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The
Sumerian Codebook Affair |
Summary - The guys track down and protect a linguist while he deciphers a new THRUSH code. But this "innocent" isn't, and he's hiding a secret he'll kill to protect.
Notes - This was written for the Channel_W Summer Writing Challenge.
For the Highlander Challenged (skip this if you understand HL): Immortals are a race of humans who cannot be permanently killed unless beheaded, though they can suffer pain and injury, and even "die", although the death is temporary. They posess remarkable powers of healing due to energies called a "Quickening". When an Immortal is beheaded his or her Quickening is passed to and absorbed by the nearest Immortal, usually the one who performed the beheading. Immortals are born (nobody knows where or how) and grow up as normal humans until their first "deaths", at which time their Quickening fully manifests and heals them. From that time on they no longer age, and are subject to "The Game", a ritual combat fought with swords and ending with the beheading of the loser. New Immortals either die at the hands of a more experienced opponent or find Immortals willing to teach them to fight, and the rules for The Game, the first of which is: "There can be only one."
Loke
Act II: "I've no idea what you're talking about."
As the three men started out of the room, Kuryakin spoke into his communicator. "Napoleon, they're leaving!"
"The hallway's fairly crowded," Solo assured his partner. "I'm sure I can keep out of sight and follow them until the birds have flown."
"I'm right behind you. Let's hope they're not planning to make off with him."
The two UNCLE agents relaxed as the THRUSHes left their target once they'd exited the building.
"Do you think they saw us?" asked Kuryakin.
"No," replied his partner, "but it's certain they're keeping an eye on Peterson. We'll need to find a way to contact him without raising their suspicions."
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Matthew Peterson, aka Methos, the world's oldest Immortal, sighed as he entered his office. It looked like it was time to move on once again. He didn't want to leave, especially in the middle of the term, but he was well aware getting between two espionage organizations was equivalent to painting a target on his back. Being shot was painful, messy, and annoying, even if it was only temporarily fatal.
He'd been happy here, buried in academia for the past several years. The few other Immortals he'd sensed over that time had been easy to avoid, and he'd managed not to draw the attention of the local Watchers. He himself hadn't had a Watcher in over 2 centuries, since shortly after taking his last head. He'd slipped in among a group of indentured servants and sailed to America, spending the next decade working his way out of debt.
He looked out the window and spotted the pair who'd spoken to him earlier watching the building, and probably his window as well. They'd probably try to stop him if he attempted to leave in his car, which left making a getaway by taxi. He knew once he got into a taxi he could get to the airport and his getaway bag, which contained cash, a set of ID and passport, papers for his sword, a checkbook in the same name as the ID, clothing and toiletries. He'd placed it there shortly after arriving in New York, and had moved it from locker to locker around the airport every few months. The next step would be to catch the next flight to anywhere outside the US, where he could disappear completely.
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While Kuryakin kept watch on the THRUSH pair, Solo quickly procured what he needed from a passing student. He slipped into a nearby men's room, removed his suit jacket and tie, donned the sweater and picked up the books he'd just paid to borrow, and left the lecture hall looking like a student. He entered the building Peterson had gone into, flirted with a coed to find where the man's office was, and knocked on the door. He heard a call of "Come in!" and entered.
Peterson's office was small but tidy, with shelves of books, a small desk and three chairs, one behind the desk, currently occupied by the professor, and two others on the other side of it, empty. Solo took one of the empty chairs.
"May I help you?" Peterson asked.
"I certainly hope so," began the other man and launched into an explaination of why he was here, pulling out his UNCLE ID and showing it to the professor. "We're aware THRUSH has already contacted you, and that they're watching this building."
The professor shook his head. "I've no idea what you're talking about. Have you ingested something illegal?" He reached for the phone as if to call security.
Solo intercepted his hand on the receiver. "I'm completely sober, I assure you. You were seen talking to a pair of men after your last lecture. One of those men is a known member of an organization called THRUSH."
Peterson glared into the UNCLE agent's eyes. "I strongly suggest you release my hand," he said in a soft, dangerous voice.
There was something in the professor's eyes which told Solo he should back down. 'This is no ordinary academic,' he thought as he released the other man's hand.
"I think you should leave now."
"I'm sorry, but that's not possible. What did those men want you to do?"
"A moot point, as I'm not going to do it."
Solo's communicator chose that moment to go off. "Solo."
"I hate to bother you, Napoleon, but you've got company coming."
"Understood. Solo out." He glanced around the room; there was nowhere to hide and the window was blocked with an iron grating to prevent vandalism. "I don't suppose there's any other way out of here?"
Peterson shook his head and gestured under his desk. Solo scrambled and was barely in place when the knock came.
There was a short conversation, ending with the professor saying he was just leaving for the day. Unable to stop Peterson lest he endanger the man, he had to wait until the man left and locked the door behind him.
"Open channel A."
"Kuryakin."
"Illya, he pulled a fast one on me. I'm locked in his office. Can you intercept him?"
"Will do, Napoleon."
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Peterson ditched his two companions by the simple expedient of telling them he needed to speak to the dean about something, then ducking out a side door. He hadn't survived 5 millenia without learning a few tricks, and he used another one now -- hiding inside a group, in this case some of the campus jocks who were fortunately going in the direction he wanted.
Unfortunately, they changed direction before reaching his goal -- the taxi stand near the dorms. He tried casually walking to his goal, hoping he wouldn't be noticed, but a shout from behind him alerted him the game was up. He took off running, and hoped he'd make it before they caught him.
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Even though Kuryakin was annoyed with the man, he was equally impressed with his ability to evade pursuit. He'd been in a position to see him duck out the side door and join the athletes, where his height would be masked. He was working his way closer as he paralleled the group, when they changed direction, leaving Peterson visible. He continued on alone until a shout from behind alerted him he'd been spotted, then sprinted for the safety of a taxi.
The UNCLE agent was faced with a choice, but only for a moment; the THRUSH agents were reaching for weapons. Preserving innocent lives outweighed attempting to stop a fleeing man, especially one who'd done no wrong. He flung himself at the further man, using his legs to bring down his nearer partner. As he rolled on the ground with the THRUSHes, he saw Peterson diving into a taxi and it pulling away.
Fortunately, the spectactular spill drew the attention of nearby students, and the two men could do nothing more than grumble as they regained their feet. Kuryakin used the students as a screen to escape. He located Solo and explained what happened, then the two men alerted Waverly.
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