"How do we get in?" 
   "When this was built also made were tunnels leading to different sections of Uncle. In theory we can walk round all of headquarters without being seen." Before Landa could ask any more questions Kuryakin was climbing up a drainpipe, Landa took one long breath in a vain attempt to slow his heart rate and followed. After what seemed an age they reached the top and Kuryakin rolled onto his back, his arm across his eyes. Landa bit his lip and looked away, it was obvious that Kuryakin was in pain but what does one say to a dour Russian? Being this man’s partner wasn’t easy for a fun loving American.
    "Right… Now, let me think! Yes, that’s it! That tile over there, remove it, Landa."
    His feet slid on the slime causing him to slither the whole distance on the seat of his pants and just stopped himself from falling off the edge of the building by shear luck. He lifted the tile and examined the cleat hidden underneath. This time he needing no orders and tightly fastened the rope to it.
    In silence Kuryakin climbed down at the same time making the rope begin to swing while Landa let out a low moan. Maybe this might be the time to confess to Kuryakin that heights were not on his favourite things to do list. The moan turned to a muffled shout as he saw Kuryakin jump from the swinging rope and land catlike on a small flat piece of roof, he was expected to do that? Unfortunately it seemed like the wrong time to argue and following Kuryakin’s example at the ropes widest swing he let go and was relieved to find a strong hand grasping his belt and pulling him away from the edge.
    "Not very good with the jumping are you?"
    Landa managed a weak smile and wondered what Solo would have said to the smug Russian who was already removing another tile, this time uncovering a large red button. Once pushed a small section of roof parted and both agents managed to squeeze through the small hole. More surprises met Landa as a panel was removed, switches pushed and dim blue lights flickered on to illuminate the labyrinth of tunnels in front of them and a large letter A painted on the wall. As if from nowhere Kuryakin produced a map and spread it on the floor. Small black squares were printed at various points and curiosity overcame the young agent.
   "What are those?" he asked trying to conceal the tremor in his voice. The bitter truth of the whole situation was beginning to reach through to him. He was a partialy trained agent and was about to take on the might of THRUSH. Kuryakin had to repeat the answer before Landa really heard.
    "That means a room with a window."
    "I see... No, I don't see, that room hasn’t got a window!"
    "You can’t see them while you’re in the room because they look like ceilings or walls, but from up here… Well you look down and can see everything that’s going on."
     They continued down the tunnels in silence both wondering what had happened inside U.N.C.L.E. headquarters and if like the base in Norway it was already too late for any rescue.

Solo woke up from the nightmare slowly and painfully. He had dreamed of gas, of a terrible invasion and lots of gas. Far away he could hear voices, fuzzy and indistinct. He opened his eyes again briefly before the brightness of the lights forced them shut. The sluggish feeling of the nightmare hung on and he shook himself in an effort to rid the visions that haunted his numb brain. Keeping his head lowered to avoid the lights he slowly looked around the room and the nightmare continued. He was in Waverly’s office, hard ropes dug into the flesh of his wrists, next to him was Jackson, head down and still unconscious. Waverly was stood across the room, a gun pointed to his head. Five other men were sorting through papers, breaking into drawers and laughing. Waverly was pushed towards a chair where he too was tide as another man casually flicked through monitors, searching corridors and rooms for any sign of resistance. Solo noted with horror that all the doors were closed, computers still, lights flickered on the panels but not in their usual sequence and not even a hiss came from the communications panel. Men in THRUSH uniforms seemed to be in every room, emptying every drawer onto the floors, U.N.C.L.E. was dead!
    The numbness in his brain began to wear off leaving a thumping pain across his temples. How could this have happened, what about all the security, all the modern devises that should stop this happening?
    "How did they get in, Sir?" he asked leaning towards Waverly.
    "Arh, Mr Solo, glad you have rejoined us. I fear that I know as much as you and that noise is becoming increasingly annoying."
    "Noise? Yes, I hear it, I thought it was in my head. No, I know that noise, they’re jamming us."
    "Of course, of course! The Blinker Stopper wasn’t the perfume it’s a jammer which means we can’t get in or out and no one will know of our dilemma until the time check. I believe we are in a bit of a… what would you young people say?"
    "Pickle, Sir," said Solo quietly amazed at Waverly’s calmness. It was a good two hours before the time when Waverly should signal and it that time…
    A small red light flashed on the console in front of him, it flashed once again then remained steady.
    "He’s in!" said Waverly his grey eyes lighting up.
    "Sir?"
    "The old tunnels above and around us, that’s the warning light that someone is in them."
    "Illya, Sir?" The smile answered the question and Solo let his head drop back against the padding on the chair. What good would it do? One man against an army and that man at the moment was slow, he wouldn’t last five minutes. He struggled against the ropes and was rewarded by a sharp blow to the chin. As blackness overcame him he murmured, you’re on your own this time, Illya.

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