya at the cell door, equally intrigued by the birds. Illya seemed particularly taken with them, and there was enough moonlight filtering through a window to illuminate them.

“These are Common Pheasants. They are natives of Georgia… quite beautiful I think.”

“Georgia? How do you know that?”

Illya turned his gaze back to his partner, a smirk on his face that was immediately recognized by the American.

“The Soviet state of Georgia. What is it they are sitting on?”

Napoleon craned his neck to try and see what Illya was talking about. There, just waiting for a talented pair of UNCLE agents, was a small pile of rags. Next to that: a kerosene can.

“Our little ring neck pheasants may have just gotten us out of here.”

Within minutes, one of the chairs had been broken apart to use as a hook for retrieving the rags and kerosene. The pheasants were appropriately alarmed at the activity, quickly giving up their perches on the rag pile.

Once the supplies were pulled close enough, Illya set to work assembling their escape. He pulled out the little incendiary that was hidden in a bottom molar and prepared to blow the cell door.

“Jerry, get over here and duck.”

Without his watch for ignition, Illya had to use his nails to provide some friction on his incendiary. It set the kerosene saturated rags on fire, which in turn started to burn the wood frame. It wasn’t the best way to make an escape, but between the three of them, the men managed to utilize the assorted chairs to break down the door and then ran in the only clear direction they saw.

The entire operation had taken less than an hour, and now as they lay on the snow covered ground, watching the little building burn, the three men reveled in their good fortune and skill.

“Illya, if you hadn’t been watching those birds, we might still be sitting in there waiting for a plan. I wonder what happened to them.”

Illya continued to watch the blaze. Jerry was completely alert now, the effects of the drugs seemingly gone for good.

“Do you guys do this kind of thing often?”

Napoleon chuckled, caught the look on Illya’s face that mirrored his own reaction.

“Yeah, Jerry. It seems to be something we do quite a lot. I think, gentlemen, that we should depart this place and try to find some civilization. Mr. Waverly will be wondering what happened to us.”

Almost reluctantly, they took a last look at the burning building and headed for what looked like a settlement of some sort. The day would be spent connecting with headquarters and arranging a pick up. Maybe someone back in New York would be able to tell them what this was all about.

Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow they would be home.

~~~~~:

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