The pair managed to get through the grille before anyone made it into
the garage, and from there they made their way carefully towards the
sewer.

Illya paused, signalling Napoleon to do the same.

"What?"

"Shouting... I can't tell where it's coming from."

"Just keep moving." Napoleon shook his head. "And keep your fingers
crossed."

"It's hard to crawl with my fingers crossed." Illya smirked dryly.

"Nice to see you haven't lost your sense of humour."

"It is strained..." He admitted, as they dropped down into eight
inches of sewage. The smell hit him as an almost-physical force, in a
wave that nearly knocked him over. He could see Napoleon gagging,
about a foot away, hastily reaching for his handkerchief.

They continued to wade through-- they decided against pondering what
the muck was made up of-- Napoleon with his handkerchief over his
face, Illya with his shirt pulled up over his nose.

"We should be able to contact headquarters soon..." Napoleon said,
his voice strained and nasal as he tried valiantly not to be overcome
by the stench.

Illya nodded, fighting the urge to retch. Just then, they turned a
corner and came face-to-muzzle with a double-barrelled shotgun.

"No, gentlemen, I don't think you will." A familiar voice mocked.

---/-/---

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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.