Chapter 7
by Loke.
 

Solo set the microwave to start in 5:30, and they carefully made their way out of the kitchen.
 
They rejoined Slate in the hallway and nonchalantly walked away from the impending diversion, passing another group of
guards and several cowed and cringing workers who scurried out of their way.  When they were alone once more, Kuryakin
whispered, "When the diversion starts, run toward it like all the other guards; to do anything else will make you stand out, and standing out will get you caught.  Don't worry; after we arrive we can leave to search for 'the vile perpetrators of this heinous deed' and make our escape."
 
Just then several explosions ripped through the factory, but not the ones set by the trio.  "Bloody Hell!" Slate swore.  "That
sounded like it came from the main plant!  We'd better get over there."  He started off, heedless of the men behind him.
 
"What about the mission?" Solo asked.
 
"Aborted," replied Kuryakin.  "Rescuing those workers, if any survive, is now our main priority."
 
"Nonsense," Solo shot back, "the on site rescue squad and fire detail should take of that."
 
"You truly are naive, aren't you?" the Russian said softly.  "There is no rescue squad or fire detail; everyone who can is
evacuating the area with anything they can carry, before the whole place goes up."  He pulled the other man along, unwilling
to let him out of sight even now.  As they reached the outside and saw the huge columns of smoke and flames darkening the
sky, Kuryakin swung his charge around and pinned him to the building, tucking the barrel of his pistol under Solo's chin.
 
"I need your sworn word you won't escape," he threatened, "and will do your best to help, or I shoot you right now.  I can't
watch you and rescue people at the same time, and you know too much to be allowed to wander around unguarded.  Do I have your word?"
 
Solo gave it, wondering why the other man didn't just shoot him as an inconvenience and move on.
 
When they reached the plant, Solo saw teams fighting the fire and carrying out workers.  He was about to point out Kuryakin's
error when he noticed the men were the ones he'd seen at the hideaway.  His captor had been telling the truth about the rescue
squad.  What other truths had he been unaware of or ignoring?
 
He put the question aside and, remembering the second half of his promise, asked the nearest person what he could do to
help.  He spent the next several hours working to put out the fires and carry people to safety, afterward helping to tend their
wounds and load them aboard whatever transport could be found.
 
He was sitting on a stoop with his head between his knees catching his breath when he heard a familiar voice say, "Still with
us, eh?"
 
"Still here," he replied to the soot stained man with the bloodshot blue eyes standing over him.  He noted to himself that even
bloodshot Illya's eyes were beautiful.  "What will happen to those people -- the ones who survive?"
 
"We will try to find them new homes and new jobs," came the reply, "and reunite them with their families if possible.  It will
be a long time before any of them will be able to work, if they ever are.  As far as THRUSH is concerned, they're all dead,
and won't be missed."
 
"You recruit a lot of people from the ranks of the 'dead'?" Solo asked, but the pair was interrupted by the arrival of Julian
Solo.
 
"Well, the mission wasn't a total loss," he said, leafing through the papers he carried.  "They were working on a new virus
here, and now we have the proof.  Unfortunately, they were able to secure all their samples and take them when they left.
However, we do have all their research notes, and samples of the strains and bacteria they were using to build the disease, so our labs might be able to not only duplicate their work but actually find a cure for it.  Between that and the testimony of the
workers here, we've collected a little more evidence of what THRUSH is really doing, for the day we can drag them into an
honest court and make them pay for their crimes."
 
The younger Solo was far from convinced.  They could have blown up the factory themselves; for all he knew the whole thing was staged, a set-up to gain his cooperation.  He needed more time, and more facts.
 
"Why don't you take my son to your place and let him get cleaned up?" the elder Solo asked Kuryakin.  "You both look like
you could use a bath and a hot meal.  You can make a full report in the morning."
 
A bath?  With Illya?  An appealing thought, and a possible opportunity.  Napoleon was nothing if not a man who never let an
opportunity go to waste.
 
He was less pleased to find Mark Slate would be joining them, as he shared Illya's rooms.  Were they lovers?  He didn't see
anything overt, but they may have been simply being careful around a stranger.  They were dropped off near Mark's yellow
Beetle, their jeep having been commandeered to transport wounded, and drove back to the city.
  To be continued...