
|
The Hobsons Choice Affair Chapter 31
|
Disclaimer
This is a work of amature fiction, no contravention of copyright is intended and no profit is made from this endeavour.
For the first time Ryan didn't look so confident as Illya's icy gaze
covered him.
"Will, what if she does?" Ryan answered with hostility, as he turned his
eyes
away from the other man's.
The Russian's stare did not waver.
"Then she does have photo's of you. And recordings? Doesn't she?" he
hid the smile of his small hard earned victory. But the smile was in his
vioce. "You said we needed to retrieve documents, photo's...and tapes. Who
are on those tapes, Ryan? You and your.."
"Shup up Kuryakin!" Ryan snapped.
Illya could see the blush of anger starting to show on the traitorous
agents face.
A renewed sense of hope filled Illya's being. He might now have a way to
fight back.
Illya pushed harder.
"That's what we are here for, isn't it Ryan. You can't get to where she's
put them. Can you.. And that's why you need me. It appears *Ryan*, that you
need my help to keep your secrets as badly as I require you to keep mine."
Ryan looked very uncomfortable now. The tables had turned on him, and he
knew it.
Illya saw the look of fear lighting in the other man's eyes.
"So you have it all figured out do you Kuryakin. But you still have to
do what I say. If you want those little secrets kept." Ryan told the blond
flatly.
Illya allowed the dark smile to show on his face now.
"No Ryan. Not everything.."
-----
Mark drove as April kept an eye on the locator. All Napoleon could do
was sit in the back seat and watch and listen. He checked his wristwatch.
They'd been driving for almost an hour.
Mark made a tense sigh, looked over at his partner.
"What's the latest love?"
She looked up.
"Another 33 miles or so. North by north north east." April checked the map
"Keep on this road Mark, if Illya stays on the heading he's on now. We
should meet up with him/them.. here." Her finger hovered over a spot on the
map where a
small rest stop was marked..
Mark shook his head.
"That's cutting it a bit close love, don't you think?"
April cocked her head to the side.
"If this were anyone else, I'd say yes.. But this is Illya we are
tracking."
Mark understood. He nodded.
"Never mind. Point taken."
Napoleon sat back and was only half listened to the two agents. His
thoughts were almost entirely directed upon Illya. He knew that the blond
Russian was very highly trained and the tops in his profession. But none of
that knowledge made him feel better. It was the way Illya and that Ryan
guy looked when he'd last seen them.
Napoleon wasn't a spy like Illya, Mark or April. But the last few days
had taught him one thing; that he, Napoleon Solo-playboy, did appear to have
the right instincts for the job.
~~~
It had taken them less than forty minutes to break into the office. Ryan
let Illya lead the way in. It was Illya who found and disabled the numerous
booby traps put in place by Angelique.
Cracking the safe had taken the most time. Illya had cursed silently
that Ryan had not thought to have any tools with him. But finally it had
opened. Everything they wanted was inside.
But Illya took custody of the large envelope that held all of Angelique's
blackmail she'd been holding over Ryan.
Ryan had complained at this new arrangment. But Illya insisted.
"Why should I trust you Kuryakin." he'd demanded.
"For the same reason I am forced to trust you. You"ll get this, after you
make that call."
Rayn was still unhappy about it, but gave in.
Illya had won another small victory..
Now they were back on the road, Ryan insisting that Illya take the
wheel..
"So where to now?" the blond Russian had asked coldly.
"There's a small motel off the main highway." Ryan handed him the map.
"Here, you"ll find it on this."
Illya looked at the map. He noticed a rest stop was marked about 10 miles
ahead. Something in his gut told him to head for it.
Ryan was sitting beside him looking out the window. Illya decided to try
a gambit.
He kept his voice even.
"Ryan, You want this." He patted the bulky envelope tucked inside his
coat. "You said you could make that call anytime before 9am tomorrow
morning. You make that call now, and I will hand this over to you right
after you make the call and stop whom ever from what ever you were
planning."
"Getting that envelope was only half the deal Kuryakin." Ryan replied
cooly.
"Think man," Illya told him trying to keep his tone reasonable. "a half a
victory Ryan, is better then no victory at all."
Ryan said nothing, but Illya knew he was thinking it over.
The rest stop was almost in sight. Illya wished he'd make up his mind.
"Oh hell, fine. Have it your own way then damn you. Find a phone and I
will make the call. Then when we get to motel, you can call a cab a go. But
I would love to be there Kuryakin when you are being roasted to death by
Waverly. You're finished with UNCLE. You bastard." he said laughing.
His sickening laughter was turning Illya's stomach. 'And very soon you
will be a very dead bastard.' he told himself silently.
In another minute they were turning into the rest stop. After parking the
car, both men got out. Ryan headed for the phone booth. Illya stood outside
it so to be able to hear.
Rayn turned his back on him. Illya was looking down the road when he
spotted Mark's car. Keeping his body between the booth and the slowly on
coming car, Illya held up a hand in warning.
~~~
Mark saw the gesture and immediately slowed the car down to a crawl.
"What the hell is he up to?" remarked Napoleon in a stressed tone. He was
ready to jump out of the slowly moving car if not for the fact that Mark had
locked both back doors from his special control panel.
"Easy there mate. If Illya is warning us to hang back, then he must have a
damn good reason for it. And if you look just behind him," Mark pionted to
the phone booth. "That looks like Ryan there. That call must be mighty
important, if Illya is letting him make it."
April made a small frown.
"You don't think Illya knows I planted a tracer on him do you Mark?"
Mark laughed.
"That's Illya love, he would know it if a fly landed on him. Yeah, I think
he knew, or guessed."
Napoleon watched mutely from the backseat. He'd locked eyes with Illya.
OH god, he told himself. To be so close, and yet so...
~~~
Illya saw that Napoleon was in the car with Mark and April. He had to
stop himself from smiling, now was not the place. He heard Ryan stepping
out of the booth.
"Alright, it's done. The package is on it's way to your apt. Illya. Your
free, but your wonderful life with UNCLE is over.. I've done half what I
wanted to do to you anyway. Now let me have my package." Ryan held out his
hands.
Illya pulled out the envelope and gave it to Ryan who quickly stuffed it
in his own coat. It was only then he felt the blow of Illya's fist crash in
to his jaw..
"You son of."
"A bitch." Illya finished the curse as his other fist found it's mark in
Ryan's midsection.. Ryan doubled over, Illya brought his knee up hard
slamming him in the face.. Ryan tried to straighten to take a swing at
Illya's head. But before he could raise his arm, he felt it jerked and
pulled back hard behind him.
Napoleon smashed the traitor agent to the dirt. Ryan tried to get to his
feet. But one swift kick in his gut from Illya put a stop to that.
Now Illya had a new problem.
He couldn't kill Ryan with Napoleon right there holding the man down.
How was he going to keep Ryan quiet now?
From somewhere off to his left, a single shot rang out. Illya was
looking around to see where it might have come from when he heard Napoleon
swear.
"Damn.'
"Damn? damn what" He asked a startled Napoleon.
Napoleon was looking down at Ryan. There was a growing pool of blood
spreading of around Ryan's head.
"I think your man Ryan here is dead."
|
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. |