The Raven's Lair - The Three-Headed Eagle Affair

WARNING: Where do I begin? First: in my universe, Illya Nicovetch Kuryakin's name has been emended/changed/corrected/taken in vain and he is now called Ilya Nicolaievich Kuryakin. Second: Be on the lookout for a Mary Sue original character. Relax folks, she doesn't get to marry either one of our heroes. She doesn't even get a kiss. However, she is really competent.

PAIRING: Napoleon Solo and Ilya Kuryakin (see Warnings above)
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: None to my knowledge, that would meant I stuck to my guns (canons).
ARCHIVE: Not without my permission.
DISCLAIMERS & SUMMARY: See Author's Notes posted below.

Act XII - Sudden Death

Napoleon had to wait until the students visited Gorkii Park later that afternoon to brief Mark and April. "So for now we behave as expected and sit tight." Athea relayed their professor's message to her friends. After a brief tour of Moscow by night, the students had another bland meal and went to bed. Although experienced, the senior agents found themselves chafing under the omni-present surveillance.

Napoleon thought the freedom to speak your mind was overrated whenever some Central Park windbag held forth on the evils of whatever came to the demagogic mind. Now, he realized how precious it was, all the more so for being taken for granted. No wonder it had taken crowbars to get Ilya to talk about his country during the early years of their partnership.

The next morning, Kostoglotov settled himself at the table for his meeting with members of the Politburo. Kuryakin had said nothing. He'd been forced to release the Grigorievs. Nevertheless, he was unafraid. He had compiled extensive dossiers on all of his enemies and wouldn't hesitate to use them if it came to it. He'd arrived early to show his eagerness in serving the state to find Shinkin was the only one present. After waiting nearly a half hour past the time the meeting was scheduled to start, he began to get nervous. "Where are the others?"

"They will not be attending this meeting, comrade. I think you should let Kuryakin and the Grigorievs leave the country with our blessing." Dmitri Shinkin said softly.

"Do you know what you are saying? I could have you shot for trying to undermine my authority."

"Please comrade. I am not a child. Such threats hold no terrors for me. I served in the Great Patriotic War and faced bullets hourly while you hid under your bed."

Kostoglotov was now very worried. He hadn't missed the way Shinkin's mouth twisted when he said the world "child." That someone would speak to him so disrespectfully could only mean they believed he was finished. He would not give up without a fight. "Comrade, say what is on your mind in a manner befitting your office. Such rudeness does not become you."

"Very well. I have received evidence that you abused your power in bringing Kuryakin home. The man had done nothing to warrant such action. Furthermore, I have proof that you and he met prior to this under circumstances that are too disgusting to relate in detail. These meetings were witnessed by someone who can testify that you, and no other, are responsible for acts so unspeakable it is a wonder your own saliva doesn't poison you."

"You would take the word of half-witted children? You are more gullible than I thought. Yes, I visited that place but I did not harm anyone." Kostoglotov knew better than to offer a complete denial. KGB records would place him in Kiev.

"Normally, without proof, no." Dmitri spoke evenly. "Kuryakin's agency kindly permitted me to use one of their phones to speak with an old friend of his. This fellow victim described you in detail; including the fact that you have a crescent-shaped scar on the under-side of your penis which he put there. Now how would a half-witted boy know of such things? Did you shower together? Were you in the army together? Was he a close relative you shared a lavatory with? I'm waiting, comrade." Shinkin smiled as Pyotr Ivanovich went pale.

"I also find it odd that of all the would-be claimants to the throne of the late Tsar, you singled Kuryakin out for your personal attention. It is also strange that you knew so much of his stay in that accursed orphanage. When my colleagues asked why you have yet to interrogate the man personally, what could I tell them? That you'd met before? That you'd already done the worst that could happen to a person and so had no further leverage against him?" Silence.

"You are a despicable coward. However, your sickness is not deserving of death unless you refuse to cooperate." Shinkin smiled coldly at the flicker of hope in Kostoglotov's eyes. "You will authorize the release of Kuryakin to UNCLE authorities here in Moscow. You will also authorize the exit papers for Major Grigoriev and his wife allowing them to take whatever personal belongings they wish. Finally, you will use your office to locate these two men who will also be permitted to leave our country. Then you will regretfully announce your retirement due to ill health."

"Who would believe that?"

"Almost everyone." Shinkin smiled again. It was not a pleasant expression. "Three days from now you are scheduled for experimental surgery at the Sukhanov Institute. There, you will be rendered incapable of achieving an erection ever again. In addition, a minor intra-cranial procedure will render you unable to speak. Officially, this condition will be attributed to a stroke. When you have recovered from the surgeries, you will be placed in a state-run home for mental defectives. The poor things have only each other for 'company' shall we say. You should be at the receiving end of all the sex you could ever want." Kostoglov's face was the picture of terror. It was a shame the cameras and microphones had been turned off.

"Or, if you act swiftly, you could have a .44-calibre cerebral hemorrhage courtesy of your former colleagues who will line up for privilege. The choice is up to you. Let me know by thirteen hundred hours what your decision will be. If I were in your shoes, a thought that sickens me, I would opt for the second solution. Oh by the way, I understand you have certain files concerning my colleagues. You will destroy them in the presence of Comrade Secretary." Shinkin rose and left the stricken man seated at the table. He'd thoroughly enjoyed himself.

Kostoglotov picked up the paper with the two names and staggered from the room. Later, it would be remarked that he must have been ill then. His subsequent fatal stroke surprised no one who saw him that afternoon.

NS*IK*NS*IK*NS

"Professor Samuels?" A young government aide came over to the breakfast table. "Comrade Minister Shinkin told me you wished to visit an old friend while you were here. If you would come with me please." Napoleon hastily followed the woman to the waiting car outside. He was not surprised to see them pull up in front of UNCLE's Moscow office. "Have a pleasant journey, Professor." The car drove off.

Napoleon was given a badge by one of the agents and they got onto the elevator. Nothing was said as they walked down the corridor. "In here. Mr. Solo." Napoleon opened the door and was surprised to see an older man and woman seated next to a hospital bed. They looked up when Napoleon entered the room. Glancing at one another, the couple smiled and left. Napoleon forgot all about them as he took his first look at Ilya.

Tears in his eyes, Napoleon Solo cataloged each bruise and scrape. Ilya was thinner than he'd ever seen him. Dark circles ringed eyes that looked sunken. Napoleon took one of the too-slender hands into his own and raised it to his cheek.

"Polya. You finally came for me." Ilya smiled weakly.

"Yeah, and I'm not even breathing hard." Napoleon managed to get out. "You look like hell."

"It's nice to see you, too." Ilya could have said the same thing about his partner's appearance. "You're going gray."

"Too many late nights spent worrying about my partner. Ohh Ilya, I missed you so much..." Ilya's reply was muffled by his partner's arms. "When do you get out of here?"

"I was only waiting for you to get here." Ilya reached for Napoleon's face. His hand shook badly.

"My God, Ilyusha. What did they do to you?"

"This?" Ilya held out both hands. "Side effect of too much sodium-p in my diet. The doctor assures me it's temporary." Ilya smiled. "I was starving myself to prepare for a return to the camps. If I'd known you were coming I would have eaten my cake. So how many KGB men did you shoot to bring this off?"

"You know me, I'm the charming one. Actually, your father has friends in high places. We must thank him." Napoleon was seated on the bed; his treasure in his arms. He didn't even look up when Nikolai and Irina returned.

"Was satisfactory reunion, yes?" Nikolai asked quietly. Ilya had fallen asleep.

"Yes. Thank you, sir."

"I did nothing. Is all Irina's doing."

"Thank you, Madame."

"Please, call me Irina. If I am your mother-in-law we should be on more familiar terms." She smiled at Napoleon holding her son and was not surprised when he blushed. "The nice doctors here suggested Ilyusha stay with them for another two days, but we thought you would rather leave. We're all packed. The bus with your party will stop and collect us before going to the airport."

"You've been given permission to emigrate?"

"Yes. It seems I now have a permanent post with the United Nations in New York." Nikolai grinned. Irina and I have been issued temporary UN passports. It would cause too much talk if we accepted American citizenship so, the Swiss have offered us their services. The Soviet Union will never again be able to use us against our son."

"I'm dreaming." Napoleon said softly. It was over.

NS*IK*NS*IK*NS

No undue attention was paid as an older couple assisted a slightly palsied young man to board an airport transit bus later that afternoon. When Ilya got on, he was surprised to see the members of his training class standing and cheering. Their smiles emitted enough wattage to light downtown Manhattan. He feebly waved then took his seat next to Napoleon and wiped his eyes. Despite his often caustic reprimands, these young people obviously liked him and were glad to see him. The ice was beginning to melt once more.

If anyone noticed Napoleon holding Ilya's hand, they made no mention of it. He would not let go of Ilya until their jet had cleared Soviet airspace. Halfway up the stairs into the aircraft, Ilya fell. His partner scooped him up and carried him the rest of the way as Athea and the others cheered again. During the long flight, Napoleon and Ilya were left to themselves. Neither man said anything. Their eyes however spoke volumes.

"How long have they been lovers?" Agent Bonnie wanted to know.

"Huh?" Athea asked, the picture of innocence. Her colleagues were not blind. Their boss was himself again. He hadn't stopped smiling since he boarded the bus.

"Are you talking about Solo and Kuryakin?" April Dancer perched on a nearby armrest.

"Yeah. How long have they been together?" Ping asked.

"Since they were partners." April replied smugly.

"What about you and Mr. Slate?" Ed Barrows wanted to know.

"What is this, Twenty Questions?" April smiled. "There's no truth to the rumors, we're just good friends." She quoted the tried and true response. Her lovelife was her own business. Napoleon's however was a matter of public record, or at least public discussion.

By the time they landed, it was clear that Agent Kuryakin was ill. UNCLE was prepared for this and a medical transport met them at La Guardia. Napoleon and the Grigorievs got into the vehicle which raced for headquarters.

Once there, Dr. Sydney Rosenthal carefully examined Ilya and pronounced malnutrition coupled with stress and the side effects of veridicals were to blame for Ilya's condition. A week in the infirmary on a high-calorie diet would see him to rights. "After that, he should be up for some exercise."

"I think I can take care of that part, Doctor." Tatiana rushed in and hugged her parents. "Tell me everything." She said as the Grigorievs went into the waiting room.

"Napoleon, some of my findings are a little grim. Has Ilya said anything to you?" Normally, doctor-patient confidentiality would have forbidden any such disclosure. However, Napoleon was also Ilya's boss and as CEA would be informed of his agent's health status automatically.

"No, Sydney. However, we haven't had time to discuss things in detail. I trust my partner. He'll tell me everything." Napoleon smiled. "I have a feeling Mr. Waverly will put us both on leave for a while."

"Correct as usual, Mr. Solo. Welcome back." The old man had been standing behind them. "Your leave starts as soon as I receive your report."

"Thank you, sir. I'll get started on it immediately."

"Polya? Are actually going to do your paperwork on time?" Ilya's voice was weak but his eyes were shining.

"You're a corrupting influence on me, partner." Napoleon smiled back. "Sydney would it be too much trouble for me to occupy the other bed? We're used to looking out for each other."

"Be my guest, Napoleon. My nurses will thank you in the morning. Enforcement agents make terrible patients."