"He’s got cheek," said Solo. "Number one cleared? Who does he think he is? Of course he’s cleared!"                      "Mr Solo, you must remember everyone is under suspicion, including me." Waverly hadn’t taken this as an insult but Solo had, he wasn’t cleared — him — the top agent! Everyone within U.N.C.L.E. was being checked and double-checked and so far four agents had been debriefed. These were found to be either dependant on morphine or because they had already given information still under the control of THRUSH. One of these turned out to be the operator of communications, most of the information leaked had come from this man. Solo was beginning to wonder if the whole thing was a plan to remove him from U.N.C.L.E., the top agent was always subject to such dangers. Hodder, on the other hand was beginning to think he was subject to a scam to make him appear incompetent, the non-existent channel B was playing on his mind.
    "Mr Hodder, your report, please," asked Waverly.
    "Yes," he stuttered. "Mr Smith is not well enough to make another meeting. He said to tell you, Sir — to tell you…"
    "Get on with it, man," Waverly was growing inpatient, he had lost a lot of good men.
    "He said to tell you to clear communications tonight at eight. He said to say, incoming on Channel B." He waited for the laughs but none came, Waverly just looked puzzled, Solo blank while Slate audibly gasped. All Solo could do was clench his fists, this Mr Smith, how dare he! First he hadn’t cleared him now this!
    It was not on — not this. If he was ever lucky enough to meet him, old or not, he would kill him. Channel B was…
    "Arh!! Of course! I remember!" Waverly’s voice brought Solo back to reality. "Channel B ten years ago, you remember Mr Solo, don’t you? And Mr Slate you were banned from it as I recall, all of you were." Slate just continued to shake his head. "That was what you called the chess channel. You all used it when you were, your words, Mr Solo, you were on boring stakeouts. I never did find out how you managed to break through on a non-existent channel. You had your own code as well didn’t you?"

    "Sir," this time Slate managed to find his voice but it cracked slightly as he spoke. "That was Illya’s channel. I never knew the code and nobody knew how he broke through, we just knew how to answer. Sir, nobody can get through on Channel B, Smith must have meant D. Only Illya could do that and he’s dead, Sir."
    Solo’s mind raced as memories flooded back, Illya was dead — he watched him die. He had refused to talk so THRUSH had killed him. Always instant, a shot to the heart is always instant — it wasn’t! He had laughed, a stupid laugh that he had heard before, the last time he was given too many tranquillisers. It had the same effect on him as too much drink on someone else. He was drunk not dead, instantly drunk. He was hurt and drunk and Solo had left him to burn.

Disclaimer:- The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and it’s characters Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo and Alexander Waverly, is copyrighted by MGM Inc/United Artists and Arena Productions � 1964.
Tzavros belongs to no man apart from himself.