Storm Warning

"I’m really hungry." Crawshaw mumbled for the third time in an hour. Even though Solo ignored him he was forced to agree with the young man. The vision of Roast lamb followed by strawberries and cream became stronger as they maneuvered though the mud laden field. He could smell and taste it. A thin laugh left him as he bent towards the lush green plants, crushed the leaves and inhaled the aroma.
    "Mint!"
    "Lamb," added Crawshaw.
    "Now we have to block out the smell and head for the dessert."
    "I want strawberries and cream."
    "That’s the other smell in the air, somewhere close is a strawberry field. I can guarantee that Illya will have headed that way."
    All worldly cares seemed to vanish and for the first time since their enforced partnership they laughed together as they gorged themselves on the large ripe fruit. U.N.C.L.E. disappeared and they became transported back to the carefree days of childhood as their lips and fingers became stained with the delicious juice. A distant rumble failed to disturb them as did the moan in the nearby trees. In the middle of the field the sun still shone, hot enough to blister fair skin and ripen more strawberries. Crawshaw stood to ease the pain in his back caused only by crawling through the fruit in an effort to better the record sized berry found and greedily devoured by Solo.
    "Mortar!" he yelled throwing himself to the ground and murdering several hundred strawberries as he did. The thundering echo of the explosion still vibrated across the ground as Solo stood laughing and pointing at Crawshaw.
    "What?" he asked scowling and trying to remove squashed berries from every piece of clothing.
    "That, my clever agent was a bird scarer. Somewhere in this field is a large canon that fires an explosive charge to scare all that trespass, us included."
    Both men stood laughing like schoolboys as the canon sent another warning. Having stood both men could see the predicament they were in, all around them black, fast moving clouds had formed and lightning began to flicker more frequently. Darker clouds seemed to be hanging too close to the ground. The canon boomed again and mixed with the crash of thunder as the gentle whisper of the trees began to heighten. Crawshaw only shrugged and bent to gain the prize of the biggest strawberry ever grown when the cannon sounded again. The strawberry was flattened as Solo threw him flat on the ground.
    "Now it’s mortar!" shouted Solo as the boom turned to a high-pitched whistle. A large hole appeared a few feet from the agents covering them in mud and strawberry soup.
    "This can’t happen in England!" shouted Crawshaw pointing at the clouds and diving to the ground as another boom announced yet another attack by the bird scarer and adding to his misery large hailstones dropped from the angry sky. The two men began to run as the wind picked up, the cannon boomed, lightening struck, hail bruised their exposed skin and three tiny tornados not much bigger than Solo picked up strawberries and hurled them at the men.
    Once tucked up in the relative un-safety of a large prickly hedgerow Crawshaw began his unceasing yap although this time Solo listened and joined in.
    "What God does that little Russian worship?"
    "I was hoping this was coincidence but when I eventually speak to him again I will ask why he never used the wrath of the Heavens on Thrush before now, we could have used it."
    "And Napoleon, how do we explain to Waverly?"
    "We lost Illya because…No, I think we forget it. What I will not forget is that that angelic looking little blond tried to blow me up."
    "Huh?"
    "The bird scarer has been turned into a weapon of war by someone capable of tapering with such things."
    "Illya did that? I got to get him to teach me a few things when you eventually tame him." Solo began to laugh then stopped, confusion stung his brain. The situation seemed to have changed. He had started to like the unlikable Crawshaw and begun to doubt that Illya would never hurt him. Crawshaw had started to speak fondly of Illya yet he had sworn to kill all Russians. Was this the brainwashing? If it was then what was reality? Pulling himself together and pushing all doubts to the back of his mind he signalled to Crawshaw that they would sneak around to catch Illya at the bird scarer.

It was no surprise to find that Kuryakin had vanished as quickly as the dark clouds. The sun beat down merciless on the two agents as they walked slowly into a small village. No sign of life could be seen and Solo wondered how people could be happy living in a place like this, picturesque though it was. No bars, restaurants, clubs or fashionable shops, just a small fish and chip shop, one lamppost and a newsagents that sold everything possible including maggots. Solo had just begun to think that the Musician had captured all the occupants when he spotted two men dressed in winter clothes.
    "Storm comin."
    "Yep, you rite, storm comin." They both muttered all the way down the small road until they disappeared into a larger building that could have been a church.
    "Do you think we should tell them that storm been and gone?" asked Crawshaw laughing and raising his arms to the vivid blue sky. Although Solo wanted to answer and resume the schoolboy attitude the men had shared on the field he kept silent and eyed the village streets warily. He always had a sixth sense when danger was concerned, some called it luck, but he knew now that he was being watched. He visibly jumped and muttered about his nerves being in shreds when a man and a rusty bicycle appeared from a tiny gap between two houses.
    "City fool, storm comin. The bells been ringing."
    "Storms been," said Crawshaw trying to imitate the man’s drawl.
    "That were just the Henrys."
    "Henrys?"
    "Baby whirlwinds they is. When I were a boy at sea I saw whirlwinds that were bigger than this town…" Solo interrupted before he had a full description of a tornado and life as a sailor then instantly regretted it, for before he could ask if Illya had been seen the man muttered something about ‘rude city folks’ and disappeared down another small cap between the houses.
    "What did he mean about the bell?" asked Crawshaw then dropped to one knee and fired his gun. "There!" he shouted pointing to a small running figure.
    "Crawshaw, don’t you even think about shooting him," Solo warned diving behind a wall as Kuryakin returned fire.
    Kuryakin held his ground, his gun fixed firmly on Crawshaw and the sun glinting on his blond hair.
    "Illya!" shouted Solo lowering his gun and forcing Crawshaw to do the same. "I know you’re on our side. You can help us."
    "Neit!" he said sending a shot between Solo and Crawshaw.
    "You are Uncle, I am Uncle." A shot rang out again this time removing a small amount of skin from Crawshaw’s head and before Solo could prevent it Crawshaw fired in return. Kuryakin dropped to one knee, turned to look at Solo then ran unsteadily towards the nearby cliffs.
    "You hit him," shouted Solo angrily shoving Crawshaw against the wall and removing yet another piece of skin.
    "I didn’t!"
    "You tried to kill him!"
    "Yesterday, yes I wanted to kill him, today, I don’t know. What I do know is I aimed wide, very wide."
    Again Solo was confused, usually he knew if someone was insincere, Crawshaw looked as if he was telling the truth, he appeared genuinely distressed that his bullet might have hit Kuryakin. Together the idea came to them that perhaps there was a sniper in the vicinity yet there was nowhere where they could have had a clear shot at Kuryakin. Solo bent to the ground and pointed to a small clump of blood-stained blond hair and glared at Crawshaw.
    "I aimed wide," he insisted then smiled as Solo picked up a small flattered bullet and pointed to a fresh graze on the metal lamppost.
    "Ricochet! You are a lucky man because if I thought you deliberately…"
    "I told you I aimed wide and I am the best shot in Uncle."
    Solo was almost relieved that Crawshaw was back to being his usual bragging self it made him seem normal. He had more on his mind than contradicting Crawshaw about just who was the best, he could still see Kuryakin’s face that moment he had unsteadily stood up, he had held up a bloodied hand and smiled.

The path along the cliff proved to be more of a challenge than Solo had expected. The mud covered track was no wider than a man’s foot and frequently sections vanished as the edge of the cliff slipped onto the stony beach below. Walking away from the edge was impossible as that side of the path led to an impenetrable mess of brambles that reached out and slashed anything that approached.
    "He couldn’t have come this way," said Crawshaw as a yawning hole appeared before him.
    "Then where?"
    "Do you hear that?" Crawshaw pointed towards the grey-brown sea. The wind whistled around them and a distant rumble of thunder began to move behind them, yet above all this was the muffled chime of a single bell.
    "It’s coming from the sea!" said Crawshaw.
    "Must be a buoy out there somewhere. Wait, look there!" A well-dressed man was sat only feet away from them yet separated by a large cliff fall. His back rested on a precarious wall and his feet against a gravestone that hung over the edge. Large listening and recording devises surrounded him and pointed out to sea.
    "Hello," shouted Solo.
    "Why, hello there. Interesting isn’t it? Did you know that this village hasn’t lost one fisherman or boat because of this bell? They say it is the ghosts of sailors that come back to warn them of storms…"
    "And is it?" asked Solo finally interrupting.
    "We doubt it, that’s why we research the phenomena. There are seven churches down there. This gravestone is the last evidence of the seventh. The cliffs erode and take everything with it."
    "And the bell?"
    "We think it is resting on a rock and when the undertow is right, the bell rings. It works though as it does forecast storms."
    "The sea is flat," said Crawshaw eager to get on with the job of finding Kuryakin.
    "Everyone in the village and the surrounding area are preparing. They say the sea will rise and a surge go up all the rivers. The last time it happened there was a massive flood."
    "Very interesting. Have you seen a man pass by you?"

   "Blond? Oh, yes, he headed down."
    "Down?" queried Solo.
    "That’s right. You have to go down to get along. Down to the beach, along, then up the cliff again to the safe bit. Weren’t you told? The cliff you are on is going to go at any minute."
    The rumble sounded again although this time they both knew it wasn’t thunder and they ran. With each step more and more of the cliff fell away taking with it chunks of the small path. Crawshaw managed on shout as he began to slid and he grabbed frantically for something to hold. He found only the brambles, which cut deep into his hand. Desperately he tried to gain a foothold and reach Solo’s outstretched arm, then to his horror Solo turned away, "Illya!" he said pointing to the beach.
    "And me? Get me out of this mess!"
    Solo smiled, reached down and grabbed the agent’s wrist just as the cliff edge gave way. It was so quick neither man had time to react and they fell towards the granite rocks below.