by LRH Balzer
Solo removed his arm from Kuryakin's firm grasp. "I don't like this, Paddy." The American glanced to the center of the room where the two women were awkwardly talking at the table. "Illya just said he didn't like her."
Dunn looked over at the women. "Which one?"
"I don't know." Solo paused for a moment. "Yes, I do. Miep. He was starting to feel sick when she came near. It's sort of a Geiger counter."
Dunn grimaced, crossing his arms. "He was also very sick at the coffeehouse with Hennie."
Solo shot a glance at him, then down at Illya, and then over to the women. "The location was familiar there."
"He lived here, too."
"I still think it's Miep. Her appearance here is too convenient. Look at those two THRUSH men she killed. Do they look like professional agents?"
The dead men were both in their late fifties and needed a shave, a haircut, and a proper suit of clothes.
"I see what you mean. Not the clean-cut mindless young agents THRUSH favors. What about De Jong7'
"I don't know. Last we heard from him, he had reported that the stakeout at the restaurant said the diners were just ordering desert and coffee. That was half an hour ago. Allowing for travel time, they could be here in as little as fifteen minutes. I want to know what is going on before they get here." Solo showed him the pencil rubbing.
Dunn looked at it front and back, shrugged, and handed it back to Solo. "Mysteriouser and mysteriouser."
Solo slipped his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a thin card with four wafer-like, tiny pills taped to it. "Wait five minutes, then give one of these to Illya. It'll jolt him out of this stupor."
Dunn glanced at the U.N.C.L.E. stamina pills, his eyebrows raising. "These'll bounce him off the roof."
"I only need him rational for a few minutes. He can sleep it off later." Solo turned and walked thoughtfully over to the two women. "Miep, thank you so much for your help, but we've got to get you both out of here before they come back. It's too dangerous. Take your car and get out. If you could call this number," he handed them an U.N.C.L.E. Rotterdam card with the telephone number listed, "and tell them we need backup, I would appreciate
Hennie looked over to where Illya lay. "Is he okay?"
"Yes, he'll be fine. Hennie, what exactly were they asking him?"
She swallowed hard and stared at the table. "I wasn't up here all the time. Sometimes they made me stay down in the underground room so I couldn't hear what they were saying, or maybe so I couldn't see what they were doing. I remember Voorne wanted to know about a map he said Kuryakin stole. Where it was, what was on it, stuff like that. The other men from Amsterdam, they were asking about a chemical formula."
"The Inrhysec."
"Yes, they said that name at first. They wanted him to correct it or something. But there was another thing they wanted to know about more: entry codes to his lab. Combinations to safes in your New York office." She glanced again at Illya and Dunn. "They had him hooked up to some sort of electrical thing that made him talk. Paddy said they probably used it on Illya before, and that's why his memory was affected." She sounded the word out carefully, "Electroconvulsive shock, Paddy called it."
Solo's mind was trying to put the pieces together, but there were still some gaps he couldn't leap. Why would THRUSH be interested in the entry code to Illya's research lab in New York? They would not be able to access it without breaking into the U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. And safe combinations? The same problem applied, unless…
Kuryakin jerked and sat up with a startled yelp. Wide-eyed, be got to his feet and staggered over to Solo. Dunn replaced the rest of the pills in his pocket and joined them at the table.
"Illya, do you know this woman?" Solo directed his focusing eyes on Hennie De Groot.
Kuryakin nodded, shaking his head to clear it. He had to gasp for air to keep up with his pounding heart. "From the coffeehouse. . And she's De Groot's niece... Oh... They shot him, didn't they?... I am very sorry, Hennie... " he added as the memory caught up with him. "I'm sorry..."
She blanched as the recollection resurfaced, tears falling down her cheeks. Dunn moved in beside her and pulled her into his arms, letting her cry.
Solo then directed Kuryakin's attention to Miep. "Do you know this woman?" he asked carefully, watching the Russian's face.
He stared at her for a moment, still breathing heavily, pulling air into his lungs. Then, with an unexpected roar, he flew at her, knocking the gun she hadn't had a moment before out of her hand, his fingers around her throat.
Solo tried to pull him off while kicking the gun out of her reach. "Illya! Stop it! She's on our side. She told me how to find you." From the corner of his eye, he saw Brekker had her gun safely out of the way.
Kuryakin couldn't answer him, couldn't talk. Because of the U.N.C.L.E. stamina pill, the rage that flooded him was overwhelming. He yelled in fury as he felt himself being torn away from her.
Solo grabbed him from behind, one arm circling his chest and trapping his arms, the other across his forehead, pulling his head back to rest against his shoulder. "Easy, boy. Easy."
"Let me go, Napoleon." He choked out the words, struggling to get free. "You don't know her." .
Brekker had Miep, half protecting her, half immobilizing her, clearly uncertain of what to do, but taking no chances. "Speak, Kuryakin. What's your beef with Miep?" he asked in English.
Napoleon eased his grip and Kuryakin wriggled out away from him and came at Miep again. Solo knocked him away and he fell to the floor, rolling and trying to stand.
Solo blocked him. "Talk to me. Tell me why you're angry."
Illya tried to look at him and see something beyond the red fury clouding his vision. "I want to kill her," he said. He shook his head, trying to clear out the webs, then glared up at her. "I remember everything, Miep," he snarled.
"Everything?" Miep asked cautiously. "What do you mean?"
Illya got to his feet and walked closer to her, Solo shadowing him. "Everything. Don't tell anyone, Nico," he said in a singsong falsetto, circling her. "It's our secret. Promise not to tell. Promise not to tell anyone." His voice changed to that of a young boy. "I won't tell. Why should I tell? It's just a piece of paper we're trading. Will you please give me the one with no writing on it?" Again the falsetto voice. "Promise you won't tell -- you'll go to hell and burn in the pit and not even Erasmus could save you if you tell." The boy's voice: "I won't tell. Can I have the other paper, now?" Falsetto voice: "Remember the pit, Nico. Here's your paper."
He jumped at her suddenly, but Solo was ready and caught him mid-air, dragging him back, twisting him around to face him. "Calm yourself," he demanded in a voice that made Kuryakin shudder involuntarily. "Don't look at her. She won't get away; Brekker's watching her. Tell me what happened." He clapped his hands on each side of Kuryakin's face, not letting him turn his head. "Talk to me, friend," he said in a quieter voice, trying to focus Kuryakin's attention on what he was saying.
"She-- she--" Kuryakin stuttered, then swallowed and caught his breath, following Solo's instructions to breathe in and out slowly. After thirty seconds he tried again. "Miep has the paper. The one I took. She made me give it to her right after I took it. She's known all along where it was and she was there a few months ago in Rotterdam drawing pictures on my chest with cigarette butts trying to get me to tell where it was. Why?"
Solo allowed him to turn then, but Brekker had already twisted one of her arms behind her back. "Good question, Illya. Do you have an answer for him, Miss Van Daan?"
There was a noise from the doorway. Voorne opened the door all the way and followed his automatic rifle into the warehouse. With him were several of his own agents, several THRUSH agents, including Pol DeWeese from New York, and the head of THRUSH Amsterdam.
"I'm interested in hearing it as well, Miep. Is what this young man says true? You have the paper?" Voorne asked, his face flushed with anger.
Beside him, the THRUSH satrap leader chuckled. "Where do y
ou think our diamond store came from, Voorne? Where do you think THRUSH Netherlands got the money for such elaborate facilities? Release her," he demanded of Brekker, and two THRUSH agents pushed Voorne aside contemptuously and trained their guns on Brekker. "And don't wait for your man outside to help you. He's quite dead."
Reluctantly, Brekker released Van Daan and she started to move past Solo and Kuryakin to the open doorway. Illya struggled to reach her again, but Solo held him tight, aware of the weapons trained on them. "Settle down," he hissed into Kuryakin's ear.
Illya sagged abruptly and Napoleon almost dropped him. "Why did you do all this?" Kuryakin whispered to her in a dry, raspy voice. "I thought you loved my father. He trusted you."
She was halfway out the door, but stopped to laugh at him. "Your father deserted us, you little fool. The war was over, and there was nothing left for him to do here so he took off to America with his Russian friends to find another cause to fight for."
"He said he would send for us," Illya whispered again. "He trusted you. Why did you kill him?"
"I didn't pull the trigger. THRUSH had been looking for Nikolai for some time. I made a deal with THRUSH and told them they could find him when your ship arrived in harbor. With him out of the way, it was no trouble in recruiting most of the younger men into the Zekering."
Illya was having a hard time keeping up with her words. "You made me the bait for my father's murder?" He stood straighter and pulled away from Solo's support. "What did I ever do to you? I was a little boy; I tried so hard to make you like me because father loved you. I don't understand. If you had the paper already, why did you let them do everything to me?"
"I thought you knew everything, Kuryakin." She turned from him, smiling, and walked out the door. "You figure it out."
Chapter Nine: "Facing the Wind'
Voorne had his men collect their U.N.C.L.E. miniature radio transceivers and weapons while others brought inside several bodies of U.N.C.L.E. agents, including De Jong and Vandermeer. "Don't bother coming outside. We have the place surrounded," Voorne said, backing out of the warehouse. Four of the Zekering men stayed, while the rest followed Voorne out. As the warehouse light spilled into the parking area, the U.N.C.L.E. agents could see numerous cars and vans massed around the building.
Brekker's eyes narrowed as he stared across at the bodies of his supervisors, icing over as he realized that with the top four agents dead, he was now the senior U.N.C.L.E. Rotterdam agent. He knelt down beside them, silent for a moment, watching as the Zekering men rapidly went through their pockets and clothing looking for hidden weapons that had been left behind. Paddy Dunn left Hennie and moved to Brekker's side, waiting next to him. When the Zekering men had finished, Dunn and Brekker returned to the center table where the others had gathered.
Solo sat quietly as they talked, his hands over his eyes, half listening to them. His thoughts felt like tennis balls bouncing against a net, unable to leap across the divide, and ricocheting back without getting anywhere. He knew that, outside, Voorne was probably desperately trying to sort things out himself and that brought a fleeting smile to his face.
Kuryakin paced behind him, a caged white leopard, still panting from the adrenaline surge of the U.N.C.L.E. stamina pill racing through his system, the pent-up anger fuelled by double-cross and betrayal. Solo leaned back and caught his arm as he passed, but he pulled away from him, and continued pacing.
"Illya, come sit down. We have to talk."
"No." Kuryakin's face was emotionless, but his eyes and his body betrayed his feelings. Bitterness on top of fury on top of rage on top of abandonment. Miep's betrayal had been a cruel blow.
Solo cleared his throat. "That's an order, Kuryakin."
He halted with his back to them, his body twitching in its desire to rebel, but training and discipline took over and he slipped into the chair next to Solo, cold haunted eyes staring at a fixed spot on the wall opposite them. His breath came in small bursts forced from his lungs; he sat like a fighter in between rounds waiting for the bell to signal action.
"Are you listening?" Solo asked.
"Yes," he answered, still not looking at them, his body swaying in beat to his thudding heartbeat.
Napoleon glanced to Dunn and Brekker. They had no choice but to continue and bide their time. "Illya, the stamina pill only gives us another hour -- at the most -- and we need answers before that."
"Why did she do that to me?" The question tore from a throat already raw. "Why?'
"I don't know," Solo admitted. "She seemed to take a lot of pleasure from it. She wasn't like that before?"
Illya looked at him then, the eyes hard and intense. "How the hell should I know? I was a little kid. How much do you remember about being nine? Or seven? Or five?"
The memories hit him even as he denied it. It was when they first arrived in Rotterdam in late 1943.
Erasmus is very tall and he has a kind face.
Father smiled sometimes and lifted him in the air.
De Groot had a kind face and gave him a piece of gum.
One Eye winked at him.
But Erasmus was tall and his father lifted him to see the book, but he couldn't read it. He hung in the air with his arm around the statue's neck looking down at the big blank pages of the book. His father gripped his legs and held him high so he could see.
De Groot gave him a piece of gum.
One Eye winked and held the gun steady for him and he looked through the scope and pulled the trigger. It was always dusty in the rubble and the dust made him cough.
Don't cough, Nico. One Eye put a gray scarf over his face so the dust wouldn't go in his nose or mouth. It itched.
Don't come back until you've used all the ammunition. And don't waste any of it. Stay hidden. They won't see you. Come back when it gets light. You know the way. De Groot has some gum for you then.
De Groot fed them. He told them about before-the-war. He said that before-the-war, children would gather at noon and wait for the church bells to chime and if they had been good, they might see Erasmus turn the page at the stroke of noon. De Groot gave him a piece of gum because he was crying. Because he would never see the page turn. Because the church was destroyed and there would be no more bells. Erasmus would never turn the page again.
It was dusty and the dust made him cough.
And she would hit him on the back if he coughed. Hard.
Illya could feel the fear ache into his bones. They were talking around him, not looking at him. He felt invisible.
He didn't like her. Father liked her. Father didn't know about her.
They were talking about the formula again. What did they want from him? He didn't know the formula. Why did they want it from him? Why did they think he knew it? Why did they know its name?
"Napoleon?" he interrupted them. "How did they know its name?" He felt Solo turn and look at him but he couldn't pull his gaze from the spot on the wall to look back. A new rush of adrenaline swept him as he felt his mind fighting through the tangled events.
Solo felt it, too. "What name?" he asked, quickly.
"The Inrhysec. They asked me for the formula by the little name. How? I did not know the little name. Only the proper name. How did they know the little name?"
Napoleon caught his thread and pulled. "Illya, when you were in the infirmary after Watson talked to you, you told me you did not know the Inrhysec formula by heart."
"They took it from me. They took it from my subconscious." The swaying continued; he felt blind and drunk.
"Did they? Solo asked quickly. "Are you sure?
"I worked on the formula. I was in charge."
"What about the radar dish?"
"I worked on the radar dish. I told them where it was."
"Do you remember telling them?"
"No. But they destroyed it. I told them."
"What about the Winthrop case, Illya? What about Newman? Where is Newman?"
"Who?"
"Your witness from the Winthrop Case
. Where was he hiding?"
"Winthrop... Bob Newman..." He shook his head, lost. "I don't know. It was in my file. And Waverly knew."
"He's dead now, Illya. THRUSH killed Newman."
"I told them."
"Are you sure?"
"NO, I'M NOT SURE!" he screamed back, swearing at them. "But if he's dead, I MUST HAVE TOLD THEM!"
"THRUSH found out our communications' frequency right after you left. We had to change it."
Illya said nothing, his face sweating, his eyes fixed on the wall ahead. "Hennie, you were here part of the time when THRUSH was questioning him. Tell me what they asked him about again." Solo's voice. Calm now.
"Something about special bullet-proof glass."
"I told them."
"Did he, Hennie? Did you actually hear Illya telling about that formula?"
"No... he was hooked up to that electric machine and was mumbling and they repeated back loudly what he was saying."
Dunn's voice. "What if they already knew it?"
Hennie's voice, tentative. "I remember thinking it was like a movie. Rehearsed, you know. When they asked Illya about it, the questions seemed more for show than anything. The men would look at me to see if I was listening. They would ask him about it, he would mumble something, then they would thank him for the information. It was strange. It made no sense."
Kuryakin found Solo's arm and his fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. "It made no sense, Napoleon." He could hear the hiss of the cigarette on his skin, see her face smiling at him.
She would hit him hard. Sometimes it wouldn't stop.
Dunn's voice again, insistent. "Solo, what if they already knew the formula?"
"Explain."
"What if they already knew and it WAS all for show?" Dunn turned to Hennie, his arm around her protectively, firmly turning her face to look directly at his composed eyes. "Think carefully, Hennie. What else did they ask him? Were there any specific words said that they may have wanted you to remember?"
Silence. "A peace conference. A bullet-proof glass at a peace conference. The guest list."