The Deadly Agent Affair. By Sepia

"Have you heard from Illya, Sir?"
    "A communications blackout is in force at the moment. But, I can assure you, Mr Solo, that he is being closely monitored." A small smile flickered and died as Waverly glanced into the face of his chief enforcement officer, Napoleon Solo. Concern for his partner was obvious and despite the enchanting smile directed at the woman who handed him a file, a deep frown furrowed his brow.
    "Who�s doing backup?" he asked watching the woman as she left the office.
    "Emergency, channel D, code 7 call, we have an emergency�"
    "What is the nature of your emergency, Mr Slate?" asked Waverly already putting into action backup plan B. "Have your teams ready! Emergency backup grid point 456�"
    "We are surrounded� They have us pined down� Cannot get to Illya�"
    "� London NW� Grid point 456, give instant assistance�" Solo continued to instruct the backup team as Waverly tried to hold the signal from Mark Slate.
    "Do not let him out of your sight� I repeat, it is imperative that Mr Kuryakin does not fall into Thrush hands� Mr Slate, are you receiving me� Answer please, Mr Slate�" A static hum was all that came from the communicator and one long burst of gunfire. Waverly sighed and closed the link, his slow thoughtful pacing brought Solo back into action.
    "What is Illya carrying, Sir?" he asked glancing at his watch.
    "Was I suspect, Mr Solo. If Thrush have him then Uncle is in a great deal of danger�"
    "Illya won�t talk�" Solo said sitting on the edge of the table and glancing anxiously towards the communications array.
    "Oh, but he will, Mr Solo�" he leaned towards the agent and slamming his cane hard on the table continued angrily. "� You young men seem to think you are indestructible. So far you have been lucky�" he sighed deeply and lowered his voice so that he sounded almost gentle. "Not this time, young man. The people that I suspect to have Mr Kuryakin are known for their methods of interrogation� He will talk, Mr Solo, he will have no choice."

A searing pain caused Slate to drop the communicator and he watched helplessly as it dropped out of sight into a patch of nettles. The bullet had luckily only removed skin from the back of his hand and until that moment not one shot had been fired in his direction. THRUSH were concentrating all their firepower on one small blond agent they had pinned behind the dubious shelter of a rotten shed. Rapping a handkerchief around his hand to protect it from more injury Slate groped blindly through the stinging plants. He must find the communicator and verify that backup was on its way. Glancing back toward the shed he sighed deeply, any backup was going to come too late. Kuryakin had signalled that he was on his last clip and now he was totally surrounded. As Slate�s hand finally grasped the cold metal of the pen he smiled sadly back at Kuryakin and signalled again, checking the Russian�s latest signal. Almost as if the young man was heading only for a business meeting, he looked across to Slate and pointed to his open mouth and nodded without any sign of emotion. Slate mimicked someone cutting their throat and frantically shook his head. Relief flooded through him as a thin smile traced across the Russian�s face and he mouthed the word �no.�
    Flashing florescent lights of every shape and colour whirled before Mark Slate�s eyes, one brief moment of pain accompanied the spectacular pyrotechnical display. Before the lights faded into the black abyss of unconsciousness he saw Kuryakin fire his final round, place a finger in his mouth and remove the cap from one of his teeth and bite down. Calmly, he stood hands raised, to face the inevitable.

"We�ve got Illya�s location, Sir."
    "Go ahead," murmured Waverly already walking over to the large map on the wall. For one brief moment Solo watched the woman, her tight skirt fully revealing her perfect shape underneath, the usual smile only hovered for a moment then died as his mind pulled back to the subject closest to his mind. Even the seductive tone in her voice failed to gain the usual second look.
    "Slate�s trace is located at L 456, static. The team is five minutes away�"
    "And Illya?" asked Solo tracing an outline on the map.
    "Up until a few moment ago he was moving. Now he�s static at L 483." Solo couldn�t fail to notice the sadness and fear in her voice and automatically shrugged his shoulders. The Solo charisma would not work on this woman, his partners aloof blue-eyed magnetism had already won.
    "Strike unit U4 proceed immediately to L 483 and�"
    "Sir?"
    "This location has been under our surveillance for some time. On the outside an ordinary isolated farmhouse, on the inside a Thrush Satrap� U4, remove that base immediately�"
    "Sir, you can�t do that!" once again Solo interrupted. The pleading look in the girl�s eyes had done nothing to influence his insubordination, some other deep down impulse made him place his hand over the microphone and prevent Waverly from sending out the order.
    "Are you questioning my authority?"
    "No, well yes, Sir, I am, Illya�s in there!"
    "And that is the main reason for destroying that base. I can�t have that young man reveal our secrets no matter what you think�"
    "I can get him out�" Solo�s grip tightened on the microphone.
    "No, Mr Solo, not this time. By the time you get to England� By the time the backup team gets to that base it will already be too late." A grip that to Solo should have come from a man half the age of Waverly wrenched the microphone from his grasp. "U4, remove that base."
    "Slate on the line, Sir," the girl almost shouted yet her eyes never left the map and the thin red line that was fast approaching L 483 and Kuryakin.
    "Your report please," the old man sounded angry and his grey eyes fixed on Solo with almost distain.
    "Mr Waverly, stop the backup team from coming into this area�" Solo had worked with Slate more than once and trusted his insight. Quickly he instructed the team to remain at a distance even before Slate could finish his sentence.
    "I was knocked out from behind and for some reason left. I have a Thrush uniform and pass."
    "What are your intentions?" asked Waverly already knowing the answer.
    "Illya has taken L-Pill 12�" The shuddered that ran through Solo was noticed by Waverly as was the beads of sweat and the tightly clenched fist; the very mention of the L-Pill was every agent�s dread.
    "Why they labelled this substance in the L group I have no idea. What it has done, Mr, um, Solo is given us more time!" A low sigh of relief came from Solo as Waverly spoke again. "U4, stand down and await further orders. For your information, Mr Solo, the substance Mr Kuryakin has taken is an experimental drug that counteracts the affects of sodium pentathol. I am yet to be shown the good effects of this; Thrush will use other methods to extract the information. Mr Slate, continue please."
    "I can get in, Sir. I still have all my special equipment so expect a rescue soon."
    "Wait!" said Solo again grabbing the microphone. "Think for a moment, why aren�t you captive too? I smell a trap, Mark!"
    "It appears as if they assumed I was only an inferior agent. From the outset they left me well alone and at the end I think they believed I was dead."
    "Watch your back, Mark."
    "And er, Mr Slate, use the earpiece and tiepin in place of the pen communicator, this way you will be able to keep us informed at all times. And� if, ahem, Kuryakin gives the slightest hint that he is about to inform�"
    "Yes, Sir, I know the procedure� Napoleon, before you start, it won�t come to that."

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