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Round
Robin: Hobson's Choice Affair |
Napoleon knelt down by the bruised and bloodied figure, one
hand reaching toward his neck to check for a pulse.
"Don't move," a voice came from behind him, "or I'll shoot."
"Isn't that a bit cliché`?"
The voice's owner came around to where the two men could see each other, with
the man on the ground between them. "How do I know you didn't help do that?"
"If I'd hurt your friend -- if he *is* your friend, and you've shown me no
proof of that -- would I still be here, waiting to be discovered?"
"How do I know you didn't stay behind to finish him off?"
"How do *I* know you weren't here earlier, and returned to do the same?"
The armed man sighed gustily. "All right -- my name is Grosvenor, and his
is Kuryakin. We work for an organization called the U.N.C.L.E. It stands for
United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. You are?"
"Napoleon Solo, playboy and bon vivant. I was on my balcony up there," he
paused to turn and point, "when I saw your friend here fighting off five opponents,
so I threw down a flowerpot," he indicated the remains, "to distract them,
and rushed down here as quickly as I could. Speaking of Mr. Kuryakin, shouldn't
we be getting him an ambulance? He seems rather badly hurt."
"I can't take the chance. Someone's taking out our people, and I suspect they
have help inside UNCLE. It's why I called Kuryakin out here tonight instead
of telling him at HQ. I wanted to tell him I suspect --"
He never finished the sentence. A bullet fired from a high-powered rifle slammed
into his head, sending fragments of lead and bone slicing through his brain,
killing him instantly.
Solo threw himself across the man on the ground, wondering why this was his
night for cliché's. He waited for another shot to end his life, but apparently
the shooter was satisfied with a single victim -- this time.
A moan beneath him had him scrambling up, recalling the man he lay across
was injured.
"It's almost certain you'd be tracked down if I took you to an emergency room,"
he told the semi-conscious man. "Luckily for you, I know a doctor on Park
Avenue." He hoisted the man into a fireman's carry and took him to the parking
garage of the high-rise, where his car waited. It was a bit too far to carry
a man to Helen's, even if it was only a few blocks to walk.
He loaded his burden into his car and drove to the building where Dr. Helen
Harrison lived. He parked near the elevator, wrestled the still-incoherent
man from his car into the elevator, rode up to the 17th floor, and hauled
him down the hallway to the doctor's apartment, propping him against the wall
while he rang her bell.
She answered a few moments later. "Lee! I thought you were --" She stopped
as he carried the other man into her apartment.
"Sorry for the reverse house call," he apologized, "but if what I heard earlier
this evening is true, this man may be in very serious trouble." He laid the
man on Helen's couch.
She wasted no time in talking, but pulled her bag from the front closet and
set to work, checking for pulse, breathing and airway before beginning to
assess his injuries and starting to undress him.
Solo helped with the latter, which was a good thing, since Kuryakin started
to return to full awareness and began fighting with his rescuers.
"Take it easy -- oof -- you're safe here, and we're trying to help you," the
playboy said as he held down the struggling stranger.
"Release me," Kuryakin hissed. "I have an appointment elsewhere."
"With Grosvenor?" Solo asked.
The other man stilled. "Where did you hear that name?"
"He arrived just after I reached you in the park. He said the two of you work
for something called the U.N.C.L.E., someone was killing your co-workers,
he was coming to meet you in the park because he thought the someone had help
from someone in your organization, and was just about to tell me more -- possibly
who -- when someone using a rifle blew his brains out."
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This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit. |