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section7mfu2014-03-18 11:00 am
"The Oubliette part 5"~ for the PicFic Tuesday Challenge 3/18
Napoleon stood by as his partner was moved from his bed to a gurney. At first the Russian protested such treatment, yanking his arm from the helping hand that was trying to steady him he slid from the side of the bed to the waiting conveyance.
Illya, vascillated from demanding to walk to a consiliatory request to a wheel chair, until he fianally resigned himself to riding downstairs on the stretcher where his chariot awaited him at the street level. There an U.N.C.L.E. ambulance was parked near the entrance to the hospital emergency room.
It was equipped with the standard equipment, a heart montior, an oxygen tank, and other medical equipment deemed necessary for the trip, all manned by trained emergency medical personnel from the Command.
It wasn’t until Illya was threatened with being sedated for the duration of the trip to New York, that he finally shut up and cooperated. Napoleon chuckled, reminding himself to remember that one, as threatening to sleep dart his partner might work in the future should he become too ornery.
Napoleon would ride in the ambulance with him; making sure the Russian’s reading glasses and several scientific journals were brought along, as well as some fruit and other healthy snacks to tide of the bottomless pit that was Illya’s stomach.
Though the doctors had him on a high calorie diet that would have made the average person put on pounds, Illya only gained ounces. That made them concerned and along with the pneumonia still making it’s presence known, the decision for the gurney and ambulance was made.
Mark Slate and April Dancer having already visited briefly with the patient, waited outside in their escort sedan and would be the lead vehicle in a mini-convoy; with second pair of Section III agents in another car bringing up the rear for the nearly eight hour drive to Albany NY, where the Sanitarium was located.
There were planned stops included in that travel time, for meals bathroom breaks as well as just giving the patient time for some breathing treatments while stationary rather than in a moving vehcile. This would allow the escorts to just get out and stretch their legs, though they’d still be on constant lookout for Mephisto-Labé.
The first stop would be nearly two hours later at Wilmington Delaware, from there they’d travel to headquarters in New York where Illya would be examined and given a breathing treatment. Depending upon how well he was physically dealing with traveling, they would either continue on to Albany or stay the night in headquarters and rest up.
Solo, though hoping Illya would handle the trip well, wished they’d stay at headquarters just for security's sake not revealing what time they’d leave the next day or the even the day after that as they began the final three hour leg of their trip to Albany and thereby throwing off Labé if he was indeed following them.
.
Eveything was set and April called Napoleon on his communicator.
“Ready when you are darling. How’s our patient doing?”
Illya lifted his oxygen mask from his face to speak. “The patient is impatient, now may we get this over with as quickly as possible?”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist mate, “Mark spoke up,”' be there in two shakes of a lambs tail.”
“Mark, I am not wearking any knickers, just this ridiculous hospital gown.”
“Too much information guv,” Mark laughed.
“Mmm, I don’t know Mark, I sort of like that visual,” April chimed in on the conversation.
“Enough lechery April,” Napoleon chastised.” Let’s get going, as we have a testy Russian here.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Solo sir,” April joked.
“Hey partner, I thought you weren’t happy about going to the Sanitarium? Why so anxious to get there now?”
“I did not say I was anxious to get there. I am, however, looking forward to getting to headquarters. Maybe, just maybe I can convince Waverly to let me stay there.””
“Good luck on that you little conniver you,”Solo chuckled.
The car engines started, and slowly the lead car pulled up the ramp leading away from the hospital.
“We going to use the lights Mr. Solo?” The ambulance driver called back.
“No John let’s not draw any undue attention to us than necessary."
One by one the three vehicles drove out to the exit. Two black sedans with a powder blue and white ambulance sandwiched between them as they zig-zagged through the intricate street patterns of the District of Columbia, heading towards 295 that would take them through Maryland and up into Delaware.
Napoleon sat reasuringly beside his partner as the medical tech checked Illya’s blood pressure, casting a strained glance at the CEA.
“What’s wrong?”
“His blood pressure is up Mr. Solo.”
Once again Illya lifted the oxygen mask from his face to speak. “That is because you are annoying me. Must I be hooked up to this bloody machinery?” He barked as best he could.
“Look tovarisch, you need to relax and let the man do his job….you don’t like it when anyone interferes in something you have to do right? And, the machinery has to be on whether you like it or not, so quit your complaining. Before you know it we’ll be in Albany, and you’ll be in a comfortable bed surrounded by pretty nurses waiting hand and foot on you.”
This time Illya didn’t touch the mask, muffling his words.
“That is your fantasy not mine my friend.”
Napoleon snickered,"Yeah, you’re right. Okay, so you’re surrounded by a bunch of science geeks who’ve developed a new explosives compound.”
“That is more like it,” Illya acutally smiled.
The conversation was kept at a minimum for the ride to Wilmington, and as Napoleon expected Illya slept for most of the two hour ride. His partner’s heart rate and breathing were steady; monitored carefully by the tech. Larry listened for any signs of congestion, and noted the Russian’s breathing was becoming a bit rough. It would be time for a breathing treatment when they arrived at their next stop.
.
“We’re here darlings, time to take a lunch break,”Aprils voice crooned over the communicator.
The cars and ambulance eased to a stop and Napoleon called softly to his partner.
“Hey sleeping beauty, time to wake up. You need to eat and…?”
“Yes Mr. Solo, he needs a breathing treatment too,’” the tech chimed in. “You' ll stay with me while I have to do it right?” The man was definitely afraid of the Russian, even in his weakened state.
“Don’t be so nervous Larry, Illya doesn’t bite...that often.” The look on the Larry's face was priceless.
“Seriously, he doesn’t and yes I’ll stay with you, not to worry.”
Illya finally opened his eyes. “Are we there yet?”
“Patience patience my dear Bolshevick buddy, this is just our first rest stop.”
“That is Communist not Bolshevik, how many times must I tell you that? Bol'shevizm was the forerunner to Communism and before my time. Now do I get to eat and not just a piece of friut?”
“Yes you do, but first a breathing treatment with Larry here.”
“Fine,” Illya crossed his arms in front of his chest, submitting himself to the tech's ministrations.
There was a coded knock at the rear of the ambulance and Solo opened the door. It was Mark.
“Hey mate, Sent the Section three’s into the diner to eat, April and me will go next and then we’ll take over while you go into eat and get..”
“No, just bring something out for Illya, nothing for me thanks. I’m staying here with him. Once his breathing treatment is done, the tech and driver can go take a break.”
“Suit yourself.”
“What should we bring darling?”
“Just a burger rare, fries, and tea.”
"Seriously a hamberger and fries? Isn't that a bit heavy for him?"
"You forget our friend's cast-iron stomach, and a single burger and fries is a light meal for Illya," Napoleon answered.
The Russian stared at him, wide-eyed while taking his treatment.
“Oh and yes, apple pie, don’t forget that whatever you do,” he smiled.
All the shifting around was done, the food brought out for Kuryakin and when it was nearly finished Napoleon ordered them to be on their way.
The next leg of the journey would take them up I-95 and in just over two more hours they’d be in headquarters in New York. There they could breath a temporary sigh of relief, until it was time again to leave for Albany. That part of the trip Solo deemed to be the most dangerous, as ihis instincts told him somehow Labé would be waiting for them somewhere along the way.
It was a short while later that an unscheduled stop was made. John the ambulance driver said he was feeling a little drowsy after eating and needed to pull over for some fresh air.
Napoleon pulled his commumicator. “Channel F- April?” There was no answer. He tried signalling the other car but received only static in responce.
Napoleon suddenly realized that Larry was asleep, as was Illya and the driver John. Not just asleep but out cold.
“Shit,” he cursed, pulling his gun from its holster. Obviously something was going down, he just didn’t know what.
Best not to get out of the vehicle as he’d make himself a target. He’d wait them out, pretend he was asleep...he was hoped Mark and April as well as the others were just asleep and not dead.
He heard footsteps outside and waited, his gun hidden in the folds of his jacket.
The door opened slowly, and Napoleon raised his Walther slightly, pointing it right at…
He never saw who it was, or got off a shot as some sort of miniature gas canister was tossed inside, filling the back of the ambulance with green smoke.
.
“Mark?” April yawned, poking her partner in the side.”Wake up darling.”
“Good Lord, I couldn’t keep my eyes open,” the Brit responded.
“Where are we? Any idea? And most importantly what happened?"
Still on 295 from the looks of it. Can’t be far from the diner we stopped at.
“Do you think the food was drugged? Could it have been…”
He didn’t let her finish; pulling out his communicator he tried to contact Napoleon.
“Channel F-Solo. You there mate?”
Nothing, only static.
The two agents quickly stepped out of their car, finding the other sedan parked behind them, but the ambulance was nowhere in sight. The driver and medical technician were laying nearby on the roadside.
April immediately went to them, checking their pulses, not sure if they were dead or alive.
“Thank God, they’re just asleep.”
She proceeded to gently tap them on their faces, waking them up. They had no recollection as to what happened, other than suddenly feeling very sleepy.
Mark proceed to the sedan, finding the other agents in the same shape.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his corduroy hat from his head and running his fingers through his hair. Snapping his fingers, he opened his communicator again, checking for a homing signal. Again, to his disappointment, nothing.
“Wait darling, I have my communicator set to a different frequency,”April said.
“What signal would that be?”
“Illya put a tracking device in Napoleon’s star sapphire ring a while ago, and I have it set for that. As long as it’s not too far away, I should be able to pick it up.”
She smiled as a steady blip came from the communicator, “They’re headed north and not too far...within five miles as that’s the maximum range of the homing disc.
Marks eyes went wide. “Let’s go then luv before we lose that bloody signal!”
The other agents remained behind to take care of John and Larry while Slate and Dancer hurried off after their quarry. Mark contacted headquarters, informing Waverly of what had transpired while they sped along the interstate following the signal as the Brit floored the gas pedal.
“What the duce? I sent you and the other agents just to prevent such a thing from happening.” The tone of the boss’s voice indicated he was none to happy about Solo and Kuryakin being taken again.
“Find them Mr. Slate and quickly. We cannot lose our two best agents to this madman. If we do, it will create an open season on U.N.C.L.E. agents. Once T.H.R.U.S.H. knows Solo and Kuryakin are out of the way they’ll feel empowered to go after you and Miss Dancer and the rest of Section II around the world.”
“Yes sir, we understand,” Slate out.
The signal took the agents to a small private airport, but they had arrived too late as they found the amulance abandoned on the runway with a private jet having just taken off.
After some pursuasive discussion, the were able to get the flight plan and discovered the plane, registered to Labé, was headed for Shannon Airport in Ireland.
Waverly was contacted again, with headquarters making arrangements for the two agents to use another Learjet at the airport, and within the hour a flightplan was logged with Slate and Dancer winging their way to the Emerald Isle.
As Mark piloted the plane, he spoke to his parter, still somewhat incredulous of their situation.
“If you had told me we’d be flying to Ireland this morning, I would have said you were bloody mad,” his voice seemed hollow coming through the microphone.
“That’s why I love this job,”April smiled,”One just never knows what’s going to happen from day to day...much less moment to moment. I just wish we weren’t on a rescue mission.”
“Agreed luv. I hope we get to them in time. Who knows what that madman has in store for them. I mean he’s going to a bit of touble hauling them off to Ireland isn’t he?”
“The operative word is ‘madman’, darling. There’s no way to rationalize or predict the behaviour of a such a person.”
“So true luv. Why don’t you relax and get some sleep. I’ll have you take over if I get a bit banjaxed.”
“I don’t know if I can do that right now; I’m just a bit upset about all this. We let ourselves get drugged and lost them. I feel like this is our fault... we just have to save them Mark.”
“I know, really I do, but it wasn’t our fault. You pointed out there’s no way to predict the behavior of a madman. So close your eyes and try, for me luv?””
April let out a long sigh.” All right goose, just for you.”
She closed her eye, feigning sleep at first but finally the exhaustion of the day took her and Dancer fell into a restless sleep.
Her dreams became the stuff nightmares were made of, at least to her.
She watched in horror as Napoleon suffered and died and could do nothing to stop it. There was a special place in her heart fo Solo as she and the man had once been lovers...and now he was gone. Illya, where was her friend Illya?
April ran in the darkness looking for him, her eyes filled with tears but there was no sign, until she saw blood, lots and lots of blood.
“How God no? This was my fault,” she cried out.
“April...APRIL wake up.”
She opened her eyes, clearing her vision with a few blinks.
“You all right luv? Nightmare?”
“Uh-huh.
Slate knew better than to ask the detail. He had nighmares too sometimes, and pretty much every Section II agent did, it was part and parcel to the job.
The terrors they all witnessed had to affect them; most internalized them and it came out in their dreams...others sought help with the psych department, some that is.
A few agents eventually lost it and were deprogrammed, being sent out to pasture...and periodically there were agents who had to be confined in an asylum for their own protection.
Slate hoped it would never come to that for him or his partner…
“Mark dear are you ready for me to take over? I honestly don’t want to sleep anymore.”
“Not yet April. With the way I’m feeling, I don’t think I want to sleep just yet either.”
“Feeling a bit guilty?”
Slate simply nodded as he continued to watch the horizon.
“Me too darling, me too.”
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I am enjoying it, it's just that I don't usually trust WIPs.
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I promise you, I'd never abandon a story and there will be a satisfying ending.
I stopped doing WIPs a while ago and it's just because there was a demand several PicFics ago to expand the story that I returned to the WIP format. So hopefully next weeks prompt will see and end to the story!
Thanks for sticking with it and commenting. I appreciate it as always!
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Thanks for keeping up and be patient. Am hoping to finish this up next week. As we say in Irish le cuidiú Dé (God willing)
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Thank you!
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I was actually hoping to end the story today but the wild prompt really threw me for a loop and of course sent us all on a merry chase across the pond.... (giggle)