THE MILLION DOLLARS AFFAIR

 

"Are you positive?  There is no doubt in your mind?"

            "I am positively positive," Mark Slate said forlornly.  He wanted to be wrong.  Wanted it more than anything.

            "April...?" Napoleon Solo said to the female Agent at Mark's side.

            "It was Illya..." she lowered her eyes, feeling like a complete traitor.  "Mark and I were there when he..."  She took a full breath.  "The evidence is there on the security tapes, Napoleon.  His voice print matches the...assassin's.  The fingerprints on the murder weapon match.  Illya Kuryakin killed the son of General Ashumen."

            "But why?" Mark asked the question on everyone's mind.

            Alexander Waverly, U.N.C.L.E.'s Chief of Operations, was uncommonly quiet as he stared out the window, his back to the room.  It was some time later when he turned around.  By then, Napoleon had already dismissed Mark and April.

            The two men, as close as father and son, looked into each other's eyes.

            "Find him, Mr. Solo," Alex said without emotion.

            "...and when I do, Sir...?"

            "You will arrest Mr. Kuryakin.  The charge," he said unnecessarily, "is murder."

 

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They met in a dank, dingy, rundown warehouse.

            "I knew you would be the one to find me," Illya Kuryakin said, his gun trained on his partner and best friend.

            "You didn't make it easy," Napoleon Solo said amiably, his gun trained on his partner and best friend.  "May I ask why you shot General Ashumen's son?"

            "Why else?  For money!"

            "I never would have pegged you as a gun for hire.  Of course, I wouldn't have pegged you for a cold blooded murderer, either.  What happened to you...?"

            "I got tired of trying to right the wrongs in this world and never having anything to show for it.  I have seen how the other side lives and I want my slice of the cake.  When Colonel Nobuk approached me and offered me one million dollars to kill the son and weaken Ashumen, well...you always did say I was a clever Russian."

            "Not clever enough.  After all, I found you."

            "I let you find me, Napoleon.  I knew you would never stop searching for me, and I did not want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder."

            "So what now?  You shoot me?  I shoot you?"

            "It does not have to be this way, Napoleon.  Come with me.  Share my wealth."

            "It's tempting...but the answer is no."

            "I see..." Illya said dejectedly.  "I suppose it is too much to hope you will let me go...?"

            "I'm sorry..."

            "I am sorry, too," Illya said, firing off one round, hitting Napoleon square in his chest and sending him reeling back in a lifeless sprawl on the dirty cement flooring.  The gun's discharge echoed eerily off the walls.

 

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"How is he, Doctor?" Alexander Waverly confronted the Chief of Staff.  Although his voice was strong, the last 48 hours seemed to have aged the Number One of Section One.

            "He's fine, Alex.  Just a little worse for wear.  I'm only keeping him overnight for observation."

            "May I see him?"

            "Certainly.  Napoleon is in with him now..."

 

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"How do you feel?" Napoleon asked the lithe blond lying in the hospital bed.

            "Stupid!" Illya groused.  "I was taken in by the oldest trick in the book.  Learn from me, my friend.  If a kindly old woman stops you to ask for directions, shoot her!"

            Napoleon burst out laughing.  "I'll take it under advisement!"

            "One thing puzzles me," Illya said, his brow furrowed.  "The imposter looked and sounded exactly like me.  It was like staring into a mirror.  And yet you said you knew within an instant he was not me.  How?"

            "Colonel Nobuk did his homework.  He knew you have a penchant for wearing black, and that you wear a gold wedding band.  What he didn't know is you had given me your ring a week ago so I could have it engraved.  Once your doppelganger named Nobuk as being the mastermind behind the assassination, the jig was up.  After our men swept in and arrested the imposter, we found you tied up in a back room."

            "When I heard the gun shot..."  Illya closed his eyes.  "I was afraid you were..."

            "Dead?  Nah!  The bastard did manage to ruin my suit, however!"

            "I am thankful you were wearing a bulletproof vest..."

            "Same here!  Oh, before I forget, I picked this up yesterday," Napoleon removed a gold ring from his shirt pocket.

            Illya took the ring and read the inscription on the inner band:  "Property of Solo...?"

            "Well, you are!" Napoleon slipped the ring on the Russian's finger.  "You belong to me, and I belong to you."

            As the lovers shared a reaffirming kiss, Alexander Waverly stood at the door, watching them.

            He smiled with satisfaction.  'All's well that ends well!'

 

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