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Sluicing

Flanked by Joe the Lawyer and Jack the fireman, Kuryakin gave them the shortest of briefings.

�� Joe will take the ground team in��

�� Do-ya trust em, Ill-ya?� said Jack prodding one of the MI6 agents with the end of a vicious looking rake.

�� No, Jack, but I would hate to be them if they step out of line.� He grinned and added to MI6, �Have you ever been stabbed by a rake?� Both men eyed the thirty, one-foot long prongs that made up the end of the rake and shook their heads.

�� No fear, Illya. We are fully with you.�

The Spitfires made there first attack while MI6 and Joe�s team scattered and headed for the farmhouse. Carefully aimed bursts of bullets tore into the grass and kept any THRUSH agents within the farmhouse. It was a gamble, but Kuryakin believed that as the flood sirens were sounding all important personnel would be underground in their safe, waterproof domain. Solo and Crawshaw would also have been taken there, leaving minimum guards for the children. Mass confusion would already be taking place, not everyday would they have encountered an army as fierce as Kuryakin�s. The local people had even thought to alter their appearance by covering faces with blackcurrant juice and dying their hair with nettle and privet. The green haired, purple skinned beings even caused the MI6 agents to fear what they could be capable of doing. The Lancasters circled, dropping bombs of cow dung as close to windows as possible. The Tigers let off magnificent trails of blue smoke that would enhance the skins of the people and one little red fire engine pumped black water from one of the dikes and sprayed it over the doors. Within minutes the area stank so badly that everyone began coughing and three THRUSH operatives appeared at the window with white flags. The cheering was so loud as the children were reunited with brave fathers and grandfathers that Kuryakin had to wait for several minutes before the next orders were given. He didn�t want to lose any civilian life so everyone was ordered back. Those carrying the children obeyed, but adrenaline was raised, they had been refused the kill, even jabbing with smaller rakes had been banned. Kuryakin compromised, one small group of war veterans would follow him into the base, the rest would surround the field to prevent anyone escaping. Everyone must remain clear when the �air force� made the final attack, for this time real bombs would be used.

�� You two, I don�t know your names,� he said addressing the MI6 agents. �You lead my team. Capture all you can, but you have my authority to use lethal force.�

�� Illya, I don�t know if you can do this. You are going to blow up, with large bombs an English farmhouse and you are giving permission to use firearms, in England without any backing from Uncle�� said Slate beginning to get very worried, an outbreak of war in England was going to be very difficult to explain.

�� I�m already in this up to my neck. A few more illegally things aren�t going to matter.�

�� That reminds me, Illya,� one MI6 replied. �The Oxcart?�

�� It�s in one piece. I give it back soon, ok?�

Breaking the trapdoor with a stick of very old dynamite was easy and Kuryakin closely followed by Slate, Joe the Lawyer, Jack the fireman, two MI6 agents and a host of assorted veterans began their decent into THRUSH�s den. Further down they split up with only Kuryakin and Slate heading deeper in the search for Solo and Crawshaw.

�� Mark, they will have already begun work on Napoleon so you leave him to me. I know exactly what they will target with him.�

�� Although they didn�t have their usual weapons they were well armed and soon found out that they needed every bit of firepower. The walls shuddered very slightly and Kuryakin scowled. Joe the lawyer must have already got back out and as instructed ordered the bombers in. They had heard no gunfire which meant no Thrush had been encountered by the other team. This meant only one thing, they were below them, waiting. The worrying thing was that the bombs from the Lancasters were not getting through. THRUSH must have taken precautions and made the place secure from air attack. He leaned on the wall for a moment then sank down to sit on his haunches.

�� Are you alright, Illya?�

�� Well, not exactly. You know I told you my wound was ok? It�s not, exactly.� Slate quickly examined Kuryakin�s shoulder and shook his head.

�� It�s opened up, Illya and I don�t have a field dressing.�

�� It�s ok. I just feel a little dizzy. I�ll survive.�

�� Slate knew that Kuryakin was becoming weaker by the minute and that it wasn�t just from loss of blood. They were on familiar territory now, each step taking them closer to the room where Kuryakin had been tortured. Solo would undoubtedly be there but could Kuryakin take that final step and go into that room?

�� Another shudder across the building told of the bombers fruitless mission. If they managed to rescue their men they still faced the problem of how to eliminate those hiding deep within the safe walls.

�Illya, my sweet little boy! I knew you would come back to me!�

�� Steady, Illya, we need her ali�� Slate never finished the sentence. In one moment, the instant he entered the room and saw Roma all trace of Kuryakin vanished. He once again became the deadly agent that Slate had taken back to U.N.C.L.E.. An agent speaking only Russian and bent on revenge. Before Slate could stop him bullet after bullet slammed into Roma and the THRUSH guards opened fire. Pushing Kuryakin to the floor, Slate returned fire and tried to calm Kuryakin. He had become a killing machine. Each bullet fired from his gun found its lethal mark until Slate finally knocked the gun from his hand. THRUSH had abandoned the room, their dead and Solo, in panic.

�� Illya! Can you hear me?�

�� Da.�

�� No, no, Illya! Not again, I need your help!�

�� Not again, what?�

�� Relief rushed through Slate so fast that for a moment all he could do was swear, then on seeing Kuryakin�s look of disproval he laughed, �Don�t criticize me, look around the room. I think a few swear words are better than your way of expressing anger.�

�� Kuryakin had already looked around the room and found one of the things he wanted, Solo.

�� He looks a lot better than you did,� observed Slate once again relieved. He had expected Solo to have already been tortured to the extent Kuryakin had been. The only difference appeared to be total disinterest in what was going on around him. Whilst the bullets had been flying Solo hadn�t moved as if he was unafraid of being shot.

�� Stay here, Mark. I need to talk to Napoleon. I know exactly what they have done.� Swaying slightly, Kuryakin stood next to Solo and shook his head. �She didn�t do that thing, Napoleon. Do you know that?�

�� Illya, just go away!�

�� Do you trust me?�

�� Go away, Illya!�

�� Look at me, Napoleon!� Kuryakin slapped him on the face to make him look into his eyes. At the same time he reached around to the back of Solo�s head and removed a device. For only a second he placed it to his ear then with surprising force threw it to the ground and stamped upon it many times.

�� Now listen to my voice! Roma is dead. Only my voice is important!�

�� Illya! Get lost!�

�� In all the time you have known me, did I tell you lie? No! You moan at me for not being American with your�how you say? White lies? You say people not like me because I tell too much of the truth. Napoleon, are you listening?�

�Yes, Illya but I just want to be alone.�

�I will tell the truth now. Do you trust me, Napoleon?�

Tortured beyond belief Solo managed to look into the clear blue eyes. He knew deep down that Kuryakin had been through the same torture. He also knew he no longer had the will to live.

�I trust you, Illya.�

�That is good. They did not do this thing. You still have wick no matter what you feel or what she said. Wick is still good for dipping, ok?�

Solo�s eyes opened wide. He knew what they had done�then slowly the room began to clear, the pain vanished, the voice in his head vanished and he realized just what his Russian friend had said, �Wick, Illya?�

�Yes, he is not damaged.�

Now Solo began to laugh. Maybe from relief or perhaps because of the large blue eyes so innocently watching the whole world. Mainly it was joy that caused the laughter. He was still in possession of his manhood and Kuryakin was nearly in possession of English, both were cured.

�Now for next problem. Where is Crawshaw?�

�Problem solved! Down one flight of steps, first door on the right. Unharmed the last time I saw him,� said Solo leaning heavily on Slate. He realized as soon as he was freed from the metal bed just how weak his legs were and gratefully accepted help.

�And the next problem, Illya!� added Slate as the building shuddered again. �All Thrush personnel are hiding in this building. How do we get them out?�

�Problem solved!� smiled Kuryakin one again reading a sign on the wall �In case of sluicing, push here.� �To the top quickly!�

�Crawshaw?�

�I�ll be back!� said Kuryakin running ahead of them. It seemed as if all trace of weakness had vanished.

�Jack!� he shouted as he ran from the ruins of the farmhouse. His team had been busy in his absence and after the first bomb-run on the farmhouse they had immediately begun clearing wreckage from the trapdoor, then retreated whilst the second unproductive run took place.

�� Jack, where are the sluice gates?�

�� I got you, boy! Not bad idea that one. Over here they are but you haven�t got the strength to turn em,� Jack yelled from half way across the field as Slate lowered Solo to the ground and frowned.

�� Running towards Jack, Kuryakin suddenly realized how breathless he had become and for a moment he stopped as the field began to whirl in front of him. Blood dripped from the end of his fingers and he pushed Joe the Lawyer out of the way.

�� Let me see to it, Illya.�

�� Later! I need to finish this job.� Fighting to keep his eyes focused he looked at the beautiful fitting on the end of a green pipe. It was painted the same green with large wheels painted red and gold.

�� All ya do is turn that wheel and the gate opens. Can ya turn it?�

�� No, Jack, that is your job. I have an agent to rescue and a button to press. Make sure everyone is off that field and have the Spitfires ready.�

�� You can�t go back in!� shouted Joe as soon as he realized what Kuryakin had planned. �Ok, I know that look by now. But remember, Crawshaw first, button second or you have no chance.�

�� Take care of Napoleon,� he said running back towards the ruins. Once he disappeared down the trapdoor Jack turned the wheel.

Joe�s words ran around his brain. He knew them to be true but now he had little choice. The instant he had returned he had been met by several THRUSH operatives in the same corridor. On seeing him they had turned back and ran. One, probably another high-ranking yob, began shouting. �Kuryakin in the building, kill Crawshaw!�

�� There was only one way to impede them. He hesitated only for a second, then pushed the button.

�What�s happening?� asked Solo as his senses returned and another Spitfire flew low over the ground raking it with gunfire.

�� Rising!� shouted Jack.

�� Thrush are coming out!�

�� Mark, I asked what was happening?�

�� Jack has opened the flood gates. Illya has opened all vents in that building. In a very short time it will be under water.� The field still looked green and dry. Only Jack�s constant yelling about the height of the water and several THRUSH rushing, wet, from the trapdoor told of what was happening underground.

Dark, stinking water was already up to Crawshaw�s neck as Kuryakin reached him. Quickly he pulled the tape from his mouth and dove down to try untying his feet. The rope was already slippery with slime and Kuryakin�s fingers had not the strength to remove them. Once again he swam around the room diving and searching for something to cut the rope. Crawshaw began to splutter as water reached his nose. Panic began to make him struggle which in turn tightened the ropes. Down again into the rising water and this time success, his hands grasped a shattered mirror. He began slicing into the ropes, frequently coming up for air and checking Crawshaw was still above it. Once his feet were free it then became a race against time. Crawshaw�s hands were still tied to the wall and his face was under the water. Kuryakin hoped he could hold his breathe long enough to free him.

�Bottom two floors must be under.�

�� Where are they?� asked Solo pacing up and down.

�� There�s still time, Napoleon. Illya will do it.�

�� How bad is that arm?�

Crawshaw coughed violently as he broke the surface and managed a smile of thanks to his rescuer. The water was nearly up to the ceiling and once again they had to dive to find the way out. Objects swirled around them, banging into arms and legs, tearing into skin. They moved only by touch, all remaining light had long since been extinguished in a colorful display of sparks. The stairs upwards only found by luck, they began to climb upwards towards freedom. Crawshaw continued along the final corridor with only a foot of air left. Finally a small glow of light and a distant voice calling. He reached for the hand and was pulled through the trapdoor.

The cheer began and instantly faded into silence as Crawshaw began to walk across the wet grass.

�� Where�s Illya?� shouted Solo on his feet now and racing across the field. Crawshaw turned, swore loudly and ran back.

�� Crawshaw! It�s too late!� Joe shouted in vain and with the help of Slate prevented Solo from going after him. They backed up to a higher piece of ground as the grass finally disappeared under the water. Jack turned the wheel and the flow stopped.

Nature was the only one who could lower the water and that might take weeks. The sound of bells heralded the arrival of the police force, sent from the City some twenty miles away. With them came the Gamekeeper and Waverly accompanied by a few agents from both sides. They began loading the captured THRUSH into the back of a borrowed cattle wagon. Waverly said nothing to his surviving men, only acknowledging their presence with a nod.

�� He�s got im!� yelled Jack pointing frantically across the darkening field. Crawshaw had appeared from nowhere and carried the limp form of Kuryakin.
�Medic!�

�� Joe ran to him and taking Kuryakin laid him gently on the ground. �It�s too late, Crawshaw. He�s been down too long. You were gone over twenty minutes.�

�� No! When I found him he was still alive. He was in an air pocket and that was only minutes ago!� He collapsed exhausted next to Kuryakin while Solo, Joe and Slate began trying to resuscitate Kuryakin. A crowd gathered around and stood silent waiting for a miracle. The Lancaster did one more run, with its engines purring the wings dipped to salute their leader and it slowly flew into the setting sun.

�� Out of my way, man!� a familiar voice said. A cane cleared a path through onlookers and he bent down next to Solo. He made a fist and thumped Kuryakin full on the chest and shouted, �Breath, man! That is an order!�

�� One long drawn out breath was heard. One long fit of coughing. Then the cheering obliterated everything apart from Waverly�s smile.

�� Finally, he obeys an order. Keep up the good work, Kuryakin.�

�� I doubt it!� whispered Crawshaw. �Joe, I know you, don�t I?�

�� A long while ago, boy.�

�� What you said then, about not all Russians being the same? You were right, most are worth saving and some are great.�

Riding in the only available transport to the hospital was not Solo�s idea of fun. Then he sighed with relief as the tractor and trailer pulled into an airfield. Waiting for them was one of the Lancasters, apparently on Waverly�s orders. He helped Kuryakin get aboard and then apologized.

�� I just don�t know how I hit you!�

�� Well you know the saying we all make mistakes?�

�� Oh, yes!�

�� Well you didn�t. By then I had my memory back and decided just to play games. I fired the gun� it hit the shed�it bounced off� and hit me.�

�� You shot yourself?�

�� Da, Napoleon.�

�� You really are the deadliest agent we have, aren�t you?�

��END