The moles were in place, one as Leamas' new secretary, imported from his fledgeling command on the West Coast, and two more as security guards. He didn't like the idea of working closely with THRUSH, nor did he like the idea of betraying his own organization, but as soon as they'd done their job, he would do his, and they would be gone.

He sighed, watching the bourbon swirl in his tumbler. He didn't want to *kill* Alex, Heavens, no. He hoped they would find some other way of arranging things, make him look unfit to command. Then Alex would be out and he would be in.

John Leamas laughed bitterly at the thought. He'd slept with Lydana Charles, and killed her without so much as blinking. He'd never gotten along well with Alex, but he hated to think that the old man would come to any real harm. No, he just needed to get him out of the way. Alex was getting too soft, and he'd always been too permissive, liberal. And not to notice that the man he was grooming to take over command was-- Well, things were going to be different, that was for sure.

---/-/---

April was heading down to medical with some notes for her partner, on their unofficial new case, when hushed voices up ahead stopped her. Leamas was one of them. Hiding around the corner, she listened, waiting for some clue as to the conversation's nature.

"--'s safe, this alcove is just out of view of the security cameras. Now shut up and listen."

"But--"

"I told you, not yet." He hissed. "Do I make myself clear?"

"But the whole reason you allowed us here was--"

"Not yet!"

"What do you expect us to do in the meantime? As new recruits, we aren't allowed clearance to anything, and we don't have forever, because eventually someone is going to dig a little too deeply into our backstories."

"All I'm saying is, no executive action against Alexander Waverly. I will see to his removal personally.

"So what, then?" A woman's voice, bored, entered the conversation.

"You can start by removing a thorn from both our sides... a Russian thorn."

April gasped, nearly dropping the folder she'd been carrying, and quickly doubled back.

---/-/---

Napoleon and Illya were in the commissary when April found them, talking over what looked like tuna salad sandwiches.

Napoleon had just punctuated a statement with laughter, but Illya seemed shaken.

Well, considering what she knew, he had every reason to be shaken, but he didn't know yet, and that was the whole reason she was looking for them. She grabbed some coffee absentmindedly, and slid into the chair beside Illya's.

"April." Napoleon nodded, smiling. "And to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I wish it was... I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

Illya's brow furrowed. "Bad news? What is it?"

"It wouldn't be complications, would it?" Napoleon added, concerned.

"No, but-- not here." She shook her head, turning to Illya."It can't be here... where can we talk? In private."

"Napoleon?" He queried.

"My office. It *is* all right if I hear this news, too, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course." April nodded, getting up. "I'll meet you there in-- what, five minutes?"

Illya glanced at his not-quite-half-finished sandwich. "What I give up in the line of duty. Five minutes is fine with me."

---/-/---

Napoleon sat down hard. It felt like all the air had been knocked out of him.

"He's trying to-- to kill Illya?"

"Destroying my life was not enough for the man?" Illya snarled. At this moment, he wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around his partner-- Napoleon looked so upset, and not without reason. But he couldn't, of course, not in front of anyone. Even someone he normally trusted could not be expected to accept this.

"I didn't see the people he was talking to, but they mentioned being new, so that would be--"

"His secretary?"

"She'd be the woman. And the two new security guards." She finished.

"All appointed and personally vouched for by Leamas." Illya nodded.

"I know about what he did to you." She confessed, dropping her voice. "The memory thing. Mark knows, too. And Ginger."

"The girl you have feeding our cat?" Illya asked, looking over to Napoleon. "How did she-- for that matter, how did any of you--?"

"Well, remember when Mark spat coffee over your papers? We were trying to pull away the papers that were still dry, and one of them was a love letter. We thought it was from a woman, only..." She shrugged.

"Obviously." Illya nodded.

"So it was you." Napoleon said slowly, picking up the note. "You left this?"

"Well, us collectively." April admitted. "Ginger was behind that brilliant scheme to remind you."

"We'd recovered some of the memories beforehand, but, ah..." Napoleon looked over to his partner.

A very red-faced Illya rolled the letter tightly, going to hide it in the false chair leg. Inside was another. "Napoleon?"

"Don't look at me, I don't remember hiding anything in there."

"Well, deal with these, then." He sighed, handing both epistles to his partner. Then he turned to April. "Normally, I would have to kill anyone who read such private papers without-- well, without being Napoleon or myself. However, since you have warned me about a plot against my life, you shall be spared. But no more spying on your own side."

April grinned. "You're welcome.

"Back to the plot against his life?" Napoleon cleared his throat, coming up to stand at Illya's shoulder. The two letters were now folded and tucked into his jacket pocket.

"I think I've told you everything."

"Is it THRUSH?"

"Nobody said the word, but I wouldn't rule out the possibility."

Napoleon stalked back over to his desk, restless and angry. "How could he? This is-- this is terrible, it's--"

"This is wonderful!" Illya said as the epiphany hit, lighting his face. "Napoleon, we have him! We have Leamas! If he is plotting with someone, and he has brought outsiders-- THRUSH or no-- into UNCLE to end my life, then we have him!"

"Just as long as he doesn't have you..."

"Oh, wait!" April, who had been heading for the door, whirled around. "There is something else, I-- I must have forgotten when he said they were going to kill Illya."

"What?"

"He said-- he said not to take 'executive action' against Mr. Waverly."

Napoleon's face blanched, and for the second time in the same conversation, he felt the immediate need to sit down. However, this time no one had thought to warn him, and there was no nearby chair.

"Napoleon?" Illya moved to his lover's side, catching his elbow and leading him over to his seat.

"Executive action... that's CIA slang for-- well, for certain... wetworks..." He floundered.

"Which is CIA jargon for killing someone." Illya said dryly.

"But he said not to, so..."

"So there are limits to his treachery." The blond sneered. "It appears I'd've lost that bet."

"April, you have to tell Waverly about--"

"No." Illya interrupted. "We will go with you. If anyone is assigned to Leamas' removal, I will make certain it is me."

"Illya..." Napoleon tried to calm the other man, but with no luck. "I don't think that's the best idea..."

"After what he stole from me? No. If anyone is given the opportunity to shoot the man, then that right is mine."

Napoleon stood, placing a hand on Illya's arm. "And what about what he stole from me?"

Illya's expression softened. "We could shoot him twice." He offered.

"You could make some money auctioning off the rights to shoot him." April rolled her eyes. "He hasn't exactly been making friends. Ginger wants to kill him, and she's a pacifist from archives."

"I'd pay a year's rent to kill him and never regret it."

Napoleon sighed. "And what would happen to you if you spent a year's rent on the right to shoot Leamas? You'd be put out on the street."

"You wouldn't let that happen to me." Illya shrugged, flashing his partner a grin. "However, the debate is pointless, and I will kill him free of cost."

"Well, I guess... Waverly's office, right?"

"Off to see the wizard." He nodded, linking arms with Illya and earning a mock-stern glare.

"No skipping, no singing, and most certainly no hanging on to each other in the hallways."

Napoleon nodded, and the three of them left the office.

---

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.