Dancer had been undercover as a "hostess" aboard one of the gambling yachts which THRUSH used as a front for blackmail and extortion. Any unsuspecting gambler might be lured into a less-than-honest game which would give the nefarious organization the "in" to blackmail those businessmen or scientists who were of interest to THRUSH central.
UNCLE had only discovered the plot recently so it had been a rather hurried effort to secure a place for April Dancer on one of the two yachts which cruised in international waters.
Fortunately, one of the hostesses had contacted UNCLE with her suspicions about her employers. She had also volunteered to take sick leave so that a new hostess would be needed. April Dancer, supposedly a friend of the helpful hostess, had taken her place.
Unfortunately, Dancer had been working on the night that the yacht had mysteriously blown up. There had been no survivors.
Naturally, Mark Slate had been devastated by the loss of his partner. He had not liked the assignment from the beginning. There had just not been enough time to make the meticulous plans that he preferred, but of course it had been Alexander Waverly's decision.
Now, a month later Slate had asked for a transfer to the London office which Waverly had agreed to. In fact, this was to be his last night in NYC for some time so Illya had asked him over for Chinese take-out and drinks.
The Russian had also asked his own partner, Napoleon Solo, to join the two of them, but the CEA had prevaricated. Assuming that his friend had a date, Kuryakin had not pushed.
As CEA, Solo had delivered a touching but brief eulogy for the fallen agent, but, to Illya's surprise, he had not made any effort to talk to Mark privately about what had happened. He had not even tried to talk the tall Brit into staying in NY.
By now, the worst of Slate's grief had been muted, but he knew that returning to London would help him adjust to his life without April Dancer as his partner. He realized that one day soon he would be assigned another partner,but by going to London, it would be postponed for awhile which definitely pleased him.
The Brit and Russian had chatted and made free with the drinks for most of the evening, but by midnight, Slate realized that he had to go home as he had a late morning flight and there were still items to be packed, although most of his belongings had been put into storage. "Thanks for asking me over, Illya, but I'd better go. I'll let you know when I get to London. Mr. Waverly did say that if I ever wanted to return, I could. So, this is not necessarily goodbye."
"I'm glad to hear that," replied the blond. Mark Slate was one of the few UNCLE agents, besides his partner, that he truly felt comfortable being around. "I hope you'll find what you're looking for in London. Please, remember that if you need to talk, just give me a call."
"I will, Illya. I really appreciate all that you've done for me this last month." He gave the slight man a hug and then opened the door.
"It has been my pleasure, Mark. You know I was fond of April too."
Slate's eyes flickered with sadness for a moment, but then he recovered, "I know. I think she was the one woman who didn't intimidate you."
"I'm not sure about that. She could be rather formidable."
Mark chuckled. "Yes, she could be at that." On that note, the Brit took his leave.
Wandering around his small apartment for a moment, Illya decided that he needed another glass of iced vodka before trying to go to sleep. Unhappily, the Stoli bottle was empty. Remembering that Napoleon kept a bottle in his freezer and that his senior partner would probably not be home on a Friday evening, Kuryakin decided to use his key to get into the penthouse apartment a few floors above his own. He would leave a note for Solo--just in case.
Humming to himself, Illya opened the door after turning off the alarms. No need to awaken any neighbors. Flipping on the light, he made for the freezer when he was startled by a dark-haired man holding a gun on him.
"Napoleon! I'm sorry, but I did not think you would be home. I have run out of vodka...."
"You and Mark must have had a good time."
"I'm not sure I would say that, considering the occasion. You should have joined us--if you did not have plans."
Flushing slightly, the CEA lowered the gun. "Uh, I was out but I came back early. I didn't feel like brainless chatter."
Kuryakin's blue eyes took in his partner's tired face. "Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping too well."
"I see. Why don't you join me in a nightcap? Perhaps that would help?"
"What a gracious host you are, Illya--especially with my liquor."
Stung by the tone, the Russian closed the freezer door and started to leave.
"Wait, Illya, I'm sorry. I'm just in a foul mood. Pour yourself a drink and I'll have brandy."
Efficiently, Number Two, Section Two did just that, Sitting down on the couch, Napoleon swallowed his drink in two swift gulps.
"Napoleon, is there anything wrong besides your insomnia?"
The CEA glanced up at the blond who was stil standing while holding his drink. "What do you mean?"
"I know April's...death was difficult for you. I thought that at one time there might have been...more between the two of you than friendship."
Solo looked into the brandy glass as if he expected it to be miraculously filled. "I...we did date a couple of times, but then I realized April and I were too much alike."
"What?"
"April always put her career number one. She made it clear that she didn't want anyone to think that she had advanced so far because she was sleeping with me."
"How did you feel about that?"
"Oh hell, Illya, you know me. I really didn't want a committment either. It was pleasant to be with someone I could trust not to knife me in the back, but I knew I didn't love her--and she didn't deserve to be my sometime-playmate."
"Then, you were wise not to continue, my friend."
"So I keep telling myself, but then I keep wondering that if she and I...had still been together, maybe I could have talked her out of taking on that assignment."
The blond laughed. "Oh Napoleon, you are naive. April Dancer did what she wanted to do and even if you had been Napoleon and Josephine, she would still have carried out her duty."
Chagrined, the brunet finally had to agree. "I suppose you're right. I just wish...."
Sitting down next to his partner, Illya looked straight into the brown eyes. "Napoleon, there was nothing you could do and you know it. As long as you are CEA, you will have to give orders which may result in someone dying."
"Maybe it's a good thing then that one day I'll move up to Section One."
"Do you think it will be any easier sitting in Mr. Waverly's chair? No, Napoleon, we do what we must and try to keep the losses to a minimum."
Solo nodded. "I know you're right, but I hope I don't have to go through this again anytime soon."
The Russian smiled. "Neither do I. You're not that easy to work with at anytime, and this last month you have been as surly as a grizzly bear."
"Hmm! That's still not as bad as a certain Russian bear I know!"
"We can argue the merits of those two beasts some other time. Now, I am going home and I want you to get some sleep."
The cocoa-brown eyes stared into the crystalline blue ones. " Illya...do you...could you......" He hesitated trying to find the right words.
"What is it, Napoleon? Just ask me."
"Would you consider staying in the guest room tonight? I think I'd sleep much better if you were here in the apartment with me."
"If that's what it takes, then I will be glad to. Just remember, Mr. Waverly is expecting us in his office at 8:00 AM."
"I'll remember. Thanks, Partner."
"You're most welcome, Partner."