Lights flooded the room within seconds of the agent’s entrance. Solo stood directly in front of Jackson shielding him from view. Jackson immediately activated the communicator hidden in Solo’s hand.
    "Good evening, Gentlemen, I have been expecting you," growled a burly man as he pointed a gun at Solo’s head. "Please sit down."
    "Good evening, my man," said Solo slowly and loudly. "Nice set-up you have here. How did you know we’d be back?"
    "I think you forgot something, didn’t you?"
    "Um, yes, maybe we did. Mind you, I wish I’d brought my backup with me. Do you ever get any trouble with that skylight? I have one and when…"
    "No, Mr Solo, you don’t catch me like that. I look up and you kick the gun from my hands, right?"
    "Got me there. I give up, you knew exactly what my plan was didn’t you." He coughed and Jackson slid the opened communicator into Solo’s back pocket just as two more men entered the room.
    "All clear outside," said one.
    "Well get back out and make sure it stays that way!" he snarled then the sickly sweet tone to his voice returned as he spoke to Solo. "Now, sit down, gentlemen and rest. You are going to have a busy day tomorrow."
    Solo could well imagine the kind of day he was likely to have and could only hope that someone had picked up his message. Metal straps flew around the agent’s wrists and ankles the instant they were seated. Solo gave a deep sigh and laid his head back against the cold worn leather of the chair. Even if he could release the straps and take out the man watching them, escape would prove a problem. Through the door would lead to more guards like the ones who had been sent to watch for reinforcements. These were heavy built morons who had been taught only one thing, hurt the opponent as much as possible before killing. The skylight offered freedom, yet only as a tempting dream. It was far too high up to reach even standing on the battered couch beneath it.

A dark shape move silently in the tree line. A small movement had attracted him and with the stealth of a cat he moved in on his prey. One final leap had the helpless prey in his lethal grasp but the final twist of the neck never came, those finely tuned reactions noticed the small camera gripped tightly in the shaking hand and the prey was thrown to the bracken covered ground.
    "And for why are you here?"
    "Sir, Mr Solo’s life is in danger," said Ivan Landa not daring to look into the cold blue of the Russian’s eyes that seemed only to reflect murder.
    "I heard the distress call. He’s not in danger while I here."
    "I don’t mean from Thrush, I mean…"
    "I know exactly what you mean. What I don’t know is why Thrush want you?"
    "Because," replied Landa beginning to relax slightly. Solo and Kuryakin were his role models and with one at his side, even if it was the cold Russian he felt safe. "I uncovered a plot to remove certain top agents and those who could have replaced them. Because of this…"
    "Solo being one, me the other?"
    "I ran before Mr Waverly could do his brainwash thing. Thrush knows about the photographs that…"
    "Photographs?"
    "I was there, Mr Kuryakin. I not only saw but photographed exactly what happened to your men."
    "The film is safe? Good, I will tell you this much, Waverly knows what happened to me, but believes you were part of it. Nothing can be said at the moment as we are hoping to find out what Thrush are planning by playing their games."
    "And Mr Solo?"
    "He is best not to know, but his nosy nature will figure it out soon. Now, once again to rescue him." A rye smile momentarily flitted across his face. "Now, let’s see how good you are—those guards, those two mine…"
    "And those mine."

Fine rain was beginning to fall as Kuryakin started his climb to the roof. He looked back towards the dark outline of trees where Landa should be watching. He shook his head slowly, the last thing he had wanted was a partially trained renegade agent tagging along. Landa had shown promise in survival school, but this was real life and Kuryakin couldn’t help but notice the howl of triumph when Landa successfully removed his assigned THRUSH guards. It was almost childlike, a pupil giving the thumbs up when passing a new exam. This was a young inexperienced agent thrown into the deep end and the adrenaline rush of a real mission might endanger both their lives.
    This, however, was not showing a good example, his feet again slipped on the wet tiles and only the rope secured to the chimney prevented an embarrassing fall. Once again he tried to swing out towards the skylight and again slid. The wet rope slid from his grasp and he hung desperately by his fingertips to one broken tile as he tried to gain a foothold.

"Gentlemen," began Waverly. "it is with great sadness that I must report that our Norwegian headquarters has been removed."
    "And those in it?" asked Solo.
    "All dead I’m afraid."
    Solo winched, this was every agents dread, it slapped you straight in the face and reminded you of your immortality. He knew many of those people personally, many were friends. His face momentarily showed the distress he felt and he noticed that Waverly too had sadness written in the pale grey of his eyes.
    "Do we know how?" he asked sliding one hand into a pocket and holding his head higher than ever.
    "The receptionist was alive for a few moments, but her story is garbled. She said she had been highly paid. She said something about a device called The Blinker Stopper. All the people in that building had been shot with, by the looks of it, not much retaliation. I can only presume it has something to do with the missing formula."
    Solo let his head drop slightly and his lip curled in disgust. His mission, his failure. "I’ll try again Mr Waverly."
    "Yes, I think that you should." Waverly sighed deeply even as he spoke and turned his back on Solo signaling not only his disappointment but that the talking was at an end.