******************************************************* 

 

BENEATH THE HIMALAYAN MASSIF

 

“That is IMPOSSIBLE.”  Enfield yelled uncontrollably at the trembling messenger.  “Everyone in the ENTIRE COMPLEX?  Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir, quite sure,” replied the white-faced man taking the bad news to his master, who was not used to receiving any such thing.

“GET OUT!”

The messenger, glad to have escaped unscathed, scrambled out.

None of the elite six had been in attendance, of course.  He had anticipated losses.  But everyone in the whole building?  That is impossible, even for me.  

Calm yourself, Paul, he ordered.  We must rethink strategy, strengthen our methods.  The time approaches when all must be in readiness.  If Kuryakin is that strong, he must be made to join.  His mind cleared.  The usual methods of recruitment were of no use here.  There remained one further means of forcing an unwilling member into the fold.  It would be difficult.  It would be done.

************************************************* 

 

“I can’t understand why he remains unconscious,” Susan admitted to Waverly the next night.  “The blood loss has been accounted for.  Simple shock, maybe?  But then I don’t begin to understand what happened in that room last night, either.”

“How are your other two patients coming along?”  Waverly was impatient with this interruption, but determined not to show it. 

“Mr. Rasheed will pull through.  I have heard about so called “different-sided” people, but he is my first live example.  How extraordinary!”

“Indeed, Miss Beauchamp, the world is full of wonders.  And the little girl?”

“Unhurt.  There may be mental trauma, but she will be monitored closely.  Am I correct in assuming she will remain here?”

“Yes, yes, for a while.  Now please excuse me Doctor.”

As her white-coated back disappeared through his door, Waverly sighed in exasperation.  The circle was widening.  A secret is most valuable when the fewest know.  Cliches, he thought wearily, become cliches because they are true.

The doctor had mentioned mental traumas.  Alexander was quite sure the little girl was not the only one to be watched closely.  From observation of Dancer and Slate, they would need watching.  Rasheed Kier would recover too late to repair the immediate damage.  Kuryakin would need help from a different quarter.  Fortunately one such quarter still remained to be called into play. 

He opened a link to UNCLE headquarters, Western Europe, and asked for Mr. Solo.

 *************************************************** 

 

Nikita chafed at the inactivity imposed on her for the last four days.  It was one thing to be on downtime, quite another to be imprisoned this way.  Where were the others?  Still here?  And when were the negotiations with the U.N.C.L.E. going to commence.  How is Michael, by the way?  And Mr. Kuryakin?  Where, when, why …She had never relished being out of control like this. 

 

As if in answer to her prayers, so to speak, her door opened.  Two people strode in; one man, one woman.  They took their places just inside the door, making room for a third coming through.  This was an old man, short, slight, dressed in tweed.  An aura of power surrounded him.  When he glanced at her, she felt a regard so sharp, and at the same time so welcome, that she shuddered visibly. 

“You may go Mister ah….”

“Seaton, Sir.”  He motioned his junior partner out the door.

Nikita rose and approached her visitor.  He surprised her by taking her hand and giving it a continental kiss.  “Alexander Waverly, Miss….?”

“Please address me as Nikita, Mr. Waverly.  It is the only name I am comfortable with.”

Mildly displeased at this lack of courtesy, Alexander glared briefly at the young woman, then turned away brusquely and took the only chair in the room.  He motioned her to sit also, and she sat primly on the bed, feeling like she was about to be tested by an old school master. 

“No doubt you have a few questions for me, Sir.  I will be happy to answer them as truthfully as I can.”

Nikita waited through a long silence.  She was accustomed to such.  No one answered such statements directly in Section either.

During that silent regard, he had summoned up his own formidable strength of mind and ever so gently probed her.  What he learned pleased him.  Here was a professional, despite her obvious age.  She also possessed qualities he’d felt present in Illya at this stage.  It was an unexpected, pleasant surprise.  He dismissed her earlier gaff entirely.  Here was yet another gifted young person thrown into his sphere of influence.  Well, Alexander, do what you do best.

His acquaintance and colleague, George Creighton had given him free reign with the “escapees”, as he’d so cruelly put it.  Waverly didn’t approve of Creighton at all.  He considered him a ruthless cad, to put it bluntly.  Ah, granted, one needed to be ruthless often in their arena, but this man was too cold, dead to all that was human.  He’d surrendered four of his own valuable people with no more than a shrug.  The fifth, he’d asked to be returned.  And Waverly guessed it was because she was just like George.  Very well, the Command doesn’t need people like that; he concluded his internal musings.

“I have a favor to ask of you my dear.  My organization may require your assistance.”

“It seems, Sir, that I am at your disposal.”

“Oh, not at all young lady, not at all.  I assure you, you will have a choice in the matter.”

“Are you saying I could just walk out of here now, free and clear?”

“Well, no my dear, not quite.”  Seeing her reaction to this mild statement, he hastened to add, “We are not Section One.  You may choose to go, yes, but no one who has seen what you have seen and been where you’ve been can leave without “forgetting” most of the details.  I assure you our methods will seem gentle, if it comes to that.”

“One of my colleagues was shot almost a week ago.  May I know his status?” came her non-sequiter.

“Of course.  Excuse me a moment.”  He made the call to Medical.  Hmmmed and I see-ed appropriately.  “Your colleague is doing splendidly.  You may see him now if you like.”

“Thank you, Sir.  I’d like that very much.  How may I go about it?”

“What? Oh.  You may walk out the door with me young lady.  I will accompany you to Medical.”

“I’d be honored, Mr. Waverly.”  She meant it.  It had been a long time since she’d viewed anyone without a thick patina of suspicion. 

 

Walking down the hall, they made an amusing pair, the tall blonde and the short sprightly elf.  Many denizens in the long corridors smiled at them, greeted Alexander Waverly, and smiled again behind his back.    Nikita drank this in like a flower in a spring rain following a draught.  Before they reached their destination, she felt she could voice her second question.

“What about Mr. Kuryakin.  Is he also doing splendidly?”

It was the question Alexander had hoped for.

“You may see him, too, if you like.  They are in the same wing.”  He paused in the hall.  “My dear, would you be willing to wait a few more minutes while I ask you a question or two about the actions that took place last Wednesday?”

“Of course, Sir.  Is there somewhere private?”

Waverly silently approved her need for privacy, and ushered her into a small conference room the doctors used. 

Now comes the interrogation, just slightly delayed, she thought.

 

“What I need from you young lady…. By the way, you will have to supply me with a last name eventually.  It seems awkward to say “young lady” constantly.  What I need from you is the reason why you did not complete your assigned hit.  Before you begin, let me tell you that I am fully aware of Section’s modes of operation.  I do not agree with them, but I do understand them.” 

“I , well at first I….This is difficult Sir.  I’ve thought about it long and hard.  But still find it hard to put into perspective.”

“I don’t want a prepared statement.  I want your impressions.”

“OK.  First I could not move, and then I did not want to move, and then I knew we should not carry out this directive at all.  Were you able to view the diskette I took out of Section One?”

Getting a nod, she continued.

“Then you saw what happened when Michael, my partner, fired his weapon?” 

Another nod.

“Do you understand what happened, Mr. Waverly?  Or rather, what I think I saw happen?”

He merely stared at her.  He had to make her say it.

“The bullet stopped in mid air and disintegrated.”

 “And you would like to know how.”

“Well, yes.”

“First you must decide whether to go or stay.”

She bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement.  Then asked if she could see Michael.

 

 

Once out of Intensive Care, Michael had been placed in a recovery room.  These were pleasant affairs.  Warm colors and soft carpets abounded.  Every effort was made to make these rooms seem like a luxury hotel room.  In Michael’s case, this was wasted effort.  He lay quiet and incommunicado.  His ribs were expertly taped; his head sported a large white bandage covering the left side.  He was in no pain.  He was tense, and uneasy.  When the door opened, and Nikita came through it alone, no reaction was elicited save a turn of the head. 

The glad greeting died on her lips.  Apparently this place had not had the salutary effect on him that it had on her.

“Glad to see you survived more or less in one piece,” she said colorlessly, trying to take a cue from him.  This was an old game.  One she’d come to hate, but often it worked.  She loved this man, but he made her work so damn hard at it sometimes.

“Nikita.  You look well.”  Michael’s soft, flat voice came finally.

“Oh I am.  Looks like we’re in for a small vacation, more or less.”  This, as she strode to his bedside and touched the bandages on torso and head. 

“We?”

“Myself, Walter and Birkoff, and you.  Oh, and Madeline.”

That got a reaction.

“Madeline’s here?”

“It’s a long story.  Michael we have to talk.  That means you have to answer in more than fragments of speech.”  She hoped the tease would lighten his mood.

“Not now, Nikita.”

Not now Nikita.  How many times had she heard these words from this man?  She didn’t want this from him now.  She hated it when he forced her to view him as she viewed Section One itself, a closed, most unfriendly environment.  Very well then, not now.  Let him stew and think a few more days while she took the opportunity to feel human.  Fine, not now.  And she walked out the door.

 

Waverly met her in the hall.  He did not view this as a waste of time.  He’d been in to see Illya briefly, letting the doctor on watch know that one further visitor was authorized by him, providing the doctor approved as well.  Susan sighed and agreed.  She didn’t think visitors would do her patient any good, or any harm either.

This time Alexander followed Nikita into a darkened, hushed private room.  He watched with extreme interest as she went directly to the bed, leaned over and took Illya’s hand.  He further noted that she started a bit and closed her eyes as she touched him.  But she didn’t let go.  This was the confirmation he’d needed.   

   “Illya, why aren’t you doing splendidly too?” she whispered.  She looked at Waverly.  “This isn’t still from the interrogation is it.  Will he be all right?”

“With time, yes.  He is a survivor.”

“After all the trouble I went through for you, you had better survive.  And furthermore, its time to wake up now so I can look in your eyes and thank you personally for providing a way to get out of Section.”  Nikita spoke in an animated voice neither too soft nor too loud.  Concentrating on the figure on the bed she wished with all her might that he would follow her directions. 

Alexander felt the pull of her suggestions from across the room.  Yes this might work.

Illya was in a dark, cold place.  Time after time he’d surfaced only to find nightmares beyond endurance crouching like wolves ready to consume him.  Each time he found a wolf at the door of consciousness, he’d retreat hastily to the cold place.  There at least he wasn’t looking at his own fleshless fingers, or in the mirror some guard looking for kicks was holding up in front of his face.  The burning nightmare was by far the worst.  Soon he would stop trying to rise. 

Somewhere in that dark eon of time he felt a warm presence.  This opened a door he could walk through unharmed.  He took it.

A soft voice, rich and inviting, was asking that he open his eyes.   The desire to do so was overwhelming.

“Hello there.  I think its time you rejoined the land of the living, Illya,” Nikita crooned.  Waverly resisted the urge to run over and interfere.  So did Dr. Beauchamp.  Both knew how delicate this could be.

Nikita looked into the eyes of the man she’d risked all to save.  She smiled tenderly.  It was enough.  A world with eyes like that to gaze into would be one to return to, was his unshaped thought.  “Nikita?”

“Yes, how did you guess? Are all of you so perceptive?”  She reached to caress his forehead with her free hand. 

“I’ve seen you before,” he whispered. 

“Ummm hmmm, but not awake, I think.”

Waverly did interrupt at this point, wishing she hadn’t gone into dangerous territory quite so soon.  The moment was saved, though, by Alexis, just returning from her tutor.  Nikita released his hand, and he reached out with both to gather his daughter to his breast.  He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply of the clean wonderful little-girl smell.  She kissed him several times before she realized that her kisses were falling on bruised places.  After the space of several minutes, Alexis shrugged free to pull back and stare at her Daddy.  A look of wonder filled her face.

“Daddy, did you evolve?”

“Evolve, Love?”

“Like our Pokemon, you know.  Charmander into Charmeleon, into Charizard. Like that?”

He didn’t know what to say.  He knew exactly what she meant.  But the true answer was frightening somehow.   So he sidetracked her, knowing that wouldn’t hold her for long.

“How do you like it here, Young Child?  This is where I spend a lot of my time.”

“I’d rather go home.  Soon as Kier is all better anyway.”

Illya looked at Waverly questioningly.  Waverly nodded, understanding his question about Kier without words. 

“Who’s this?”  Alexis was staring at Nikita.  Blue-gray eyes looked deep into brown eyes as Nikita knelt to introduce herself.  “She’s beautiful, Daddy.  Is she a friend?”

“She is indeed.  Now, off with you, young lady.  Not for long though.  I need to talk with Nikita and Uncle Alexander for a few minutes.”

“Bye Nikita.”

“Bye for now, Sweetheart.”  Nikita looked after her as she left.  “You’re quite the beauty yourself.”

Nikita turned back to the two men.  Both were regarding her with noticeable warmth.  “She looks just like you,” she said to Illya.  “She’ll be stunning when she’s grown.”  Nikita blushed as she realized what she was saying to a man she barely knew.  But children had that effect on her.  All her defenses melted away completely.  God knew she had risked cancellation by her own organization many times, with her refusal to harm the innocent, whether child or adult.  Some day, she thought, I’ll have a daughter like that.

“Illya, will you be staying with us now, do you think?” Susan inquired sweetly.

“Only if you let me out of this contraption.”  He indicated the various IV’s and sensors attached to his body.  “I’ll be fine now.  Will you release me, Doctor?”

“Forty-eight hours Mister.  You will be patient for that long.  You will behave for that long.  If you don’t, I will invoke the feared absolute doctoral authority you so hate and keep you right here for an additional two weeks.  Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“We shall see, Susan.”  This was a new rendition of an old dialogue.  They had had their rounds of arguments countless times in the past, for three years straight, in fact.  The thought brought back memories of his nightmarish dreams. 

“Alexander, I need to speak with you in private.  If the ladies would be so kind, that is.”  They were.

“Sir, I’m afraid my mind-blocks are disintegrating.  This is the reason for my long period of unconsciousness.  I have been trying to escape them by retreat.  It will not work.  You do recall why they were put there?”

“Of course, Mr. Kuryakin.  How could I forget.”

“I’m in for a rough time, I believe.  They cannot be reinstated.  That much I know.  I suspect the injection of drugs in Section One is responsible for this breakdown.”

“Thank you for your frankness, Illya.  Do you feel you yourself may have the means to overcome this now?”

“It really depends on how much peace, quiet, and time I have.  This will be an awkward time for me.  Could you possibly keep people, other than yourself and Susan out of my area?”

“Yes. Is there anything else I can do to ease your situation?”

“There’s one thing I require…I need to confer with Napoleon soon, Sir.  I beg your indulgence, in this request.”

“Mr. Solo is already making arrangements to come here for a short, rather secretive stay.  My niece, as it were, is welcome to stay as long as you do.  When we are in private like this, I would prefer we drop the formalities of address, by the way.”

  Illya was surprised.  “Alexander, I can’t promise to drop all my “sirs” but thank you anyway.”

Waverly smiled.  “My Boy, you say what you wish, how you wish.  Now please behave yourself with the good doctor, and I’ll see to it that you’re out of this ward in forty-eight.”