Man from U.N.C.L.E. Section VII

Kissing her husband goodbye as he headed off to work, Veronica Waverly once again had to hold back the urge to stop him from going. She’d had the same urge every time he’d left the house for the last forty years. Every day she worried that today would be the day that his enemies would succeed in their many attempts at assassination. At home, and at the office, she knew that he was relatively safe, but the journey between the two was an extremely different matter.

Mrs Waverly knew, however, that she would never try and stop him from leaving the safety of their home, despite her fears. She had known all her married life that the security of the world would always take precedence over that of Alexander.

.

Arriving at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, Mr Waverly, went straight to his office; greeting his secretary before he entered. Lisa Rogers gathered together the notes and messages which were waiting for her boss, but she knew better than to go in just yet. She would always wait for five minutes before starting the business of the day.

Inside the office, the Old Man picked up the telephone and dialled the number without even having to think about it.

“I’m still in one piece, dear,” he said when his wife answered. “Have a wonderful day and I shall see you, safe and sound, this evening.”

At the other end of the line, Mrs Waverly smiled the same relieved one she did every morning.

The expression on Julia Armstrong’s face, as she entered the secretarial pool, was enough to strike fear into every woman there. They could tell she had bad news, and that it was going to make life quite difficult for someone.

“Illya is hurt,” she announced to the group.

“Is he alright?” Deirdre demanded

“He’ll be fine,” Julia replied, “But he’s in medical in the LA office, not here. Napoleon is here, so you know what that means.”

“He’ll be doing his own paperwork,” said Deirdre, with resignation. “And I have a feeling it’s my turn to decipher the Solo Hieroglyphics?”

Head Nurse, Maisie Redfearn, was only mildly surprised by the sight which greeted her upon entering Illya Kuryakin’s room. It was bound to have happened sooner or later and, although she was going to have to discipline her nurses, she couldn’t help but find the situation funny. The two younger women had the decency to look ashamed of what they had done, but the face of the Russian was sporting the ghost of a smirk.

“Do you have anything to say Mr Kuryakin?”

“This is entirely my fault,” he told her, with genuine contrition in his voice. “I once again took my frustration out on these ladies, who were simply doing their duty. For this I apologise, and I shall endeavour to alter my behaviour in the future.”

“Apology accepted,” Maisie replied, desperately trying not to smile. “Maybe now, you can understand how it feels for the nurses when you throw things at them.”

She turned to Nurse Jenson and Nurse Locke.

“I know this has been coming for a long time, but you are meant to be professionals. Throwing green jello at a Section 2 agent is not a good career move, no matter how much he deserves it.”

Moira Laidlaw, Phyllis Wolsey and Pauline Harris had enjoyed a wonderful day of shopping. The three friends, who all worked as file clerks for the U.N.C.L.E., rarely got to spend time together outside of work; so a shopping day was a rare treat. They were just getting back into Moira’s car, when a familiar figure caught their attention.

Across the street, Illya Kuryakin was running, and looking over his shoulder; he was clearly being pursued. As the women watched, a black car screeched to a stop, and two men jumped out. They tackled Illya, who tried to fight them off, until they were joined man the man who had been chasing him. The three women couldn’t see what happened, but something caused the Russian to drop to the ground, unconscious.

( Read more... )