Foul temper notwithstanding, Madam Sinesta was furious. The long welts that appeared across Lin's face did little to appease her fury. As if a light were flicked, she gazed down at her now blood tinged red nails and drew a deep breath, smoothed down the way wards flights of dark hair and turned back to the lotus pond in her compound.

"Tell me again slowly, what he said and did."

Lin flamed scarlet as she gently dabbed at the blood flowing from her nose.

"He was a gentleman."

"No doubt, but you are no lady, so when he came whose name did he call?"

Shamed, Lin could barely stem the tears that flowed as she clenched her hands into tight fists. "He called no name, he was lost to his own pleasure as if I did not exist."

"Indeed?"

"I would not lie to you Madam, he said, should you wish to visit him yourself you have only to knock on the door."

"A novel idea. Go and clean yourself up, you have a job this evening at the Embassy."

With a delicate nod Lin pressed her palms together just under her chin and bent her head forward slightly with a gentle bow, the Wai Prah showed more respect towards her handler than she felt and was glad to be free of the woman's company. Lin's long silk skirt rustled as he slipped shoes back on her feet and continued towards her room. The dark teak building ornately carved a welcome relief as she found the bathroom and threw up. Her hand pressed against her stomach as she hunched over the basic fittings and began to shiver. It didn’t take long before the tears earlier denied flowed freely down her soft cheeks. She knew from bitter experience, that it was better to cry now and find the inner peace her mistress would demand of her later in the day.

Worn and exhausted she fell across the mattress on the floor, later she would meditate and centre herself, but for now she closed her eyes and fell into a light sleep.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

Napoleon paced, three up, two down and finally he turned back to the balcony and viewed the throbbing street with quiet distaste. Even from his room the heat of the day and many cooking fires stifled him and he breathed deeply, his white dress shirt hanging open.

It was then that he realised it, fresh air hit him and something Illya had said, "Things are not always what they seem, sometimes all of us must keep a secret." And Solo cursed himself for the fool he was.

Over the years they had come to decipher their own code, a way of speaking or not that had hidden meanings for the other. Illya had left him a clue and he closed his eyes as the chanting of the saffron garbed monks drifted upwards towards Buddha as they wove their way through the streets on the daily Bai Lin.

Illya was in trouble, and he was asking for help. Solo knew that now, he was asking his partner, his friend to not believe the story. There was a reason and satisfied Solo stretched his neck, relief flooding his system as he smiled wide.

"So now my friend, where have you gone?" Solo looked down at the monks again and smiled. He was in Bangkok after all, and it wouldn’t do to not visit the temple and ask for an old friend.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

The ache continued, his body burned as if lit by a torch but still it was less, the desire all but gone as he curled into the soft bed and burrowed down against the weight of the world.

Illya smiled, he had to get a message to Napoleon, and he knew he was putting his old friend in danger asking him to be the go between but still. Sooner or later Napoleon would remember the monastery and would remember to ask the Russian Embassy. Illya was after all still a Soviet citizen and if push came to shove he could at least count on a few favours.

The day was waning and he heard sounds downstairs, soft footed he padded to the staircase and looked down, Vasily was alone, coming in from a day at school, overburdened with books and papers and Illya smiled. Too many times as a student he had seen the Professor in the same haphazard mode, hat charmingly tilted to the side, face red from exertion and his body now bent and old still carried itself with an air of authority even the students found reassuring.

"You're up little one. Good good!" Vasily beamed upwards. "I have found clothes for you but first you should shower and shave, we have much to discuss."

Illya smiled and this time it took some of the sadness and pain from his eyes as he did has he was told. The warm water dissolved the ache, the razor that shaved the growth on his face revealed the man beneath and by degrees he began to feel like Illya Kuryakin again.

Downstairs tea waited for him and a bowl of noodles, for the first time in days he was hungry and devoured the meal as Vasily watched amused.

"Is it as we feared?" Illya finally asked as he wiped his chin with a napkin and uncurled on the hard floor.

"Unfortunately your partner has been given the duty."

"Ah good news at last." Illya smiled.

"You trust this American?"

"Napoleon will not shoot me unless he has all the facts, nevertheless, it would be prudent to keep a distance. I am being watched."

"Yes I know but they are not ours, nor would it seems that they are their's so who is in the bushes?"

"I would think a group called THRUSH."

"Ah yes I have heard of them. The rumour at the Embassy is that Anatoly has been afflicted with a strange illness and the only chemist who can provide the antidote has gone missing."

"Which is why they moved so fast on me. I was close Vasily. Too close, but didn’t realise it." Illya frowned a headache blurring his vision momentarily.

"Just what were you tracking Illya?"

"Heroin. Well no that's not quiet right. It appears that our errant chemist, did not leave of his own accord. The Premier contacted UNCLE directly and asked us to find him, Anatoly was worsening by the day, the addiction tore into his body and he was in an induced coma."

"Anatoly is not expected to survive." Vasily looked genuinely sad, he had of course met the boy many years ago and suffered at the loss of one so young.

Illya shook his head, "What precisely is this drug?"

"It’s a fake heroin, if injected into a user it will cure the addiction immediately, if injected into a non user, it causes flu like symptoms, and a burning desire to use the real drug."

"And if I do?" Illya's voice grew quieter.

"You will die, horribly." Vasily hunched forward. "I didn’t know." The old voice full of remorse as he looked stricken at the young man crouched on the floor.

"Either way a dead man walking." Illya laughed the humour sour on his tongue.

"But there is an antidote." Vasily pushed gently.

"Yes I know. Finding it before they find me however, could be the tricky part."

"How can I help?"

"By telling me why the Russian Embassy is affording a disavowed agent sanctuary."

"Ah, how did you know?"

"We were friends you and I, but not so close you would risk all and never once wonder or worry for your own safety. You never asked if you were safe Vasily."

"You connected the dots." Vasily smiled broadly. "Well technically you are not being granted sanctuary and if you attempt to enter the Embassy you will be shot on sight. However, you are still the best hope we have of saving Anatoly, therefore they have given me tacit approval to help you."

"The best hope for Anatoly?"

"Da. After all, without the antidote there is a chance you too will die Illya. In Russia we call that motivation."

"Yes, thank you Professor, I had heard of it before."