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section7mfulink to chapter 2: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/71031.html
____________________________________________________
Illya Kuryakin had functioned independently as an agent at Cambridge for two years, unencumbered by a handler or anyone else looking over his shoulder for that matter. He was the one doing all the looking this time. After the problem in Paris he was surprised that they let him work this way, but he never questioned it, and gladly accepted the freedom.
As time passed, his encoded reports and files sent like clockwork to his contacts became routine, almost mundane. At least his superiors knew that he did his work in a timely manner, for all it was worth. He had very little excitement in his life and although he was relieved that no one was trying to kill him; this assignment in Great Britain had worn thin on him. He felt as though he had been forgotten. On the bright side, at least his English had improved greatly.
He enjoyed working in the labs and at times he’d almost forgotten his purpose for being there, but his boredom finally outweighed even his love of knowledge. Once he had earned his Doctorate, he knew a change would be forthcoming, he only hoped that it would be for the better.
"Maybe the thrill of the chase would not be so bad after all," he wondered.
The coded telephone message he had been hoping for came at three o'clock in the morning in the early Spring.It was but one short sentence. "Otets nuzhdaet-sya v vas_ "Father needs you". He knew instantly that he was being recalled to the Soviet Union.
He had not been there in years, but expected things had changed little since he was last home.
"Glavnaya"_home," he whispered to himself, surprised that he used the word. It no longer had any meaning for him, not since the war, when his entire world had been ripped away from him by the Nazis.
But still he was going back to his country where he could speak his own language, eat Russian food, drink good Russian vodka..not that swill that he had to drink in England. Sometimes that could not even cheer his melancholy disposition.
Illya took the next available a flight at eight o'clock in the morning, boarding a Tupelov Tu-104 jetliner, the newest addition to the Aeroflot fleet. It would land at Khodynka Aerodrome, though an over-crowded and over used airport; it was closer to the city center of Moskva than Vnukovo which was 28 km. from the city. The busier but closer terminal afforded him valuable time to get in, get himself a uniform and meet his contact.
He was apparently receiving a promotion and needed to appear in the appropriate uniform of his new rank in the Soviet Navy. Still, he wondered if there was going to be bad news. To receive a promotion out of the blue? There had to be something else, and that worry stayed with him for his entire trip.
He would not be going to GRU headquarters...no one went to GRU headquarters. Known as the "Aquarium"*, the central building of the 2nd headquarters of the General Staff; it was a mystery to all but a group of select few. People knew it existed but were afraid to speak of it. Unlike KGB, GRU was truly a secret military organization. One was selected for it's service as Illya had been, unlike the secret police for one volunteered for the KGB.
He remembered the words as he sat back in the uncomfortable passenger seat.
"It was possible to speak about the GRU but only from inside the GRU. That voice was likened to a whisper of a whisper that "could not be heard behind the crystal walls of the dome at Khodynka."*
His flight arrived and he made his way through the crowded terminal to the outside where he hailed a taxi, an old model Pobeda that had seen better days. Parts for motor vehicles were generally in short supply in the Soviet Union, and people learned to make do.
He told the driver to take him the merchant quarter_Kitaigorod, just off Red Square, where he would be able to find the uniform. The best he could afford would be a used one, and he hoped he would find one there as well as a tyeílor who could adjust it quickly for a decent fit to his slim form.
At 2:00 p.m. he walked through Red Square dressed in a worn, but serviceable uniform. He stopped for a moment remembering the beauty of St. Basil's Cathedral, in stark contrast to the walls of the Kremlin.
The day was cloudy, cold, and a light snow had just begun to drift down from the sky, the remnants of the Russian Winter refusing to give way to Spring just yet.
He smiled for a second as the sun broke through the clouds, sending beams of sunlight down to the brightly painted cathedral domes and spires of the church, bringing them to life.
A man dressed in a grey woolen coat and a fur ushanka on his head with the ear-flaps tied up, stood staring at him for a moment, then approached.
"Comrade Kuryakin?
"Da..." Illya answered.
"Dobro poshalovat' domoy_welcome home," the man said offering his hand to Illya who accepted it reluctantly.
"Spacibo."
"Menya zovut Leonid Fedorov. I am here to escort you to your meeting.”
"And where would that be?" Illya asked.
"I am not at liberty to say.”
Illya's stomach tightened into a knot. "Fine...lead away then." He swept his hand in front of Fedorov, gesturing him to go.
He was led to a small building a quarter mile away from Red Square, being seen through a small wooden doorway, while Guards stationed just inside the entrance stood at attention.
"You must leave any weapons here at the desk please," Fedorov told him.
Illya removed his revolver from his shoulder holster placing it on the desk, then his pearl handled switchblade from it's sheath strapped on his calf.
"Sdelat"_done,"he said.
"You are very privileged Comrade Kuryakin," said Fedorov as he escorted Illya down a corridor. "You will be meeting with Comrade Colonel-General Korabelniko Vladimirovich."
Illya was caught off guard..." I will be meeting with the Chief of the Main Intelligence Directorate? Do you know what this is about?"
"Again Comrade Kuyakin,"smiled Fedorov. "I am not at liberty to say."
.
One Month Prior
"The list of candidates," said Colonel-General ‘Niko’ Vladimirovich. "Let me see that again." The Chief of the Directorate, sat at a large ornately carved oak desk, a remnant from a more decadent time and a small indulgence that he permitted himself.
There were dozens of files spread out in front of him, with a black and white photograph attached to the front of each. He stared down at the faces, studying each one carefully.
These were the acceptable candidates and it was a matter of just choosing one. It seemed so simple, yet it wasn’t. In his mind "that one" however, had to meet the approval of the organization, and still be an operative GRU could afford to sacrifice.
"What about that one?"said Captain Nikitin, his assistant. "The one with the light hair," he said pointing to the photograph.
Vladimirovich opened the file reviewing it again carefully. The man was young, too young for what was requested. But he read further... a talent for languages, mathematics, a Masters and Doctorate in Quantum Physics. The file indicated he was small but athletic, and scored high in all his requisite tests, especially marksmanship.
"Why is this man's file here?" He asked. "He should not be on this list?"
"Comrade, he has no family as he was bespriorzi_ a war orphan. He has made no friends, always keeps to himself. He is a nothing and replaceable! His only political connection is gone and that was with that pompous fool Viktor Karkoff as his sponsor! He has been working at Cambridge the last two years watching their scientists and he sends only his dull scientific reports week after week. He is a lab-rat and nothing more. I think this one is the type who will get himself killed and quickly at that, better he die on them, than on us!" said Nikitin."
For someone at the GRU to have political connections to a disgraced member was a catastrophe, especially for an operative. Disfavor was a precarious position to hold and Viktor Kigaroff had attained that status thanks to Illya Kuryakin, who let himself be easily manipulated by a woman and caused a near international incident in Paris.
Kuryakin's failure became Viktor's failure, and his downfall. Illya's mistake would now finally coming back to haunt him courtesy of Vladimirovich and Nikitin.
"Karkoff, his sponsor?" Vladimirovich laughed. "This is too perfect! I suppose that alone makes him the only candidate. This will be another slap in the face to that idiot Viktor. Yes done, this is the one! He is quite green, and therefore his life expectancy short. And when he dies, we will not be obliged to replace him, yet we will continue to reap the benefits! Yes! It is decided."
.
Illya sat at attention on a plain wooden chair just outside a door at the end of the corridor. A dark haired officer emerged, speaking to him. "Tovarishch Kapitan Kuryakin ?"
Illya stood up, snapping to attention "Da,Tovarishch Kapitan!"
"Follow me please?" Said Nikitin.
He followed behind the officer, walked into the office and stood at attention in front of the desk, saluting the Colonel-General sharply. Illya remained silent, his chin slightly raised as he waited to be addressed.
"Comrade Kuryakin, do you know why you are here?" asked Vladmirovich. "You may speak frankly and please sit."
Illya was offered a chair in front of the desk by Maksim Nitikin and he sat down, only removing his cap which he held in his lap. His bright blue eyes however, remained transfixed on the figure of Vladimirovich.
"Sir, have I been recalled for disciplinary reasons?"
The Colonel-General let out a hearty laugh. "No, quite the contrary young man! Comrade Kuryakin, you are being given a unique opportunity to aide your government. We have been approached by an organization known as the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. Are you familiar with this name?”
"Yes Komrade Colonel-General."
"Tell me what you know of it?"
Illya hesitated choosing his words carefully "Sir, it is a multi-national, independent organization owing no allegiance to one specific country."
"And Comrade Kuryakin, you are familiar with it's purpose?"
"Somewhat, sir," he answered, deliberately keeping it vague.
"Tell me what you know then, Kuryakin?" Smiled Vladimirovich.
"As it is my understanding sir, it is dedicated to protecting the world from evil," he answered, choosing to say as little as possible.
Vladimirovich laughed again. "That is putting it simply, but essentially correct. U.N.C.L.E provides protection as well as intelligence to its member nations against any perceived threat to that country's well being and sovereignty, regardless of that nation's political policies. It's ultimate goal is to maintain world peace, but like GRU, one cannot ask to join U.N.C.L.E, it does the asking. The CCCP has been given such an invitation to join this organization, and as a member we will receive vital data and intelligence. In exchange for this information we are being asked to supply them with a representative from our government to function as their agent...you Comrade Kuryakin are being offered that opportunity."
Illya's eyes widened, but showed no other reaction. "Yes Comrade Director." He droned. "I live to serve the Soviet people!"
"Any questions Comrade?"
"Yes sir. It will be my assignment to spy on them for our government, is that correct?"
"Oh you are not being given an assignment Comrade. You are being presented with a new job. You will be required to divest yourself from the Soviet Union and take an oath of allegiance to U.N.C.L.E. You will no longer act as agent for us. This will require you to give up everything Comrade Kuryakin. You will no longer serve the Soviet people. Can you do that?"
Illya blanched then swallowed, the thought of giving up his country? He hesitated, then smiled.
"Sir, If I take this job, I will still serve the Soviet Union, only indirectly."
"That is another way to look at it Comrade," his superior mused at Kuryakin's clever reasoning. "However, before we proceed further, there is someone you must meet." Vladimirovich motioned to Nikitin to escort the guest into the office.
An older gentleman wearing a tweed suit, with a briar pipe stuck in his mouth walked in behind Nikitin. "Kolya," the man smiled. "Very good to see you, very good indeed!" His accent was obviously British.
Vladimirovich stood greeting the man and shaking his hand. "So Alexander, I would like you to meet Captain Illya Nickovich Kuryakin."
Illya rose, standing at attention, clicking his heels as nodded his head.
"Comrade Kuryakin, this is Mr. Alexander Waverly, one of the founders of U.N.C.L.E. and and old friend."
"I am honored to make your acquaintance sir," Illya responded crisply.
"I will leave you two to speak in private," said Vladimirovich, motioning for Maksim Nikitin to leave with him.
Waverly leaned back against the desk, resting his hands behind him on the surface. "So young man, your superior has explained the proposal to you?"
"Yes Sir."
"And what do you think of such an offer? Waverly asked. He sucked on the mouthpiece of his pipe, but refrained from lighting the tobacco.
Illya kept silent for a moment, unsure if it was wise to speak his mind to this man.
"Sir, you are not familiar, I think, with the way things are done in GRU. There is no offer. I have no say in this, as I must do what is expected me or suffer the consequences. I am being told I must give up my country and be work your organization. My instincts tell me I am being offered up to you as a..."sacrificial lamb." If I go with you, I think I will die, if I stay, I know die. I am sure Comrade Vladimirovich knows this as well."
"You have a fatalistic outlook for someone so young Mr. Kuryakin. This is an opportunity to live young man, not to die. The GRU has one simple rule as I recall, "in-one ruble, exit-two rubles, meaning that to join the organization is easy, but to come out is much more difficult.* You are being given the opportunity for an easy exit."
Illya bit his lower lip as he thought, then ran his fingers absent-mindedly through his hair.
"The position you will hold with U.N.C.L.E will, however, not be an easy one. You will eventually be a Section II field agent in operations and enforcement once your have completed your, shall we say “internship” as a Section III junior agent. You will eventually have to go though some training to learn our methodology. There will be dangers of course, I will not deny that. That is the intelligence business."
Waverly paused to give Illya time to think.
"So, what is your decision young man?" he finally asked after a few minutes.
"I have no choice but to accept your offer as it I see my odds of survival are much better with you than if I stay with GRU. Mr. Waverly. I am not a well-seasoned operative. I am afraid I have but one kill to my name,” Illya said with honesty. "My first and only kill was but a few years ago."
"That is not a consideration Mr. Kuyakin, now let's say we prove your former Comrades wrong, shall we?" Alexander Waverly smiled clapping a hand to the young Russian's back.
FINIS
.
Author's note * GRU reference source: "Inside the Aquarium: Making of a Top Soviet Spy," by Viktor Suvorov
____________________________________________________
Illya Kuryakin had functioned independently as an agent at Cambridge for two years, unencumbered by a handler or anyone else looking over his shoulder for that matter. He was the one doing all the looking this time. After the problem in Paris he was surprised that they let him work this way, but he never questioned it, and gladly accepted the freedom.
As time passed, his encoded reports and files sent like clockwork to his contacts became routine, almost mundane. At least his superiors knew that he did his work in a timely manner, for all it was worth. He had very little excitement in his life and although he was relieved that no one was trying to kill him; this assignment in Great Britain had worn thin on him. He felt as though he had been forgotten. On the bright side, at least his English had improved greatly.
He enjoyed working in the labs and at times he’d almost forgotten his purpose for being there, but his boredom finally outweighed even his love of knowledge. Once he had earned his Doctorate, he knew a change would be forthcoming, he only hoped that it would be for the better.
"Maybe the thrill of the chase would not be so bad after all," he wondered.
The coded telephone message he had been hoping for came at three o'clock in the morning in the early Spring.It was but one short sentence. "Otets nuzhdaet-sya v vas_ "Father needs you". He knew instantly that he was being recalled to the Soviet Union.
He had not been there in years, but expected things had changed little since he was last home.
"Glavnaya"_home," he whispered to himself, surprised that he used the word. It no longer had any meaning for him, not since the war, when his entire world had been ripped away from him by the Nazis.
But still he was going back to his country where he could speak his own language, eat Russian food, drink good Russian vodka..not that swill that he had to drink in England. Sometimes that could not even cheer his melancholy disposition.
Illya took the next available a flight at eight o'clock in the morning, boarding a Tupelov Tu-104 jetliner, the newest addition to the Aeroflot fleet. It would land at Khodynka Aerodrome, though an over-crowded and over used airport; it was closer to the city center of Moskva than Vnukovo which was 28 km. from the city. The busier but closer terminal afforded him valuable time to get in, get himself a uniform and meet his contact.
He was apparently receiving a promotion and needed to appear in the appropriate uniform of his new rank in the Soviet Navy. Still, he wondered if there was going to be bad news. To receive a promotion out of the blue? There had to be something else, and that worry stayed with him for his entire trip.
He would not be going to GRU headquarters...no one went to GRU headquarters. Known as the "Aquarium"*, the central building of the 2nd headquarters of the General Staff; it was a mystery to all but a group of select few. People knew it existed but were afraid to speak of it. Unlike KGB, GRU was truly a secret military organization. One was selected for it's service as Illya had been, unlike the secret police for one volunteered for the KGB.
He remembered the words as he sat back in the uncomfortable passenger seat.
"It was possible to speak about the GRU but only from inside the GRU. That voice was likened to a whisper of a whisper that "could not be heard behind the crystal walls of the dome at Khodynka."*
His flight arrived and he made his way through the crowded terminal to the outside where he hailed a taxi, an old model Pobeda that had seen better days. Parts for motor vehicles were generally in short supply in the Soviet Union, and people learned to make do.
He told the driver to take him the merchant quarter_Kitaigorod, just off Red Square, where he would be able to find the uniform. The best he could afford would be a used one, and he hoped he would find one there as well as a tyeílor who could adjust it quickly for a decent fit to his slim form.
At 2:00 p.m. he walked through Red Square dressed in a worn, but serviceable uniform. He stopped for a moment remembering the beauty of St. Basil's Cathedral, in stark contrast to the walls of the Kremlin.
The day was cloudy, cold, and a light snow had just begun to drift down from the sky, the remnants of the Russian Winter refusing to give way to Spring just yet.
He smiled for a second as the sun broke through the clouds, sending beams of sunlight down to the brightly painted cathedral domes and spires of the church, bringing them to life.
A man dressed in a grey woolen coat and a fur ushanka on his head with the ear-flaps tied up, stood staring at him for a moment, then approached.
"Comrade Kuryakin?
"Da..." Illya answered.
"Dobro poshalovat' domoy_welcome home," the man said offering his hand to Illya who accepted it reluctantly.
"Spacibo."
"Menya zovut Leonid Fedorov. I am here to escort you to your meeting.”
"And where would that be?" Illya asked.
"I am not at liberty to say.”
Illya's stomach tightened into a knot. "Fine...lead away then." He swept his hand in front of Fedorov, gesturing him to go.
He was led to a small building a quarter mile away from Red Square, being seen through a small wooden doorway, while Guards stationed just inside the entrance stood at attention.
"You must leave any weapons here at the desk please," Fedorov told him.
Illya removed his revolver from his shoulder holster placing it on the desk, then his pearl handled switchblade from it's sheath strapped on his calf.
"Sdelat"_done,"he said.
"You are very privileged Comrade Kuryakin," said Fedorov as he escorted Illya down a corridor. "You will be meeting with Comrade Colonel-General Korabelniko Vladimirovich."
Illya was caught off guard..." I will be meeting with the Chief of the Main Intelligence Directorate? Do you know what this is about?"
"Again Comrade Kuyakin,"smiled Fedorov. "I am not at liberty to say."
.
One Month Prior
"The list of candidates," said Colonel-General ‘Niko’ Vladimirovich. "Let me see that again." The Chief of the Directorate, sat at a large ornately carved oak desk, a remnant from a more decadent time and a small indulgence that he permitted himself.
There were dozens of files spread out in front of him, with a black and white photograph attached to the front of each. He stared down at the faces, studying each one carefully.
These were the acceptable candidates and it was a matter of just choosing one. It seemed so simple, yet it wasn’t. In his mind "that one" however, had to meet the approval of the organization, and still be an operative GRU could afford to sacrifice.
"What about that one?"said Captain Nikitin, his assistant. "The one with the light hair," he said pointing to the photograph.
Vladimirovich opened the file reviewing it again carefully. The man was young, too young for what was requested. But he read further... a talent for languages, mathematics, a Masters and Doctorate in Quantum Physics. The file indicated he was small but athletic, and scored high in all his requisite tests, especially marksmanship.
"Why is this man's file here?" He asked. "He should not be on this list?"
"Comrade, he has no family as he was bespriorzi_ a war orphan. He has made no friends, always keeps to himself. He is a nothing and replaceable! His only political connection is gone and that was with that pompous fool Viktor Karkoff as his sponsor! He has been working at Cambridge the last two years watching their scientists and he sends only his dull scientific reports week after week. He is a lab-rat and nothing more. I think this one is the type who will get himself killed and quickly at that, better he die on them, than on us!" said Nikitin."
For someone at the GRU to have political connections to a disgraced member was a catastrophe, especially for an operative. Disfavor was a precarious position to hold and Viktor Kigaroff had attained that status thanks to Illya Kuryakin, who let himself be easily manipulated by a woman and caused a near international incident in Paris.
Kuryakin's failure became Viktor's failure, and his downfall. Illya's mistake would now finally coming back to haunt him courtesy of Vladimirovich and Nikitin.
"Karkoff, his sponsor?" Vladimirovich laughed. "This is too perfect! I suppose that alone makes him the only candidate. This will be another slap in the face to that idiot Viktor. Yes done, this is the one! He is quite green, and therefore his life expectancy short. And when he dies, we will not be obliged to replace him, yet we will continue to reap the benefits! Yes! It is decided."
.
Illya sat at attention on a plain wooden chair just outside a door at the end of the corridor. A dark haired officer emerged, speaking to him. "Tovarishch Kapitan Kuryakin ?"
Illya stood up, snapping to attention "Da,Tovarishch Kapitan!"
"Follow me please?" Said Nikitin.
He followed behind the officer, walked into the office and stood at attention in front of the desk, saluting the Colonel-General sharply. Illya remained silent, his chin slightly raised as he waited to be addressed.
"Comrade Kuryakin, do you know why you are here?" asked Vladmirovich. "You may speak frankly and please sit."
Illya was offered a chair in front of the desk by Maksim Nitikin and he sat down, only removing his cap which he held in his lap. His bright blue eyes however, remained transfixed on the figure of Vladimirovich.
"Sir, have I been recalled for disciplinary reasons?"
The Colonel-General let out a hearty laugh. "No, quite the contrary young man! Comrade Kuryakin, you are being given a unique opportunity to aide your government. We have been approached by an organization known as the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. Are you familiar with this name?”
"Yes Komrade Colonel-General."
"Tell me what you know of it?"
Illya hesitated choosing his words carefully "Sir, it is a multi-national, independent organization owing no allegiance to one specific country."
"And Comrade Kuryakin, you are familiar with it's purpose?"
"Somewhat, sir," he answered, deliberately keeping it vague.
"Tell me what you know then, Kuryakin?" Smiled Vladimirovich.
"As it is my understanding sir, it is dedicated to protecting the world from evil," he answered, choosing to say as little as possible.
Vladimirovich laughed again. "That is putting it simply, but essentially correct. U.N.C.L.E provides protection as well as intelligence to its member nations against any perceived threat to that country's well being and sovereignty, regardless of that nation's political policies. It's ultimate goal is to maintain world peace, but like GRU, one cannot ask to join U.N.C.L.E, it does the asking. The CCCP has been given such an invitation to join this organization, and as a member we will receive vital data and intelligence. In exchange for this information we are being asked to supply them with a representative from our government to function as their agent...you Comrade Kuryakin are being offered that opportunity."
Illya's eyes widened, but showed no other reaction. "Yes Comrade Director." He droned. "I live to serve the Soviet people!"
"Any questions Comrade?"
"Yes sir. It will be my assignment to spy on them for our government, is that correct?"
"Oh you are not being given an assignment Comrade. You are being presented with a new job. You will be required to divest yourself from the Soviet Union and take an oath of allegiance to U.N.C.L.E. You will no longer act as agent for us. This will require you to give up everything Comrade Kuryakin. You will no longer serve the Soviet people. Can you do that?"
Illya blanched then swallowed, the thought of giving up his country? He hesitated, then smiled.
"Sir, If I take this job, I will still serve the Soviet Union, only indirectly."
"That is another way to look at it Comrade," his superior mused at Kuryakin's clever reasoning. "However, before we proceed further, there is someone you must meet." Vladimirovich motioned to Nikitin to escort the guest into the office.
An older gentleman wearing a tweed suit, with a briar pipe stuck in his mouth walked in behind Nikitin. "Kolya," the man smiled. "Very good to see you, very good indeed!" His accent was obviously British.
Vladimirovich stood greeting the man and shaking his hand. "So Alexander, I would like you to meet Captain Illya Nickovich Kuryakin."
Illya rose, standing at attention, clicking his heels as nodded his head.
"Comrade Kuryakin, this is Mr. Alexander Waverly, one of the founders of U.N.C.L.E. and and old friend."
"I am honored to make your acquaintance sir," Illya responded crisply.
"I will leave you two to speak in private," said Vladimirovich, motioning for Maksim Nikitin to leave with him.
Waverly leaned back against the desk, resting his hands behind him on the surface. "So young man, your superior has explained the proposal to you?"
"Yes Sir."
"And what do you think of such an offer? Waverly asked. He sucked on the mouthpiece of his pipe, but refrained from lighting the tobacco.
Illya kept silent for a moment, unsure if it was wise to speak his mind to this man.
"Sir, you are not familiar, I think, with the way things are done in GRU. There is no offer. I have no say in this, as I must do what is expected me or suffer the consequences. I am being told I must give up my country and be work your organization. My instincts tell me I am being offered up to you as a..."sacrificial lamb." If I go with you, I think I will die, if I stay, I know die. I am sure Comrade Vladimirovich knows this as well."
"You have a fatalistic outlook for someone so young Mr. Kuryakin. This is an opportunity to live young man, not to die. The GRU has one simple rule as I recall, "in-one ruble, exit-two rubles, meaning that to join the organization is easy, but to come out is much more difficult.* You are being given the opportunity for an easy exit."
Illya bit his lower lip as he thought, then ran his fingers absent-mindedly through his hair.
"The position you will hold with U.N.C.L.E will, however, not be an easy one. You will eventually be a Section II field agent in operations and enforcement once your have completed your, shall we say “internship” as a Section III junior agent. You will eventually have to go though some training to learn our methodology. There will be dangers of course, I will not deny that. That is the intelligence business."
Waverly paused to give Illya time to think.
"So, what is your decision young man?" he finally asked after a few minutes.
"I have no choice but to accept your offer as it I see my odds of survival are much better with you than if I stay with GRU. Mr. Waverly. I am not a well-seasoned operative. I am afraid I have but one kill to my name,” Illya said with honesty. "My first and only kill was but a few years ago."
"That is not a consideration Mr. Kuyakin, now let's say we prove your former Comrades wrong, shall we?" Alexander Waverly smiled clapping a hand to the young Russian's back.
FINIS
.
Author's note * GRU reference source: "Inside the Aquarium: Making of a Top Soviet Spy," by Viktor Suvorov
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-07-01 03:16 pm (UTC)Thank you for this!
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Date: 2012-07-01 03:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-01 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-01 11:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-09 03:07 am (UTC)Great story! Very intriguing and I like seeing your take on how Illya got into UNCLE. Esp liked the scene with Illya and Mr. Waverly. Their relationship always intrigued me in the show. :)
no subject
Date: 2012-07-09 03:10 am (UTC)Thanks for commenting on this!